Cyclocross Upgrades

Cyclocross is all about tradition. In the Midwest (where former pros have no problem racing and winning on the road as Cat 5s) sandbagging is the greatest tradition. Who am I to stand in the way of tradition?

Cyclocross upgrades
4-3: Experience in 10 qualifying races or 10 points in 12 months
3-2: 10 points in 12 months (two wins is an automatic upgrade if the field had at least 11 competitors)
2-1: 20 points in 12 months (two wins is an automatic upgrade if the field had at least 40 competitors)

I've seen the standard of racing improve noticeably where the local associations were strict about upgrading. Cat 3 races were much more competitive, Cat 4s were much more likely to upgrade sooner because they felt less likely to be out of their depth. Cat 1/2 races had bigger and better fields.

Exceeding the minimum points or experience requirements entitles you to upgrade - it's optional, you're not forced to.

Hitting the wins requirements compels you to upgrade.

Plenty of Cat 3s out there who have two wins. That means you must upgrade.

Plenty of Cat 3s with 20+ points. That means you're well able for the Cat 2s - why not upgrade?

Automatic does not mean optional. It does not mean waiting for the end of the season, or States or Regionals.

It'd be nice if USA cycling put a points limit in the upgrade requirements, ala the road rules. As it is, you can accumulate points forever. Making the points go a little deeper would be good. Very hard to accumulate points if they're being taken by those who have no intention of using them. It'd also be nice if the local upgrade coordinator scanned the results every now and then and acted accordingly. But that's not his responsibility, it's the rider's.

btw, upgrade coordinators have a lot of latitude. They can refuse an upgrade if they wish, they can force an upgrade if they wish. An automatic upgrade can always be refused if the coordinator has a good reason. Safety, and integrity of the racing are always priority.

Road upgrades
4-3: 20 points in any 12-month period; or experience in 25 qualifying races with a minimum of 10 top ten finishes with fields of 30 riders or more, or 20 pack finishes with fields over 50. 30 points in 12 months is an automatic upgrade.
3-2: 25 points in any 12-month period
40 points in 12 months is an automatic upgrade
2-1: 30 points in any 12-month period**
50 points in 12 months is an automatic upgrade

The rules are clearer.

Again, automatic does not just mean that your application, should you choose to submit it, will be automatically approved. It means that failing to submit an upgrade application when you have met the automatic upgrade requirements makes you a sandbagger. In other words - a true Midwesterner.

Wheel Build

Kinlin TB-25 25 mm Tubular rim - 429 g

Join barely visible. Can't detect by touch.

25 DT Revs 280 mm- 2.0/1.5/2.0 - 114 g. 4.55 g each

12 DT Comps - DB 2.0/1.8/2.0 - 76 g. 6.3 g each
281 mm DS
286 mm NDS

100 Brass nipples - 1 g each

100 alloy nipples - 0.3 g each

24H Novatec Front hub. 77 g

24H Bitex Rear Hub. 211 g.

Expected weight: (hub+spokes+nips+rim)

Front - 77+110+7.2+429 = 623 g
Rear - 211+152+3.6+12+429 = 808 g

Total: 1431 g

(Parts sourced from Bdopcycling, bikehubstore, Icycles, Mandala bicycle products)

Tour of Galena

The demeanour expresses everything.

Pride of East Dubuque

(Still editing this. Expect some changes. Others may have seen it differently. But it's how I remember it.)

Time Trial:
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Violent. The only word I and most others could use to describe this. Violent start, violent effort, violent recovery. Violence done to legs, lungs and will.

Pro tip: don't eat breakfast.

The course was a roughly 3 mile out and back over deceptively steep rollers for wave 1. Wave two had a scary winding descent and climb approaching 20% grade tacked on for 4.3 miles.

Short efforts require long warmups and maximum efforts. No time to go out easy. You won't get the chance to make up time later, you've got to push it from the gun. But push it too hard and you will pay doubly for it on the return leg.

I knew that key to the course as to take as much speed as possible into the base of each hill, downshift rapidly, spin up and sprint over the top to hit maximum speed on the way down and bring it into the next incline.

With all the rapid shifting and out of the saddle efforts, it probably wasn't worth using a TT bike. Which is fine as I wouldn't have space for one anyway. I did opt to slam my stem and go with an aero helmet and skinsuit. I also installed a set of clip on aerobars, but wasted so much time getting in and out of them while shifting that I doubt they were any benefit. I don't have even a semi-aero wheel available so had to go with my 32 spoke box section rims and 25 mm tires - at least I had my get-out excuse already lined up.

Warming up is key. Shorter the event, the longer the warmup necessary. Ideally 45 minutes easy spinning followed by 10-15 minutes with jumps and short hard efforts. 7 am starts are not conducive to getting my stuff together. I managed 10 minutes on the course and a few jumps while waiting around to start. Not ideal.

Starting off into the first hill I gradually increased pace and shifted sensibly through the gears. However I just couldn't find the jump to bring me over the top at speed and I knew that, even though I was in the 11 tooth, I should have been spinning faster on the downhills. So it went, into and out of the drops, shifting, into the aerobars, back out sprinting and spinning - but missing something. The turnaround was a bit weird, there's usually a volunteer right there pointing at the correct turnaround cone. Instead there were a couple of officials and a volunteer standing in the ditch and a line of two cones, a 55 gallon drum and one more cone. Nobody indicating anything in particular. I've never seen a barrel used as a turnaround marker before, but I guessed this was the particular marker and went round this, not without scrubbing way too much speed in the confusion.

Heading for home I realised some urgency and forced myself to concentrate better. Smarter shifting, exaggerated crouch, more pain on the uphills. Threw no more time away. When the finish line at the top of the last hill came into view I shifted into the highest gear I could turn, and did an all out maximum standing effort up the hill. Crossing the line with a final throw and knowing I had aced the return.

The next ten minutes were a violent silence of empty heaving stomach, crouched over bars, blurred vision. Joined in the concert every 30 seconds or so by the next rider to finish. A silent cacophony of pain.

Definitely not a bad effort, but I left a few seconds out there.

It might be surprising that such a short effort could have a long effect, but the damage done to the body was definitely to be felt in the road race later that day.

Road Race
----------------

Herd: A collection of animals acting together in an unplanned fashion. Each individual choosing behaviour corresponding to the majority of other members.

A herd tends to group together to protect against predators. even though they present an easy target, the principal motivator is risk-dilution.

Herds can be controlled by other species. i.e. sprinters or trackies. Or even motos, but motos tend to be more effective.

By definition, herds are preyed upon. Usually by sprinters or sandbaggers, or both.

Pack: A pack is less well defined. The big difference between a pack and a herd is politics. Packs have hierarchies. Packs have leaders. Packs have competition for leaders. Pack members will have different roles, such as workhorse, climber, sprinter. Packs split, self destruct and get absorbed by other packs.

Pack members have personalities but will work together for a common purpose. Usually attacking a herd. Packs sense weakness and attack. Sometimes packs attack anyway just to weaken the herd. When the herd is duly broken, it gets savaged and the pack will fight amongst themselves for the best spoils.

When folks like Druber and Little Lord Sprockula use words like outstanding, classic and brutal to describe a course, you can expect it to be a leg-breaking and selective with the pack shattering into drabbles of ones and twos and only riders who are willing to suffer and try hard getting to the finish to fight it out for the win and top placings.

My goal was to get a break going, or whittle the pack down, to a lead group of 5 or 6. That number I am confident I can work over to get a good result. More than that then it's just too hard to get away, too easy for others to hide in the draft and keep the legs fresh to respond. It didn't work out. I have two regrets. Not attacking more and turning up to race.

When cat 4 races on such a course end in bunch sprints, with fewer than half the starters shed, then you know that 'racing' is a loose term for the activity and a truthful account of the 'racing' that took place would be a very blank page.

I don't really get the herd mentality, so I turned to my best friend, Lucy, see above, and her telepathic skills to channel the thoughts of some of the participants during the event. She's an expert on herd dynamics and has years of experience and participation with the pack, so she could provide some useful insights.

The Weenie: "Ok, here we go! Mantra: Don't get dropped! Don't get dropped! Don't get dropped! ok, stay out of the wind. Need to be further back than 20th place at all times. Here's the first hill. Good. Nice and steady. Barely feel it here at the back. ... Crap! there goes a guy up the road! He's joined up with two others who were gapped off the front. Don't like the look of this. Better yell something and then pretend it wasn't me. Good. Two guys jumped across and slowed things down. That'll teach him.

Hills. I'm scared of hills. Better set an example from the back. Go as slow as possible. Yell that there are hills coming up. Conserve. Make sure everyone is as fresh as possible so that we all get over each hill together. Worst thing that can happen is that we shred the group. Then I would have no where to hide.
..ok, got through almost all the race without a problem. That last big scary hill is coming. better slow things down even more for that. oops! looks like 3 or 4 guys are sliding off, including the big TT guy and that scary fast sprinter. Can't have that. Sit up over the top. Soft-pedal, eat and drink. comment on how hard that was. Took a couple of minutes but they're back on. Can't risk diluting the herd. We need those guys to hide behind at the end. Nice. Five mile downhill to the finish. We're almost all together. Lots of shelter from the big guys. That guy punching it at the front has no chance. Last few curves. Cross the line. I did it! I didn't get dropped! Still in the bottom half of the field but at least I did what I could to emphasise the groupthink; and I didn't get dropped!"

