Too much or not enough?

I have an hour to kill in a deserted airport, so I will turn in my common sense and write a little additional commentary on the Tour of the Battenkill entry situation. In case you've been drunk living in a beach hut in Belize with no internet for the past week, entry into the 2010 edition of TotB aka BkR will set you back $75 American, unless you are an elite in which case it's $85. Since this is roughly double what any other one-day amateur entry fee runs, and three times what most of them charge, the shock has generated a little bit of internet discussion already. For a bit more you can go to gewilli's post on the subject. TotB sold out and then some last year at $45 or so, thus the suspicion that the promoter might just be taking advantage of high demand for a somewhat unique race. Perhaps the challenge of supporting 1600 riders was too much, and so by upping the price Anthem just wants to limit the numbers while maintaining the total entry revenues.

What's the big deal anyway, you ask? As noted by some, multi-sport races, bicycle hillclimbs, and ultra-distance mountain bike races all routinely charge more than $75 for entry. And this is true. But as I pointed out on Willi's blog, bike racing is unique in that the nature of the sport leaves us willing and able to race much more often than triathletes and runners. Some bike racers compete forty weekends a year, in addition to stage races and weeknight criteriums. $1000 or more per year in entry fees is not unusual at all. If they all suddenly doubled like TotB did, is could add up to real money, sort of. I say sort of because let's get real, anyone racing forty times a year is burning through a lot more cash than just entry fees, and an extra few hundred $$$ going to the organizers won't slow many of them down much. All this has already been discussed, so instead of going on about it, I'd like to take this in a different direction.

Going back to the end of the first paragraph, what it may come down to is better quality. We all want better races. There were some great comments about that on RMM's post. But is thinking that we're going to get it for $40 expecting too much? The first bicycle road race I ever did cost $4 to enter, plus a $1 insurance surcharge. This was the Myles Standish Road Race, put on by Mass Bay Road Club, in 1987. Most races back then were $5-10, and this was before the "free market" so entry fees were tied to the prize list size. In those days there was no category 5, so I did my first race as a Cat 4. The field was 100 riders. The cat 4 race at Myles Standish was known for, um, excitement, maybe slightly safer than jumping into the lion cage at the Franklin Park Zoo. I came in 3rd place in the mad field sprint, and was awarded $18. I couldn't believe it. I did not know these races had prize money.

I guess promoting races was less expensive in general then. There were less categories than today, and full 100 rider fields were the norm for the 4s, 3s, and the combined 1/2. Then there would be "citizen" races for unlicensed riders, with no prizes, and usually double or triple the $5 entry fee for the licensed racers. These were the cash cow of the 1980s bike race promoter. So it's ironic that we have some discussion today about amateurs subsidizing the Pro/elite race, as we amateurs used to be subsidized by the "citizens." So what happened? Well, mountain biking came along, and a sanctioning body called NORBA got started. They were separate from the USCF, who ran road racing. Since nobody already had a license for the fledgling NORBA, they had the bright idea of selling "one-day" licenses to people who showed up for their first race, and then let them roll it into an annual later. Somebody over at the USCF took note of this, and took a look at all the "citizen's" revenues road race promoters were enjoying, and decided that the USCF should get a piece of the action. Category 5 and the USCF one-day license was born. No longer could a promoter get free insurance for their citizen event. And of course, charging $15 for a ten mile race on top of a $10 one-day license wasn't going to fly so well, especially when the cat 4's were paying only $6 and often racing for a $500 purse.

Promoters (who were most often USCF clubs) were getting squeezed. As rank and file USCF members tend to be self-centered and apathetic athlete types, voting in USCF elections tends to be, to put it lightly, light. Promoter/club representatives quickly voted out the old regulated purse structure, and voted in the "free market" that we still have today (and also, along the way the USCF merged with NORBA and became USAC). Now promoters could charge $10, $15, or $20 entries while maintaining or even reducing the old $500 purse that used to be required in order to charge more than $5. And there was much rejoicing. I guess. Except for the riders who placed in the money often. Even in actual dollars, I think we race for less money now than we did fifteen years ago. In real dollars, it is way less. But then, we're supposed to be amateurs.

All right, that was a lot of rambling. There's still no airplane at the gate here, so I guess I can keep going. Bitching about the history of how the prize money/entry fee structure has gone downhill was not the point of this entry, at all. I'm just throwing it out to give some historical perspective. And I'm sure my account above may contain a few inaccuracies, but it's mostly correct. What is the point? Well, races have gotten better for the most part. Promoters have raised the bar, a lot. Nowhere is this more evident than in New England cyclocross. I was a pioneer cx promoter, putting on races with the help of my Bicycle Link cohorts at Wompatuck and Seekonk Speedway in the late 80's and early 90s. And believe me, these events were not much like the big-time production cx races we enjoy today (other than the prize money, which was pretty good back then). How did things get better? Well, part of it was the growth of the sport, with more people becoming interested in it. We (cx people) used to be considered real nut jobs. But there's more. I don't remember who the first promoter to charge a $25 entry for a cross race was, but you can bet that whoever it was encountered some resistance. And yet they paved the way for the bright lights, big city Verge races that are a must do for nearly all of us.

