Photo Post Wednesday

Nega-Coach visits the S.M.A.R.T. wind tunnel. I've got fans! Two of these 54" monsters to be exact. 80,000 cfm. I'll have more photos from when after the finishing touches were put on the test chamber (not shown).




Close up of the sweet Start/Finish Productions t-shirt being used to conceal Nega-Coach's Adonis-like physique from the public.

D2R2 2010

Dougie, me, Jonny, Sammy, and Kevin post-ride, pre-shower. Thanks to Buck for snapping this one.

My camera is back in business. Turns out it was my card reader gone bad. But, I repeated the mistake of charging up all my batteries and then installing a pair that doesn't hold a charge into the camera. So no on-the-road pics this year, my fourth time on the "long" or "real" D2R2. This year I drove out Friday and stayed at the Red Roof with about 300 other riders, because I just can't get enough slamming doors and noisy kids. Pike traffic held me up but I still made packet pickup and did a spin around Old Deerfield right at dusk to make sure my cue-sheet scrolling contraption was secure. Cable housing is supposed to be structural, right?



The new bike, laden down with extra tubes, spokes, cue holder and bottles weighed over 28 pounds fully dressed. Did not get a pic while it was still clean and new. Yes, that is white bar tape.

This bike was brand-new, with about an hour of test riding on it. And I had brand-new Bontrager RXL mountain bike shoes to go with my Time ATAC pedals, just in case I had to walk. Starting the longest ride of the year on a newly assembled bike and untested shoes makes perfect sense in my world, because I am a confident mofo and trust my mechanical abilities as well as my knowledge and methods for setting up my fit. So screw the skeptics, as I had zero issues with either, everything worked perfectly beginning to end. And in a move that would make Gewilli proud, I even stepped completely out of character and made my own food for Friday night and Saturday morning. That part went -- OK. B minus maybe. Actually my mozzerela ommelette over couscous with garlic was fine, but my salami and provolone english muffins for the ride did not go down as easily as I'd hoped. More on that later.



Chris had to be the only person in attendance who did both the Leadville 100 and D2R2 in the same week. How often can you do just two rides and get in 20 hours?

Ride arrangements came together last minute for this one, as in at the starting corral. My team mate Whitey had pre-regged, but then he went to the Leadville 100 last weekend, finished, got altitude poisoning, spend the night in the ER, and got sent home with an oxygen tank. As of Wednesday he was still a wreck, and hadn't cobbled a bike together. Then there was Jonny, who had broken his collarbone just two weeks ago, scrapping plans for the ride. Until Friday that is, when he decided he'd be OK. I'd talked with his mate Sammy about navigating for them, and we had all agreed to let the fast guys go ahead, and start at 6:30. Some plan.

Turns out everyone makes it, including Dougie and his recently healed broken ankle, all deciding 6:30 was the new fashionable start time. In the corral were all the Corner Cycle guys, John Mosher (Wheelworks), Chris Peck (Bikereg), John Funk (?), Jay Gump (Incline Training), Kevin Buckley (ECV), Timmy Groesbeck (CCB) and a host of other fast dudes. And us. Allegedly it will be civilized and we roll out...



Clearance was a little tight with the Michelin Jets, but unlike Whitey's bike, no rubbing.

Right away Whitey's bike, which sports only a 39x27 low gear, is rubbing the tire on his chainstay when he stands up to climb. I had a 34x30, primarily to save my legs on the early climbs. The first two hours of this is pretty much all uphill. But we just rolled. A stray cow made a bit of a stampede at us going up one hill, but I could not get a pic. I think Jonny did. There were goats. And sheep. And loose dogs. Typical D2R2 stuff. But the weather was perfect, though some of the roads were pretty loose from the lack of rain.



This year my cue scroller did not explode on the 50 mph downhill. I've got the route down in my head now, just in time for them to change it next year.

On the crazy East Road descent I played it safe. The Soma and it's long-reach Tektro sidepulls was awesome though; one finger braking was such a contrast to last year with sketchy cantilevers, which most guys still had. As usual, some riders got a little crazy and seemed to forget these were open roads and an F350 could be coming at you at 30 mph just around any bend. At least half the group dive-bombed East completely on the left side of the road. Not me. At the bottom we crossed route 2 and began the mutherfucka of a climb up to the food stop in Heath. I'd been chatting a lot and not eating and drinking much. Hmmm. Did great for a while but near the top I went to my easiest gear and everyone passed me. I was the last one in the group to the stop.

Me and Chris rolled out of there first so that we wouldn't have to eat pack dust on grizzly Royer Road, one of the roughest sectors. The group caught us rolling through Heath and Jay Gump took the front and led us on a fast zoom through town and down Taylor Brook. I surfed the front, forgetting how bad I felt on the last climb, still not eating or drinking much, planning to attack the 27% Achambo Road ahead right from the front to avoid walking. This group was too big for everyone to make it clean, I knew that. Jay and Timmy Groesbeck then me made the turn and they swung off, leaving me first. I'd better not F this up and knock everyone off. At the bottom I had some tire slips, as my Jets had 60 psi which was more than ideal for the sand and choppy stuff. No way I could use my easy gear, as that would torque-spin for sure. Jay came up next to me, sitting and spinning, with a road tire on his bike! Damn. I humped it over the most difficult section, then sat and sucked wind to recover. John Funk passed me and he wasn't even breathing hard. That guy is amazing, and nearly as old as me. That is what fitness looks like. Not what I look like.

Achambo did some damage. I had gone pretty deep. We were only a bit more than three hours into this thing. Then we quickly hit Hillman Road, which is a very difficult climb, over a mile long. Someone pushed the pace. The group stayed together though -- except me. My sit down legs were smoked. They rode away. Buck, who had got held up by the carnage on Achambo, came roaring past. Whitey waited for me. I was dead. The group was gone. At the top, I took inventory and realized I'd hardly been drinking, and hadn't touched my gel flask. I'd eaten a sandwich in the morning, and had a few fig newtons at the stops. I think it was a lack of water really. I pounded a half flask of gel and drank an entire bottle between the top of Hillman and the long descent of Christian Hill Road. That was my best chance to recover. Sure enough after bombing the no brakes downhill (one of my favorite parts of this ride), I really rallied on the Franklin Road climb to the state line. Chris was like "WTF dude, where did that come from?" Plain and simple, fuel back in the tank.

