USGP - Planet Bike Cup

Madison, WI

4 races and a revelation
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Been looking forward to this weekend for several months. Doubly so since I found out that my favorite CX racer ever, Erwin Vervecken, was coming along to race.

Drove up to Madison on Friday, booked into the super 8 with every other cheapass CX racer, went to collect my numbers and check out the presentation, then hit up State St in search of pizza. Paisan’s did the trick, so good that we ordered a second one.

Dawn Saturday and woke up feeling pretty off. Forced some breakfast into me that wasn’t really worth it – got my stuff together with very little enthusiasm and headed for the course. There had been some significant rain the previous afternoon, but the course was fairly well drained – only a very moderate amount of mud.

Nice open start to a gradual right hander to a right hairpin and a gradual bend leading to the double barriers – no real bottleneck for the first km or so; that’s fairly typical for races with large numbers. Then a few muddy off camber turns, couple of bits of twisty stuff through the trees, a few heavy straight stretches with plenty of passing opportunities, couple of pavement hairpins into an extended wood section with tricky, tight off camber corners, up a hill into a right hand turn and a sharp left to the hillside strangler, steep hill with a set of four railroad ties, tricky variable radius off camber curves to the start/finish straight.

There were 4 swooping off-camber sections that were problematic in the mud, stay high and risk sliding off, go low and you might get stuck in a rut or not have the traction to get back up.

First practice lap with about 35 psi in the tires I was bouncing around way too much, 2nd lap I bled down to something below 30 psi and it was night and day. Hooking up well and smooth as buttah on the straights. Almost riding on the rims, but with only one pavement section that wasn’t a problem. Recently converting to tubeless was definitely a help – anyone who ran tubulars certainly had an advantage.

So, it was an open course, not very technical, fast but heavy going in parts. Keeping it upright would be important.

Can’t fault the organization anywhere. Call ups by order of registration, announcers keeping it exciting, even for the 4s race, starting grid, plentiful bike washes (very much appreciated), pits, more officials than you could shake a disgruntled bike racer fist at; it was all very pro.

I line up in the third row with no idea how I was going to do. We receive our instructions – no kicking, gouging within eyeshot of small children etc. - and we’re off! I don’t feel like I’m going fast but a gap opens up in front and I shoot through, then another one, shoot through that as well, round the corner, losing and gaining places then the whole field brakes for the hairpin and we simultaneously fishtail skid 30 metres – everyone keep it upright and we get round that ok, then the next turn and the slight uphill to the barriers.

By the first turn I was hit with that curious taste of mercury, blood and ashes in the mouth that one usually gets midway through the last lap of the hardest race of the year. By the second turn I had a rasping dry throat, by the third I was overheated, by the fourth nearly shivering. Something was not right. Nothing to do but maintain my position as best I could and hope that my body would recover. It never did, I gradually felt worse but somehow my legs kept turning. I lost a few places here and there, guys would bury themselves to pass me, then blow up and I’d pass them at my cruising speed. Can’t recall catching many people but the attrition rate was pretty high and crashes lost folks lots of time. I only made one serious mistake, trying to ride the double off camber on the high side and sliding out, losing five positions that took me a lap to get back. I also messed up the entrance to the hillside strangler on each of the first four laps, either botching my dismount or losing my footing on the ultra-slippy steps and sending the bike under the fencing, but didn’t lose any placings. Otherwise, I took the corners pretty conservatively, using the outrigger to rail some of the fast corners and negotiating my way through the off cambers and ruts without doing anything stupid. One of my favorite things about cross is the way lines can change each lap and you have to keep your wits about you to keep aware of this. With the course rapidly drying, many corners became deeply rutted and sketchy, while previously unnegotiable parts became suddenly rideable. The tracks in the straightaways also became quite loamy and one was faster to just ride in the grass to the side. Paying attention to this helped me quite a lot.

There was a group of 6 or 7 a few turns ahead of me that I came close to catching on the last lap, but never quite made it. The last time up the hill I was flawless, but a guy who I had caught and presumed to be a lapped rider produced an astonishing running burst to pass and gap me with enough space to make it over the finish before I could catch him again. Lesson learned; presume nothing.

That was it. I came home pretty dissatisfied and with a serious side stitch. Astonishingly, I was placed comfortably in the top 20 of 90 starters. I didn’t deserve it.

With an hour to kill, I chugged down a liter of powerade in one go, chilled for a bit, trying to take it all in, grabbed the singlespeed and headed for the line for more of the same. No tubeless on this setup, but I still reduced pressure to close to riding on the rims and hoped that the rapidly drying course would compensate for the lack of grip on my worn rear tire. SS is a lot of fun and features riders of cat 1-5 abilities. We lined up behind the 2/3 field and witnessed the most spectacular starting crash I’ve ever seen. Bodies flying everywhere, must have been about thirty bikes piled up. A couple of bike fatalities but no serious personal injuries.

I did what I could. Didn’t slack, kept it upright the whole race with no notable mistakes, enjoyed the plentiful rear wheel slides that made cornering that much quicker, and didn’t come last. A couple of people got away from me that wouldn’t have if I were fresh, 42*18 gear worked great, 42*17 would have been perfect with fresh legs. It was a lot of fun catching about two dozen of the 90 or so Cat 2/3 racers and just practicing my cornering and dialing in the course. Amazing what grades you can get up when you have no choice.

With two laps to go I felt a strange pain in my lower quads, one I normally don’t get. I looked down and, sure enough, my saddle had started slipping. I spent most of the rest of the race just hammering out of the saddle and had a revelation – I was going faster. Hurt like hell, but I was getting up to speed way quicker out of every corner and actually catching people much sooner than I expected. And managing to recover in the coasting sections as well. I had forgotten the intensity of cross and had been ignoring my rules: If you're in your happy place, downshift and go harder. There's plenty of time for recovery later.

Despite feeling well out of sorts, I simply hadn't been going hard enough. My lollygagging had thrown away a top 10 on a course that really suited me.

I'll keep Sunday brief. Mrs F's birthday. Same swanky restaurant as Erwin and the UCI bigwigs (thanks Chris from Team Magnus). I had the wild boar, Erwin had the lamb chops. Too much rich food. Managed to digest it but not breakfast the next morning. I was still wiping the barf off my bars when the whistle went.

Second row start this time. Lungs actually felt great,, I was ready to apply my newly refound Go Harder philosophy, but the legs had nothing; empty. Went backwards from the start, the Pegasus guy who took the holeshot went down on the first hairpin and the field compressed. Found a nice inside line but the fool behind me decided to muscle in to the minuscule inside space as well and took both of us out. My own fault for even leaving a chink of light there and not protecting it better. Lost 10 places there, a few more on the next corner and a few more coming to the barriers. Simply couldn't respond, cruising speed was fine, I could even up the pace a bit here and there but that top end was AWOL. Saturday's exertions sure sapped the legs.

The course was only a little changed from the previous day, a bit faster, only slightly muddy from the dew but drying up fast, a few more twisty bits with a couple of the off-cambers made easier. Instead of the railroad ties, we now rode up stranglers hill, descended into a steep hairpin and rode up again. Without practise, I wasn't even going to attempt it so I dismounted at the top, ran down, made the tight turn and ran up again. I passed two people on the first lap by doing this and lost no places or time on any lap. Amazingly, most people rode the whole thing but I didn't trust my legs or the slippery turn at the bottom. I also avoided that extra effort and feel that I was able to catch a good few later who fatigued from riding this section.

The first two laps consisted of me going backwards, lap 3 I stabilized my position, laps 4 and 5 I pulled a couple of baller moves on tired groups of riders and caught large numbers. Crossed the finish line 15 places lower than Saturday - could and should have been a lot worse.

The singlespeed race was fun. I was gapped and in last place by the first bend, nothing in the legs whatsoever and really had to dig deep not to DFL. We caught the tail of the 2/3 race stalled on the first off-camber section and I was looking forward to catching loads more 2/3s like Saturday, but it never happened. They just rode away from me. My only goal now was not to get lapped. Coming to the bell lap I thought I had plenty of time between me and the 2/3 leader but I wasted too much time goofing off on the hill with the Pegasus riders and then bobbled badly on the last rutted off-camber. The leader caught me coming into the finishing straight and I was pulled. Bit of a bummer but that's how it goes.

Anyway, an enjoyable weekend. I learned a lot and remembered a lot. Funny how the lungs let you down one day and the legs the next. I'm due a breakthrough result sometime this season. My results in the cat 4 were better than I deserved, considering how I raced so badly, so I must be doing something right. I need to keep training and ensure that I come to the races well-prepared in mind and body. Someday it'll happen - hopefully, I didn't throw away this year's chance already.

Illinois State Road Race

Willow Springs, IL

If you believe that a State Road Race Championship should be long and hard, and those fighting it out at the finish should have earned the right to be there, then you’re probably not from Illinois.