All that was just the prelude to my point about TotB: what if $75 for a road race is not charging too much, but instead an indication that everyone else is not charging enough? We want better events, right? I can think of a few races that were around in my rookie season that still exist in more or less the same form today: Sunapee, Jiminy Peak, and umm, maybe that's it. And these races have had their ups and downs. It's great that the host clubs continue to forge ahead, but how long can they keep it up? There are far more great races that are no more: Buckfield, Westfield, Stowe, Killington, Greenfield, Charlemont, Pemi-Valley, Manchester and more. Even the most successful promoter of late, Mike Norton, has had to cancel some of his races because expenses were projected to exceed revenues. And don't forget local resistance. Races are guests of the host communities, and let's face it, there is not much in it for them. The TotB promoter noted in one of his posts on RMM's blog that greasing the wheels of progress with charitable donations was a mandatory part of doing business for him. More races should probably do it.

But we all want paved parking, a timing service with instant, accurate results, neutral support (even though getting a fast wheel change and successfully rejoining the group has never, ever been a high-percentage play in races below cat 1/2), ambulances, clean portajohns, and marshalls/police protection for the courses. And we think we should get this for $30? I know, some races manage to do it, but some people work for minimum wage too. It doesn't make it a viable long-term strategy. If more races made money, more promoters would stay in it, get experience, and maybe continue to improve their races. I point to the Verge CX series. I hope those guys aren't giving up eight entire weekends just for the love of the sport, because if so they will tire of it sooner or later. Putting on quality cx races like that is no small feat, but compared to a killer road race it's got to be less complicated. And yet the series has been very well attended at $35x2 for each weekend.

OK, time to go. Let's make a deal, no charging $75 without putting on a much better than average race. Until $75 becomes an average entry anyway. And hopefully by then average quality will be so good that it's a non-issue. No proofing, thanks for reading.

New Hardware

I've been riding my current cx bike for a few seasons now. That's what I've been thinking. Then I started thinking for real and realized that I bought it in the fall of 2004. And it was already used then. Not sure how much, but quite a bit. Originally it was made at Hot Tubes, but then the first owner got a D2 pro contract with Team Saturn, who had Lemond as their bike sponsor. Lemond did not make cross bikes at that time, so this bike was painted up to look like one. So it must be over ten years old. It's been pretty good, not a perfect fit, as the top tube is 59 cm. The guy it was built for is taller than me and has freakishly long arms. Normally I like a 57 cm top tube. The good news though is that the bike also had a very shallow seat tube angle, and about 18 cm of setback. I run the tip of my saddle 70 mm behind the BB; on that bike I had to push it forward quite a bit, thus shortening the effective top tube length. In fact, once I got a -17 degree stem, 100mm long, my points of contact were just about perfect despite the long top tube.


The old rig, fresh back from D2R2 duty.

Ten years is a long time though, and it's time for a new bike. Connections being what they are, something from Trek or Fisher was my best option. The 2010 Fisher Presidio is pretty sweet, with near perfect dimensions and cool sliding dropouts, but alas they are not going to be available for another few months. Besides that, the design has a rather high bottom bracket (shallow drop), and I prefer lower. Enter the 2009 Presidio at the top of the entry. The geo is a touch off ideal in some ways but I think it will work better than my Hot Tubes bike. The irony here is from what I've heard, this bike is actually a rebadged Lemond Poprad, fallout from the Trek-Lemond disputes. So I go from a cx bike that is not a Lemond but is painted like one to a cx bike that is a Lemond that is painted like something else. Got it?



Speaking of connections, who do I have to know to get MY picture on the side of the BOB Magic Bus? I am going to have to have a word with Duano. Thanks for reading.

Just because...

Maybe this already made the rounds, but too bad, I'm lazy. And it's good to know that I'm not the only one who sees irony in whining about entry fees when they are a tiny fraction of what you spend on your bikes.

Here you go

Thanks for reading.

Racing in Lowell and running in Norwood is almost like living in Methuen

Three or four of you might recognize where that title comes from. For the rest of you, at least it's more creative than "weekend update." And that's all it is, as I'm truly down to one post a week. Not much to write about on the training front last week; it wasn't one of my better efforts. After a Napper Tandy's PBR marathon with the work crew Wednesday night, my normal Thursday tempo ride turned into an easy spin to get some air. No openers on Friday either. So Saturday morning I got to Lowell a tad late as well, electing to pre-ride the course at a walking pace rather than do a real warmup. And I entered the 35+ too, as both the 35's and the 45's were going to be on the course at the same time anyway, so why not start with the first group? Well, my legs had a reason. The race started with a lap and a half around the cinder track and right away I was textbook all blocked up. My legs were stone.