We rode with just the two of us and really ripped down Deer Creek. Chris is pretty fast on the difficult descents. The others were still at the lunch stop. I loaded up my pockets with Oreos. I'd eaten my other sandwich on the descent and it had given me a bit of a bad stomach, too many calories in too short a time. I had a coffee to settle it. Chris made some adjustments to his bike, and I made the rounds, greeting friends from all up and down the eastern seaboard. Somewhere along there the group left and we missed them. Might have been a good thing. We climbed out of the hole where lunch is at a fairly sedate pace, then started to motor down Sweet's Pond Road. We got attacked by the dog who attacks us every year up near Brattleboro Road in Leyden, and he nearly knocked me off the bike. Fat fuck can run. After overshooting my back wheel he turned and gave us another sprint. That helped us keep the pace up and we bombed the descent to Green River, made use of the extra water stop and then really turned it up on Green River Road. It seemed to me like we were going fast and I started expecting to beat last year's 9 hour total by a good 15-20 minutes.

We must have slowed down a little from Van Nuys Road all the way to Patten Hill. I thought we were doing OK but we gave up time somewhere. Patten Hill Road sucked, very loose and gravelly. Chris had to fight his gear as it was too big to sit. I had not touched my 30 cog since Heath, trying to use nothing less than the 25 in sympathy, but I went to the 27 on Patten. And of course I had a 34 up front. We got to the stop just in time to see Jonny and company rolling out. After only three minutes we took off, and promptly almost ate shit on Square Lot Road, as it too was a mess, maybe the worst road on the ride. On the ripping descent we passed Mosher, who had flatted (he was running skinnies on a cx bike) and he said he was all set. Must have been as he ran us down and rode through us a few miles later. I think we were fading. We plodded down Hawk's Road, rallied on the final pavement, and voila, we're done, 8:56 total by my watch. By the time we signed the sheet it was 9:00, but I know I beat last year by three minutes. My Polar ran out of memory forty minutes from the end, but it showed 4000 meters of climbing at that point.



The Cronoman and I went for LT/VO2 max testing on Tuesday. The entire ride at D2R2 I had people asking "where's Marro?," "how come Eric isn't here?," "you couldn't get the Cronoman to do this?" D2R2 is not for everybody I guess.

Tired and dirty, but I felt better than I ever have at the end of this. My bike setup must have been perfect as my upper body was totally fine, no aches, no problems, nothing. My legs were just tired. Chris, what can I say, guy is a fucking animal. I was worried about him having issues after what he'd been through the past week. He matched me mile for mile, fighting a rubbing tire and an overgeared bike the entire way. The ride took it's toll on others, as we learned at the finish that both Tyler Munroe and Jim Nash of CCB had broken collarbones. Not sure if it was one incident or two. Did the photos, got cleaned up, and hit the feed and beer, which was Berkshire Preservation Ale custom-brewed for this event. Met up with all kinds of people who'd done the 100k, and had too many beers.

OK, just another boring report. Not boring, routine. I may have been too well prepared for it. This year seemed, well, routine. Not the same sense of adventure I've had here in the past. I guess because I knew exactly what to expect, and prepared for it. Other than not drinking enough in the beginning (I was using plain water and in the morning maybe I don't have the thirst. Next year, something flavored to make me want to drink more), it all went according to plan. Did not walk a single step. If I have the same fitness next year, maybe I'll need to try to ride harder and travel lighter or something. Or maybe they'll change the route. Which is the rumor... Thanks for reading.

Quick and Dirty

Apologies for the lack of entries here lately. My camera and computers still aren't communicating, but I finally took the initiative to do something about it and ordered a new card reader, as well as a new camera-to-usb cable in case the reader doesn't work. I almost went all out and ordered a new camera, but ultimately didn't pull the trigger. Photo geeks can let me know what you think of this. I'm used to the way Nikons work, and this one is supposed to have very low shutter lag. The 15x zoom is obscene and useless without a tripod, but I like the fact that it's a bit larger and more substantial than many of the smaller pocket cameras. Anyway while shopping I also learned you can get a Helmet Hero Wide now for just $150. Weren't they $300 just last year? What else would I need to buy in order to get decent on-the-bike video?

So back to Fall River. For me this was another "reverse the course" situation. In 2008 (I think) I got second here in the 45+. That race went clockwise around the mile-ish industrial park loop, with a small field, in the broiling heat. Last year they changed the direction, but for some reason I was not in attendance. With the road season about to come to an abrupt end (don't think GMSR is in the cards for me), and having seemingly decent form, missing F.R. this year was not an option. Besides, the race is promoted by my friends at Swansea Velo Club and Bikeworks, who also bring us the Rehoboth TT. Support your local promoters.

And it did not take long for me to lean on them. Seems the closer a race is to home, the more lackadaisical I am at getting there early. With D2R2 looming this Saturday, I had a lot of stuff to do and not much time to do it, and with an 11:50 start for the 45+ race just 30 minutes away, of course I needed to make the most of my Sunday morning by putting the finishing touches on my new bike. I really wish I could post pictures of the Soma Stanyan because it came out looking really sharp. I broke the bank and went with almost all new components, save for a few items that came off the Madone, which I was upgrading with Dura-Ace gear changing stuff. The Soma is black with chrome head tube lugs, very classic and classy looking. Not a lightweight by any means, with the lugged steel fork alone tipping the scale at 900 grams. But the ride is sweet and if I swapped in a carbon fork (which I won't) and put on lightweight clincher wheels it could be brought down to right about 20 pounds even. As it is, with a 12/30 cassette and Michelin Jet CX tires that barely clear the chainstays, it's just over 22. But this wasn't supposed to be about the bike, and I should have pics by Friday night anyway. However, 10:30 am came up quick and my race stuff still wasn't packed, so I threw it together and headed south on 24, getting to the venue just 20 minutes before the scheduled start.