Amazing job from Tower Racing in finding the only hill in Chicagoland, organizing the permits, partial closure of roads and solving multiple other problems – while keeping a strong emphasis on safety (and parking a respectable Irish pub, with viewing patio, on the course). After the usual ritual of getting lost in Chicagoland, we found the racesite; parking and registration couldn’t have been smoother; temperature was cool and the mood was good. $35 registration is a very fair price for a road race, considering that CX and Crit races are hitting $30 now. I have no problems with the late fee either. Many people doubled up, so it would have been nice to get that $10-15 off for a second race as $70 is starting to get a bit steep to support the premier bike event of the year as fully as one can.

The 10 mile triangular course consisted of a 3 tier mile long hill with about 200 ft of climbing, a smooth descent followed by two 4 mile sections of smooth, narrow and sheltered road with a couple of false flats. The finish line was located at the top of the hill and the start a short distance before the bottom, so each race would ascend the hill by the number of laps plus one. Bar the hill, there was nothing to aid a separation, the lack of wind and smooth road kept speeds high, however this lack of natural separation didn’t prevent the cat 4s from creating their own.

It’s been an abysmal season for me. Don’t know if I’ve even finished in the upper half of a race this year, so I was hoping to gain some redemption with this one and get a decent result. Being a hill aficionado with no sprint, but solid endurance, I thought I should be able to do ok.

The order of the day was hammer it up the hill, coast down, tootle along merrily chatting amongst ourselves for the next 9 miles and repeat. Those who did well never showed their face at the front, did no work and had enough endurance to put out strong surges in power over a 1-2 minute period. Being an uphill sprint, the bigger 20 second crit sprinters were at a disadvantage – it would be interesting to see whether the smaller sprinters or the more powerful, but bigger, trackie types would do well on the day..


Masters Cat 4/5 75 starters

Biggest field of the day for the old geezer 4/5s. We were all aware that the centerline rule was strictly enforced, but other details concerning where use of both lanes were allowed were unclear because nobody outside the first two rows was able to hear the official.

Off we went, there were several holes and parallel cracks in the road that we weren’t prepared for and half a dozen bottles went flying immediately. Up the hill at a robust clip – hurt like heck in my unwarmed-up state – and through the finish line. Mindful of previous experience I tried not to lag near the back where accidents happen but only managed to make it up to about 40th place.

Crash #1

A little bit past the finish, just where the shoulder vanishes, something happened. I didn’t see or hear it happen, just saw the rear of a bike, with a leg attached, lying horizontal about 5 wheels ahead. I yelled out a warning, hit the brakes and unclipped. I slowed down pretty quick but was most worried about being crashed into from behind and sent flying into the rapidly increasing pile of bikes and bodies. Somehow I managed to negotiate my way between the flying bottles, metal, carbon and flesh but didn’t have time to congratulate myself. The guys at the front punched it immediately and the pack was split in two. There was no way I was going to let them get away and have my race ruined. I endured several of the most painful minutes I have ever experienced on a bike, chasing like a madman until they slowed down slightly for the turn onto 96th and I caught back on. Only a couple of us made it.

Nothing much happened after that, I felt we were going pretty slowly and expected that the rest of the field would catch on, but they never did. There were a bunch of manholes on Archer Rd that weren’t expected, and made taking a drink quite risky – combined with regular 4/5 riding, you had to have your wits about you to avoid surprised riders with one hand off the bars making squirrelly moves. That said, the pack was overall quite well behaved and nobody took any stupid risks. I was still suffering from my bridging effort and hung at the back hoping to recover.

The first three times up the hill were painful. The fourth time, coming on to the last lap, I got to the top and realized that I had barely noticed it. Took me 30 miles to warm up. Time to move up and get in good position for the final dig.

I spent the rest of the lap trying to move up without much success. I’d try on the outside, get stalled and get passed by those on the inside. Try again on the inside, and get passed by the outside. We were all bunched up and with very few people jockeying for position there was little fluidity and opportunity to get forward. I kept trying, nonetheless, and as we hit the corner for the final climb I looked around to gauge my position. I was still amazed to see that I was last but one of the 35 or so still in the pack.

As usual, a few riders found they were in too high a gear and stalled. I took the oppor-tunity and dug hard, shooting up to about 20th and tucking back in. Hitting the second tier I was able to move up to about 15th past a few guys who were starting to feel the quickening pace. All I needed now was the pack to spread out a bit and move into the top 10 before the final deciding all-out effort for the line.

It never happened, nobody was sure where the centerline rule ended and risk getting DQ’d so we proceeded like that until coming to the base of the hill. Boxed in, with not much I could do about it!

Then the shenanigans started: someone decided to break to the left, then swing to the right, another guy gave his teammate a lead out and decided that swinging over to the right and impeding half the pack was the right thing to do. Others felt that riding diagonally was preferable to going straight, and if swinging to the left didn’t make you faster, then trying to swing to the right might. The two guys directly in front of me were banging shoulders and handlebars and swerving all over the shop. I was seriously scared to move up - shamefully amateurish riding.

I felt amazing - floating uphill with no chain, accelerating up the slope and feeling nothing. My first no-chain day of the year and I’m having to soft pedal and touch the brakes several times to avoid the nonsense in front that was scaring the living daylights out of me.

After an eternity feeling that I was stuck outside the pay toilet with a crooked penny, the two antagonists in front ran out of steam and I was able to sneak by. Just in time:

Crash #2

One of the guys I had just passed went down; spontaneously, I think. I heard the worst crashing cacophony imaginable; yells, swearing, brakes and the sound of metal scraping and carbon breaking – lots of it – frames, wheels, shifters, bars, the lot. At least 10 people got taken out. A buddy who came on the scene a couple of minutes later said there were bodies and bikes all over the road.

I didn’t look back, just wanted to get the hell out of there. Finally, I saw daylight with about 60 meters to go and was able to punch it for all I was worth. I zoomed past half a dozen riders and managed to sneak into the top 10 before running out of real estate, crossing the line with plenty left in the tank and feeling like I had barely broken sweat.

I, along with a few others boxed-in guys, should have been sprinting for the podium. I was at least as strong as anyone else in the race. Lousy positioning on my part and inept riding by others had cost me the chance for the win. Still, a top 10 in the State road race is a remarkable improvement for me – I’ll take it and be thankful that I’m still intact.

Cat 4 race 55 starters

Things were a bit more fluid in this race. This time the official made sure that everyone heard the pre-race instructions and we had all taken the time to figure out where we could spread out for the hill. I was feeling bad about not doing much work in the previous race, so I went to the front from the beginning and pushed the pace several times to make it just that bit safer. I also wanted to test the legs and see what I had left; clearly not much as I nearly got dropped the second time up the hill. So, I wouldn’t be sprinting for the win, but there was no reason that I still couldn’t get a good top 15-20 result if I paid some attention to good positioning and measured out my efforts.

Crash #3

Nothing much to report before the finish. The pack stayed together, maybe 3 or 4 people got dropped by flatting or finding that they just couldn’t climb hills. Next-to-last time up the hill, half a dozen riders decided to risk DQ and crossed over to the left lane, one fool knocked over one of the cones placed to prohibit this and knocked it into the path of another rider in the right lane. He managed to avoid it, but was forced back into the next cone. Sandwiched between the pack on the right and the rule-flaunting riders on the left he had nowhere to go, colliding with the cone, going down with a blood-curdling scream and taking a couple others with him. Meanwhile, the guys who caused it all snuck back into the pack, smirkily pretending that nothing had happened. I hope they’re proud of themselves.

The hill was starting to hurt, but I didn’t want to repeat the positioning fiasco of earlier; I sucked up the pain, dug deep, and made it into the first half-dozen riders as we crossed the summit. I let myself fall back a few places here and there but stayed in the front third of the field for the rest of the lap, being able to move over and let my teammate past for a prominent position as well. Things were a bit more fluid, and this time it was much easier to float back and forth in the field if you kept your wits.

Hitting the hill for the last time I was in about 20th wheel, a position I was confident I could move up from, and I shifted to a lower gear for the steep first section. Then I got swarmed by about 15 riders from behind. Most of them found they were overgeared or ran out of gas, and after a little dig I was able to pass them again and regain my position. At the head of the field a couple of larger guys had broken away early, but they weren’t getting away and the top 20 were pretty much together. I was happy where I was and thought I could probably sneak another top 10 if I played my cards right.

Crash #4

At the crest of the first hill the Cuttin’ Crew train was busting a move on the outside, trying to get their man in position for the win. Not sure what happened, probably a wheel rub; I heard a drawn out ululation and saw a guy going into a full tuck and flying over the bars while sending his bike skidding to the right into my path. I Yell, brake, head for the ditch, trackstand; all on an uphill. Snuck through between the bike and the margin but that was it for me and the other racers directly behind. I pulled a muscle in my thigh trying to catch on, did manage to get on to the tail end and had a good view of the finish as we hit the final hill. 5 or 6 riders were fighting it out for the win, another 10 or so trying not to blow up and fill out the top 10 and another 15 in various stages of going backwards. I had nothing left and soft-pedalled home, still managing to pass another half-dozen or so bikers who were in a worse state than I was for a place
somewhere in the thirties.

That was it, exchanged a few war stories on the cool down, had something to eat and a couple of beers in the Irish pub, watched some more races and headed for the U2 concert that evening.