Anyhow, after avoiding a cartwheeling (see video here, at 0:59) Ringer I went around a few more first lap mechanical casualties. The 35+ guys, at least the ones mid-pack and at the rear, are much faster than similarly placed 45+ riders. I had to race for positions. And then these punks had the gall to race back. There was never any rest really. After a few laps my legs felt better, and I usually managed to find a wheel around the track and other drafting sections. The laps were rather short though, and since the race was supposed to be 45 minutes plus, I was expecting one more than I got. The lead 45+ guys (who started two minutes back) had begun coming through, and of course I yielded the fast line, but some of my 35+ competitors took advantage and jumped by too. I really did not care, so long as I could latch on to them for the fast drafting sections. But on the last lap that they somehow knew about (I never got a bell) they sprinted and the race was over. I never got a chance to empty the tank. I was done in 42 minutes, and so the leaders of the 35+ had to be under 40. So much for 45 minutes. Didn't matter, the race was a piss poor effort, but I still averaged 160 bpm so it was not a total loss. And I lived, which was not a given on this course.

The good news (there is always good news here at solobreak) was that not going balls out on the last lap probaby left me in better shape for Sunday's Norwood Turkey Trot 4 miler. This is a pretty big race, as the greater Norwood/Dedham area is home to several running clubs who attend the trot in team quests for bragging rights and prize monies. You can always expect a strong field here. The course is a certified distance, and not flat, so that's cool too. I missed this last year but ran something like 24:04 in 2007, making it my 4 mile PR as there are so few races at this distance to begin with.

Saturday night I did not sleep well and that along with a few other factors conspired to have me running late for this race too. I'd hoped to do some good loosening up and running prior, but that could not happen. On the way over I called T-Vo to make sure it would be OK to park in his condo lot, as it's right adjacent to the race start. That saved me a few minutes. I managed a quick warmup run and some leg swings before heading to the start. T-Vo was planning on pacing off one of the Striders (he just joined), rolling the dice and going out at 5:45 pace. I was like, no f'n way. Managing 6:11's for 10k at Canton just a few weeks back did little for my confidence. I was thinking hang back and run the first mile in 6:15. And it's kind of downhill.

At this race I don't even line up front row. There were around 600 total, and three or four women club runners all were watching each other and lined up on the front. I took second row behind the HFC guys. Gun goes off and the real runners all bolt, and about a dozen wannabees foolishly go with them. I was running pretty fast but still must have had 35 people in front of me after a quarter mile. T-Vo slowly pulled ahead, sticking to his plan. I was just making sure that I was behind him. Then I spied Don from GNRC. He is over 50 and usually runs around the same speed as me, at least until we come to a big uphill. So I slotted in behind him. First mile came up in six flat. My HR was only 150 at that point and I felt ok, so I made an executive decision to try and hold this pace for the second mile, which is mostly uphill.

A lot of the early rabbits faded on the gentle grade. Don and about four others persisted just ahead of me. T-Vo was still going strong, at least 15 seconds ahead, right on his plan. Mile two came up at 12:02, so damn near a perfect split considering that we were nearing the high point on the course. I passed GNRC Don and four other guys all at once on small rise. Now there was nobody between me and T-Vo. The lead three women were 10-20 seconds ahead of him, still all right together. The end of the third mile is downhill. I was feeling good and gaining on T-Vo, but also hearing footsteps behind me. A guy came by and I got on his heels, and he ran by the fading Tom, who encouraged me. The 3 marker came up at 17:55 for a 5:53 downhill split. I stayed glued on the guy through a little neighborhood loop that had some wind and took us to the low point on the course. As soon as it turned gently back up toward the finish road, I heard the guy gasp a bit and I picked it up.

One of the women had been dropped by the other two and that gave me someone to chase. After catching and passing her, the others were not far ahead. The finish seems like it takes forever to come up at this race, but I was holding it together pretty well and knew I was speeding up, not slowing down. I hit the line at 23:45 for a 5:50 split, but per usual I got boned in the chute and my official time was three seconds slower at 23:48. I will take it for sure, as this was my first race on the sunny side of a 6:00 pace in over a year, any distance. This was good for 17th overall, 4th in my age group but since the AG winner got the prize for first overall master, I still took home the third place prize of a plastic pint glass, adorned with the Norwood Mustangs logo and filled with Halloween candy! This pleased me, being perfectly honest.

The running race was a mental boost. Lately I've been feeling like a bag of donuts and not racing all that well. Considering that you normally lose two seconds per mile per pound, and that I'm at least five pounds higher than my ideal running race weight, I wasn't expecting any PRs. And oh yeah, my new cross bike came in today. I'll edit this for typos later. Thanks for reading.

Plymouth South CX - short intervals

Saturday morning it was pouring rain outside my windows. No, it wasn't cold, but I bagged out on Plymouth North just the same. Stayed in. Drank coffee. Accomplished a few things. Finally took my Macbook in to see what was wrong with it. Turns out the logic board was not fried as I'd thought. A new fan and a new HD will set me back slightly less than an extended warranty would have cost me had I elected to purchase one. Of course, my data is gone. Backup? Umm, maybe around here somewhere. Whatever, I've lived without it for the past three months, so it couldn't have been that important.

Sunday was a new day, and Plymouth South a new venue for me. It was still raining. I left late. Soon I discovered that route 44 is now a friggin' highway all the way to route 3. When did that happen? I'm usually on top of these things. This still may not have been the quickest way, but it got me there in time (barely) to do the 45+ race. At reg they were doing a second race discount, only $10, so I signed up for both the 45+ and the noontime 35+ for just $40, slightly more than a single Verge series entry. Doing two races generally doesn't work. I joked with the Link guys in the parking lot that I'd probably go too hard in the first "warmup" race, and then not have a good second race either. And that's exactly what happened.