Sound familiar? With no time, I dressed in just a shorts and jersey rather than a skinsuit so that I could pull it over my head and pin up my number on the line. The new team clothes were in and being delivered at the race, but there was no time for that. Brucie met me there and helped me get setup and I raced over to registration, which they said had closed for the 45+. Once again, I grab a friendly face, Gene Garneau who was serving as the SVC promoter, and pleaded for him to get me a number and onto the start list. We go barging in to the scoring tent just as the Cat 4 race is sprinting for the line, winning big points by walking between the officials trying to pick the finish and the pack at precisely the wrong second! They were pissed. Sorry guys, but at least we did not get in the way of the camera.

Gene got me a number (thanks dude!) and I got pinned up with enough spare time to do a quick lap of the course. I thought I'd be bummed with this direction as I liked the little hill before the finish going the other way, but that's because I'd forgotten about the old downhill, which was now a sizeable climb. Probably 300 meters long, and steep enough to gap weak riders, the road was super-wide, making it the perfect launch pad for an attack. If you had the legs. I got to the start and lined up with about 41 other geezers for what would be a 45 minute time race, and off we went on the whistle. Mostly I sat in, as I wasn't warmed up. Got used to the course, which was pretty bumpy in a few spots. The finishing stretch was a false flat with a headwind. I had team mates Jim Breen and Wayne S in the pack. Can't report too much. There were primes, and some aggression at the front of the group, but nothing seemed to be getting away. About halfway race announcer Paul Nixon called out a $25 cash prime, and told us it would be two, back-to-back. I wanted to test my legs, so on the hill I jumped hard, quickly moving away from the pack. But, looking down between my legs I could see a front tire, so someone had covered. To my dismay, when I glanced over the shoulder, it was Charlie Bedard (Sunapee), a feared sprinter.

Not sure if it was one or two places for the prime, I swung over and Charlie came through. We had a decent gap, maybe 50-70 meters. At the top of the hill the course turns left and there were about 300 meters to the line from there. As we approached the turn, a fire truck with lights and siren was coming the other way down the (closed) road leading to the course. Now we all know that races ALWAYS yield to emergency vehicles, and the timing was such that the fire truck was going to beat us to the turn anyway. The pace car slowed, and the driver held out his hand, giving us the "stop" sign, so we shut it down. The truck took the turn toward the finish, and the pace car followed, as of course so did we. Charlie and I just kind of looked at each other, kind of "oh well." Most of the time in this situation, there would be an entire neutral lap and restart. As it was, the chasing pack had sort of neutralized themselves too, and me and Charlie still had 30 meters or so even though we were soft pedaling. And the fire truck hauled ass down the road, with the pace car speeding up and taking off about 100 meters from the sprint line, as if the race was suddenly back on. I think it was just a quick decision by the driver, who may not have had an official in the car.

John Grenier (Fuji) leaped out of the pack and sped by us to sprint for the prime. Solobreak reader Gary Jasdzewski (BRC) went after him. Going by the line I protested to the officials, saying "WTF? the pace car neutralized us!" The situation was pretty strange, but really one of those things that was an unforeseeable incident. So in the end I think they nullified that prime, which John had taken before sitting up and letting us catch him. Gary kept going though, as the second prime (and as it turns out the first) were still on the table. Are you following this? Well, we never saw him again. He pulled out a twenty second lead that he never relinquished, winning the race after staying out there solo for the six or seven remaining laps. Behind, at three or four to go a chase group formed with Leo Devellian (CCB), Dave Kellogg (Arc-en-Ciel), Mark Thompson (Sunapee) and Bob Bisson (Mid-State Velo). All the teams with multiple riders were represented, except of course BOB. The group had about 8-10 seconds as the field took two to go, and Sammy Morse (Corner Cycle), riding without team mates, jumped out to try to bridge, with me behind him. I pulled through on the downhill but on the backstretch the blockers from the field came back to us, though the front of the field was now pointy and fragmented. Sammy persisted, but I dropped back a few places. At the turn on to the climb, I went again, way over on the left, getting a good jump and riding away from the field. Just like last week, I found awesome legs precisely when I needed them, closing most of the gap to the break right away.

Turning onto the homestretch and taking the bell for the final lap, I was just about in contact. The field was not far behind, but still I had to sit on the back of the break to recover. Jasdzewski was gone, so we were racing for second. The break was rotating smoothly. By the end of the backstretch, I had moved up the queue but not hit the front yet. I was still pretty gassed, so maybe I should have just waited and made the sprint as short as possible, but since I seemed stronger than the others on the hill the entire race, and because my turn came up just as we hit the base, I simply attacked them. But it did not work. I'd left my turbo on the course the prior lap to close the gap. Once we got to the top, I just went to the back of the line as I had nothing left to sprint with, following them in just ahead of the pack for 6th, which was the last paying spot. Gene also gave me a race T-shirt along with my prize, which was very nice of him. I passed on doing a second race, as I had to get home to test ride the Soma, and also because I had another round of LT/VO2 Max testing scheduled for Tuesday, so I needed to save something. Well, this was neither quick nor dirty, nor particularly interesting for that matter, but keeping this up is my duty, right? Maybe more coming this weekend if I have wifi out in Deerfield. Word is that Jonny Bold is going to ride with his fractured collar bone, what a madman. I have a cranky knee so I'll have my hands full just finishing I think. I've already scoured the maps for the shortcuts. Good luck to my friends competing up at Timberman this weekend, and thanks for reading.