Looks like I’m finally hitting some form for the real season – Cyclocross starts in a week. Glad that I was able to put a silver lining on my miserable road season with a respectable result, but still annoyed that I was capable of competing for the top step of the podium and did a lousy job of enabling that to happen.

That said, I saw four crashes up close and managed to avoid them all. None of them should have happened – all were due to sloppy riding. I’m still alive and unharmed, that’s more important to me than any result.

While it’s great to have a unique course in the Chicago region, and Tower Racing did a great organizational job, anyone who thinks that this was a road race is fooling themselves. It wasn’t. It had the intensity somewhere below a Sunday group ride interspersed with a hard 2 minute effort every 25 minutes. The results say very little about riders road racing abilities – including mine. The hill added a different flavor and threw up some unexpected and welcome faces on the podium in all the races. It’d be great to have a State Championship that was genuinely long, hard and selective, like Iowa’s or Missouri’s, but let’s face it: we live in a state where road races are an afterthought and we have to be grateful for what we can get.

Jackson Park Cyclocross - Venez Nombreux!

Amazing turnout for the first CX race of the season. Four hundred and change was the number - making it the biggest cross race ever held in Illinois. Congrats to XXX and CHiCrossCup for bringing out the crowd and growing the scene remarkably. My experience of Chicago is that you need to charge more in order for people to appreciate it The extra bikereg fee and proposed late fee appear to have done the trick.

Plan for the year was to do a few cat 4 races, actually see the head of a race at least once, hopefully sneak a top 10 placing somewhere and then cat up as packfodder to the 3s. I had been looking forward to this for several months; last year I was bubbling under the top 10, this year - definitely stronger - I wanted to break through.

Manged to drag myself out of bed early enough to eat some oatmeal and make the 2.5 hour drive to Jackson Park in Chicago. The field for the Masters 30+ was relatively small, so decided to jump into that as a second race and use it as a warmup mission. After standing in a non-moving line for 20 minutes the XXX folks kindly brought me to the front and got me registered with 15 minutes to spare. Took me a full five minutes to pin on my number, hit the portapotty and get the bike together. I rolled around the parking lot a couple of times feeling pretty dead, saw Damon from Beverly, who busticated a rib on a major rut during warmup, and headed for the line.

I just took a place at the very back of the 30 starters and decided to take it easy for the first couple of laps to get to know the course and not to kill myself. At the whistle I stayed out of the starting shenanigans, felt pretty awful, and took it fairly easy. Good thing I did because I was all over the place on the first couple of laps. A mighty twisty course had me braking like crazy and heading into the course tape several times. I just wasn't getting warmed up and rode tempo - passing a few folks who crashed or dropped chains - and maintaining about 22nd place. The course was bumpy as heck, so between the excessive braking and the difficulty of building up any speed it took me forever to get in the zone. Eventually, after 4 laps I started to feel ok and was able to downshift a couple of gears, dial in the turns, lay off the brakes, and maintain a higher speed. The higher gear is always much better for bumpy courses, and the surface was starting to break in from all the bikes and gradually get faster.

Troy from Mission Bay - who had beaten me in every race last year - passed me then so , of course, I had to test myself. We hammered it for the last 3 laps. I'd pass him on the spiral of death, he'd get me on the barriers and I'd pass him again half a lap later and try to put some distance on him. He'd catch back up and get me on the next barriers. This race within a race really got things going, I forgot about my worsening back from all the bumps, and we passed what seemed like a bazillion 40+ backmarkers and lapped a few 30+ to boot - all in various states of blowing up and just ready to be done.

I got a small gap in the final lap and maintained that to the end. Crossing the line knowing that I had at least raced for a full 15 of the 45 minutes. Of course, the results got messed up and we were listed as close to DFL. I couldn't be bothered protesting, especially when the 40+ racers were getting mighty perturbed over some major scoring errors in their race. Maybe they'll recheck the 30+ while they're doing the 40+ and figure out that we weren't actually lapped, but it's not something that I'm going to worry about - and it's a longstanding cross cup tradition.

The course itself was a bit weird. They had clearly put a lot of thought into the design features - nice use of elevation change with a couple of tricky off-camber hairpins to keep you honest, plus a groovy spiral of death that I always enjoy trying to rail and the best part - a 3 log barrier that gave you a choice of riding or running; but the overriding theme was turns, lots of them, all requiring extreme braking and just enough skill not to crash. There weren't any long enough stretches to get back up to speed so it was a sequence of brake, accelerate, brake, coast around twisty bits, brake accelerate etc. If you really hammered into the start/finish you might pick up a big enough head of steam to catch someone going into the sand, and maybe another one coming out. But that was about it. It felt like it was designed by a mountain biker who had a complex against going fast and wanted to get his revenge against every roadie who had ever passed him. Therefore hairpin turns were placed at every possible opportunity to ensure momentum was killed and to negate any possible advantage one might have from going faster or railing a turn. There's a good reason you see very little of this at the UCI races - it makes for remarkably boring racing. Twisty but not technical - great for causing logjams and congestion. Not my kind of course, but I appear to be in a minority of one on that.

Meanwhile, after rehydration, hanging around meeting old acquaintances and taking in the following races - three hours had gone by and it was time to suit up for the 4a race.

The race was decided before the whistle even went. A hole shot into a set of hairpins meant the scramble for starting position would decide everything. I managed to muscle my way into the the 2nd row, but I doubt if anyone not on the front row got into the top 10. I was lucky enough to be on the faster-starting side, moved-up rapidly, rubbing shoulders and wheels into the hairpins and was in about 15th wheel hitting the sand - a pretty good start for this diesel. That's never high enough though, as someone between 7th and 10th always goes down and creates a logjam. The first seven got through cleanly to fight it out, a couple of fast-twitchers lose it and get tangled up and all those on one side are forced to get off their bikes and run. Lost about 5 places here. We roll around till the first hairpin barrier, I take it very cleanly but on the remount find that someone has optimistically placed their front wheel over my pedal and I'm trying to clip into his spokes. I get swarmed by about 10 riders before I can remount again and that was it. Stuck in a convoy through all the chicanes and turns. If you could maintain a certain minimum speed it was not possible to be passed unless you crashed. No choice but to resign myself to the parade until things would space out on lap 2. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. We continued on in the procession - passing maybe two riders per lap and losing or gaining a place on the barriers - until half a lap to go. Finally people started to tire, daylight appeared and I was able to get past a couple more riders for the final spurt to the line.

Very short race - The winner crossed in about 25 minutes. Last year we did six laps for 8 miles., this year four laps for 6 miles. It was the first cross race ever that I can say I just did not enjoy. I've raced in larger fields, but on courses that were designed to allow races to spread out and that didn't consider going fast a crime. I felt that I just didn't race. My result had nothing to do with how fast or slow I was, merely to do with starting on the second row. A third row start and I would have been ten places further back. Fourth row and I would have finished in the forties. So it goes.

A pretty deflating way to start the season. Once you get that top 10 callup it's very difficult not to maintain that placing. I need to forget about series points and callups and just take as much as I can get from each race and enjoy the experience.

We suck it up and move on. I'll be heading for Madison this weekend - that should be very different. I'll make sure to enjoy it more.

Colesburg 40 Gravel Road Race.

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IL State Time Trial Champs

Harvard, IL

I dug out the TT frame a couple of weeks before this and rode it exclusively coming up to this event. TTing is always something I’ve liked. I have a good tolerance for suffering and have always seemed to maintain concentration and never give up. Good attribute for my favorite discipline of cyclocross.

The aim was to break 25 mph and average 290W. I’d been doing 285 W in training without too much pain, so I thought this was achievable if I were fresh and well-prepared. Equipmentwise I own a craigslist TT frame and fork, with a too-tall headtube, that I got a great deal on plus: a Giro TT helmet, chopped roadbars, performance’s cheapest clip-ons and an 8 speed shifter run in friction mode so I can use a 9 speed 11-23 cassette. Regular road wheels (18 spoke, 28 mm rim) on front and 32 spoke powertap with open pro rim on back, all shod with regular 23 mm Michelin Pro Race 3s. I’m a bit more flexible this year so I reduced the stem height by about 2 cm and brought my position slightly forward. Not being a fan of buying speed, I made my own aerocovers with some Hobby Lobby foamboard and some zipties – a complete PITA to mount and dismount, and I’m not sure that it makes me faster, but I do it just to annoy the folks who spend $1000+ for a cool sound and a few extra seconds.

I’d be more impressed with the event organization if they could actually state the correct distance on the flyer (it’s 32.7 km, not 30 km) and let us know in advance how rough the roads were in parts. Closing online reg a week beforehand and then charging a cheeky $37 for day-of is not the way to impress. If it wasn’t the State Champs I doubt that many would have turned up. As usual, payout was minimal. That said, the most important thing was safety: the course was very well-marshalled with very little traffic. They also got the results online very promptly, something that very few promoters seem able to manage.