The Sprinter: "Hills. Hate 'em! But the cat 4s have been good to me so far. They've handed every race to me on a plate and I've barely broken a sweat. Even though I'm 15 kilos over weight and have may be two accelerations in me, I'm sure they will figure out a way to keep me with them to the end. They always do. ok, rolling along nicely. I'll just stay her in 10th position. Out of the wind and keeping an eye on things. Uh, oh! There goes that guy, hammering over the top of the hill into the false flat and joining up with two others. This looks bad. Better bite the bullet! Ok, I jumped onto the back. There are 4 of us. Now let's kill this thing. That guy is pulling through like a monster but the other guys pulls are barely hard tempo. Here's my turn. Two quick spins of the pedals and pull to the side. Put that guy back in the wind before he even knew it and took a good 1 mph off the pace. Nice! The pack has nearly caught us. Hope that puts the dampers on
things. If one or two others really wanted to work I could be in trouble.

Alright, first lap over. That hurt. But I managed to haul my ass up those hills. Now that we've dropped all the non-climbers it's going to be a Sunday stroll to the finish. Anyone who ups the pace is gonna be made pay dearly in the end.

... Not looking forward to this. Steep hill. Sliding off the back.... Knew I should have stuck to crits. Too far from home to DNF, better struggle on. At least I have some company. Was really expecting to win this weekend.

what's this? They've all sat up over the top. Drinking and chatting! What a well-mannered bunch. Just a minute or two of tempo and I can catch them before the downhill. These guys sure don't like dropping anyone. Knew they'd find a way to help me out. This is too easy. ok, one big effort for the last hill. Don't lose the wheels. Now the downhill. Lots of shelter. Move up gradually. 500 m to go. Thanks for all the help. Time to go to work!"

The Cat4ever Altruist: "There he goes. Jump on his tail. Nice and smooth so that the pack can follow me. He sits up. Good. The cheek of him! Thinking he can break away in a cat 4 race and subvert the order of things. You're gonna have to cat up buddy if you want to race like that! And I'm going to do my best to make sure you never do. You're staying with me in the 4s forever till you give up or learn to play the game.

What the heck? Attacking over the top of the hill? Doesn't he know there are strong riders off the back. Guys who could win this race if we agree to stay together. Better put the dampeners on that. Nice and smooth acceleration, get on his wheel make sure to drag the others with me. Good, he's given up."

"Very interesting Lucy. Any more insights?"

"Dude, you have to learn to play the game. It's dead easy. Run with the herd. Dilute the risk. Your motivation is racing, theirs is fear. Fear of getting dropped, and fear that not everyone is socialised to the groupthink. Be patient and do nothing. Someone else will do it for you. Just bark and growl a couple of times and watch the sprinter. It's that simple.

"Thank you Lucy. But I'd rather die."

"Your loss. Racing is for fools. Now, how's about my walkies? Woof!"

The Crit
-------------

Pointy oval. Turn were manageable. Only sketchy part was where the backstretch narrowed, widened and narrowed again. Cat 4 races are always a minefield, and on such a course where the field would keep together one false step could result in many of us losing limbs.

I wrote in an email to a buddy the night before: "I will attack three times, the field will chase me down each time and Stan the Sprinter will win". So it went.

We started off at a fast pace and attacked every corner, as cat 4s love to do. I hung at my customary place at the back, just barely hanging on. About 10 minutes in a bit of zip went out of peoples legs and I could sense the pace starting to fall off and the field beginning to bunch. The previous Cat 4 race resulted in a massive last lap crash with ambulances called, collarbone breaks and multiple carbon fiber fatalities. I value my life highly these days ($200k according to work insurance), so I wasn't going to take any risks. A fast race equals strung out equals a safe race. Slow race equals bunching equals banging equals unsafe with too many fresh legs for the last lap.

You don't get upgrade points for cat 4 omniums, but it's nice to get some exposure for the club jersey all the same. I don't start with the aim of finishing second (see my Leland report), so the only way to win the overall was to win the race outright. And the only way to do that for me was get in a break or win solo. Never seen a successful break in a cat 4 race, but I believe one may have happened back in 1985 - so might as well give it a go.

I jumped to the front where the alley widened for a few yards, and hammered it out of the tight corner. Got a gap of a few seconds. Got aero and as I passed the announcers, did a maximum gurn - complete with full teeth clench and slobber out the side of my mouth. Gives a good photo op and impresses the ladies. Keeping up the pace into the wind on the backstretch proved difficult and the field worked hard to close me down.

Next time round I jumped again, increased the gap and hammed it up for the announcers again with my best Tod Hetzel impression. This seemed to tick off the chasers and they worked even harder to close on the backstretch. My hope was that if I could do this four or five times, then they might just give up and let me go for a solo attempt and force some of the omnium guys to chase. Or maybe the field would break apart on a corner and I would be joined by a smaller, more manageable group. But at least the speed kept up. Third time around I jumped again, did my best batface with drool out of both sides of my mouth this time, but the exertion of the previous day were taking their toll and pretty much died into the headwind - the field finally made contact. Of course another guy jumped immediately, the field ignored him, and he won the upcoming prime. A couple more primes kept the pace up and we were into the endgame of the last few laps.

Thankfully, the pace never really dropped, things were kept reasonably strung out, we had put the hurt no some of the weenie riders and it was pretty easy to move to the top few riders when we heard the last lap bell. Five riders took off, I tagged on but got gapped slightly and was never able to close. Amazingly, two of the riders ahead blew up, and after negotiating past them, I was 5th wheel into the last corner. The rider in third then spectacularly failed to read the bend and headed straight for the curb, a couple of us were forced to brake check to avoid him and his sketchy recovery and that was the end of that. A line of fresh riders flew past me on the inside and I wasn't able to wind it up to speed again.

As predicted, Stan, Stan the Sprinter Man won the race (and the omnium overall) with embarrassing ease.

Carlos - GC threat!
------------------------

There were a couple of riders marking me during the crit. While I'm complimented by being considered a GC threat, why on earth would anybody bother marking someone who has never even gone top 15 in a crit? Why would you blow your wad chasing me down? Shouldn't you be letting me die out there, or trying to bridge up to start a break? Are you surprised when you blow up in the final lap, but not before giving a free leadout to a rider who has never lost a crit?

When one starts the race in first in the omnium standings, shouldn't one try to hold on to first? Keeping the race together meant conceding the win and the overall to the best sprinter in the field. Why not work to drop him? As it was, the marking didn't work too well - I was ahead into the last corner. If I had sat on for the full duration, instead of vaingloriously trying to race, I'd have been relatively fresh and maintained my lead - the odds are you'd have been bumped down even more.

That's how I remember it anyway.

That's cat 4 racing. My regret is not attacking more. The one place I should have attacked, but didn't, was over the top of the steep hill on lap 2 of the road race. It was the only part of the race where I went to the back to rest for a bit. Both the top 2 Omnium guys had been dropped and we allowed them to catch back on. Had I been able to fight my way to the front in time and pushed the pace for a minute, they would have been dropped to minor placings. With a conservative crit ride I could then have won the overall rather handily. But if you ever see me sitting in for the sprint, please shoot me.

Anyway, I was hoping to win enough to cover gas money and a six-pack. I failed. I need to drive a Prius and develop a fondness for PBR.

Some conversations:

Racer One: "I've seen you do that off the front thing in other races as well. Why do you do that?"
Carlos: "I'm not a sprinter. It's a race. You're supposed to race"
Racer One (with confused expression) : "Oh?"

Racer Two: "Those were some really strong pulls you took in the road race yesterday"
Carlos: "umm.. They were attacks actually" - (hangs head in shame and slinks away)

IL State RR - O'Fallon Grand Prix

O'Fallon Grand Prix - Illinois State RR Champs
----------------------------------------------------------------------

After the Cat 4 fiasco of last year, and the predicted record temps for today, I wasn't too keen on doing this race. But it being only 3 hours away and being the State Championship, and being exceedingly well-organised, I felt obliged to support it. So off to O'Fallon I went, albeit somewhat unenthusiastically.

I got out of bed... many didn't.

It wasn't a strong field that lined up for our 2 lap, 50 mile race. Noone particularly strong from Chicago, bar one guy who I had been told was a good crit rider. I didn't know the STL guys, but there were 5 from Momentum and they're always strong riders with usually one good sprinter hidden in there somewhere.

We lined up, received the usual centerline and no passing the pace car orders and were off. Just after the first corner, into a mild grade, I took off. It wasn't planned but I often do this to test the legs - it acts as a good opener - and here I hoped to set the tone for the race with a fast tempo from the gun. I got a good gap, was able to choose my lines around a few corners and down a descent and settled into fast TT mode - on the edge of getting out of sight, out of mind. The legs didn't feel good though, I just wasn't spinning freely. After a couple of miles I noticed a rider trying to bridge up, I was happy to slow and wait for him, but the field sensed danger and closed him, and me down pretty quickly. Not to worry.

