I didn't have high hopes for today. I hadn't raced in over a month (since Downers Grove), and being employed again had put a serious crimp in my training time. Some recent training rides had been less than pleasant...flat legs, burning lungs, etc. Still, having some end-of-season races so close to home was too good to pass up.
So, with cloudy skies and temps in the low 70s, I rolled to the line with 53 other riders. I was the sole Wheel Fast Racing representative...some of the other guys were doing a mountain bike race up in Kettle Moraine, and Kev didn't even know about the race. On the plus side, I had a huge cheering section...my wife, her parents, both of her siblings and their respective families.
The course was next to the Pella factory in West Chicago...with the exception of one 90-degree turn, the rest of the course was a large, 0.8 mile oval. Great pavement and wide turns meant that this would be a drag-race from start to finish.
My Garmin has been on the fritz lately, so I was racing blind. However, the pace was manageable, and my legs and lungs felt great. Attacks were launched here and there, but nothing stayed away. There was some squirelliness, but on the whole everyone was riding smart.
10 minutes in and a prime lap for some tires was called. The pace quickened, and I let myself fall back in the field, having no desire to contest the sprint. Afterward, I moved back up through the field. As usual, my plan was to stay near the front, but not at the front. The winds weren't bad, but enough that I wanted to stay within the safety of the field and keep my nose out of the wind.
20 minutes in and I still felt great. My heart rate was low, my lungs were clear, and the legs felt fresh. I would lose some position in the field, then regain it. I tried my best to stay within the top 10-15 riders. We crossed the 30-minute mark, and I was still feeling good. It was great to have so many people cheering so loudly for me each time we came around Turn 1.
With 3 laps to go, I suddenly found myself at the tail end of the field. In my head I heard Fred Willard saying "hey, wha' happened?" After Turn 2 I flew up the left side of the field and inserted myself back in the top 10. With 2 laps to go the pace really got hot. I dropped some position, but held on comfortably in the field.
Then came the bell lap. I was too far back for my liking, so as soon as we crossed the start/finish I started jamming to gain some ground. In hindsight, I should have held back just a little longer. After Turn 2 my legs suddenly turned to lead and I was dismayed to see masses of riders surging on either side of me. I tried to shift down and realized that there was nowhere else on the cog to go. I pushed as hard as I could all the way to the line for a 39th place finish out of 51 finishers.
So, it was a disappointing finish after a great race. Still, there was a lot to be happy about...after a month away from racing I felt comfortable in the field, my body cooperated, and I was able to put in a good showing for my fans. All in all, it was a good end to the season. See you next year!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
National Championships, Downers Grove, IL, August 15, 2009
A disappointing day.
This, however, was not to be. In hindsight, I should have tried to take a free lap. However, the officials can be merciless if there is no damage to the bike that requires fixing. You don't get a free lap simply by having been caught up in a crash.
The National Championship Criterium in Downers Grove is the high-water mark of the year for many cyclists. Everyone's seasons lead up to this very day. Having had an entire summer of unemployment to do nothing but train and race, I had high hopes for this day. Kev, Chris Hammer and I had registered for the Master's 35+ 4/5 race. Unfortunately, Chris got nailed with a bad case of pneumonia (necessitating an overnight stay in the hospital. So, just Kev and I rolled to the line with 73 other cyclists for 30 minutes plus one lap of racing.
The pace from the whistle was hot. However, the legs and lungs felt good. Having started with really bad field position, I was moving slowly up through the pack.
Disaster struck on Lap 3. Making the turn from Lane onto Summit (lovingly known, at least in the past, as "Mt. Fresca"), I found myself coming upon riders down in the road. I was far enough behind the carnage that I could scrub almost all speed...but not far enough to be able to avoid running right into it. I rode over the wheel of an ABD rider, lost all momentum, and tipped over right on top of him. I broke my fall by putting my left hand squarely onto his hip. I jumped right up, realizing that there was no damage to either my bike or my body. I hopped on the bike and accelerated like mad to catch onto the field.
This, however, was not to be. In hindsight, I should have tried to take a free lap. However, the officials can be merciless if there is no damage to the bike that requires fixing. You don't get a free lap simply by having been caught up in a crash.
I caught up to Kev, announcing "I'm on your wheel, Chief." We worked together for a bit, but at some point I rode him off of my wheel. The rest of the race was spent with a group of about 8 other riders (a diverse group including Bicycle Heaven, Half Acre, SCW, Tower, etc.). I can't say we exactly "worked together" as much as we just hung on for dear life. A spectator at the top of Mt. Fresca would announce our distance off of the main field. We heard anywhere from 24 to 30+ seconds. We had actually started to close the gap a bit when a prime lap was called. That put an end to any hopes we would have.
So, in the end we hung on to the finish. My official result was 46th out of 50 finishers. Disappointing, but at least I wasn't one of the 25 who didn't finish. And at least I suffered no injury in my minor crash. Like Cubs fans always say..."wait 'til next year!"