Double Reverse

Last year the direction of the traditional Concord course was reversed due to installation of a traffic circle at one end of the layout. The old uphill chicane is now a fast downhill. Here the P12 field leans it over. Photo courtesy of Nick from www.bicykel.com

I've been getting shit from my readers (all twelve of you) for lack of posting, and not "letting my personality get in" to the rare boring race report posts that I do come up with. Not sure this one is going to help much, but just like training, if you keep turning the cranks eventually something good happens. This past weekend was supposed to be the Mt. A TT, but the organizers were forced to cancel it due to the condition of the dirt road section. While the dirt section provides just one of the unique elements setting Mt A apart from ordinary time trials, the loose gravel and stray rocks this year would have prevented anyone from maintaining speed without a 90% chance of flatting. They made the right choice, and may even think of reconfiguring the event in the coming years to make it more appealing to the large base of participants in the 13 race Maine time trial series. Anyhow, I'd planned a sort of peak for Mt A, or at least arranged my training so that I stood a chance of being fit and fresh for the weekend. With the event canceled, I changed my focus to the Concord Criterium.

This year's edition was the 30th annual. Amazing. Concord holds the distinction of being the only crit that I've ever had my sorry ass pulled from, at least that I remember. Way back when the race was promoted by Mark Hibbard of the ABC club, it rained, and this was before I knew enough to warm up well anyway. The race started, immediately went single file, with me and a bunch of others at the wrong end of the line. Dick Ring called "prime for this group" and we sprinted, then the next thing I know an official is in the road whistling us off. Having never been pulled before, I didn't know what was going on until the guys I was with said "we're done" and rode off the course. I made sure that never happened to me again. Of course these days the officials are kind and gentle and they usually leave lapped riders on the course, but that's a rant for another day...

For 28 years the Concord race went around White Park in a counter-clockwise direction. However, in the past few years the Live Free or Die state has been installing euro-style traffic circles (not big rotaries like here in Mass) to replace high-traffic four-way stop intersections. And the old Concord downhill was one such place. The new traffic furniture made the spot unsuitable for bike racing, just too narrow and awkward to take at speed. Rather than give up on the venue, the new promoters, NHCC reversed the direction of the race course. What was down was now up, and what used to be up is now down. Concord was already among the more technical crits to survive the years, and now the twisty part would be a fast downhill series of tight turns leading to the flat sprint. The old run-in to the finish, which was a fast, wide, gradually downhill boulevard would now be a false flat climb, leading to the traffic circle and islands, which were quite a pinch point.

Normally I'm not one to enter multiple races in one day, but NHCC was only charging $10 for a second race and I wanted to support their event so I pre-regged for the 45+, the 35+, and even the Cat 3 race, which I never intended to do, but just in case I got there late and missed the 45+ or whatever, I made my $10 donation. And in fact I did get there kind of late. Not that it was my fault. Saturday morning I'm laying in bed and thinking about getting up and making coffee and boom, someone crashes their car into a pole and my power goes out. Was over an hour before it got going and that set me back, what can I say. The 45+ was at 11:50 and I got there at 11:25. The start list and numbers had already been turned in! WTF? Almost a half hour before the race. I ran over to the official's stand and found Marka Wise and she totally hooked me up and got me registered, spanking everyone involved in the process. Very VIP. Thanks Marka!


Four mouth breathers head up the road in the 45+ race. Photo courtesy of Nick from www.bicykel.com

Three race numbers in hand I literally ran back to my vehicle, pinned up a skinsuit, threw my bike together and headed to the line. So much for a good warmup. We had about 50 riders registered, and I had several team mates: Cronoman, Timmy, Big John, Jim B, Billy C, Mike the Bike, Gregor B. I'd never had a chance to see what the course looked like in this direction. We're doing 20 laps and it's a bit over a mile around. Off we go and the pace is HIGH right away. The pinch point took some getting used to and there's more uphill after that, so you sprint out of it. The downhill (formerly uphill) was a lot wider than I recalled (going up we were always bunchy here) so it really flowed pretty nice. The quick left/right series onto the homestretch was a little tight, but nobody tried anything stupid there. Not to say that some of these guys aren't hacks on a technical course. Let's just say the back was no place to be at this race.

I don't remember a lot of details. There were primes. Riders tried to go. After a few laps I noticed I felt good on the boulevard false flat and when two riders had a nice gap I shot up the side and bridged up to them. It was Adam Sternfeld (RaceMenu-M1) and an OA guy who I think was Ron Bourgoin. After another lap Eric J Carlson (Blue Steel but I'm saying Team BONK cuz I'm a traditionalist) bridged up to us, making a foursome. We had a decent gap. There was a prime sprint but I did not go for it. All four of us were trying but we never got to working very smoothly together. And it was friggin' hard. For sure this was a breakaway course, but this was too early in the race and we did not have a Team Sunapee rider with us either. After three laps they were ringing the prime bell again and all I heard was "two places, one hundred and fifty" so I'm thinking a c-note for first and half-a-yard for second (in Dick Ring parlance). The pack is close and this break obviously wasn't going the distance so when we came back around I sprinted for all I was worth and took it from Bourgoin, which I found strange. He can sprint and I did not think he'd leave $100 on the table that easily. And in fact he didn't, as you'll see in a minute.

Our break got absorbed, and I retreated. Other moves tried to go. The field even split once. There were some issues with the lap cards and we ended up doing 21 laps, not 20, so if you're one of those people who scrutinizes the finish times and average speeds of the various races to see who the real hombres are, don't get too excited by the 35+ being two minutes quicker than the 45+. Near the end of the race it happened again and we were shown 5 to go twice, but they caught it this time and double-flipped to three to go. A break of three or four guys had maybe 10 seconds at that point, and there was a block on, so I made another move on the hill to try to get across. The blockers (foolishly IMHO) came after me, towing the field up to my wheel, which was now halfway across the gap. I'm pulling off and I realize these guys are not coming through. Well, they should have just let me join the break because now I've cashed in my chips and the best thing for me to do is drag the field up to the break so that one of my mates has a chance in the final. And even when I'm too gassed to race for myself, this is one ability I retain, so that's what I did, end of break. At the end it was the usual field sprint melee and I rolled in at the back, hopefully saving something for the 35+ race.