There was no time for a course preview before the 45+. I rode about a quarter of the lap before lining up, so I went to the back of the ~30 riders assembled. I was DFL heading off the pavement. Had to run the first lap runup in traffic, no worries, I'm just warming up, right? Then we get into the field and about eight guys are going really slow with a gap in front of them. Sensing an opportunity to "move up" and having all of one minute of warmup in my legs now, I burn a match racing around all of them. Then I hit the sandy "runup." At this point in the day, it was still deep sand, and everyone was running. Passed a few more, then torqued around the soggy field and through the pits. After that more singletrack that I hadn't seen before, so I cooled it and held my place. Another hill, a small mud bog, a tiny hill, then the barriers before another soggy field slog through the pit. Quick singletrack downhill, then a short power climb back up to the paved start road.

If you are keeping score, this makes 4.5 short climbs, a mud bog, three soggy fields, and a paved road, totaling 9.5 "power sections" per lap, interwoven with extremely brief downhill/easy "recovery" areas. Normally my HR graphs in a cross race are a flat line, hitting 160 bpm and staying there until the end. Not this one. All bumpy. Average HR was only 154 but the race felt harder than most. Even hit 170 bpm at the end of my 45+ "warmup" race. That was dumb. Actually my execution for the entire race was dumb. By the end of the first lap the leaders were gone, and I still barely knew the course. If I'd been out for a good result in the 35+, I'd have soft-pedaled the power sections and just tried to dial in all the tricky parts. But noooooo. I had to stay ahead of the Woodsman (aka Dan Russell - Bike Link). Tom Stevens (Gearworks) was not too far ahead either, though I had no real hope of catching him. I even fell once. Then on the last lap, the next guy in front of me, with nobody within reach ahead of him, was clearly mailing it in, coasting a lot and looking over his shoulder to keep tabs on me. He had at least fifteen seconds to spare, and probably ample gas in the tank to hold me off if I got anywhere near him. But instead of doing the same thing, I went for it anyway, justifying my stupidity by considering the "training benefit" of going full gas even though I'm starting another race in just an hour. After all, part of the idea of doing the double was that I need to step it up if I'm going to make top 40 at nationals, right? So I buried myself for half a lap and finished five seconds behind the guy, in 11th. Five laps took 42 minutes and change. Curley (Gearworks) and Keven Callahan (Bike Link guy #2) took the top spots in just over 39 minutes.

I found the bike wash, hosed the bike, then bummed some chain lube off race announcer Paul Nixon, who was generously doling out the blogger love for Nega-Coach every time I limped through the start/finish. Then I changed kits, pinned numbers, drank some Gatorade, and talked to way too many people instead of riding a bit as I should have between races. The 35+ start came up quickly. I lined up in the second row this time, right next to Gewilli, aka "The Assassin." On the gun I had his wheel. Knowing the course, I should have been more aggressive, but I wasn't really, and I got knocked off again on the first hill, which had become a lot more greasy. Then I dismounted for the sandy hill, which by now had a groove cut in it and was rideable, and Willi was gone. Another mistake I'd made was putting more air in my Tufo front tire. When I got there in the morning, the thing was nearly flat, probably 20 psi, but lacking time, that's the way I rode it in the 45+. It was great, just a little squishy when sprinting on the pavement, so I gave it about six strokes (huh-huh) with the pump between races. That was five too many. Now I was bouncing all over the place on the second field. And my legs felt torched.

Yup, it took about a half a lap to realize that race #2 on the day would not be all I'd hoped for. My legs felt like, well, like I'd already done a race that day. Adding insult to fatigue, the course had changed quite a bit, and my knowledge/experience of racing earlier was of little value. But I continued just the same. I don't think I passed anyone. A few who'd had issues during the opening lap passed me. I saw Gewilli on the two-way by the pit and realized he must have had nearly a minute on me. He was flying. Coming through the start/finish after two laps the cards said four to go. FUCK! Are you shitting me? This is going to hurt. So I backed off a little, hoping that Willi and the others would go up in flames and come back to me late in the race. Then the next lap the cards said two to go? Wonder if they changed their minds, but I wasn't complaining. Back to hard intervals. Nobody to chase though. The first two climbs took a max effort just to get up, but they were short. The one before the mud bog and the last one were good power climbs, and I totally dug in for these. Ended the race in 15th, somehow over two minutes faster than the first race. That was weird, because other than the sandy runup the course felt like it had gotten heavier and slower. The 35+ really do go faster than the 45+, duh. Maybe I should do this more often. Maybe not.