Saturday, September 26, 2009
One Last Matteson, August 11, 2009
I had thought, after the last Tuesday night crits, that I wouldn't be able to race them anymore. After a summer of unemployment, I received a job offer, and thought that I would be starting on Monday. The job is up in Woodstock, so my ability to get to Matteson would be nil.
Due to some internal miscommunication, my start date was set for Wednesday, so my Tuesday night was free for one last set of races.
I seriously thought about not racing tonight...I didn't want to risk crashing the night before I started a new job. However, the Matteson races have been pretty safe, the weather was good (albeit windy), and I knew that this would be, in fact, my last opportunity to race these crits. So, I loaded up the car and met up with Kev.
We knew going in that it was going to be brutal. The headwind on the backstretch was brisk, the fields were big, and this is late August...everyone has a full season under their legs.
Brutal, it was. So much so that I don't really remember much but the pain. I came unglued with a few laps to go in race number 1. About 7 laps into the 2nd race I was popped off the back. Kev was with me, though, so we struggled and suffered together. The field lapped us with about 5 to go, and we rode it on in with them. The third race went much better, surprisingly. Hung with the field until the surge on the final lap.
About midway through race #2 I was seriously regretting my decision to race tonight. But miles are miles, and racing is racing. It was good to get in one last tune-up before Downers Grove.
Due to some internal miscommunication, my start date was set for Wednesday, so my Tuesday night was free for one last set of races.
I seriously thought about not racing tonight...I didn't want to risk crashing the night before I started a new job. However, the Matteson races have been pretty safe, the weather was good (albeit windy), and I knew that this would be, in fact, my last opportunity to race these crits. So, I loaded up the car and met up with Kev.
We knew going in that it was going to be brutal. The headwind on the backstretch was brisk, the fields were big, and this is late August...everyone has a full season under their legs.
Brutal, it was. So much so that I don't really remember much but the pain. I came unglued with a few laps to go in race number 1. About 7 laps into the 2nd race I was popped off the back. Kev was with me, though, so we struggled and suffered together. The field lapped us with about 5 to go, and we rode it on in with them. The third race went much better, surprisingly. Hung with the field until the surge on the final lap.
About midway through race #2 I was seriously regretting my decision to race tonight. But miles are miles, and racing is racing. It was good to get in one last tune-up before Downers Grove.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Matteson Tuesday Night Crits, August 4, 2009
Mostly sunny skies and warm temps greeted the large "A" and "B" fields that assembled at the line at Matteson tonight. There was a bit of a headwind along the start/finish straightway...just enough to be a hassle. Kev was my sole WFR teammate, along with about 25 other "A" riders.
The first 15k race was fast right from the whistle. My goal was to sit in and keep myself fresh for the second race. Attacks went off here and there and were shut down. I stayed away from the front of the field and kept my nose out of the wind. With one lap to go the sprinters led the charge and I rode in with the field.
The second race was 25k. The pace started off relatively mellow, but it didn't take long for the attacks to begin. Despite the blistering pace, my legs, lungs, and heart were all feeling good, and I took a good pull at the front early on. Midway through, Kev came up on my right. I asked how he was doing, to which he responded "I feel like I'm going to throw up, but other than that..." OK, then. Apparently his noontime cinnamon roll hadn't been the best pre-race fueling option. Fortunately, this passed and he hung on with the field for the rest of the race. There were a few random surges late in the race that had me questioning whether or not I would get popped, but I held on and finished with the field again.
The third and final race was another 15k, and this one hurt. After one relatively slow lap, the pace just exploded. The 4th, 5th, and 6th laps were an exercise in sheer suffering. A couple riders escaped off the front, and a chase group of about 8 riders went hunting for them. I badly wanted to be a part of this chase, so I stood up, jammed on the pedals, and "dug deep into my suitcase of courage" to catch onto the back of the chase. However, no sooner did I catch on than the pace accelerated and I got popped again. I lost a little ground, then stood up and sprinted and caught a wheel. Yet again, the pace surged again and I went off the back. Argh. For the third time, I gritted my teeth and bridged up to the chase group. Finally, the break was caught and the pace eased up. The remainder of the race was fast but manageable as I hung on with the lead group of about 10 riders. I looked back after Turn 1 of the final lap and didn't see the rest of the field anywhere close. I had no legs left for the sprint, so I ended up riding in by myself somewhere between the lead group and the rest of the pack.
All in all, it was a pretty good evening of racing. I was able to hang with Cat 2s and 3s fresh off of Superweek and Elk Grove. Next up is the Masters 35+ 4/5 race in Downers Grove.