The 35+ break sets up in the transition from the downhill right hairpin to the quick left/right. Photo courtesy of Nick from www.bicykel.com

There was a long break between the two races, because the Pro/1/2 event was stuck in there. Heading over to the prime table to get my $100, the girl says "number 216, you get the jacket" and she hands me a ski parka with VOLVO emblazoned on it. Huh? I guess Fries was announcing "a one hundred and fifty dollar jacket." Proper English is "one-hundred fifty" Rich... And it's a womens' size XL. In the men's race. Well it's a very nice garment, and I think it might fit my niece, so thanks. I hadn't had time to pin up my other numbers before the 45+, so I took a fresh skinsuit and got it all sorted out. I ate a PowerBar and got organized and tried to stay out of the sun. A lot of friends came by and that took up time and the next thing I know it's almost race time and my legs are seizing up from sitting around. I hurriedly headed down to the start to find there were still four laps to go in the Pro-am so I sprinted back to my car and slammed a 2x caffeine blackberry Gu. That was my warmup. The race starts, again with around 50 riders, including a few brave women and a bunch of 45+ refugees at the back of the pack. We roar up the hill and Keith Ford (Sunapee) says "damn that stings" as all of us felt the last race in our legs.

I was determined to just be patient and wait in the field, planning to try an attack within the last five laps. My experience in the 45+ led me to think that even though the course suited breakaways, it would be too hard to stay out there for a long time. I had a bunch of team mates in this race too, most of the guys from the 45+ and then John Dieli, who was underage and fresh. The back of the pack in this race was even worse than the 45+. I'm really starting to think masters races need to be Cat 1-3. This was BAD. So I reluctantly moved up. There was some action up front, but I wasn't close enough to see who/what was going on. There were some primes and I guess our hero Murat won himself a pair of socks.

I was carefully watching the lap cards. At 12 to go, a three rider break had a nice gap, maybe 8 seconds. I could see Dave Kellogg (Arc-en-Ciel) and this just looked dangerous to me, even though this was too early. I'd been getting through the corner at the end of the homestretch really well, going around it wide at full speed. This let me take a good run at the field up the false flat. Other riders I'd talked to had said they were suffering here, but for me it was the best part of the course. I made a go but before I cleared the front everyone moved over and I got pinched into the curb. OK, no problem, it's too early anyway. Then the next time around in the same spot I could tell the break was riding away. Train leaving the station as Dick would say. It was time to go, and off I went. Nobody followed. Probably looked like suicide as the gap was out over ten seconds by now, and there was some wind up.


Heart rate graph showing near max effort for four minutes to bridge, then settling in for 10 laps of pain. The sine wave is the elevation plot.

On the hill I easily made it more than halfway. So easily in fact that I had second thoughts about bridging at all, because if it ain't hard then that usually means the break is coming back to you, and the cavalry will be joining you from behind any second. A look over the shoulder proved this theory wrong though, and I persisted. And it really wasn't that easy, as the high spot in my HR graph above shows. Adding insult, I made no more progress on the downhill and flat portion of the loop, dangling five or six seconds back. Fries encouraged me as I came through the finish and back into the climb again. This was do or die; I had to get on by the downhill. Digging in, I made it, barely. The break was focused and I was pretty stealthy about it so I was able to hang back there for a bit before my presence was detected a half lap later. The break contained Kellogg, Bill Yabroudy (NBX-Gansett) and Sven Lohse (Wheelworks). This break was working smooth. But we had nine or ten laps to go. I worked. Hard.

Nobody in this break missed a pull the rest of the way. We were smooth. Sven appeared to be suffering but he did not sit out. After a few laps I was in agony and almost praying to be caught. I thought about pleading that I was cooked from the bridge and asking for a respite, but these guys were all committed so I was too. Our pulls came up in varied spots so some laps one of us would be lucky and get a little recovery and there were other spots were it really sucked but we all shared in it equally. We did not have a Sunapee rider with us, so I knew there would be a chase. None of these guys had big teams either, so it was up to my guys to block, which you can see in Nick's pictures they did.

At four or five to go a guy at the roadside told us "20 seconds." I did not think that was enough. Apparently neither did the others and we all dug in. I don't think there were any primes to mess us up. The next time around the guy said "30." Nice, but we kept digging. I was not thinking about how to win the race. I just wanted this break to go. Two to go and the guy says "36" and Fries tells us "your gap is secure." I'm thinking no f'n way it is, but we did slow a little. Please don't let them smell blood. If we end up back in sight we'll be doomed by the Sunapee train. One to go and I'm on the back of the line at the start/finish and I looked back and saw nobody. Ok, now what? Kellogg and Yabroudy basically live in breakaways and they're in this situation every week. Sven is strong but he appears to be hurting. Yabroudy was not in the 45+ race because he is too young, and he is the strongest guy here, as well as the fastest finisher. I'm thinking I have a chance to beat Dave in a sprint because he is a climber. On the uphill I know if I want to win I have to attack but my calf is cramping and I'm fighting to hang on. If I attack, in all likelihood I'm going to shell myself. It's a long way around. How close is the field? We definitely slowed down this lap. Can't risk cramping up. Sven ends up leading down the backstretch with me second wheel. Into the downhill turns he's pumping his elbow. I don't really want to come through, but I figure it's all downhill and not hard pedaling, so go ahead and take my line. I'm rolling and taking an extra gear. I'm pretty fast in the quick left right so I get it rolling. In the last turn I'm going well but Yabroudy jumps HARD on the inside, with incredible authority. He opens up five bike lengths in what seems like three pedal strokes, Kellogg comes around too, chasing. I'm on top of the gear and I remind myself to get on Kellogg like a laser, staying directly behind him in this wake. Sven is coming up on my left but I find speed and am able to close up on Dave. The line is a long way away and I'm actually putting on a good sprint. Dave must not know I'm coming back and as Yabroudy puts his hands in the air Kellogg might have conceded a bit and I draw even. He jumps again and we do the bike throw and neither of us is sure who got second. We actually got pretty close to Bill, maybe a bike length because he was doing the victory thing.


First time I can remember making it into a bikereg finish photo.