Afterward I hosed down the bike again and congratulated Willi on his ride. He slayed it and got 11th, right behind the fast guys. Speaking of which, Sammy came by the car and said they were going out for a ride in the woods. I thought about it, but had already put on dry clothes while chatting with GCD, so I passed. Instead I swapped for file treads and rode over to Myles Standish on the road. To my surprise, new pavement! It ran all the way in on the old TT start, and up College Pond Road. Could the entire park have been repaved? Uh, no. Once you got to Circuit Road it was back to the old crap. Bummer. I rode the Charge Pond loop before limping back to the school, bagging over an hour of additional saddle time, bringing me close to three hours on the day. Sort of made up for my lazy Saturday. The big story were the intervals. (9.5 x 5 laps in the 45+) + (9.5 x 5 laps in the 35+) made for a grand total of 95 little sprint efforts over the course of the morning. No wonder I'm feeling so smoked. The end. Thanks for reading.

VAM

 

Or "what I did on my lunch break Wednesday." Here are two excerpts from my Polar HRM graphs. On the left I'm riding up the Big Blue access road on my CX bike. Don't worry, I didn't make the climb in four minutes. I had cut across on the fire road from the state police barracks and did not feel like riding to the bottom, so I was starting part way up. This was an OK time though, and notice that the VAM is just over 1300m/hour. When I was done I rode back to work and changed into my running clothes, then headed back over on foot. This time though, I "ran" up the ski slope. Not the steepest part, but even way over on the left there are some pitches and it's steep enough to be touch and go on an MTB. Anyhow, I cherry picked the best 90 meters or so of climbing out of the total just to show that my VAM running was nearly equal to what I did riding 45 minutes earlier, with roughly the same heart rate. I know it doesn't mean anything, but what else am I going to write about? This was the second time this season that I did this run. It felt a lot easier this time, and I even managed to run down the access road at about a 7 minute/mile pace. Still not as much fun as riding. Thanks for reading.

Noho - the race reports

Having received a few complaints about the lack of detail in my race reports (ok, more like gentle nudges acknowledging appreciation of the rare exceptions), today I'm going to try and recount the blow-by-blows from the weekend. As I didn't take any notes Saturday, per usual some of that data may have been overwritten, but let's go.

I had a decent week of training, meaning that I rode outdoors on the road twice, went to the gym twice, did a good run one day, and even got out for over an hour on the cx bike. Robin flew in for the weekend races, and Timmy hooked her up with a loaner bike, saving her a bundle in baggage fees. So we made some adjustments and went for a ride over at Stonehill on Friday to get it all dialed in. The 3/4 womens' race was early Saturday at 9:30, but mercifully the 4 men and 4 men 35+ were combined and their start pushed back to 8:30, so all we had to do in order to get in a decent pre-ride was to arrive by 8 am. Timmy and Garabed were just setting up the tent trailer when we parked, and the BOB base camp was established. Eric and Carrie got there a few minutes later, but Carrie decided she was too sick to race.

The course was mostly familiar to me. I was psyched that they had moved the barriers, giving a touch of flow to the "upper deck" part of the course. The bottom tier, down on the flat grass, was laid out better than ever. The trademark here are the fast, wide, sweeping turns, and I think they even added a few this year. The new start layout was superb. Granted, there were some mishaps in the steel-cage deathmatch section. I am of the mind that there are no dangerous courses, just dangerous riding, so I won't criticize. Once you got off the pavement there was still hundreds of meters of wide grass straightaways to sort out the order, so taking risks on the fenced pavement start was not necessary. At least there were no mishaps in my races.

Not that I didn't almost create one. Laying 28th in Verge points, I still got the 18th grid position for this race due to non-registrants, thus third row. At the start, once again I totally missed my pedal. Not once, not twice, more than that. I even slipped off and straddled the top tube, legs askew, all over the map on the run in to the curb hop. Nobody went down. Nobody even swore at me, even though my start was the holeshot equivalent of coming out of the men's room with my pants around my ankles and toilet paper hanging out of my ass. Eventually I got clipped in and put on a big surge along the grass. I felt good, probably because I'd taken advantage of the Saris demo trainers setup at the start/finish. I was pushing my warmup right until about thirty seconds before my callup.

I think I ran the sand the first lap, as I was still pretty deep in the group. After that I think I rode it once, but it was slower so I defaulted to running it. Anyway, it wasn't a huge factor IMHO. Back to the first lap, on the big runup I did not do so well, losing momentum. Up top I was ok, no passing, down the chute, over the tracks, and around the fast turns by the pit I was making up time for a change. This was my first race in a long, long time on a pure file tread front tire. I had a Vittoria XN? I think, no side knobs, inflated to around 30 psi. On the starting line I'd looked around and did not see ANYBODY else running files? But I was hooked up. These turns were the exact same as last year and I had that part of the course wired. I was running up on the back of people coming out of the turns.

The ride/runup, not so much. The Cronoman had convinced me that using the big ring in order to avoid torque spin was the way to go. He was right, so long as you came over the tracks jump and into the hill with some good speed. In traffic, that was not always happening. Up top I was good except for the fast left turn immediately after where the barriers used to be. With my tire I was impaired in the muddy spot coming onto the little paved path. After the race Garabed pointed out to me that you could pretty much go around it all and that is what I did on Sunday, much better. As it was, on Saturday I had to use my ample "roadie power" to close a little gap there. Ditto after the hairpin back onto the autobahn section. Luckily, with the smoothish front tire and roadie legs, my pavement speeds were a cut above my nearest rivals.