Onto the day itself - not enough sleep, 2.5 hour drive, lousy warmup is not the way to prepare. Temp in the 70s was perfect with a light breeze. There’s a 10 minute start delay so I use that time to go for a little more warm-up cruising. Of course, I lose track and end up sprinting back to the start just as my minute man is taking off – a close call!

I get going and use the PT to moderate my power and avoid the early blow up. Just can’t find any rhythm and the horizontal cracks in the road jarring me every two seconds really start to get to me. I shift up and shift down, playing around with my cadence, but just can’t seem to find that happy place. I try to keep power up but there are several points where I look down and find I’m doing only 220W. Feels like my seat is way too high and my hamstrings are in serious pain already. Hit the first corner, the surface improves, and I make a big effort to settle in – finally find some rhythm and am able to put down a consistent power for a while. A few more corners, taken conservatively, and I’m about two thirds done. This is where there is an extended section of potholes, hidden in shadows, followed by the one fast downhill with a rough culvert at the bottom that’s just begging for a dropped chain or pinch flat. I get some direct pothole hits and
then coast gingerly over the rough hollow. Probably lost quite a few seconds here but I’m not prepared to risk it when I don’t know the course. The strangest thing is that I passed noone and nobody passed me. Something that’s never happened me before. Catching sight of a rabbit can be a great motivator, as can being caught; I found it mighty lonely out there.

After the last turn I know it’s a straight shot for home on a slight uphill and mild headwind. Really starting to hurt here and my muscles and tendons are protesting. The next few miles consist of alternating between 30 secs or so at 300 W, dropping down to 240 for a few seconds, before sucking up the pain again – all the time waiting for an indication that the finish line was near - some course distance markings would have been useful. After an eternity in the pain cave, and many false sightings, I see the finish tent and hammer for all I’m worth for the final minute.

24.6 mph, 283 W - Kinda disappointing. There are folks putting out lower power and going faster, so I’ve still got quite a lot of aero gains to make. The good news is that my breathing was fine, my legs let me down. I think my saddle was just too high. Way too much messing about with position and I guess I never settled on one in time to really get used to it. I estimate my CdA at about 0.275 m^2. Looks like I can afford to lower my position a bit more and get closer to 0.26 CdA – that would have me comfortably above 25 mph. Gotta dial in one position for next year and ride that a lot more.

Resultswise Cat 4/5 is always a bit of a joke. You always get a bunch of triathletes or TT specialists who have never raced enough to upgrade and come out to do some ridiculous times. The top 5 would also have podiumed in Cat 3 while the winner did 28 mph and just lost out for best time of the day to a P12 rider. As it was, I finished somewhere midway. It was interesting that there were several riders clustered together with only a few 10s of seconds separating us. This is where it becomes tempting to invest in all the bling. Zipp 808 front, carbon aerobars, carbon rear would guarantee me an extra 30s to 1 minute and soothe my ego by vaulting over 3 or 4 others. It’s not something I really see the point of though. I’ve DFL’d enough races to know that I don’t have serious self-esteem issues and I could never spend enough to get me on the podium. Next year, maybe a decent skinsuit and a new wheelcover – main thing will be dragging the bike out much earlier and working on getting used to lower position. The 40k hour mark still needs to be broken.

Iowa State Road Race

Ginormous crosswinds + bazillion rollers + big Iowa farm boys = the most brutally hard race I have done.

“When in doubt, eat potatoes” was a famous slogan of this man – a sentiment that I fully agree with -, so what better way to celebrate the legacy of our 31st president than head to his birthplace, West Branch, IA for Hooverfest, where amongst the funnel cake, World Hooverball championships and deep fried Snickers bars there was also a bike race taking place– namely the Iowa State Road Race Championships. I predicted my race would mirror the Hoover presidency – spectacular crash, followed by a downward spiral into great depression, then stagnation, resignation to one’s fate and spectacular defeat. Let’s see how it would turn out.

As usual, not enough sleep, a late start and 2.5 hour drive conspired to leave me just enough time to register, pin on my number and set up my bike. Headed for th eline after a quick spin to check my brakes etc. The official gave us our orders – centerline rule, 2 laps of a 27 mile circuit, don’t cross the yellow line for the sprint – and we were off.

There was a sense of nervous energy in the pack of forty-odd riders ; this was the State Champs so most riders would have been targetting this for a peak performance – I wasn’t, I knew it was going to be tough but still had been putting in a hard block of training for CX season – I was hoping to wing it a bit; hide away until I was good and warmed up and then see what would happen.

There was no large team representation, maybe three riders each from DMOS, North Iowa Spin, Rasmussen and Bike Tech plus a smattering of others from allover the state and a few out-of staters.

They sure breed ‘em big in Iowa, from the gun a group of seven or eight riders formed at the front and put the hammer down. I quickly found myself at the back, hoping that the nervous energy would dissipate, but it was not to be. Directly out of town there’s an 8 mile straight stretch with roller after roller, all ravaged by a brutally swirling crosswind increasing in strength. Every roller we hit, a new guy would go to the front and punch it, seemingly unaffected by the wind – sure are some extremely strong country boys in Iowa. Pretty soon the rear of the pack lost its formation and it was every man for himself. Try as I might, I was struggling to find any draft and was getting guttered on the white line. We’d hit a hill and I’d be able to make up some ground, the pack would reform in a more organized fashion and then get strung out by the next rider punching it at the front. I simply wasn’t ready for the neverending surges and was soon
feeling the pain before even warming up. It was sone of the situations where the guy on the inside would be cruising along at 100-150 watts but the guy on the outside, in the wind, would be over threshold at over 300 watts. This situation rarely continues because the guys on the outside try to move to the inside and it ends up becoming a strung-out paceline of strung-out riders, all fighting for some shelter.

Pretty soon I saw the pattern of doom forming, a head group of 8 or so riders, clumped together and rotating well, a couple of paired riders hanging off their draft and a long line of single riders fighting for wheels, trying to close gaps and guttered on the white line. I have been told that this has been referred to as a Mexican Paceline, but, as that’s probably not PC, I’m going to call it an English Paceline. I know from bitter experience that when an English paceline occurs, gaps will occur, someone won’t be bale to close it and the pack will split – I’ve been on the wrong end of this a couple of times and I’m not going to let that happen again.

Only one thing for it – get to the front. I yell at my teammate that it’s too dangerous back here and to grab my wheel., pull out into the wind, bury my head and kick it up for all I’m worth. It’s brutally hard out here, I’m well into anaerobic and making bugger-all progress. This hurts. I manage to pull forward 10 or 15 places and then have to give up. Got no more to give and the head of the English paceline is still out of reach, but I believe this effort is what saved me. Some where in the next couple of miles the pack did split and about 40% of the pack got dropped. I got gapped maybe two dozen times but fought back on each time. I think I was the last rider to make it.

After 8 miles of this torture, we turn East for a couple of miles, the pace increases but there’s a tailwind and the pack stays together, then a right turn for another 8 miles into rolling hills and crosswind. I hang on at he tail of the pack, suffering like a dog. This time we’re guttered on the yellow line and it’s more of the same. Each respite I try to move forward a few places in the wind and then try to hang on – somehow I succeed. I don’t know how I managed it. My legs hurt, my ass hurts, my brain hurts. My quads especially, are screaming. My stomach is about to convulse. Luckily the hills on this stretch are longer and I’m able to move up a bit on the downhills and then climb to mid-pack on the uphills.

Eventually we hit the right hand turn for the 5 mile headwind drag into town. The pack slows down and everybody takes it easy for ten minutes, taking the chance to eat and drink and chat a bit. I spend the first 5 minutes dry-retching. It’s been the hardest hour I have ever had on the bike – a miracle that I survived. We averaged over 25 MPH in the first hour, for a cat 4 race - that’s fast, for a race in a crosswind it’s a phenomenally hard pace. It’s a mystery to me how so many others hung on. Eventually I recover somewhat and am bale to drink some fluids, although eating is still out of the question.

We hit the feedzone, roll through town and turn for the crosswind section again. Plenty more surges go down, but this time I’m pretty careful about moving up aggressively whenever the pace drops and even go to the front a few times. I know that I’ve already burned two boxes of matches and have nothing left, but manage to fake it without too many problems as we hit the short tailwind section. Turn again into the second crosswind, more surges, English paceline forms again. Nothing in the legs, I get gapped on the first surge but battle back on. Second surge and I’m off the back, nothing left to give – the damage had been done on the first lap. Two guys behind me pull through and drag me back on. Surge three and I’m off the back. I’m the very last guy to be dropped. I work together with Ryan from DMOS, who catches me from behind and we trade pulls in the hope that a miracle will occur and we catch back on. The pack does actually slow down
considerably and we come tantalizingly close to them a couple of times but never close enough to make a bridging effort worthwhile. Dropped on the very last surge of the race!

We keep them in view at 30-60 secs gap until they make the right turn for the last five miles into town. That’s when I cracked and the last few miles uphill inot the headwind were a long and lonely death march. Ryan has a bit more in the tank and I can’t keep up with him – he presses on for a strong finish but the officials miss him crossing the line a couple of minutes behind and he’s listed as DNF – very unfair to him.