It does not take long for my team mates to appear from behind, as it was down to 15 seconds at the end. I'm just about puking. Murat comes by and tells me he's got beer in his cooler. After a very slow cooldown lap, the Cat 3 race is already starting when we come around, but I'm harboring no thoughts of that. We go to results and I meet up with Dave's brother Tom Kellogg, and he tells me Dave thinks I got it, and Fries confirms this when they announce results. Normally when I get second I feel like I let a win slip away but in this case, against these riders, I was very happy to make the bridge and work hard in an honest, successful break. Congrats to Bill for his win, he was the fastest. The others showed their class too. Me and Murat had a brew and then I did my cooldown ride, which worked out fine.


Here is some of that personality you were asking for.

The next day we had an informal club time trial on the old Plaistow WMSR course. We setup handicaps, and of course mine was zero. Fifteen of us competed, and I won, but my legs were toast from Saturday. Then we rode at 15 mph up to Exeter for coffee at Me and Ollie's before riding back at what was supposed to be an even slower pace. Someone, and you know who you are, violated our slowness pact, and he will pay in the future. Then we hit Duano's for a pool party. There may have been a 40 of Colt 45, thanks Armand. Great team. Last but not least, sorry to hear about Jonny Bold's injury at nationals. Heal up Jonny. Thanks for reading.


Brought to you by Colt 45 and Billy Dee Williams.

I could get used to this

This is where the picture of me riding with no helmet would go if I had taken a picture.

Yesterday I packed up all my shit into the car before work, just in case I got a chance to leave early enough to hit my team's Tuesday night worlds, or maybe go to Wompatuck. In the interest of traveling light, I haven't been bothering with my race bag too often, because really, the way this summer has gone, am I ever going to need knee warmers? No. So I just throw the bare essentials into a reusable shopping bag and away I go. Lately I've been training on tubulars, because I have an old pair of GP4s with Tufos that I glued up for Battenkill back in 2006. I used them there three times, and at the Mt A TT (canceled this year BTW), and at some other races, but they aren't that light or that fast, so I don't race on them too often. Still, they've got some miles on them, but they're fine, so I may as well use them sometime. I've put together a separate set of seat bag goodies to take along when I ride them, with Pitstop instead of a tube, and of course I carry a spare. I made sure I had that.

I got involved in some real work later in the day, so first the TNW, and then Wompatuck became a pipe dream. Due to unpredictable traffic, 3:30 is the cutoff for the former, and 4:45 for the latter, if I want to warm up at all. No big deal, as I expected to be tired anyway. Around 6:15 I finished up and headed out to the parking garage. There was nobody around so I just got dressed next to my car rather than walk back in to the locker room. I got my bike ready, got kitted up, checked my bottles, and hmmmmm, what's wrong with this picture? No helmet. No gloves and no glasses either, as I usually place those in with the lid. Fuck. Really nice out, and I'm sort of jazzed to ride. It's already late-ish, and if I drive home it will be after 7 before I get rolling. What to do?

In the past 25 years, I think I've ridden without a helmet once, not counting when I'm adjusting my bike out in front of the house, or occasionally taking it off for a broiling hot MTB climb in a California canyon. At 115 degrees F, I've always felt the heat was more of a danger than falling over at 3 mph. The only time I can remember going sans headpiece for an entire ride was one time in the winter when I had just my helmet liner on for warmth, and never noticed the missing helmet until I was too far from home to bother turning back.

The helmet thing is purely a habit and something we're accustomed to. We don't really need them. Sure, I've broken three or four of them in crashes, but I also survived my entire childhood of riding without one, and that includes ramp jumps, wobbly wheeled homemade choppers with extension forks made from electrical conduit, construction site bmx, and all sorts of other two-wheeled hell raising. Car crashes are dangerous as shit, but nobody wears a helmet when driving. Even when I got my first bike as an adult, I rode for two years before buying one. But then I started racing. The "hardshell rule" was very new then. Most of the old-timers only wore them when racing. I was an oddity wearing my two pound Bell Windjammer on the Wednesday night training rides from the Blue Hill Hojos. But once I got it, I always wore it, figuring it you have to race in it, you may as well get used to the heat, and just wearing it in general.

In my second licensed race ever, at Brodie Mountain, aka Jiminy Peak, I crossed wheels with someone on Rt 7 and tumbled into a ditch, hitting my head and briefly losing consciousness. A few years later I had a close encounter with a tree at one of the Plymouth Cyclocross death pits, flat spotting the front of my crash hat. Another time at the Quabbin race, my solo breakaway got swept up by the sprint less than 100 meters from the line, and some clown sprinting for 25th cleaned my front wheel out from under me. I got burned to a crisp sliding on the hot pavement, but there wasn't much more left of my helmet but the straps after the initial impact with the ground. So I've always worn the things. Which is what made Tuesday night so weird.

I never ride without gloves either. And I usually have some sort of glasses too, at least at the start of a ride. But I was going to ride no matter what. And it was awesome. As luck would have it, I did remember to pack a Vermarc cycling cap, so I was rockin' the barehead in style. The first half mile felt strange, naked, but after that it was like where have you been all my life? You really can hear more. I felt -- younger is the best way to describe it. Lighter even. In just one ride, the whole thing made sense. Even though my legs were shit, I felt great on the bike. Yes, a bit more vulnerable, but great, and in control. Funny thing too, I headed over to Big Blue for some repeats, and some other guy there who I did not recognize was riding up and down on a brand new Cervelo R3 with Zipp carbon wheels -- and no helmet. Wasn't too talkative though. The first time going down I checked my speed, but by the third time I probably went down as fast as I ever have. Or at least it felt like it.

Having been to paradise, now what? I guess you don't miss what you never had. Poor kids today, their helicopter parents won't let them ride around the block without a helmet, if they let them ride a bike a all. And they'll never know the thrill of piling fifteen kids into the back of a pickup truck to bomb down "roller coaster road" to get an ice cream. Safety at all costs. Society changes. And so do I. Now tonight, I didn't want to wear my helmet. But I did. I spun over and rode around the neighborhood that I grew up in, in front of my old house, on the street where I first learned to ride a bike, with no helmet. It only sucked a little. Thanks for reading.