There was a solid crosswind on what seemed to be the majority of the course, so there was some guttering action going on. This made any break very hard to initiate, but at least it was pretty easy to move to the front if you wanted - it wasn't a popular position. The momentum guys went to the front and set a fast pace. I had a couple more digs when the pace slowed, but Momentum closed the gaps pretty quickly - I was guessing they were trying to set up a solo flyer of their own - anytime anyone tried to attack. They didn't attack, not sure what they were doing, but at least we managed to keep up a reasonable speed for the first lap. My attacks didn't get anywhere - legs never really opened up and I could feel the burn of the excess work, but I wasn't too concerned, my endurance is excellent these days and even my bad legs will usually get me to the end of the race in decent shape.

For the whole race I never dropped back further than about 8th place, and spent quite a few miles at or off the front. This costs a bit more energy, ut I felt it was worth it in that I could monitor any attacks, not get caught behind stupid crashes (which happened in 2009 in the last few miles), have a better choice of line through the 50 corners on the course and set tempo to suit myself if I wanted to. The other motivation for staying at the front was, after one hard effort I dropped to 2/3rds of the way back for a rest and the littering that was going on really got to me. Water bottles, half-eaten bars still in wrappers, used gels were being thrown into fields and ditches. Race organisers go to huge efforts to put on a much-needed road race and fools do their best to show disdain for our countryside and give killjoys an excuse to object to the running of the race next year. After bawling out a couple guys, I found myself starting to get really upset
about this, so I resolved to just ride near the front where I couldn't see the littering anymore and people might be a bit more interested in racing. I'm truly ashamed at the activity of some of my fellow riders - you know who you are!

We hit the feed zone at the start/finish line, I stayed to the left and out of the way, - you could have made a blooper highlight reel of all the missed hand ups - everyone was well-behaved and we sportingly regrouped to commence lap 2. The wind and temps had increased, it was over 100F on the road, and a lot of the fight had been knocked out of us. An unattached guy, I'm guessing a triathlete doing his first road race, took off at the same point that I attacked on the first lap. He wasn't going very fast, but we were going slower, and noone had any interest in chasing him down. I was sure that if I tried to bridge I'd get chased down, so if he felt he could solo 25 miles in that weather for the win I was happy to let him go for it. It took him quite a while to get out of sight, but out of sight he did go.

Strangely, all the Momentum guys retired to the back for the rest of lap 2. Not a lot happened. It was just too hot and windy. A couple of solo guys got bored and took long pulls, myself and a teammate got a good rotation going with two Team Mackers and started to make good time but noone else would pull through so we gave up after a few rotations. The single attack was from Todd from Team Mack, who took off over the top of a hill, put his head down and went for it. I was happy to let him go and did a false chase. Going fast enough to keep him in sight but messing with the tempo by doing a few false jumps out of corners and then soft pedalling a bit. If anyone wanted to catch him then they were more than welcome to come to the front and actually do some work. Todd wasn't able to last out there alone in the wind for very long and he came back to the group after a few minutes - but the increased pace and tempo changes had successfully burned off some of
the hangers-on.

Shortly after that we spotted the pace car up the road and we very gradually caught up to the solo guy, still plugging away optimistically. He had stayed out there for 15 miles. He then obligingly pulled us at a reasonable tempo for the next five miles or so.

By this time Death March 2011 was in full swing. The temp was hitting 105F on the road, we were all out of water, and the 100F wind was doing a fine job of parching us. The speed was getting slower, the wind was increasing - it just wasn't fun. I must have more Belgian in me than Spaniard - several times I contemplated calling it a day and just finding a nice shady tree to embrace and rest under. But then I started to notice the ever increasing tide-lines on the bibs of some of the other riders, even over a few minutes the extra salt loss could be seen. I looked around, some guys already had goose bumps. I was still sweating, had a couple of gulps of water left and my heart rate was under control - others were suffering more than me. What would Sean do? Gut it out - that's what!

About 2.5 miles to go we hit the last right hander on the course. I knew it was long straight to a windy descent, then on to the last hill and the turn onto the final straight. As we made the turn a gap formed and 6 riders went clear, I started to jump but felt, for the first time ever, my calves starting to cramp. I let a couple others come around me, jumped onto the back of them and closed to the first group. I shouted at the leaders to punch it, we did, and after a short effort the moto came around to sit on my wheel. Now we were ten, and with one slight acceleration had shed the rest of the field.

We kept a fast tempo, everyone's mind on the tactics for the finish. Some just hanging on, some waiting for the sprint, some planning to attack on the hill. Down into the valley we swooped, me at the back, and kept up the speed on the approach to the hill - too fast for me to make up any places. We hit the base of the hill and the group imploded. Gears grinding, pedalling squares, cursing. I worked my way gingerly up the white line, making my way past the popping riders, trying to get to the front before anyone got away. A big Team Mack guy had the same idea but decided to take route one into third place. The moto wasn't having any of this and, rather bizarrely, veered into the pack, grabbed the guy and told him he was DQ'd. This is with 700 m to go. It took a few seconds to negotiate past the slowing moto and confused Macker, with some riders forced to trackstand, and this gifted the front two a nice gap.

I hammered for all I was worth, but rounding the last corner with 500 m to go I was in third place, with 3 riders on my wheel, two of which had spent the full race in the back and out of the wind, and a good 4 second gap to the first two. I could have flogged myself silly to catch them but would then have been worthless in the sprint, as well as dragging up fresh riders to jump around me.

One of the first two was from STL, the 2nd was unattached, so the only choice was to concentrate on winning third place and hope none of those ahead were from Illinois.

400 m to go, I take a couple of seconds breather and then do a half-assed jump, two riders bit on it and came around. The second guy was whupped and couldn't pass, I tucked in behind the first, recovered for a second and started to come past as he faded rather quickly. Fooled you!

Then James Psimet, who definitely had done less work than anyone else in the race - it must have been a phenomenally boring 50 miles for him - flashed past. He got a good jump and a couple of bike lengths on me. But I still had 150 m to reel him in. This I duly did. I hammered as hard as anyone who's ever done a gruelling fifty miles in 100F has ever hammered, caught him with 20 m to go and beat him to the line by a full wheel, my 32 spoke box section rims to his fancy deep section carbon - didn't even have to use my bike throw!

As all this was going on I somehow was able to take in the sprint for first unfolding 60 yards ahead. The unattached guy got a nice gap then did something I have never seen a cat 2, 3 4 or 5 do. He did a backwards sprint - heading for the line, but looking back all the time, and whenever his chaser tried to close he simply accelerated just enough to maintain a nice 3 bikelength gap. The guy was ostensibly a cat 5 in his first race ever race, but it was pretty clear from the rather comfortable manner of the win that he had raced at an elite level at sometime in the past. You see this every now and then and USA cycling will never bother to be concerned about it. All the more reason to try harder and get enough points to upgrade.

Oh well! Turns out the unattached winner was from Chicago and thus claimed the jersey. Giving a State champ jersey for a developmental cat is a joke anyway. I wasn't too worried about that.

It would have been nice if the moto hadn't intervened to decide the first two places. Would have been great to contest the win, but that's racing. Stuff happens.

Pretty sweet that I was able to put in multiple attacks and chases in 100F temps and 15 mph wind, work hard at the front all day and still have enough left at the end to handily win the chase group sprint over a couple of (relatively) fresh-as-a-daisy riders at the end. That's encouraging.

Full credit to the organisers for a superbly-run day. Volunteers everywhere, great atmosphere and hotly-contested racing (pun intended). With the limited # of motos available it was a great idea for each pack to be joined by a moto for the last few miles - definitely made things safer and improved rider behaviour. Also, the additional 3 miles to each lap definitely made a difference. There were a couple more passing opportunities, and the extra 20 minutes of racing really starts to separate the men from the weenies when races do go over 2 hours in length.

It seems that if I dampen my expectations I tend to do better. I started the day with limited enthusiasm but came home with a solid result, some upgrade points, two nice medals (state and overall) plus enough $$$ to cover gas money and a six-pack. I'm happy.

Leland - FTW!

The short version
-----------------------
I got out of bed.

He had a 12 tooth, I had an 11. I could spin faster.

In the final tailwind kilometer I rode one of the strongest riders in Chicago off my wheel for the win.

The long and involved version - read at your own risk
-------------------------------------------------------
I got out of bed...

Ok, backtrack a bit...

Leland Kermesse. In the same way that Paris Roubaix represents the gritty, blue collar-hardscrabble attitude of the North of France so does Leland represent Illinois - Pancake flat and featureless prairie, bowl-you-over windy, crappy dirt-with-aggregate roads. Toss in April weather, showers for two days previous, temp 40F and falling, and you’ve got a race just as hard in its own right as Paris-Roubaix, but different. This is becoming a classic

This race is Illinois. This race is not for namby-pambys. That's a contradiction.