I struggle on and manage to raise a feeble sprint for show at the line. Collapse into the grass on the side and contemplate retirement for a couple of minutes. I drink a fresh bottle, stand up and actually don’t feel too bad. My quads are still screaming but I’ve been in a lot worse shape. Maybe I am getting fitter after all.

It’s about 10 minutes or so before the rest of the Cat 4 riders start to straggle in, in various states of distress. Only a few DNFs - for such a brutal race that’s very surprising. Teammate Tim finished his race strong – just finishing deserves respect.

The race ended up with the pack of twenty-odd riders slowing to snails pace for the last few headwind miles and then a drag race for the line into the uphill headwind. A pity I couldn’t hang on as I think I would have had enough for some decent power for a couple of minutes at the end. The top ten guys were way strong but maybe a top 15 was within reach. Such is life.

Positioning at the end was crucial (see pic) with the centerline rule in force you needed to be well-positioned for the sprint or take some crazy risks passing in the gravel. The guy who won is a multiple World champion speed skater, Jeannie Longo passed me once on a Hill Climb, but this is the first time I’ve race with a World champion of any discipline – that’s kind of cool.

Looking back, I try to see what I could have done better. The roads were like glass, so my decision to run 28mm tires didn’t work out. If I’d forced myself to eat and drink more maybe I could have had the extra five watts needed to hang on. But the big difference was simply getting hung, drawn and quartered in the first half hour. Lesson learned, if you expect a crosswind, get a good night’s sleep and warm up plenty beforehand. The hammer will always drop from the gun and those who aren’t prepared will pay for it.

All in all, it was a great race. Roads were perfect, very little traffic, safe and well-marshalled, flawless registration and really cheap to boot. It would be great if there was a way to move the finish line so that there could be a full width sprint – but you can’t have everything.

We all brought families and they had a great time at Hooverfest and wandering around West Branch. Found cheap eats and even got good Hefeweizen beer for a ridiculous price of $1.75 each.

One of the hardest, and most enjoyable races there is in the Midwest. We’ll be back next year.

Chicago Criterium

We went round in circles and XXX didn’t win.

It’s a bit sad when the highlight of your day is the warmup, but that’s how it turned out at the Chicago Criterium on Sunday.

Feeling completely off this weekend. Should have bagged the race but I already paid. Lack of sleep, a three hour drive, plus the stress of looking for parking meant that my head just wasn’t in it. Great venue in downtown, super well-organised, smooth registration, races started on time, pleasant surroundings.

Found a nice shady spot to set up the rollers, with a view of the course to watch the cat 3s going round and a light pleasant breeze to keep things cooler I couldn’t have asked for much more. Spinning away I figured out one of the bonuses of the location - Let’s just say that the average eye candy in Grant Park is quite a step above your average crit – most pleasant.

After the most thorough warm-up I’ve ever done it was time to line up with the other 75 4/5 masters racers. Lots of Beverly Bike, Tower Racing and more XXXers than you could shake a chamois at.

With no warm-up lap I didn’t really know what to expect. The pack took off quickly, and with no real zip in my legs I quickly found myself at the back. As is typical in Midwest crits, the mentality is to accelerate out of every corner, slow up on the straights and hammer it over the leg-sapping hump on Balbo. I like hills but I found myself getting gapped each time over that hump and having to chase on. Smooth it was not.

I just concentrated on finding the right lines and conserving momentum through the corners. The course was much rougher than I expected, apart from the abundant manholes there were a lot of cracks and uneven transitions that weren’t immediately obvious. Even my relatively conservative PSI was a bit high and my rear wheel did jump a couple of times during the race.

The hazards of hanging at the back are well known. Towards the end of lap 2 about 10 guys started feeling the pace and dropped off. I was slow to react and had to chase for nearly a full lap to catch on. Still feeling poorly but reasonably happy that I did have the power to catch on. Then the next hazard of riding at the back. A guy’s wheel skips on a manhole into turn 5 and he spontaneously wrecks just in front of me. Between braking and a nice rear wheel skid I manage to avoid hitting him, but by the time I clip back in the pack is well gone. I get no love from the pit official and that’s it – my race is over. My own fault for hanging at the back.

I get together with the two other guys in the incident (nobody injured) and we roll a few laps, me taking most of the pulls, until the pack comes around again. Hop on to the back and have no problem hanging. They have slowed down considerably and the second half of the race is slow, uneventful and boring. None of the teams are showing any initiative and solo riders have given up trying to push the pace.

As we hit 30 minutes some people are starting to get a little tired. A BBVP rider tries to move up in the turn lane on Michigan ave but only succeeds in getting boxed in when the road narrows, luckily a SCW rider anticipates the danger and yells out to everybody to slow up; BBVP gets back in safely, good riding SCW!. 1.5 laps to go and the pace ups slightly, guys are finally falling back on the hump – as we hit the bell a line of Tower racing riders who had been hanging near the back punch it on the straightaway in an effort to drag their guy to the front, I’m not sure if they managed to make it. Around turns 1 and 2 and nothing much happens, plenty of room to move up on the Congress curve, we hit Balbo and the back of the pack implodes, guys are dropping off like flies on the hump; the final turn and no-one has dared to make a move, I’m just motoring along keeping up with the pace and making sure not to get involved in the sprint. It was the tamest field sprint I have seen (see the pic), one guy goes off and wins by a couple of bike lengths, the rest seem scared to bust a move and about 30 guys hit the line within a few yards of each other. Seems like a lot of riders hit a brick wall and collapse, I had to brake several times so as not to get involved in the sprint, I’m still mid-pack, but a lap behind.

We roll around for a cool down, exchanging war stories. I look down and realize that I’ve done the whole race in my little chainring. Great to see Psimet from Bike Heaven get a good result. XXX only managed one guy in the top 15 – seem to be losing their mojo - highly unusual. It was a surprisingly weak 75 rider field – not many real sprinters in there and PowerBar Ben with his bazillion upgrade points didn’t even put in an appearance to ride away from the field. Still not sure about why Cat 4 riders are so obsessed with going hard on the slow bits and slow on the fast bits, but if you really want to blow yourself up then go ahead.

A pity about the lost lap, but I never really got my head into the race so it was probably for the best. I’m not sure why this race and all the other races I saw were so tame and lacked much initiative. The course isn’t technical but had enough features to sap the legs and repay skilful cornering, the wind even changed a few times and I sometimes had difficulty catching the draft. Seems like many of the teams negated each other and nobdy wanted to take any risks with friends and family watching., tired legs from superweek may have been another factor.

My last crit of the year. Roll on CX season.

Anyway, a super experience to race in the heart of downtown in such a well-organised event. Glad to be able to support it and I hope it’ll be back next year.

Mountain Biking

MTBing is weird. I just don't get the obsessions with singletrack. More to come.

Mississippi Bluffs Road Race

A bit of a strange one, this. Neither the flyer or website gives out much info, so one basically has to go on trust – which is fairly typical for an ABR race. Anyway, it’s a 30 mile road race near the Quad Cities and is billed as the ABR Illinois state champs. 30 miles is a bit short for a road race, never mind state champs, but it’s a road race and deserves to be supported. One gets some knowledge from finding last year’s results. It appears that they ran all senior cats together in one pack – there was quite a small turnout in the elite categories and reasonable in the masters, but not enough to merit splitting the groups. A bit strange but, hey!, it’s different.

This year they planned to run the open 1/2/3/4s together and the other masters cats in a separate group. I registered for the masters because I wasn’t in the mood to get my ass handed to me by some cat 2s and there was the opportunity to work with some teammates who were racing other masters cats as well.

Because of roadworks some of the highway exits were closed off, but we found the staging area after a few missteps. A lot of people (racers and registration folks) had some difficulties with ABR licenses and categorizations and registration was remarkably slow for the moderate numbers there. Once sorted, we head out for a 20 minute warm up and make our way back to the start. After a while the official announces that the masters 30+ and 40+ would join the 1/2/3/4s for one start and the other masters would race together. This evens up pack numbers to 25-30 in each group. Foiled from not being able to ride with my teammates, but not to worry. With no designated number system we simply raise our hands to show which group we belong to. I try to memorise who is who but soon forget. There are 3 cat2s, 4 cat 4s and a bunch of masters. Team Mack came in force but only two of them are in the younger masters fields. The older guys got a bigger turnout, it seems,
because there’s no suitable superweek category for them.

A couple of Team Mack guys punch it from the first turn but in the stiff 15 mph wind they don’t get far and they return to the fold. That was the pattern of the race, a couple of people would try to get a gap but make little headway. Any solo riders who attacked got chased down by one of the teams with 3 or more riders, but none of the teams really tried to make any organized move themselves. With so many cats racing together, they negated each other and nobody was willing to do much work or was even sure who was racing against who.

A stiff wind, quite a few turns and a moderate amount of climbing and descending on some reasonably quiet roads made for a worthy course. Too bad we never really grasped it. The first few miles had a couple of fast right handers, then a few miles on a windy wide road with a shoulder, a sharp left hander followed by a right hander onto a more protected road, a very fast minute long descent to a sharp right and then two reasonable hills, some windy straightaways, a long gradual descent, turn onto a crosswind-ravaged frontage road for a few miles, chicane onto a more sheltered frontage road, leading to a steep minute long hill, then a milelong headwind drag race with a fast downhill and a long false flat to the start/finish line.

