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!