Most of you will know Kevin's favorite Phil&Paul quote "and Sean Kelly wins bike races in weather you wouldn't send your dog out in!". Step that down five categories and about 200 watts, keep the weather, stick the finish to 1984 Paris-Roubaix on YouTube and enjoy the vicarious ride.

It began with the usual abysmal preparation. Decided to unmount my cross tubulars on Thursday night and glue up a pair of 25mm Vittoria tubies, never having ridden tubulars before. With the weather on Friday night I didn't get a chance to ride them. Also stuck on an 11-23 cassette to replace the 12-26. So no openers, no practice riding on a completely new tire system, derailleur not adjusted to new wheel and cassette. Bad idea.

Top that with not getting to sleep till 2 am, getting up at 6 in dog-awful weather, the usual late start, getting to the race just before registration ends and rolling up to the line with no warm up, a wild guess at tire pressure and having forgotten my booties - the omens were not good. But I got out of bed.. Many didn't.

Sometimes you're the hammer, sometimes you're the nail and sometimes you're the creaky floorboard that can't be fixed.

It's not a strong field. Plenty of solid riders but no stars. Bar Mike from Half Acre. Everyone knows that he's got a threshold about 20% higher than anyone else here. He lapped me at our last cross race. When he rolls up there's an amount of nudging and whispers of "that's the guy". We're racing for second today.

"Race in such a way as to win the prize” .. that's what I intend to do and what I always try to do.

45 starters get their instructions and off we go. Neutral rollout for a mile and then straight into a 20 mph headwind. The race strings out, riders are able to move up and back a bit. Nothing much happens. Good for me, I'm getting my warmup in.

The big guys go to the front. Mike is huge and muscular, there's the guy from Lamb Little, over 200 lbs, and a new guy from WDT, bigger than any racer I've ever seen, bigger than Magnus Backstedt even. A good choice of wheels to draft, at least.

Five miles in we turn into a crosswind, then a tailwind and the race ramps up. Two TT guys take off, get a small gap. Pace hots up, gaps are forming, riders get shelled and a lead group of 14 hit the first 3 mile gravel section into a brutal crosswind, me at the back.

The gravel has turned into soupy mud, no well-defined lines except for don’t ride near the verges or in the middle. The parts where the car tires roll is somewhat more defined, but not much. I’m slipping and fishtailing all over the place and not making much progress. But others are suffering more. It’s a matter of avoiding them, keeping the power down and jumping from left side to right side so as not to lose momentum. After a mile of this I find myself in about 5th wheel. There are two guys well off the front and two more vainly chasing, spaced out about 100 yards apart.

The road turns into a screaming headwind and the ground is slightly more firm. I jump past the first guy and punch it for a minute to hug the wheel of the next. It’s Magnus, all 250 lbs of him, someone turned off the wind. This is comfy. I peer around his massive torso into the wind and see that the gap to the two leaders has increased. Nothing for it but to bite the bullet. I jump into the wind, fishtail on some mush, lose speed and find myself in the draft again. Breathe deep, concentrate, and jump around. This time I find a firmer footing, and get by him. We’re side by side for a bit, I shift down one sprocket and pound the pedals. It takes me a mile and an all out max effort for 3 minutes but I close the gap to the front two and make the bridge just before we turn again into the crosswind and the last mile of this gravel section.

And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, was the race. I knew it, the pace car knew it, the other two in the break knew it and the guys chasing knew it. Two riders in the wind will find it difficult to maintain a gap. Three riders working well together, in a crosswind with a disjointed chase group, will not be caught. Seven miles in and fifty-three to go. Bridge completed. The podium has been decided.

The rest of the lap is a tailwind mile of road, crosswind mile of gravel, another mile of tailwind road and a third crosswind gravel mile before we start the lap again for the headwind death march.

Coming into gravel 2 I’ve had enough of a breather to start taking pulls. You couldn’t ask for two better breakmates. Mike is there driving the pace, of course, on his steel Courage with standard tires. Mike is ploughing and powering, I'm pounding and finessing. Matt from Verdigris is on a Ti moots, ultra expensive EDGE hoops and 32mm cross tubulars. He’s floating over the rough stuff but having difficulty on the tarmac. We quickly agree that he should take his pulls on the gravel and try to sit in a bit more on the road. We rotate smoothly and figure out a good formula. Punch it on the gravel and spin fast on the road. We cooperate well and midway through lap 2 all chasers are out of sight. At this stage Matt wants to drop off, his quads are cramping. We’re having none of it. Tell him to do what he can and not worry. He still wants to drop off. The holy name of Conant is invoked. That seems to work. What he doesn’t know is that we other two are also hurting and we need him for shelter. No way do we want to face five miles of headwind as just two riders. Hurts too much.

I notice that I’m riding gravel 3 a bit better than the others. It’s slightly uphill and a bit more firm. Seems to suit my tires and weight better than the others. This would be a good place to make a move. I’m gapping the others slightly in the tailwind sections as well. The tubular ride is superlative, I can never go back to clinchers after this.

Gravel riding - to each his own style: Mike's a Kayak. ploughing through the waves of mud and gravel. Telling all obstacles to get out of his way. Cutting through the mush to the more firm ground beneath. Matt's a catamaran. With his 32 mm cx tubies he's floating. I'm a canoe, doing my best to keep my weight back and keeping power constant, but having to finesse my way around and over the rougher and mushier spots, occasionally losing power and traction as I do.

Textbook:
Lap 1: Get in break
Lap 2: Establish
Lap 3: Maintain
Lap 4: Gloves off

And so it goes. Rotating well, riding smoothly and smartly. Nobody shirking pulls, nobody trying to outpull the other. Both riders are taller than me and give good drafts. No Dan Hills here. The temperature is still a reasonable 40F, we’re all overheating. The wind increases by 10 mph or so, which serves to dry out the worst parts, making the gravel much more rideable and further driving the nails in the coffin of any pursuers.

We hit lap 4. The temperature starts to plummet, wind increases some more, and sleet makes a furtive appearance. It’s understood that we’ll work together for the first half; when we exit gravel 1, with 7 miles of tailwind to home then all bets are off.

My glasses were so covered with gunk that I’ve had to throw them to a marshal on lap 2. From then on, I’m getting immense amounts of muck in my eyes, stinging like hell and dissolving into a brown paste. I’m seeing everything in sepia tones. The wind is freezing and drying my eyeballs. I can’t produce any tears to flush the gunk. The last two laps are an unfocused, brownish, painful blur. Very unpleasant.

We finish with gravel 1. From lap 2 my chain sounds like it’s going to give up the ghost anytime, with all the gunk piled on it. I ride through every puddle I can in order to splash as much water on the drivetrain as possible. I’ve also been practising working the full range of gears, just to make sure everything’s working. It’s not. 13 tooth or smaller are random to drop into. I ride the full race in the big ring, scared that if I ever drop it into the small chainring it may get stuck there. Lots of cross chaining involved. So be it.

Race so as to win the race. I can sit and wait for Mike to drop the hammer and watch him motor away, or I can do something about it. It’s early in the season. I’ve got lots of long rides in my legs already. My endurance is great. What about Mike’s? Him cramping up is probably my best chance. Time to mess with the tempo.

Finish of Gravel 1. Tailwind. I turn it on. No jump, just get low and spin. I build up a 50 yard gap into gravel 2. But Mike catches me quickly. We’ve dropped Matt though. No worries, he’s a lock for third place. He’s happy.

Recuperate a bit and jump for real this time. Get a small gap, but once you try to go above a certain speed it just gets extremely hard to go any faster. Mike closes with ease.

Shot my bolt and Mike has countered easily. Last road section before final gravel and we declare a truce. Empty our bottles, take a few breaths, do a Barack-Michelle terrorist fist bump. Nearly home.

Mike is probably the best-known crosser in Chicago. As much for his unmistakeable pain face as his cross prowess. The first sight of his pain face indicates the start of cross season. Known universally as "The Hemme" it's a combination of hanging jutted jaw, with a plastically molded doleful jowls and wild panicky eyes. It tends to creep in about lap 2 of a race. Once seen, never forgotten. A curious mixture of hang-dog and wild-horse, It's an expression for which the word lugubrious could have been invented.

I study Mike's face as we ride. No signs of "The Hemme". This is bad news! I’m getting depressed. It’s terrible riding next to someone who you know is just about to turn on the afterburners and leave you in their dust.

But it never came. Dunno why. Mike gets a big gap into gravel 3. I dig deep and grab his wheel after a tough minute. I intended to attack here but we’re going so fast that the extra effort is just too much. We ride side by side on the last section. I’m not going to show him any weakness. I start contemplating my last attack when the end of the gravel comes sooner than I expected. We make the turn for home.

Uh,oh! This is the finish. I haven’t tested my gears. Don’t know what to do. Think fast!

Mighty tailwind. Better drop it down a sprocket. She drops into the 13T. Do I just follow Mike’s wheel and hope he runs out of gas? Maybe he’ll be kidnapped by aliens? I drop behind Mike. We’re going a bit too slow for my liking. Better up the pace. That way he won’t be able to get the jump on me and I can grab his wheel when he blows by. One thing I’ve learned is, at the end of a hard race, don’t be shy about leading it out. You control the tempo to suit yourself. The others are probably hurting more than you anyway.