The legs were feeling quite heavy and I got gapped a few times going round corners on lap 1. I hung near the back just trying to warm up a bit more, I noticed a few people falling back on the second of the hills but we took it easy on the downhills and it was easy to catch back on. Nothing much happened until we hit the steep uphill before the finish. I big ringed it, some people punched it and the pack split, I hung on to the first group - just about - but it was one of the more painful experiences I’ve had on a bike. Hitting the start of lap 2 we slowed up again and most of the dropped riders caught on again.

I started to feel much better and moved up to the front of the pack to see what was going on. The three Cat 2s jumped away to fight it out and everyone was happy to let them go. Chris from Verdigris attacked several times but he was chased down by a different Project 5 rider each time. That was about it. Guys got gapped several times on the hills and the pack could easily have been whittled down by half had any of the teams decided to push the pace, but nobody did – and we were all one happy little family again coming onto the wide frontage road with about 5 miles to go.

There we hit a head/crosswind and the slow-bike-race began. It was comical. Whoever was in the wind would go slower and slower and the pack would bunch up behind and not allow him to fall back. One or two guys would attack, be let hang for a while and then the pace would increase for a few seconds until they were reeled in. After a while I finally lost my patience and made my way to the front, upped the pace and took a long steady pull for a mile or so. I waggled my elbow like a crazy man but nobody pulled through. I rode onto the white line and the pack duck waddled right behind me, rode over to the yellow line and the pack waddled over obediently behind me, speeded up a bit and they speeded up, slowed down and they slowed down. This is a bit embarrassing, had nobody any shame that a solo rider was able to play such games with them? Apparently not.

It was clear that everybody was settling for a drag race to the finish, whoever could punch it to the top of the hill and then still have enough gas left for the sprint would win, and the groupthink was for everyone to conserve their energy for that. I wasn’t prepared to settle for that so pulled a bit more, but going at about 12 mph. I didn’t want to hit the final steep hill with the pack and I guessed a couple of others would have the same idea, so I wanted to be well placed to jump on to any attack.

I had underestimated the distance to the final hill so decided to embarrass the pack into pulling through. We hit a wider stretch with a shoulder and I rode onto that, with the pack following, but I gradually ride through worse and worse surface, gravel, broken glass and then finally onto the grass verge. It finally clicked that grabbing my wheel might not be a good idea and someone eventually took the responsibility to pull through on the white line, albeit still at slow-bike-race speed. The turn onto the last stretch came up and I hit that first to make sure I wouldn’t get gapped. With a narrower, more sheltered road the pace increased. Chris from Verdigris had one last go and was marked by one of the team riders who was watching him. They maintained a gap so I buried myself and jumped on. Seeing the hill coming up I came round them and got a nice gap of a few seconds hitting the base of the hill. This time I little-ringed it at my own pace and felt good.

The pack caught me halfway up and swarmed round me. I’m a decent climber and was amazed how I went from first to last in about ten seconds. Nobody got gapped this time on the hill either. Wow! I must be a lousy rider! I had no particular interest or much energy for a sprint so I was facing yet another disappointing back-of-the-pack finish. We descend quickly and hit the finishing uphill drag. Then something strange happens, guys start dropping off like flies. I’m just maintaining my speed and people are blowing up left and right. One solo rider who didn’t put his nose in the wind for the full race goes off the front and wins by several bike lengths, I’m waiting for the sprint to start but it never does, the front guys hit a brick wall of wind and fatigue and sort of limp across the line in fairly random fashion - everybody scrunched up into a length of maybe 3 bike lengths or so.. I finish mid to two thirds back in the pack after negotiating my way through the maze of immolated riders who shot their wad on the hill. Looks like my tactic of
getting a gap and riding the hill at my own pace had some merits. Either way, it was the most bizarre finish I’ve ever been part of.

Overall it was a very fun course, a bit too short to test strength and fitness, those who couldn’t or wouldn’t work were never tested. A team willing to push the pace here and there and/or an extra lap could really turn it into a not-to-be missed premier cycling event. I certainly could have finished higher if I had slunk at in the final miles, but I don't see any point in doing that. Racing for 10th place is dumb and I don't learn anything from it or enjoy the experience. I'd much rather finish at the back and know that I, at least, attempted to make it a race. Given that almost all the masters were Cat 3s or better, I guess I did ok. Do those guys who finished just a couple of places ahead of me, without contributing to the race, feel good about it?

So that was it; waited a while to watch the older masters finish – my teammate Dan attacked in the very same place as I and managed to hold the lead before blowing up with 300 yards to go. He was absolutely destroyed coming over the line and couldn’t speak for 20 minutes or so afterwards.

We hung around exchanging war stories for quite a while. There was no sign of any results or officials so most people gave up and headed home – still trying to take the whole bizarre experience in.

This race has fantastic potential. Just make it a little longer and publicise it in a more comprehensible manner and it should easily attract 2-3 times the numbers in a year or two. Posting results a little sooner than two weeks afterwards would also encourage a larger participation.

Proctor Crit - "Doc, I can't feel my legs!"

Proctor Crit - State Champs

The title sums up my races pretty well. Here goes:

We went round in circles and XXX won.

With only a short drive and plenty of time for sleep I had no excuses for messing up this one, but I contrived to do so anyway. 40 or so of us lined up for the masters 4/5 race. I got an ok'ish 15 minute warm up in. The pace was hectic for the first couple of laps with a fierce wind swirling between the buildings. Super 8 turn course, with wide streets, good road conditions and enough elevation changes to take a bit of the zip out of the sprinters legs. I suffered from the start, lost contact into the headwind on lap 2, legs as dead as they’ve ever been. Just no response whatsoever.

Rolled around with a Team Mack guy for a while, contemplated just bagging it but that wouldn’t be a Sean thing to do. Eventually I warmed up somewhat and I was able to put out some steady state power. Caught a group of 3 stragglers containing a teammate and we two took off - trading turns. At the waist of the figure 8 we could see the main field coming through just over half a lap ahead, they had bunched up, it was clear that they were now settling for the sprint- that meant that the only question now was by how many lengths Mike of XXX would win.

We worked away and actually made up a little bit of time on the field, they had definitely slowed. I was taking all the pulls on the back straight into the wind, teeth gripping the bars to make myself ultra aero – catching and dropping a few more stragglers. With two laps to go I caught sight of a group of 5 ahead and buried myself to catch them. Flew straight past them and a couple jumped on my wheel. I knew that the pace would be picking up and didn’t want to get caught, so I just pulled as hard as I could and went eyeballs out up the finishing straight to avoid the approaching field sprint. I could hear the commentary of the finish as I went around turns 1 and 2, sure enough Mike won the sprint easily, but only by a couple of lengths. I guess I had dropped the others in the last effort so I rolled around easy and finished the race without being lapped and having caught everyone who got dropped. Not much to take comfort from but
I’m glad I never gave up. The steady state engine is fine but the top end comes and goes – I guess I overdid it on some hill repeats two days beforehand. I'll have to be careful about that in the future.

I have to say that the idea of a cat 4 state champion is a bit weird, by definition it only serves to identify those who should already have upgraded. Both the first and second guys in the race would be able to hang with the cat 2s no problem. Maybe they should run it in March so those who target it can race and upgrade, should save them the trouble of micromanaging upgrade points for most of the Summer.

Then it was a three hour shift in sun and wind as a corner marshall followed by a spell looking after the payout table after a racer and his manager (from my favourite blue and white team) badgered the payout guy so much (there was a mixup over results) that he walked away and went home. They then tried the same trick on the club treasurer – to the point that I had to intervene and ask them to step away. They got their payout eventually when we received the correct results but only managed to reinforce their already classless reputation in Illinois cycling – and I’m not the only one who thinks this.

After five hours volunteering, I lined up for the Cat 4 race but feeling dizzy and dehydrated I dropped out on lap 1. Not finishing is weak, but racing when you’re a danger to others and yourself is weaker.

The real story of this race is the superb, flawless organization. Registration was smooth. Course was wonderful, atmospheric - and safe. Little things like the plentiful water supply for all, and the different colour numbers to distinguish those in different age brackets but racing together demonstrated what makes a good race great. Other promoters please note.

The swirling blustery wind made racing difficult, and wasn’t friendly to breakaways but there were some good races. In Cat 3, the Zinkotron went off the front for about 30 minutes, but the pace was so fast that his teammates just couldn’t get to the front to block. He was caught with 5 laps to go and then Burnham racing executed as perfect an end of race strategy as one is likely to see and went 1-2 for their efforts.