The turns off the autobahn and back down to the barriers did not create any problems for me. I felt fast and smooth here, much better than in years past. Not sure if it was the file front or just less acorns on the track. The barrier setup worked for me too. At most of the UCI races so far this year, I think the 40 cm barriers were more like 45 cm, with gaps underneath. Noho was sweet. In fact, the entire race organization and course were superb. I've had an axe to grind with Noho ever since they expanded to two days and bumped my favorite race, Farmington, off the calendar. This was the first year I (reluctantly) went for both days. I must admit they've won me over. JD was ALL OVER THE PLACE both days, working his friggin' ass off to keep the course in top shape. I was tired just watching him. How grueling does life at home have to be before you start working like that to relax on the weekends? Just kidding Meg...

I can't totally recall who/what/where I was competing directly against on Saturday. After the first lap, I started doing much better on the runup, as I was rolling pretty far up it, dismounting and shouldering all in one motion without losing forward momentum. This kind of smoothness saves bushels of energy and time. And I was killing people on the pavement (not in the Gewilli way, I mean going faster than them). But I was not losing much time anywhere else. The Cronoman was leading a large group just up the road. I battled hard and after three laps or so had almost just clawed my way onto the back. Out of the sand and into the sweeper that ran between the sandpit and the road, I sprinted for all I was worth, causing the back tire to lose its grip. The bike got completely sideways, but being a magician on a bike, I immediately went into AMA flattrack Jay Springsteen mode and did a classic feet up power slide to save it without missing a beat. Onto the back of the line and getting some draft for a change felt nice. I'd been getting up the steep chute no problem, but as I noted earlier, I was flying into the bottom of it, very easy to do when you're on your own. In the group (at the back of it), not so much, and I got messed up and had to check it at the bottom and did not make it. So after just half a lap of sitting on, I was back into a death chase.

By now we were inside one or two laps to go, and the group ahead exploded. I pushed hard, ran the sand like a sprinter, and with a few turns to go could see Keith Button (Noreast), a short distance ahead, with Kevin Callahan (Bike Link) and the Cronoman just beyond him. Keith looked vulnerable and I railed the last few turns to get his wheel before we hit the asphalt. He's even less of a sprinter than me and I rolled a huge gear past him to take 13th, 3:17 after the winner, my closest to the front of the year.

Since we were staying over to do the double on Sunday, we got to hang out in the camper, drink beer, eat well, and watch the elite races. Later all of us (sans Carrie and the Cronoman) retreated to the Red Roof Inn in Deerfield before heading out to "Wolfie's" for stuff like fried clams, reuben's, and angus burgers. Except for Garabed, who ate a salad... Sunday we went back to the venue even earlier. The Cronoman got there before 8am too, and Carrie felt better so she came ready to race. We did a three lap pre-ride. I took a few pics of the 3/4 womens' race before getting on the trainer. Once again I was 18th on the grid. This time I nailed the clip in for a change. I was moving up smoothly until the usual suspects who ride over their heads to the detriment of themselves and everyone near them came forth and started jamming in front, only to immediately create gaps.

I ran the sand every lap on day two. It was fast and reliable. On all the sweepers, I felt even faster than Saturday. The ride/runup did not go as nicely. Most laps I ended up running, which was just as fast or faster so long as you planned on it in advance, but the energy cost was much higher. But if you tried to ride and got knocked off, you'd lose big time and I got gapped off twice in this situation, both times costly on a course with so much drafting. The knuckleheads who race like it's the last lap messed me up a few times. This was a course where some cooperation in small group could draw you up to the next group, but Lynchie and Cunningham don't get it and continually undermined any chance of group success.

I made all the efforts that I had to in order to stay with the group and draft. We gained and lost riders at various times, but the makeup was the Cronoman (BOB), Cunningham (NEBC), McInnis (JRA), Ruiz (Keltic), Tarbox, Lynchie (Bike Link), and me. We got up to Nyberg (Benidorm) at one point. Keith Button (Noreast) and Chris Burke (Planet Bike) were with us some of the time. Timmy (BOB) and even Stevens (Gearworks) were within a few seconds of us too. The Cronoman likes to pull, but I was annoyed that he was giving McInnis a free ride, so I got in between them and let the gap open. This did force them to sprint around, but the gap closed quickly, Eric still led down the pavement, but now I was at the back. Someone didn't make the rideup, and I jumped off, but Brian made it up anyway and I was left working harder than I should have.

Cunningham, McInnis, Ruiz, and Tarbox got a gap on me, Marro, and Lynchie someplace in the final laps and we never caught back up to them. I ended up racing hard with Burke but got away from him at the barriers, catching Crono and Lynchie. Going into the sand I went around and attacked it hard running (see the pictures below). Eric came with me and Lynchie was gone. It was too late to catch anyone else, even though they were not far ahead. In the pic of me and Crono rounding the third from last turn, you can see Nyberg heading for the pavement. Eric came around me handily, which was good, as he needed the Verge points to maintain his front row grid spot in the final races, which I will be out of town for anyway.

There you have it. Sunday's finish had me 2:50 down on race winner John Mosher (Wheelworks), even better than Saturday, nearly halving the time gaps from the early season Verge races. How many words was this? Thanks for reading.