I take the lead, hug the white line to give minimum drafting advantage and up the speed. After a bit of jostling she drops into the 12 tooth. Up the speed some more. Now the vital part. Drop her down one more sprocket. Nothing doing. I jump on the pedals. Hop the bike slightly. Release the pressure. Click! Into the 11 tooth! Way-hey! Up the speed some more. Race to win the race - I’m not racing for second. I jump. Get a ten-meter gap. Put the head down and spin as fast as I can. Waiting for him to come by.

“He’s gonna blow by me! He’s gonna blow by me! He’s gonna blow by me!” Look around. I’ve got a gap of fifty meters. “He’s not going to blow by me! What’s going on? OK, where’s the finish line?” It hadn’t been marked when we started. I can see the Leland water tower in the distance so it must be somewhere before that. I don’t know if I can keep this up. Through the gloom and the brown haze I can see the unmistakable silhouette of Chief Ref Dave Fowkes’ shoulders and crewcut. I’ll guess that’s the finish. 300 meters or so to go. Look behind again. The gap is still the same. “Wholly Carp! I’m gonna win this thing!” Just put the head down and keep spinning. The gap increases....

Winning a masters 4/5 race is nothing to crow about. It officially makes you the king of the dipsticks. Today I will be King Dipstick; for the first time. No hooting and hollering, no chest-beating or fancy post-up as I cross the line. Just enough time to sit up and coast, acknowledging my audience of one by raising my hand, index finger erect to indicate my placing.

Relief. I expected it to be harder. Three seasons. No upgrade points. Best previous placing: eighth. Race to win the race.

5th hardest part of the race: Getting out of bed
4th hardest part: Making the bridge up to the lead two riders on the first gravel section. The only 'Vollgas' section of the race. Three minutes of pain followed by 3 hours of hard tempo. Solo chasers had it far worse.
3rd hardest part: Dealing with Belgian toothpaste in the eyes. Despite rinsing copiously I was seeing everything through a brown dirt fog for several hours afterwards. That hurt.
2nd hardest part: Getting the chain to drop into the 11 tooth for the finish.
1st hardest part: Trying to pee afterwards.

Amazing the effect that stress and adrenaline can have on the body. I crossed the finish ready for another lap and full of vigour. The next day I went out for an easy endurance ride and bonked within an hour. I got dropped on every ride that week. Recovery-schmovery, I guess I had dug deeper than I thought.

Remember the Phil&Paul quote? Here’s the corollary - "whenever a rider DNFs Sean Kelly cries"

I'd like to think that Sean is sitting in a smoky Belgian cafe right now, preparing to commentate on Liege-Bastogne-Liege. It’s pouring cats and dogs outside. He’s drinking a glass of Jupiler and he’s smiling.

The lad did good.

It was kinda like this, only muddier, with no spectators

Leland Kermesse Aftermath

Ghost Bike


Ghost Rider

Envelope


Twitter Feed

-Leading masters 4 5. Long line in the gutter. 1 mile in

-Break of 3 and 2 bridging. Masters 4 5. #Lelandkermesse

-Trio of leaders have good formula. Kill it first 2 gravel sections. Then settle in and cooperate Fireworks next lap #Lelandkermesse

-Our 3 leaders now taking on Km 75 thru 100. Lots of brave souls riding alone. #Lelandkermesse

-Windy and down to 40 F. At the #Lelandkermesse Riders are going hard and slow.

-Our 3 masters are shaking hands taking fluid fixing shoes. Ready to hit their 10 th gravel section du jour #Lelandkermesse

-2 masters still cooperating. 1/2 lap remain #Lelandkermesse

-Here we go. Masters 4 5. Gloves are off on gravel 2. #Lelandkermesse

-Hemme and proctor rider have dropped the Verdi Gris.

-They fist pump before the last gravel. And. It's on. Hemme all over his bike with 3 Jm to go #Lelandkermesse

-@chenzy007 The proctor rider wins the drag race. Mast 45. #Lelandkermesse

Edited from http://twitter.com/#search?q=%23lelandkermesse by Matt of Bike Heaven.

The Knowledge: Part 2

A multi-step program to winning races

Step 1: Get out of bed.

A lot of people fail at step 1.

Step 2: Finish your race.

Everytime a rider DNFs it makes Sean Kelly cry.


Works for me.

Huh?

I told them I don't deserve it, neither did I ask for it. But the results got corrected and this arrived in the mail last week.

Sometimes just turning up is half the battle. Sometimes turning up and finishing is it all.

The Knowledge: Part 1

I've seen a lot of this on the Internet.

Inverse proof by self-coprologisation:

A: "I claim such and such a thing."
B: "I don't agree, but I'm a piece of crap!"
C: "It's self-evident that you are not a piece of crap, therefore A is wrong and A must be a piece of crap."
B: "Thank you, C!"(with coprophagic grin).

Now you know how to win an argument on the 'net; and simultaneously call the other party a piece of crap without calling him a piece of crap.

Breathing Underwater in Steamboat

Greetings from Steamboat Springs. A large and expensive ski town lying at nearly 7000 ft in NW Colorado.

Steamboat Springs Stage Race (www.bikesteamboat.com)

Drinking gallons of water and peeing like a racehorse every hour on the hour to avoid the threat of dehydration.

Short version:

Day 1: TT. Ran out of Oxygen after 100 yards. Not good.

Day 2: Circuit race: Stayed with lead group. Ran out of oxygen on final hill. Into GC top 10.

Day 3: Road race: Stayed with lead group. Ran out of oxygen on final hill. Retained GC place.

Day 4: Crit: Blacked out on OTF effort. Finished in pack. Retained GC place.

Longer version:

Day 1: Cycling through Glue. Breathing Underwater at 7000 ft.

Friday was a 3 hour drive to Steamboat, then a rush to register and get bike together for the prologue TT. No TT rig but I managed to bring along an aero helmet and skinsuit, mounted clipons to the bars and dropped the stem as low as it would go.

Seems like a waste to have people take a day off for a 13-15 minute race, plus forcing people to bring along two bikes - discouraging carpooling. Might be better to run another competition as well, e.g. Street Sprints for time bonuses, and to do the TT Eddy Merckx style.

10k course. 8k Undulating out and back followed by a 2k 5% uphill.

Just couldn't get warmed up. I'm already breathing underwater after about 100 yards. Feels like I'm cycling through glue, have to drop down two gears below where I need to be.

Hit the turnaround at halfway and have made up no time on my 30 second man. Manage to recover slightly with a slight tailwind and get into something resembling a groove (although still in a stage of controlled hypoxia). Make up maybe 5 seconds as we hit the base of the climb. Keep shifting gears trying to find my happy place and alternating between bars, hooks and drops, I start to make up some time. 500 meters to go and I dump the chain down 3 gears, get in the aerobars and hammer as hard as I can. The finish catches me by surprise but I catch and pass my rabbit with a couple of yards to spare.

Not very happy with this effort - I know I can do a lot better. Well down on GC.

Hacked up half a lung afterwards.

Flatted a latex tube just after crossing the finish line

Day 2: Railing switchbacks moto-style. Whooping cough at 7000 ft

Bust the last of my latex tubes pumping it up before the start. Got there in good time so no problem changing it out.

Saturday was a 29 mile circuit race on an unbuilt housing development. Nice closed course, nothing there but several miles of immaculate private road. One steep climb, one mile long followed by a helter skelter careening descent, a little bit of flat, a few more hills, another fast winding descent, followed by a long false flat in a cross wind to the base of the hill. 6.5 laps of a a 4.5 mile course, 500 ft of climbing per lap. Yes, that's 500 ft per lap.

Each lap I'm surprised that they don't call EMT everytime I crest the hill. I sound like a whooping cough victim. Might be contagious.

First time down the descent and I get gapped badly and have to pin it just to catch. Not fun. Manage to figure it out for the next laps. Drop it into the 53*11 and pedal hard whenever you get the chance, close any gaps immediately. My new Giant frame railed the downhills at close to 50 mph and 45 degree angles on the turns. What a rush.

First 3 times up the hill and I'm suffering. Barely hanging on - using the descent for recovery. Then the legs start to open up and I feel progressively better. Front group is opening a gap on the field each time. 4 laps to go I crest 12th, then 8th, then 6th. Bell lap - I'm in 4th and 6 of us have a gap of several seconds over what remains of the decimated field. Two fast descenders catch us on the downhill and we hit the flat as a group of 8 on each of the last two laps - including 3 riders from the local team. All that has to happen is that we drill it for 2 minutes and the GC for the race is decided. Instead the 3 local riders go to the front and set an easy tempo - 10 riders catch on before we hit the hill again.

This was a big mistake and it cost that team. They were obsessed with racing for places - it's a stage race, places don't matter, time does.

Last lap and we scream down the descent. One guy gets gapped off the front and goes for it, nobody chases. I take one strong pull but nobody comes around. Not up to a flatlander to do all the work. We give the win to the OTF guy - fair play to him for giving it a go - wouldn't happen in Illinois.