I sat down to watch the normal Cat 4 procession and a race actually broke out. There were lots of attacks, PowerBar Ben did his thing about half a dozen times, he'd get chased down by XXX and then XXX would send guys off the front and block. Great to see effective teamwork finally in action. With 5 laps to go XXX's Liam, probably with the largest 10 minute engine in the Cat 4s, went off and nobody chased. XXX blocked and Liam stayed away and won by 20 –30 seconds. Mike of XXX won the field sprint by a facile margin and Joel of Bike Heaven exploded off the front to take third – that guy has the purest natural acceleration I’ve seen in a long time, he was not ignored when they were doling out the cycling genes to the Friedman family. Turned out to be the best race of the day - congrats to XXX for bringing the numbers, executing a plan and reaping their deserved rewards by going 1-2.

It was a super event that sets the Gold Standard on how to organize a race. It was a privilege just to be part of it. Next time I’ll try to bring my legs along.

Cobb Park Criterium

"We went round in circles and then XXX won"

Six crits this year, six XXX wins. Kinda like Gary Lineker's description of soccer - "You play for 90 minutes and then the Germans win".

To backtrack:

Driving to races on weekends entails endless knob-twiddling , of the radio variety - just as you find a decent station it fades out and the hunt begins again. The only constant is that an NPR station somewhere at all times will be playing A Prairie Home Companion - a show that I dislike because Garrison Keillor's voice and manner just rubs me all wrong, I learned to detest it when he insisted on singing on it as well. We'll catch Klik and Klak, maybe Wait, Wait Don't tell me!, then a program about Mormon adoptions until we're ambushed by that annoying growl and the realization that someone with no ability or musicality is insisting on singing on the radio - just because he can. Double-black flip, puch the button and the search for another NPR station resumes, safe for another hour until GK invades that station's airwaves to assault our eardrums again and the ritual repeats.

Driving to Kankakee, going through the "Whoa, Incoming!" motions of ducking and running from the Keillor assault, the thought struck me: Me doing Crits is like GK singing , yes, it's possible to do it, but does anyone involved enjoy it?

I'm lousy at crits, haven't got a fasttwitch muscle fiber in my body, corner poorly, each acceleration slaughters me with lactic, sketchy cat 4s scare me, guys I beat easily in cross, who train about 3 hours a week, whizz by me as I get dropped - you get the picture. To me, criteriums are an artificially-stupid form of bike racing enthusiastically adopted by crash-happy Yanks because it's close to impossible to get a permit for a road race in the US.

So why am I going to Kankakee to race 2 crits? Because any race the the South Chicago Wheelmen, one of the most grassroots-active clubs in Illinois, puts on is bound to be good and deserves support. I also need a tuneup to avoid shaming myself at Proctor the next week. Practicing what you're lousy at is usually a good way to improve skills, and heck! I just love to race my bike.

CAt 4, 39 starters, 25 finishers:
For the second time this year I arrive late because of some goofy directions from Google maps - it's mapquest for me from now on. I grab my bike and pull on my kit, but the race should already have started. Luckily, they were running a few minutes late; the lady at registration walked me over to the start, took my name off the DNS list, got me to sign the waiver and pinned me up. How cool is that?

Made it with a couple of minutes to spare. Exchanged some pleasantries with MJH2 and Psi from Bike Heaven and we're off! Wildcard set a blinding pace and by 3 laps in my coffee of a couple of hours previously was set to come up. had to drop off and soft pedal, dry retching for a couple of minutes. Sweat was streaming off me and I was seriously overheated. Rolled a couple of laps with another dropped rider and waited for the pack to come round again.

What a great course! Essentially flat, in great condition with 3 turns (2 fast, 1 slow) and a chicane to make things interesting. All left turns, which for some reason I ride much better than right turns. Safe as well, with a couple of long straights to allow passing without too much problem. A lively wind forced one to keep concentrating to find the best draft and easiest places to move up. Best of all were neighbors having parties on their lawns and really getting into things.

The pack comes round again, I jump onto the back and last a lap. Still too fast, and I'm simply not warmed up. Get together with a few other stragglers and I mostly pull them around for several laps. With about 15 mins to go we get lapped again, I jump on and have no problem staying on until the end of the race. They've slowed quite a bit and I'm now reasonably warmed-up. More than half of the 39 starters got shelled off the back in this race so I'm in good company. Roll around at the back and out of harm's way for the rest of the race and am happy that I didn't book a DNF., despite being sorely tempted to do so earlier on. The braking in this race was crazy, the last two corners and the chicanes were ridiculous accordeon fests, even though only one of the turns required and care and could easily be negotiated without braking.

btw, XXX won.

Master's 4/5: 40something starters, 34 finishers

With an hour to kill I just sat in the shade to cool down and drank multiple bottles of water. Recovered quickly and was ready to start the Master's race. Mission: don't get dropped!

I was much more aggressive about maintaining position in the first few laps and it worked. The race was much smoother, most had already ridden the cat 4 race and were familiar with the course, and there was much less braking. Still, turn 3 was taken way too sketchily. One XXX dude had the squealiest brakes ever on his Hed Stingers, he'd touch the brakes and it sounded like a pileup about to happen and every body else would brake in sympathy. After a while I drifted towards the back and practiced the technique of dropping slightly off the back and coasting through the turns to avoid the accordeon effect and saving energy. It's a lot safer as well. Mostly worked but I did have to put in some digs to catch back on when we hit the wind into the finishing straight.

About 30 mins in (15 to go) the pack started to slow quite a bit and I found myself coasting up to halfway without trying. I was starting to feel good, and getting kinda bored, so I decided to stretch the legs a bit to see what would happen. Kind of my way of shaking my tiny fist at the dominating XXX Cat 4 world. We hit the long start finish straight, I accelerated up the leeward side of the pack, trying to telegraph my attack, and punched it off the front for all I was worth. After half a lap I looked back, I had a huge gap of a few hundred yards but nobody tried to come with me. Managed to stay away for two laps (a teammate bridged up on lap two but I was already tapped out and couldn't do anything) and enjoyed the experience of taking the turns at my chosen speed without being forced to brake. Then I retired to my favourite position at the back to recover and to wait to see what would happen.

In true Cat 4 fashion everybody decided to wait for the sprint. The pace never perceptibly increased until we heard the bell. Steve from SCW gave it his all for a third of a lap in order to lead out his teammates. Nobody responded too urgently. I was expecting the race to string out, whereupon I would apply some power for two minutes and hopefully gobble up quite a few places, but it never happened. A few guys near the front took off but the rest just bunched up into turn 2, accordeoned through the chicane, and braked and bunched into the final turn. I had no real chance to get by and only managed to pass a couple of riders in the straight. Still and all, I was happy with not getting dropped and redeeming some pride.

Oh yeah, some dude from XXX won.

Big props to South Chicago Wheelmen for putting on such a superbly-organized, affordable race. Great, enjoyable venue and very safe. The locals were well into it and that made it doubly-enjoyable.

It was worth it for the older retired couple who sat near the finish for most of the day. The husband didn't say much, but his wife explained that he was French and missed bike racing a lot. Whenever they feel like it, they drive up from Springfield to a race and spend the day spectating. The husband makes notes on the racers, spots those who have good form and tries to predict who will win. I hope when I'm that age that I'll still be so passionate.

It was worth it for the smile on the faces of the little kids with the 25c Lemonade stand set up outside their house. I gave the little girl a dollar, she jumped for joy, filed it in her toy cash register and filled up my water bottle with some deliciously cool lemonade.

It was worth it for the little dog on the sidewalk with the dead Elvis face ... ok, i made that one up.

To be able to bring delight to myself and others by simply riding my bike around in circles - that gives me joy, that makes everything worthwhile. And Garrison Keillor be damned!

Hey, Ladies!

In 2008 the Proctor Cycling Classic directors, in order to boost up the number of racers from the previous year's six, increased the prizelist for the Womens P12 race to $1000 - four turned up.

This year, with a still substantial $500 purse on offer, exactly zero P12 riders registered. That's a big round duck egg. Does anybody care? It's pretty clear that Women's racing in IL is in a parlous state, but when not one rider bothers to come to the State Championship - is it worth rescuing? For shame, Ladies! Weak!

O'Fallon Grand Prix

At EvilDan's request - I conducted extensive interviews with all of Proctor's racers today.

Here are the results:

Masters 40+ open:
Me: "How'd you do Greg?"
Greg S.: "First there were seven in the break, then we were six, then we were five, then we were four after the guy went into the ditch. then we were three after we dropped the guy who wouldn't work, coming up the hill we were two, coming around the bend to the finish we were one - that was me"

Cat 3:
Greg: "Dan, were you in that crash?"
Dan D: "Greg, I WAS the crash!"
Matt B (regretfully): "Yeah, Dan WAS the crash"

Cat 4:
Chris S. (on being caught by the Cat 4/5 pack)
Me:"Come on, Chris!"
Chris: (mutters something incomprehensible about younger women, gray hairs, inadvisability of riding a new bike for the first time in a race and how he definitely is NOT entitled to race as a Master).