NoHo Photo Essay

Day 2, final lap, me and the Cronoman in the last few turns.


Leadout or sprint? He beat me easily, even from the hoods.


This was the setup. We attacked into the sandpit in order to shed Lynchie (Bike Link).


Timmy was right behind us. You can see Lynchie in the background.


Timmy had a recovery beverage ready for me before I could even get out of my kit.


It was on to spectating the elite races. Karen Potter on Day 1.


Mo had fallen but she could get up! The Cronoman also face-planted here, so she had good company. This was on Saturday and Mo got up to finish 4th and retain her Verge series leader's jersey.


Reuter! shows how it's done on day 2.


Mouth open. You write the caption.



RK on the runup.


A young spectator, properly restrained...


This is actually from Saturday. Timmy made chicken cacciatore. 35+ race winner Jonny Bold graced us with a visit.

OK, that was exhausting. Maybe I'll find the energy to write up a few race reports. I also put up more pictures on my flickr page. Thanks for reading.

My first cyclocross race ever

Well, not really. Hell, it wasn't even my first 'cross race of the weekend. But if you'd watched me during the first two laps at Putney yesterday, you might question whether I'd ever ridden a bike before, let alone ridden cross for 23 years. This was one of those races when I just could not do anything right. If there was a rookie mistake to make, I made it, except maybe tripping over the barriers, which I somehow managed to avoid.

The day started well enough. The weather was awesome. I drove out on Route 2 without getting any tickets. Before even going into the shop to register, I got three homemade donuts from the food table setup by the Putney School. This would be the first of several trips to the concession. At registration I was greeted by the smiling, familiar face of Kirsten Jeppesen. Long time friends are what racing at Putney is all about. That, the donuts, and the burritos. And spending money in the shop. This year's bounty:



The first race was just starting so I kitted up and waited for it to conclude before doing a few reconnaissance laps. As always, the course was pretty muddy and slick in the woods sections. The cornfield was not too bad this year, more power sucking tackiness than slippery. Friday night before Canton (which we'll get to later) I was up until 1 am gluing a half dozen wheels and tires, so for Putney I was running matching Tufo Prestiges for the first time this year. The alleged worst tire in the world, which I've been running on the rear all year, did not work so well up front. But I stuck with it anyway. Maybe a mistake. Up until this point I've used an ancient, dried out, hand me down green original version Michelin Mud on the front, but I figured I'd try the Tufo and the low pressure that everyone raves about. It was smoother on the lumps and bumps, and I was hanging it out pretty good on the single track, but in the long bog before the cornfield the bike was on autopilot and heading for the trees every lap. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

My starts are generally pretty poor. I do better coming from behind anyway (huh-huh) but since Putney was a small race with a small field and an uphill start, I wanted to give it my best effort. My legs really felt like shit during the pre-ride, a surprise as I'd taken pretty good care of myself after Saturday's race. In order to give my pathetic start sprint the best chance, I got on the trainer and put in a complete crit warmup, right out of the Myerson/Cycle-Smart playbook. I even threw in a simulated start sprint at the end, complete with clip in. Heading to the line I was confident I could give the other dozen geezers lining up in the 45+ field a real hard time.

At Putney, they do a wave type masters start. The 35+ went first, then us a minute later, then last the 55+ a minute behind. On the whistle I still did not nail the clip in, but I had the power going through the gears. Planning on doing a classic "second sprint" right before the left turn off the pavement, I was foiled when two guys dived-bombed out to the right, across my wheel, setting up crazy wide for the turn. No matter, I was able to cut inside and pass a few, and onto the grass in 6th, with a tight single file line up behind the Cronoman, who would end up leading this one wire to wire. That's right, you read it here first, he won! Woot! And I'm in a good spot. Over the barriers I'm sucking wind but OK. This concludes the "good part of Solo's race" section of our story.

The Unraveling

Before we get to that, allow me to explain the new subheadings feature. Although I haven't quite yet relegated myself to the one stinking post a week group, that's all I've been managing lately. Since a good portion of my audience are a bunch of spoon-fed private-schooled whiners (you know who you are, no need to link), we've received a few complaints about the posts being too long for their bite-sized attention spans. The hombes aren't able to stomach the big-boy shredded wheat. So I'm trying the subheadings. This way the faithful can take in some solo, go back to "work" or whatever it is they do all day, and come back later after their coddled, oversupported, atrophied brains have had a little nap and recovery time. Back to our story...

When we left off things were looking pretty good. Near the "front" into the single track. First issue, it had dried out a lot since my pre-ride. In fact, the edges were now much slower than the formerly slick stripe down center. Slow enough in fact that my use of the edges cost me spots right away. Things kept getting worse. Not being used to going out so hard, I simply forgot how to dismount going into the muddy three log short runup. This was the 19th annual Putney CX. I was probably at the first six or seven, then skipped several years during my racing hiatus, but have been back there the past three, this one being the fourth. I rolled right into the logs with my right foot still clipped in, and toppled over forward, into the path of the few remaining riders behind me, who all just used me for traction as they ran over me. Stumbling up and remounting, things didn't get much better. I tried to pull it together but going down through the bog my bike was all over the place.