The Final Installment

Don't worry, the blog isn't going anywhere yet. I'm writing about my last endurance training ride for D2R2, which is just three short weeks away. The timing of this post neatly coincides with the expected flurry of race reports from the Wilderness 101, which one would think has to be harder than D2R2. What's puzzling is why D2R2 finish times are actually longer, seeing as the W101 goes over trails, not roads? I guess it's because a) D2R2 is not a race, b) the field may not be as deep, c) you have to stop at stop signs and stuff, as well as navigate the unmarked course, and d) we stay longer at the food stops. And possibly e) D2R2 is really fucking hilly.

At any rate, I've done this thing three times now, so 2010 will be my fourth effort. As such, I get a lot of questions from the curious about how to prepare. When people hear stories of 8, 9, 10, 11 hour finish times, they tend to get scared off, or be skeptical, or just bewildered. I'm here to tell you that D2R2 (the real D2R2, not the short 100k version) is nothing to be afraid of -- if you're prepared. My proven formula for getting ready is to 1) choose appropriate gearing. The course is 75% dirt roads, and 40% uphill. On a skinny-tired bike, you will need to do three to four hours of climbing while seated. You probably don't want to do this at 60 rpm. So do the math. 115 miles divided by 8.5 hours riding time equals 13.5 mph average moving speed. Figure on most of the uphills you'll be going about half that. 7 mph in a 39x27 is about 60 rpm... 2) Pace yourself. That's all. Finally, and most important, 3) do some long rides. Eight to ten hours on the bike is a long time. I'm pretty sure enough to make you quite miserable if you're only accustomed to three or four hours at a stretch. The main advice I give all D2R2 wannabees is to make sure they've gone out six hours+ at least a few times during the year. The first time I did D2R2 I think I had one six hour ride prior, and finishing in 10+ was a challenge. The next time I had an eightish hour Six Gaps ride as well as some others behind me, and it was not as bad. Last year I did a bunch of long stuff and I finished feeling good enough to sign up again this year.

Which brings me to this weekend. So far I have been out over six hours four times this season, all of them just barely, and all but one not very hilly. Two of them were a month ago, so at least they were in the heat. The next two weeks I'm busy with some racing, so this past weekend was my last chance to get out for a long one. I know this may sound funny to all the D3 guys who do weeks of six hour days in the spring, and the iron-distance multisporters and their 25 hour weeks. What can I say. It's a lot for me. Most of my riding career I lived by the philosophy that your longest training rides needn't exceed the duration of your longest race. As a lifer Cat 3, that meant around three hours, unless you were training for the district road race -- which used to be 1/2/3 and was always over 100 miles. I only finished it once. And, unlike Colin "Yellow Chamois" Rooter, when I needed to answer nature's call at the 80 mile mark, I stopped at the side of Rt 9 to irrigate the bushes, just like the pros. However, my chase back proved more difficult than they make it look like on TV. I may have even had to hang on to a passing vehicle that was stuck behind the race on a climb. But I got back on and finished...

Enough of that. Wanting seven hours of saddle time, and with no races of interest Saturday, I devised a plan. By this time of year I'm getting pretty bored with the local scenery. Doug's ride in Stowe sounded perfect, except that it was in Stowe, and driving four hours just seemed nuts. Besides, I'd already made plans by the time I heard about that one. Instead, I arranged for two of my teammates, Billy and Hattie, as well as expatriate BOB Zencycle to meet me at the wind tunnel in Plaistow for a ride up to preview the course for the Mt Agamenticus time trial in South Berwick, ME. Knowing what to expect if I propose a seven hour day ("Have a good ride Dave"), I let everyone know that this was only about 45 miles each way, so we should easily be done in around five hours.

We left at 800 and the weather was perfect. The route was simple: straight up Route 108. Nobody in our group seemed to know what to expect once we got past Exeter, but it did not turn out too bad. The last five miles or so of Exeter itself kinda sucked with commerce and traffic lights, but the rest of the route was only moderately trafficked, relatively flat, and with a decent shoulder on most of it. We went through Newington, Durham, and Dover before crossing the river into Maine, where the TT route starts right away. The paved part was great, some of it brand new. Then we hit the dirt section. Right away I was concerned by the amount of loose gravel. Billy and Zen were flying and I'm thinking "they must be nuts, we're all on clinchers, someone will flat" and sure enough Billy does. We fix it and continue on, the road gets better, but still worse than in years past. At the top of Mount A Billy flats again. Turns out his sidewall is all ripped from the first flat. He boots it with dollar bills and another new tube, and luckily this is fine for the rest of the day.

Riding back we went a lot harder. Not crazy, just some good long threshold sections. Zen was taking some strong pulls, and I had good legs. Billy mixed it up with us on the hills and town lines. Hattie wisely conserved his energy as he doesn't race as much as us. Back in Exeter we took Route 85 this time, which was much better than 108, so if you try this route then go that way. No lights. At the end we cut through some big town park and it took us right back to 108 and the crit course. Maybe 10 miles from Plaistow we popped Hattie and figured he knew the way and would probably be happier riding on his own the rest of the way rather than fighting to hold our wheels. Zen peeled off to head home from Newton NH, and me and Billy rode back to the cars. Almost there, I asked him what he had for mileage and he said 93. We were right at five hours. I was pretty tired and satisfied that I'd done enough. But...

Back in the planning stages, thinking I'd needed seven hours, I'd told wind tunnel proprietor Armand, who could not make the full ride, that if he were kitted up and ready to go when we got back, I'd head out for another two hours with him. Knowing he's a busy guy, I'd been thinking all morning there was no way he'd want to do it. Well, we arrive back there and his bike is outside all ready to go, and he's got his shorts on and I'm like oh fuck. Billy just laughed at me. Armand has been getting fitter and fitter and I wasn't about to pussy out so I pilfered some gummy bears from his SUV, filled my bottles and off we went. Nothing like riding against a fresh guy when you've already got five hours in. He was killing me.