Masters 50+ Open
Gary Doering: "So Dan, would you prefer to be dropped on the hill or in the sprint?"
Dan H.: "You can drop me in the sprint please, Gary"

Cat 4/5
Me (to XXX racer):"Wanna try a breakaway?"
XXX racer: "No thanks. I think I fancy my chances in the sprint"
Me (to Wild Card racer): "C'mon dude! Let's push it! Just gutter these guys and we can fight it out!"
Wild Card racer: "Thanks but no thanks. I'd much rather wait for the sprint"
Me: (with 7 miles to go):"Come on! We got six and a thirty yard gap into a headwind. Grab my wheel and let's go! There's no way we can get caught!"
Other five: "Very much obliged, but we're feeling optimistic about the sprint"
Post-race
Jason R: "I was feeling good for the sprint but I got caught behind that crash with 3 miles to go"
Tim L: "I was waiting for the sprint but I cramped"
XXX racer: "I spent so much energy trying to catch the two guys who broke with a mile to go that I had nothing left and came last in the sprint"
Wild Card racer:"After my teammate broke I sprinted as hard as I could for the podium spot, but all these guys who had done nothing during the race came around me and they were just way faster"
Me: "I got in a race with 35 sprinters and 1 diesel"

Women's Open
Vanessa: "Woo! Show us your kit, David! Woo! I think that guy's naked over there! Woo! I got second!"

Comeuppance

Remember at Leland Kermesse I mentioned how I had noticed a Cat 4 illegally drafting the Cat 3 chase group for half the race, even though he was told several times not to? He drafted his way to 5th place in a horrendously hard race while other folks busted their ass just to finish with pride and honesty.

Well, the same guy was up to more shenanigans last weekend at the ABD masters crit weekend. He sprinted his way to top 4 placings on Saturday and Sunday in the 40+4s, winning $20 on Sunday and with good chances of winning the weekend overall and the $100 that goes with it. One mistake though, he seemed to have forgotten that his age is revealed on his team website and on USACycling - he ain't 40. Big mistake.

He must have ticked off more than me because at the start of the 40+/4 race on Monday they made an announcement that a racer was DQ'd from all 3 weekend races and was being forced to hand back his prizemoney - someone else had cottoned on to his nonsense and informed the officials. Congrats to ABR for taking decisive action. If it's possible, I hope he gets his USAcycling license suspended as well. Just once, a cheat gets exposed. The irony is, the guy's a strong allaround rider with a good sprint, shouldn't need to cheat to do well.

The same weekend, that team's manager was warned 3 times, and fined, for misbehavior at the Duluth Stage Race.

Snake Alley Crit

Cat 4/12 laps/65 starters/39 finishers

Still recovering from the wreck of 6 weeks ago, training plenty but unable to do any intensity without my legs locking up. One would think that Snake Alley is the worst possible race to do, and one would be right - however I had already paid my money and wanted to experience the most famous crit in the midwest just once.

Not a lot to say about this except that it showcased my two biggest weaknesses, accelerations and downhill cornering. Nothing can prepare you for the shock to the system that is the opening two laps of this race. I went from a good starting position to halfway when we hit the snake, to two thirds of the way back by the time we hit the top. I thought I had decent strength but guys I can usually beat easily in cross were rocketing past me as I hit my max power for the 30 secs up the hill. Same story on lap 2 where i fell even further behind. The hill was dog rough and I was having some problems with my front wheel lifting - plenty of shoulder bumping which I always enjoy.

Laps 3 and 4 I found some better lines, rode the Snake much smoother and started to get the hang of the corners. People were starting to blow up already and I was beginning to pick off and pass people. My slowtwitch diesel engine self was now coming out to play and I was optimistic about moving up for the rest of the race.

Then I got pulled.

I pulled over and waited for the leaders to come through - which they did, quite a while later.
The pace had slowed up considerably after the insanity of the first two laps - a lead group of 4 or so, chase group of six and second chase group of about 10. All separated by 10-15 seconds. Everybody too exhausted to attack and just trying to save themselves for the hill.

That was how it played out until the the last lap. Nothing much happened until the pace increased for the final dash. Skinny-ass teens came first and second, older geezer came third. So goes it.

What I took from the race - My trips up the hill were probably the most intense experiences I have had on a bike, that is something I will remember forever. The corners weren't as bad as I had expected and I need to work on this over the summer. Don't know what I can do about the start - my sprint power is close to untrained level and I have had very little success in trying to change it. I think I was one of the last to be pulled, so if I can just corner with more confidence I should at least be able to finish the race.

Not sure why the officials pulled so aggressively in some races and allowed folks to get lapped in other races and impede others. I'm all in favor of doing what it takes to ensure safety, but it's usual to give riders a chance and pull them when it's clear that they are just about to be lapped. Even at my slowest, it would have take 3 or 4 more laps for me to be caught, and, given the marked slowing of the pace, I think I even stood a fair chance of finishing unlapped. Pulling so early for merely being out of contention is disappointing. Such is life.

Stayed on and showed my support for the rest of the races and spent quite a while noting the cornering techniques of the good guys. Tilford is a master.

The rest of the weekend was unremarkable. I decided there was no point in doing the quad cities crit because the 14 lap race lasts 22 minutes and I wouldn't even be warmed up at that stage. Drove up there to spectate anyway and enjoyed it. Highlight of the day was getting passed on I-80 by a Smart car doing over 90 mph - in the middle of a torrential shower, with traffic cops every five miles. Someone's got cojones! Second-best part was seeing Steve Tilford take the bunch sprint for 3rd place. How a skinny 49 year old with no noticeable upper or lower body can beat out some of the musclebound midwest sprinting divas is a mystery to me - I guess Steve knows how to work them over.

193 Wins

193 top professional wins in these legs. 18 years pro racing, nine Monuments, one Grand Tour

Finchford Roubaix

Seven laps of a 5.5 mile rectangular circuit. Some small hills and a deceptively fast downhill corner that sent several 3s and 12s into the ditch. Wouldn't have been a challenging course if it wasn't for the brutal 20+ mph crosswind - that made it a grinding race of attrition.

They sure breed 'em big in Iowa. I felt that I had the smallest legs in the race - and I'm no midget. I noted a couple of wobbly riders to avoid, and sure enough, the most unsteady guy was the one who violated the yellow line multiple times in the crosswind.

Been 5 weeks since my Hillsboro crash and I'm still recovering. Put in plenty of time on the bike but haven't been able to do any intensity - it showed. Started yo-yoing off the back on the 2nd lap, 3 hours sleep and 4.5 hours driving had me cornering even worse than usual. Got popped at the end of lap 3, joined up with another popped rider and rotated until we got caught by two more. Did some good echeloning for 3 laps and caught nearly a dozen stragglers on the last lap, but had no idea what cat they were in, bib #s were in order of registration and had no bearing on the race category.

One guy bridged off the front on the last lap, we were all hurting and couldn't follow. Iit looks like I won the sprint (50 yard dash) out of our four man chase group. Didn't see any actual line so I was just guessing about the exact finish.

Enough about me; I finished (Sean would have) - quite a few didn't. The real story is the superb grassroots race Finchford Roubaix turned out to be. Only $20 entry fee, generous lunch provided (saving at least $10) and very respectable payout put many larger events to shame. Best thing was the large number of volunteers and the considerable emphasis on safety throughout. At least 3 volunteers coordinating each corner, stopping traffic so that anyone swinging out wide would not be in danger and keeping any inconvenienced drivers in good humor. Not fun to stay out there in the howling wind for a full day, but very much appreciated. This race deserves a lot more support and I'm already putting the word out for next year. Grassroots racing as it should be.

Here's a more interesting report.

Dangerous Dan Hill takes the W
-----------------------------------

Call him what you like - known variously as Dangerous Dan Hill, Desperate Dan, EvilDan, Daddy to his kids, Honeybunny to his wife and Wheelsucker to his teammates - Dangerous Dan came to Iowa's Finchford Roubaix road race with the sole intention of adding to the number of illustrious wins that Proctor Cycling has been picking up this season.

Despite the impediment of six fingers on his left hand, Dan still has plenty of space to count up the uphill sprints he has lost in the past few years; and he wasn't interested in adding to the number.

Six laps of a 20+mph crosswind-ravaged four-corner course lay between Dan and destiny. It would require a masterclass in wheelsucking and shelter-seeking; and the master was up to the job. After four laps of false attacks and suicidal solobreaks the winning break got away, three Mercy/Specialized teammates, a tapped-out non-pulling hanger on, and Dan. Dan sized them all up, took his pulls and salivated at the thought of the finish.

300 meters to go and EvilDan comes out to play. The finish is an uphill into a strong wind coming from the left. The pace accelerates, Magic Dan sneaks to the front and moves to the right. The skinny-ass climber is alone into the wind and has no chance, right? 200 meters to go and the other three try to come around on the left, instantly providing Crafty Dan the shelter he needs. He takes a breath, regroups and slingshots off the front just as the slope kicks up, taking the win rather handily.

"I got in a break with three time trialists and showed them how to sprint" said Dan. Win he did, and he still has a thumb and a couple of fingers left to count off any lost uphill finishes.

Fancy Dan goes home with a fat wad of cash to wave at the family and is formulating plans for midwest masters domination and dreaming of a trip to Disney World with his winnings.

Call him what you like, but add Winner Dan to the list of epithets.