Somehow I managed to make it to the cornfield and tack on near the rear of what was still a long conga line. The Cronoman was on the point, and so far the race had not exploded. Out of the field and onto the road, I frantically tried to sprint ahead in an effort to regain lost positions. Not a great idea when you're already 95% blown and you've got the biggest runup in New England cyclocross up ahead. I'd practiced a late dismount in order to roll as far up the hill as possible, but we all know how well that doesn't work in first lap traffic. Sorry dude in front of me. You didn't need your achilles tendons anyway, did you? On the run I proceeded to push myself all the way to 100% blown, maybe even a bit more. On the remount, reaching the peak of my day's misery, my take off foot simply failed to take off. My brain sent a signal down the nerves, but nothing happened when it got there. I don't think my leg even got close to clearing the seat. I simply tackled my bike. Hard. Right in front of all the runup spectators. Awesome. Now I was secure in last. Notice that there is nobody behind me here. At least I did not trip and fall again...



Oh but it gets better. If you've raced Putney, you know that it's so cool to have a race right at the shop, with a great party atmosphere. The sound system this year was unbelievable, as was the music selection. When you are totally anaerobic, bleeding from the shins, covered with muck and off the back, nothing puts you back in the groove like Kool and the Gang's Jungle Boogie at 90 decibels. Seriously, Putney rocks. But, the family friendly party atmosphere and course that winds around the shop has its pitfalls. Now I know some of you guys can't always arrange babysitting and choose to tempt fate by letting your offspring roam free while you race, but please, please, please in the future do the right thing and tie them to a tree. My day, and the life of an unattended toddler nearly ended on lap two, around the back of the shop where the two BMX jumps are. As I flew over the first muddy jump, the kid, back turned to me, ran right out in front of me, toward the slightly older kids (probably charged with looking after him) playing on the left side at the top of muddy jump number two. Now the last time I ran a kid over, he was about 11 years old, and he managed to take me down hard in the process. That was on the road. This kid was about three and was going to get the full monty of two knobbies and a chainring right across his entire body. Putney luck was with me though as I screamed "NO!!!" at the top of my lungs and he just froze in his tracks while I stormed past in front of him. Don't worry, I never touched the brakes...

Back down the slippery slope and into the bog without a child kill under my belt, the bog still owned me. Near the end I almost lost it and careened toward a tree, barely managing to come to a near stop in the ankle deep mud without buying it before churning away at .0005 mph. At this point dropping out seemed like my best option, but we don't do this stuff to drop out, do we? Instead I tried to be smooth for a lap (translation: rode just fast enough to keep the bike up while trying to pull myself together and recover). Remember those 55+ guys who started a minute behind us? Well the two leaders caught me. Awesome. At least this got my head back in the game. I stayed with them to the corn field again, but then the first one dropped the second one, who I was behind. When we got to the road I was recovered enough to tell the second one (60+ National Champ Pip Bannister) to get on my wheel, and I buried myself into the headwind on the road in pursuit of the first guy. I ended up catching him, but then he dropped me in the woods anyway. They were telling him two to go and me four to go? They are not supposed to do that when there is more than one field on the course at one time, but the races were different lengths I guess.

The next lap a Gearworks guy came tearing past me. I was thinking "wow, he is flying for a 55+ guy, wonder why he is in third." It has been so long since I've been lapped in a race, I'd forgotten the 35+ field started a minute ahead of us. This was Rob Holt on his way to winning. I still did not figure it out until the second and third placed 35+ guys caught up to me. Wisely I got on their train and they towed me all the way up to two guys from my field! Woo-hoo, I'm in this. And those two guys assumed I was a 35+ too and pulled over to let me by. Sportsman that I am, not to mention not wanting to pull, I informed them that I was in their group, and it was on for the last lap (missing one because we were considered lapped). The 4th place 35+ caught us in the cornfield but when we got to the road he told them hey, my spot is secure. They kind of sat there so I took off and fled up the runup, beating them both to the line. Third from last in a 13 rider field! But wait, when the results went up they scored me second to last. I guess when you're that far down and lapped they can't always pay close enough attention.

But the Cronoman won, which was cool, but of course he still took off right away in order to get home and take in his daily requirement of twelve hours of mindless TV reruns. Timmy got 6th, which was awesome, rocking the old school yellow BOB skinsuit. He had to leave too, but I had a brew and a burrito while grooving out to the tunes. Ran into G-Ride, listened to his race story, and then even met up with Tommy Masterson and his new family. More old friends at Putney. And I made it home without getting a ticket too.

Canton CX

Sorry folks, we're out of time for now. Back later with details of how this one went pretty well, especially compared with Putney. Here are a few pics for now, courtesy of Soups.


Runup on lap one. I am down the bottom. Not a great start, probably the last guy to start from the front row.


Coming off the track on the first lap. Moved up a few spots from the runup...


Stylin' in the chicane.


Into the runup for a second time with zencycle not far behind in the black and yellow.


My lap two pain face.


Dismounting with Keith from Noreast.


Both feet in the air for a change.

More later...