Ten more guys catch on before the final hill. Yes, they will be dropped, but will only lose 20-30 seconds instead of the several minutes they would have if we had tried to drill it earlier.

Halfway up the hill and the pace reaches frantic level. Ten of us left. 3 guys jump away, I try to follow them but simply can't take in enough oxygen and my legs seize up. Nothing I can do. I still have a lock on 5th place though. 400 m to go and my gears start spontaneously shifting. I upshift, downshift - nothing works. Have to drop it into the 39*15 before the chains stays steady. Lose about 15 seconds and 3 places. Jump into top 10 on GC.


Final climb - desperately trying to find a stable gear and losing places

pic by fitzgerald photography



Steamboat Pilot video

Day 3: Going hypoxic in 45 mph crosswinds. Death wobble at 7000 ft;

50 mile road race, Horseshoe shaped course. 27 miles out, 22 miles back. A mere 3500 ft of climbing.



Afternoon winds got up to over 30 mph with gusts over 45 mph. Developed death wobbles several times in crosswinds on hairy descents. Had to hang at back for safety's sake. Outward leg was mostly head and crosswind, pack kept together. Lots of competition for a good draft. One crash when competition for the white line got a bit too competitive.

About 3 miles into race I jump off the front to test the legs. Get a gap but start to hyperventilate. 1 other guy (Casper Wheelmen) jumps onto my wheel. Conversation as follows:

Me - "Pull through! (gasp)"
Casper guy - "I can't"
Me "Why not? (gasp)"
Casper: "You're Carlos, right? I'm working for my teammate, Can't risk you getting away. I'm just going to sit on your wheel."
Me: "That's the end of (gasp) that then" ...And I sit up.

Apart from the time Dan Hill nicknamed me "Ekimov", this is the highest cycling compliment anyone has ever paid me. It's official - I am now a GC threat!

Took me 30 minutes to recover from that effort.

About 5 miles before the turnaround the field gets gapped on a vicious crosswind descent. Only myself and another guy catch on. The field is now down to 25 riders. One huge TT guy goes OTF and and out of sight. We know he's extremely powerful but not a good climber. He stays out there for nearly 20 miles.

Hit the turnaround and feed zone and it's more uphill than downhill on the home stretch - but still all crosswind. I take care to find a good draft and stay in the first echelon.

3 miles out, 20 to go, I find myself gapped off the front. I punch it a bit to see what would happen. This initiates 20 miles of eyeballs out, punch and counter-punch, no-respite aggressive racing. Fun times.

My attack gets dragged back quickly, another guy counters, noone responds and he takes off to bridge to the solo guy. In a magnificent effort he catches him, they work together for 10 miles, he drops him and soloes home the final few miles for an amazing win, securing the GC overall in the process.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we're attacking each other like crazy, really booking it at speeds of up to 50 mph in tailwind and 5 mph downhill in a headwind. Gaps are forming and being closed down. Alliances formed and severed. I look behind and the group is down to 14. A few more miles and we're down to 10.

The GC leader attacks to save his lead, we reel him in after a couple of miles. Hitting the first of a series of hills we catch the first OTF guy and feel it's only a matter of time before we reel in the other guy. He's got a lead of about a minute. Hit another hill and the group detonates. Down to 8. Get gapped in a crosswind, fight back on, hit another hill, and the man with the hypoxic hammer strikes. The legs lock up. I'm only two seconds behind a group of 4 but it might as well be two hours. No way can I close it and they ride away from me.

The last hill I expected to be a couple of miles long. The other riders are only about 30 seconds ahead. I settle in, find my happy place and wait for the guys in front to blow up. Round the first corner there's a line of cars, someone shouts 200 meters, the line is right there. Race over. No signage, no nothing. All a bit sudden.

Field blown to smithereens. They straggle in over the next 30 minutes. I vault over 3 guys but 3 others vault over me. Retain same place in GC.

Only hack up a 1/4 lung this time.

Yet another mechanical - loose front hub causing death wobble.

Day 4: Breaking wind is hard to do. Blacking out at 7000 ft.

Image Eddie Clark- Mountain Flyer

Downtown crit. 40 minutes. Classic rectangular Midwest-style crit. Easy-to-pedal corners. Kicker hill plus false flat into strong headwind to finish line.

First 10 minutes were among my hardest 10 minutes on a bike. Going hypoxic each time up the kicker. Hanging on for dear life at the back. Finish with the pack and I keep my GC place - get gapped and I'm out of the money.

After ten minutes things slow down. GC is already decided. Everyone knackered. Gentleman's agreement not to attack except to sprint for primes. That's ok by me.

I recover. 3.5 laps to go and I sneak off the front. Noone reacts. I punch it into the headwind and 500 m finishing straight. Get a big gap ~ 15 seconds. Noone chases. Now's my chance for everlasting glory - just keep this gap for 3 quick laps and the win is mine. I punch it up the hill ... and start to black out. It was the definition of the CBDHS (Crash & Burn Dan Hill-style). Can't finish when you're lying in the ditch. I sit up, let them catch me and finish the race mid-pack.

If I was living at 6000 ft instead of 600 the story might be different.

All in all: more good luck than bad. Top 5 in GC. Ok for a flatlander. I'll take it. My best result ever.

Steamboat Pilot video
CO races always have a good emphasis on safety and are blessed with excellent officials. I like that. CO has famously poor payouts, but this doesn't deter half a dozen pros and a 13 times womens world champion (Jeannie Longo) from coming out and racing the excellent courses. I like that also.

Still a Thrill!

Ronald Reagan Criterium 2010

Dixon, IL

I remember the 80s as a mostly dismal decade of Greyness, unemployment, blue eyeshadow, perms and shoulder pads. Musically, there was a golden age from 1978-83, then it all started to go horribly wrong. The charms of the Linn drum machine waned, to be replaced by hollow formula music and computerised farting.

Amongst those memories, Ronald Reagan stands prominent. In my opinion he was one of America's worst presidents. In foreign relations he did great harm to America's reputation in the world. Before Ronnie most of the world actually liked America. After Ronnie and his innovative policies, America's name was dirt. By effectively codifying the Fifth Freedom - the right to screw over your fellow man unimpeded - he initiated an era of naked Capitalism that made us feel good about ourselves for being selfish and greedy. We're still paying the price, both politically and economically, for his presidency.

That said, Ronnie was certainly no elitist. From a humble upbringing, he is probably the last American President not to graduate from Yale or Harvard, was president of a union, and certainly didn't care about your background as long as you could screw people over better than the next guy; and make money doing it. He also was The Great Communicator - he could tap into a place in the hearts and minds of the American people that no other post-war president could find and sell his city-on-the-hill hokum to great effect.

What's this got to do with bike racing? Not much, but it wasn't enough to put me off participating in the Ronald Reagan Memorial Crit in Dixon, IL (his hometown) last Saturday. I already had done the Hooverfest race (commemorating an underrated President) so I might as well do this one. Smalltown races are the best anyway.

The race was well-organized, reasonable entry fees (with a nominal $10 for a second race), safe, with plenty of volunteers and top notch race commentary. It received a deserved boost in attendance. Due to downtown reconstruction the 0.8 mile course was somewhat changed, L-shaped, it was faster and eliminated a couple of sketchy corners. Running it clockwise and moving the start/finish line meant that the roughest portions were uphill and the finish was safer. The main feature was a bumpy rise into a headwind, good to launch an attack, followed by two corners and a long tailwind section to a slight rise to the finish, all the corners were wide, so accordeons were not played much today.

Masters 4/5: About 30 starters. Cat 4s don't really start to tire until 25-30 minutes, so a 30 minute race is always going to be difficult for a non-sprinter like me. The first 10 minutes were the usual over enthusiastic surges at the back, so much so that I chose to tailgun it for several laps, moving up to the middle when the panic had died down and everyone was a bit more used to the course. After 15 minutes nothing much had happened, I sensed the pack start to slow a bit and started to move to the front to see what was going on. Just then the announcer announced a prime for a 20-pack of something or other. It had to be beer! So I hammered it off the front, got a gap, maintained it for the lap and sprinted for all I was worth for the last couple of hundred yards, just to ensure that no-one surprised me at the line. Noone did and I won my first ever prime.

Had a big gap with noone chasing. Might as well go for it. Stayed out there for 6 laps but needed 7. They let me hang as I expected them to. The time gap decreased then increased, but never more than about 12 seconds. I put myself in too deep a hole going for the prime, never properly recovered, and it was controlled pain management and oxygen deficit disorder until I succumbed. I did manage to pick up a second prime for my trouble though. Being in front meant that I could choose the best lines and pedal through all the corners, which was a lot of fun, but only prolonged the agony. Meanwhile, the Cat 4s did what Cat 4s do best - nothing - and they caught me coming up to the bell. I retired to mid-pack which is where I finished.

Had I measured out my effort a bit better, I could maybe have surprised them, or at least forced them to work, but it was another Cat 4 criterium condensed to a 20 second effort.

