RFC

Oh fuck it's Monday, six days since solobreak last posted. This is what happens when nobody comments. As they say on Pandora, we don't like playing to an empty room. I realize the comment moderation kills the instant gratification aspect of it, sorry. I bring this up because I guess I've got a lot of lurkers who never comment. On Saturday, with the tropical deluge getting off to an early start here in the swamps of SE Mass, I headed up to the drier north lands for a ride. Most of the team was in hiding, but mate Billy "Jens" Casazza hosted me on a loop around his home territory. "Jens" says he couldn't be bothered reading my (or anyone elses) blog, but one of his dozen or so brothers reportedly does, and drops Billy a line every time I shit talk him here. There's no way I can keep track of all the Flying Casazza brothers, even though some of them have appeared on my team rosters both past and present. I can't even keep track of all Billy's kids, who often come to the races. I have nicknames for all of them, but couldn't tell you their real names. Anyway, famed New England race announcer Dick Ring used to say the Casazza family came over from Italy to race, failed to win enough prize money for the trip home, and stayed. Maybe that's true, but for all the trash talk, "Jens" (aka Billy Bad Balls, or Billy "No ass in" Casazza) is actually one of the better athletes on Team BOB.

"Jens" as we're calling him today is not normally a man to stick his nose out into the crosswinds and take strong turns at the front, hence the ribbing. He's probably the smallest guy on our team (since we got rid of zencycle anyway) by 10 kg. His bodyfat is FAR lower than the typical BOB rider as well, despite a diet consisting almost exclusively of fine Italian sausage, homemade cookies, and good beer. This must be because he trains. But primarily we consider him a climber, not a rouleur. I'd gone up there to ride with him because I plan on starting my race season next week, and felt I needed to be put under pressure. It was windy on Saturday, and completely overcast, looking almost like it would snow, but the temps were close to 40 and there was no rain in Salem NH. Our route took us north of there into what for me was uncharted territory.

It turned out the terrain was the type that I hate. What I'll call "heavy" hills. Rolling, varying pitch, too long to stand up on the entire way, but with pitches too steep to keep tempo on in the saddle. You build speed in the dips, and then fight to stay on a gear. Lots of turns so you could never be sure if a climb was going to crest out or keep on going. Constant pitch changes. We even ended up on the Derry Boston Prep course, going up Warner Hill. This is the stuff where Billy excels, able to accelerate his tiny 63 kg mass up and down. I'm the opposite. I can sit and ride tempo up shallow rises. And for some reason I have good out of the saddle power for the short pitches. But this kind of ever-changing shit sucks for me.

Luckily there were a few open, windy stretches. These I can handle. I've spent most of my life (actually it will be exactly half in a few months) powering my way across windy cranberry bogs down in this corner of Massachusetts. Hills are few, but most roads are unsheltered and at this time of year it's not unusual to go 10k at a stretch with a vicious wind from one side, or in your face. No wonder I like time trials. The surprise on Saturday though was that Billy, er, "Jens" took to the front on some of the windiest stretches. Our clockwise loop had us battling the headwinds on the way home, and it was really picking up as the storm rolled in. We had to keep moving in order to get back in the barn before getting soaked. We made it, in part thanks to Jens' newfound rouleurism.

We rode less than three hours, but no rain, and it turned out to be my hardest effort of the year in terms of average watts (and I will not bore you with numbers). Billy says he hates it when I patronize him, and is more comfortable with the usual shit talk, so I'll just say he is clearly on track for a good season. He had me on the ropes at one point but did not make the kill. Don't worry, next time if the roles are reversed, I won't be so kind. If you read and have never commented, how letting me know who you are so that maybe I can shit talk you? Thanks for reading.