After twenty minutes of clinging to his wheel the gummy bears kicked in. Our route took us north and west up through Hampstead. I get confused up there but I know at the halfway point we were on the Boston Prep 16 course, at the top of Warner Hill. By now I somehow had found some legs and we were cruising. At (my) six hour mark he asked if I wanted 20 more minutes or 45 and I said yeah 45, so we turned right on 111 and did a TTT for a few miles on the wide shoulder of the open highway. Eventually we looped back south through Salem and then he was absolutely killing me on one stretch but I clung to his wheel. Near the end we even dipped down over the edge of the Mass border, making this my first ever three-state ride. By then the gummy bears were wearing off but thankfully we were almost back. I died as soon as I knew where I was, limping into the lot with exactly 7:00 ride time, 8:00 outside for the day, around 127 miles. Since the 8:59 et for my D2R2 last year included stops, I think I'm ready. Sorry this was boring as all shit, nothing like a lengthy narrative of a simple training ride, but it's the simple and boring shit that makes a foundation. Thanks for reading.

Workingmans Stage Race - Points Race

Solo recovers at the back of the field.

Eighty laps on a 1/4 mile bumpy, banked car racing track, with a sprint for points every five laps, 5-3-2-1, double points at halfway and the final sprint. Most points is the winner. 20 point bonus for lapping the field. Simple right? Traditionally we masters, who go last of all the categories, would start at around 9:30 pm and thus race under the lights, making things more interesting. This year, the track is not in regular operation, and there are no lights, so we kept the program moving and raced in the twilight. Not as much fun to me, but it may have made for closer racing.

Going into this stage I was tied with Charlie Bedard (Sunapee) for 6th or 7th on GC points (not to be confused with points race points). I guess it was tied for 6th, with tiebreaker rules pushing me down to seventh as Charlie had a 2nd on one stage and my best was a 3rd. Since he had the entire Sunapee squad at his disposal, and is a talented sprinter to begin with, he was one guy I was conceding to and not going to worry about. Instead, as I had the night before, I put my goons on the strong individuals who had no teammates: Soups (TT1), Bill Shattuck (Corner Cycle), Ron Bourgoin (OA) and John Grenier (Fuji). To me this was just pragmatic strategy. Paul Richard (CCB) and Charlie were going to do well and score points no matter what my team did. For me, the best case was if Paul won as many as possible, thereby lowering the threshold for how many points I'd need to finish ahead of some of the others.

Normally in this race, I hang back in the early going, letting the top GC guys wear out their teams in the first-half sprints. Late in the race I try to strike with a big move off the front, sweeping up some points and maybe getting into a break that laps the field, which is something I've done twice in the past. But the daylight changed a lot of things. And somehow, I went for points in just the second sprint, at 70 laps to go, and took 2nd, putting myself on the board early.

From there it got rough. Sunapee was aggressive of course, throwing riders up the road and on the front all night. Soups rode like he had a motor in his seat tube, sweeping up several firsts in the early going. A lot of other riders attacked. My team did what they could to mark my rivals and try to take points away if they got close to the front on a bell lap. Then before the halfway I got off the front and took a 1st, but then Jim Nash (CCB) got up to my wheel. He was not interested in working, instead protecting his leader Paul Richard. One of the other keys to doing well in this race is to not waste your efforts. Being a non-sprinter, I have to go three or four laps before a sprint, building and holding a gap, essentially "winning" from a break. Not the easiest thing to recover from, so if you're going to do it, you want to score points. Well, I thought Jim should and would work with me. I really wasn't a threat to Paul, as he had GC sewed up anyway (he only had to finish 8th or so on the stage to win). Plus it was unlikely that I would beat him on the stage. Me getting the points was certainly preferable for CCB over Charlie and Sunapee getting them. I pleaded with him, but he had none of it, and would not come around. If I'd stayed focused and just pulled, he would have come around me and taken first, but I still would have got 6 for second as it was doubles. But with our dicking around we got swarmed in the last turn before the sprint. Richard took it. Me, all that work for nothing.



Solo follows Soups but this effort was for naught.

This would happen again later when me and Soups spent four laps off the front busting hump only to get caught by Sunapee and get another goosegg. As a matter of fact, their overall strongman Bruce Diehl, who was the big loser Wednesday night, dropping from 2nd on GC to 10th, pulled off a textbook copy of my usual m.o., rising from the ashes in the second half of the points race to sweep up big points in sprint after sprint, eventually finishing 3rd on the stage, pulling himself back to 4th on GC. I managed to get away again later, this time with Craig Harrison, also a Sunapee. At least I wouldn't have eight guys and a woman chasing me if I was with him. I had to let him take 1st at the ten-to-go, but then we kept going and he worked with me. We stayed clear, but on the bell for the next sprint the field was right on our heals, with one guy actually bridging up. This was the five to go sprint, and I knew this was it for me, so I fought to the death all the way. Shooting up through a hole on the very inside of turn four as the field fanned out around me, I thought I got it. Dick Ring was announcing and he said I did too. But the photo showed otherwise, in fact I was 3rd across, with Charlie and a CycleLodge guy nipping me at the line by a tire.

Totally gassed, I had all I could do to hang on to the field for the closing five laps, so I did not do anything in the double points final. In the end I was 8th on the stage, and this was enough to keep me in 6th for the final GC, the last paying spot. Not quite what I wanted, but with a 3rd in the TT, the results were reasonably satisfying. If I'd managed to stay up a few spots better in the circuit race and have better legs on the track (I was really shit on Thursday) then I know I could have been in the running for the overall podium. But that's racing and it was fun, and I think the team rode well and had fun too. The Cronoman brought me a forty of Schiltz and it was ice cold, and that was awesome, brown bagging in the parking lot under the fireworks one of the other teams brought.

WMSR 2010 in the books. Thanks to all the other New England competitors for entering and supporting our event. Next year will be the 25th anniversary, so don't miss that. Thanks for reading.