Zero attacks, initiative or willingness to work.

1st half of race 24.5 mph, 2nd half 25.3 mph.

Open 4/5: More of the same. Several solo OTF efforts left to dangle. At least 3 or 4 people turned up to race anyway. I made several abortive efforts that didn't get anywhere. One half lap effort getting hauled back by an unattached rider who then sat up. Found that a bit strange.

With 5 laps to go they announced a prime for a Ronald Reagan T-shirt. Nothing, not even the guy 15 seconds off the front, was going to stop me from getting that T-shirt. I just wanted to see the look on Mrs F's face when I presented her with the special prize I won for her.

I launched up the hill, railed the corners and put it in the 53*12 for the last 300 meters. Caught the leader with yards to spare and snagged my prize. Ok, that done, time to work together and set up a break.

I zoomed around turn 1, ready to get organized .. and started retching violently. Ok, forget about the break. Time to recover. Apologies to Eric of BH for getting his hopes up.

The pack caught me, I tried to latch on but only managed to get on the very back. 3 primes in a row kept the pace high so no recovery for me. It was a full field, apart from the two guys who nearly killed themselves in a collision when sprinting for a pack of Jelly Bellys, that started the last lap together when the pace eventually ramped up. I managed to move up to halfway for the final corner, but the larger field meant more chances to hide for the sit-ins and too many fresh legs made it was a much faster sprint than the previous race.

These races were notable for the complete lack of aggression and willingness to work shown by the riders. Honestly, why do you race? If you weren't hanging on at the back for dear life it was easy to get to the front and make things happen. I race with the hope of getting better, going faster, trying to learn and enjoy. If I don't learn from a race I don't enjoy it, and I don't get better.

If you come in with complete lack of ambition, with the intention of feeling good about yourself by not getting dropped, staying anonymous mid-pack for the duration, laughing at those who give it a go and then handing the top spots to the three pure sprinters and the couple other strong 500m effort guys in the field - what's the point? Why not stay at home and wrestle with your granny for control of the remote? You may not have a greater chance of winning but at least it will fulfil that competitive edge that you fail to bring to a bike race. I have DFL'd more races than I can count, but I have never turned up to a race with the intention of not racing and not doing my best. How many of the Illinois Cat 4s can say that?

That said. Very enjoyable event. Great atmosphere. Can only get bigger.

That 20-pack? Laxatives, I think. Same effect as the Ronnie shirt.

My wife's reaction when I presented her my very special prize? Let's just say that I'm glad I built a very luxurious doghouse - that's where I'm writing this right now.

Iowa State Road Race 2010

{Insert smartass remarks about Herbert Hoover, Hooverfest, Hooverball, Great Depression etc and draw ludicrous analogies to bike racing}

Last year this was the hardest race I had ever done. 25 mph ave speed in 25 mph cross winds. I got dropped with a few miles to go. No-holds-barred survival of the fittest. The way a state road race should be.

I've always enjoyed racing in Iowa. Friendly folks who race hard. So I was really looking forward to the 2010 edition and a break from the lame Cat 4 groupthink that Chicago has brought to a fine art. Unfortunately, the virus has spread.

Nice course. Roads in superb condition. Lots of rollers but only 1 significant hill. 27 mile rectangular loop with every side exposed to a crosswind, it seemed.

Very poor turnout. For such a well-organised race, with low entry fee, wheel trucks, lead car, motos, and the support of the locals, only 20 Iowa cat 4s bothered to turn out to honour their State Championship. Throw in a few out-of-staters and the peloton started only 25 strong.

Neutral rollout out of town and my teammate breaks his right shifter - he's stuck in the 11T for the next 54 miles and a choice of either 39 or 53 to pair with it. This is a big blow, because he's very strong and is always up for an attack. Between the two of us we could really have made our mark on the race. Instead he's forced to go to the front and set tempo at a pace he can handle and make sure to get a clear shot at all the downhills to minimize the out of the saddle mashing on the ascent. Didn't stop several others from closing down any gaps he got, even though everyone knew his predicament.

Not a huge team presence, 6 from New Pi, 3 Dice and 3 Rasmussen plus a mish-mash of all the other Iowa teams. New Pi sent several riders on off-the-front efforts while the other two teams did nothing, not even chasing, until the last mile.

The rain came down with varying intensity over the duration. It was welcome, cooled us down and made me homesick. The wind was mild, maybe 10 mph, strong enough to make solo breaks too hard but not enough to make guttering worthwhile, or to have any wear and tear on the pack.

Not much noteworthy during the race. I tried several off the front efforts but got chased down. Also attempted several bridges to solo breaks - jump for 10 seconds, get a gap, strong 30 second effort to get on first guy's wheel, look behind, find the pack on my heels, pull off, pace immediately slows down. This happened several times, so I gave up and resolved to let any solo attacks ride away if they could.

Strange thing is that every roller and hill was hammered at a huge effort, then we would slow down again until the next hill. Given the lack of work being done, most legs were still fresh enough to do this, even after 50 miles. So much so that we succeeded in dropping exactly zero riders.

The order of the day was neutralize any bridge attempt, then slow the race to a manageable pace - manageable often being 19 mph or so. Don't know why this is considered a racing tactic, you're basically handing the race on a plate to the 2-3 real sprinters who are hiding mid-pack and laughing away at all the fools marking each other out, knowing full well that they'll come out to play when the finish line looms and their fresh legs will ride away from the rest.

It's a state championship - honour it. If you don't want to race then at least give those who came to race a chance. Tootling along at pedestrian pace and sprinting up the occasional hill does not make you a racer or the event a race.

After all the abortive solo attacks, bridging efforts and, out of boredom, keeping the pace up at the front - my legs were pretty much toasted. Heart Rate was remarkably low but power was either recovery/endurance effort or way anaerobic. Far too many matches burnt. Nothing much else happened. We had a few heavy rain showers and a few more abortive solo breaks left to dangle until we finally made the turn for home.

The last four miles is the best feature - a drawn-out drag race. Narrow road, gradual uphill, a few rollers and a crosswind, with the last 500 meters being about a 3% grade to the finish line. I fought hard to make my way up to the front and stay there. There were plenty of wheels jockeying to get into the 5 man paceline at the front. I opted to ride mostly parallel, soaking up more wind but better positioned for the inevitable swarm.

I managed to maintain about 6th position, with a good line of riders following my wheel, but none opting to try to come around. The pace was gradually upping the closer we got to the finish and plenty of digs were required on the mild rollers in order not to fall back.

With about 600 meters to go the shenanigans started. Too many fresh legs who had done no work. A few riders tried to bully their way past me, I was ready and jumped to counter. A junior who, several people noted, had problems riding a bike straight tried to sprint past but only managed to smash his bars into my hip (I have the bruise to prove it). No danger to me but I had to slow down a bit to steady him up and prevent him from crashing. A few riders got past me - now relegated to about 12th.

We hit the feed zone at the base of the hill, the riders in front fan out and the sprint is on. I do what I can on the uphill but it isn't much - the legs hurt like heck. I have to wait for those in front of me to blow up, which they do, and I pass them in the final yards to sneak into the top 10.

Top 10 in a state championship is nothing to be ashamed of, but I'd much rather be dropped from a hard race than get a respectable finish in a lame one.

In retrospect, I regret not trying harder in the last couple of miles, I should have worked harder to stay in the top 3 wheels. It wasn't as hard as I expected. I've learned that, when it's a relatively difficult approach to the finish, position is everything - it's difficult to get swarmed; the guys who work to stay at the front are the ones who finish on the podium. Try harder, finish higher.

If I had sat in the whole race and just some to the front for the last couple of miles I would easily have been in the money places and maybe top 3. But if you ever see me sitting in for the sprint... please shoot me.

One thing I have to note were the guys headbutting each other in the sprint Cavendish-Renshaw style and boasting about it afterwards. Moronic.

Anyway, great venue and organisation. Glad to be able to support it. Iowa City Cycling Club do a great job. Pity that a State Championship couldn't be raced a bit more positively, but my fault for expecting anything better. Oh well, riding in the rain was exhilarating and the last three miles were am enjoyable, intense headrush.

Of course the top finishers were the guys who did no work and made no contribution. That's Cat 4 racing - hand the win to a guy with a decent sprint and feel good about yourself because you didn't get dropped.

For the powergeeks: 2:17:45, 23.4 mph, Ave HR 140 bpm (very low). AP: 215W NP: 275W, 57% recovery/endurance/coasting, 27% supra max (too high). Very little time spent at threshold or race pace.

Last 3 miles, 27 mph, 302 W. Uphill Sprint: 460 m, 35 seconds, 31 mph, 510 W (low)

{Insert more smartass remarks about Herbert Hoover, potatoes and draw more ridiculous analogies to bike racing}

Mississippi Bluffs Road Race

Mississippi Bluffs road race is one of those goofy-charming events that ABR occasionally throws up. I like the loop a lot. 3 miles or so of narrow quiet roads with a bit of sand and gravel and quite a few twists. Onto a wide straight section that leads into a screaming safe downhill to a sharp right hander immediately followed by a long, two-tier 5% hill, a few minor rollers, a short steep hill and a long, exposed gradual descent to a narrower road with a couple of right handers and slight uphills. The finish is tricky; a steep 1/4 mile hill, descent and a 500m 2% grade to the finish line. Jump on or before the hill and try to hold the gap into the wind for a mile, hammer it as soon as you see the finish in the distance and risk giving a free leadout to the others or running out of gas, or wait until 200 m to go to sprint and risk getting caught out and starting too late. No perfect way to do it - depends on your own strengths and the dynamics of the group.

Anyway, of the 15 miles in the loop about 2/3rd is good quality roads with a hard shoulder, 5 miles or so are 2 lane blacktop with no shoulder and occasional sand and gravel. A few hundred feet of climbing per lap is enough to sap the legs after a few laps, combined with the ample heat, tail and crosswinds there are plenty of chances to attack; and once a well-organised break gets away - it's not coming back.

Previous years the race had only been two laps, not long enough to drop anyone - and it had all been decided in a mile-long drag race to the finish. So when I saw that this year's race would have 4 laps for the open and 3 for the masters I was excited. That extra length, combined with the course, would make it a lot more testing and should provide for a challenging and enjoyable race.

Being ABR, things like the centerline rule, littering and other such inconsequential rules are pretty much left up to the honor of the riders. As long as they're not too grossly violated don't expect anyone to care. Oh, and expect a two week wait for results.

Donnie and his Dicecyling crew had put a lot of work into the race over the past few years, combine that with a bargain $20 entry fee (half that of superweek) and the lack of available Road Races - this event was one that I was determined to support.

By some unfortunate scheduling, there was also a MTB event taking place nearby that drew away riders and volunteers. The DOT also decided to carry out some last minute roadworks on two sections of the course. Full credit to Donnie for taking this in his stride and sweet-talking the DOT and Police forces to cooperate. It all ran smoothly and the road crews very graciously gave us right of way when safe - it never proved to be an issue.

The race itself tends to attract mainly older masters. It's one of the few that attracts appreciable turnout for 50+, and 60+ and even a few 70+. Numbers vary a lot. Very few Iowa riders are familiar with ABR and the level of open, junior and Women riders tends to vary in some weird random fashion. Last year there were a fair number of juniors and ladies, this year only one lady. Numbers were down a bit - partly due to the crazy MTB conflict, but mainly because of the weather - many didn't fancy a 60 mile race in a heat index of 100F+. Neither did I, but it's not enough to stop me from racing.

Although I would have been better suited to the masters, I registered for the 1/2/3/4 opens because some teammates were going to come along and we were all going to race together. They never showed, so when the open cat assembled we were 13 strong - three Cat 1/2s, eight Cat 3s and just two 4s. Had I known this I would have registered as a 3 in order to make it a better race.

First lap was pretty chill. Everybody was aware of the heat and rode sensibly. I, along with several other, started with 4 full bottles. The pace was moderate bar a few crazy-fast accelerations injected by the 1/2 guys. I've never encountered this in a cat 4 or master's race. I guess this is how the fast guys race. Everybody held on, bar James from ABD who flatted, and almost everybody (with one dishonorable exception) took their fair share of pulls.

Second lap was the same, easy with a couple of scary pace changes thrown in. Mid way through I had a bit of luck, we had come over the longish two-tier hill and hit a sharp 1/4 mile kicker into a headwind. I was first wheel and hit it at a fair, but non-blow up pace. Halfway up a train of 5 riders come past me, the pace was high and I was hurting, so was tempted to save some energy and sag to the back. I thought better of it, swallowed the pain and jumped on. Lucky I did. We hit a wild 30+mph over the top and kept it up for several minutes. I hung on. When things calmed down I looked back and we had shed maybe a third of the group.

Just before the start of Lap 3 two riders jumped on the hill, a third bridged, and they were away. After we figured out that they were the three 1/2 guys everyone else was content to fight out the cat 3s amongst themselves. It would have been tempting to try to bridge, but I doubt if the others would let me go.

Lap 3 we kept up a reasonable pace in the heat and rotated through smoothly - no more crazy pace changes. At this stage it became clear that one rider from PACT was not working and ticking everyone off. Everytime he'd get to second wheel he'd languidly drop off and fall to the back - usually over the yellow line if it kept him out of the wind. In a group of half a dozen those shenanigans become embarrassingly obvious. A number of people spoke to him but it was a waste of time. He'd feign lack of understanding and start rubbing his calves in fake-cramp mode.

James who flatted was still out there two laps later. A teammate, the only lady rider, stopped and gave him a tube, I believe.

Mindful of the possibility of being caught by dropped riders, I kept the pace high the couple of times it flagged. The smaller the group the better for me. Turning the corner in to the wind another rider dropped off from heat/exhaustion. We were down to 5.

A mile into lap 4 we came upon one of the cat 1/2 guys with a flat. The XXX rider, who had been riding strongly, then dropped out and told us to continue on - down to 4. At this stage I knew I'd be able to make it to the finish and wasn't worried about being dropped or not. Two of the others started laying down sudden jumps to try and drop the wheelsucker. Didn't do it very well though. The first guy would get a gap, I wouldn't react, the 2nd guy would then lay down some power to bridge up with the wheelsucker on his wheel. This happened several times, the other two taking turns jumping but then dragging the wheelsucker back up with them each time. Seemed like a good way to wear yourself out. Not once did they succeed in forcing him to expend any extra energy. I told them that it would be much better if they both jumped simultaneously while the wheelsucker was on my wheel, thereby forcing him to chase, but they didn't seem to get it.

This went on for a few miles until a rider joined us from behind. It was the Cat 1 with the flat, XXX had sportingly given him his wheel and he had buried himself to catch us. We started rotating smoothly, minus any help from our PACT friend of course. As he was clearly a musclebound sprinter type the best chance to put some hurt on him was on a hill. I went to the front and killed it up the sharp hill where we had dropped a few riders two laps previously. Got a gap on him, crested the hill and yelled at the next guy to pull through to hammer it - he promptly eased off and it was gruppo compatto again. That was the end of that. I then got an earful from the Cat 1 for not rotating smoothly. Sorry man! I guess you know better - not your personal leadout train quite yet.

Nothing much happened on the rest of the lap. We had some fun trying to get the sprinter dude to go to the front - at one stage he ended up there by accident and we all eased off to leave a gap. He slowed down and started to rub his calves somewhat worriedly. Nearly fell off our bikes laughing.

Curiously dysfunctional group - wheelsucking got to a couple, I was mad about littering, another guy mad about a flat and a missed win and everyone put in bad temper by the heat. We didn't work together well.

It was clear that the cat 1 guy was much stronger than anyone else, but I'd fancy my chances one-on-one against any of the other three riders. In a group though my function is usually to come second last in any sprint situation - much like CBR Luke in that respect. It would be fun to be in a break with him to see who would come last or who would try to break off the front the earliest.

I thought there would be a chance that the others might mark each other out, so I jumped about 1/2 a mile before the last steep hill. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that there was still $30 on the line for 3rd place. The Cat 1 wasn't having any of it and he chased me down, dragging the others back up.

We hit the hill with a mile to go. Last year I got jumped and gapped on this hill, so I kept a strong pace up the ascent. Nobody came around. Kept the speed up on the downhill without straining myself - nobody came around. Hit the uphill with 500 meters to go and I punched it. After 60 miles in sweltering heat I had only 10 good seconds in me when I needed 40. They came around me with 350 m to go. Cat 1 winning the sprint easily for 3rd, with the PACT guy, whose cramps had mysteriously vanished, sucking his wheel all the way for the Cat 3 win. Then a big gap to the Cat 3 junior, another gap to me, and an even bigger gap to the last Cat 3 of our bunch who blew up even worse than I did. Second last in the group again!

6th overall. Three 1/2s and two Cat 3s ahead of me. 12 or 13 starters, 8 finishers.

Didn't really feel the heat until the last couple of miles - then was quite overcome - couldn't even talk. Stripped off as much as I could dare and headed for the pump for an improvised standing shower. Cooled down after a while, exchanged a few war stories, thanked the organizer for all his good work and hightailed it for home.

For powergeeks - time 2:43:24, 61.17 miles, 22.5 mph, AP 214 W, NP 261 W. HR 157 bpm. IF .886 - fairly mellow race with some strong surges, indicative of the heat and riding in a chase group with no incentive to really push it.

There were some problems with the results, but they got changed after a couple of emails. Fun race, great course, deserves support, roll on next year.

What I am going to get worked up about is this - Littering! There were two riders in my group who had no problem with throwing their gel wrappers into the ditch and launching water bottles into a hedge. I know who you are, you know who you are. You got some abuse from more than one rider because of it but ignored everything. I can give you all the cliches about coming over and dumping all my trash on your lawn, or how you are doing your best to destroy the few road races we have. The cliches are still true. Just because it's ABR and you would probably have to shoot an official to get DQ'd does not make it alright. Any rider who litters is contemptible and does not have my respect as a rider or a human being. Sound harsh? It's supposed to!