On a bittersweet note, however, this will be my last appearance at the Tuesday night races this year. I had interviewed for a job on Monday and got called downtown for a 2nd interview on Wednesday...at which point I was offered, and accepted, an associate attorney position in Woodstock. I start on Monday, at which point more than 5 months of unemployment will come to an end. I have enjoyed my "summer vacation" of riding and racing, but will be glad to get back to work.
The first 15k race was fast right from the whistle. My goal was to sit in and keep myself fresh for the second race. Attacks went off here and there and were shut down. I stayed away from the front of the field and kept my nose out of the wind. With one lap to go the sprinters led the charge and I rode in with the field.
The second race was 25k. The pace started off relatively mellow, but it didn't take long for the attacks to begin. Despite the blistering pace, my legs, lungs, and heart were all feeling good, and I took a good pull at the front early on. Midway through, Kev came up on my right. I asked how he was doing, to which he responded "I feel like I'm going to throw up, but other than that..." OK, then. Apparently his noontime cinnamon roll hadn't been the best pre-race fueling option. Fortunately, this passed and he hung on with the field for the rest of the race. There were a few random surges late in the race that had me questioning whether or not I would get popped, but I held on and finished with the field again.
The third and final race was another 15k, and this one hurt. After one relatively slow lap, the pace just exploded. The 4th, 5th, and 6th laps were an exercise in sheer suffering. A couple riders escaped off the front, and a chase group of about 8 riders went hunting for them. I badly wanted to be a part of this chase, so I stood up, jammed on the pedals, and "dug deep into my suitcase of courage" to catch onto the back of the chase. However, no sooner did I catch on than the pace accelerated and I got popped again. I lost a little ground, then stood up and sprinted and caught a wheel. Yet again, the pace surged again and I went off the back. Argh. For the third time, I gritted my teeth and bridged up to the chase group. Finally, the break was caught and the pace eased up. The remainder of the race was fast but manageable as I hung on with the lead group of about 10 riders. I looked back after Turn 1 of the final lap and didn't see the rest of the field anywhere close. I had no legs left for the sprint, so I ended up riding in by myself somewhere between the lead group and the rest of the pack.
All in all, it was a pretty good evening of racing. I was able to hang with Cat 2s and 3s fresh off of Superweek and Elk Grove. Next up is the Masters 35+ 4/5 race in Downers Grove.
On a bittersweet note, however, this will be my last appearance at the Tuesday night races this year. I had interviewed for a job on Monday and got called downtown for a 2nd interview on Wednesday...at which point I was offered, and accepted, an associate attorney position in Woodstock. I start on Monday, at which point more than 5 months of unemployment will come to an end. I have enjoyed my "summer vacation" of riding and racing, but will be glad to get back to work.
Friday, July 31, 2009
One Year
This blog was intended to be solely a repository for my race reports...not for musings about the world we live in and life in general. However, I will take one brief digression before returning you to your regularly scheduled programming...
Today marks my official one-year anniversary of post-bar exam freedom. On July 29 & 30, 2008 I sat for (and passed!) the Illinois bar exam. It was the worst two days of my life since I had sat for (and passed!) the Washington state bar exam exactly 10 years before.
Needless to say, the rigorous study schedule put a major crimp in my riding. I lost an entire season of training and racing thanks to that test, which caused my poor legs to atrophy. My body suffered, in general. Some people are stress eaters, but I am the exact opposite. During the 4 months of studying, I pretty much lived on plain oatmeal, peas, tomatoes, and cottage cheese. My weight averaged in the low 140s, occasionally dropping into the high 130s...probably not all that healthy for a 6'1" man.
As soon as the exam was over, however, I was, as Aerosmith says, "back in the saddle again." Those first few rides were a humbling experience! Case in point: on my first post-exam "freedom ride," my brother dropped me on a highway overpass. I vowed vengeance then and there.
So, in this past calendar year, I have ridden 3,700 miles and raced 18 times. I now average a good race-weight of 150, and I know that I'm in better shape at 35 than I was at 25. I'm posting up the best racing results of my career, but just haven't managed to get the sprint or the "killer instinct" to start landing myself into the top 5. But stay tuned...
Today marks my official one-year anniversary of post-bar exam freedom. On July 29 & 30, 2008 I sat for (and passed!) the Illinois bar exam. It was the worst two days of my life since I had sat for (and passed!) the Washington state bar exam exactly 10 years before.
Needless to say, the rigorous study schedule put a major crimp in my riding. I lost an entire season of training and racing thanks to that test, which caused my poor legs to atrophy. My body suffered, in general. Some people are stress eaters, but I am the exact opposite. During the 4 months of studying, I pretty much lived on plain oatmeal, peas, tomatoes, and cottage cheese. My weight averaged in the low 140s, occasionally dropping into the high 130s...probably not all that healthy for a 6'1" man.
As soon as the exam was over, however, I was, as Aerosmith says, "back in the saddle again." Those first few rides were a humbling experience! Case in point: on my first post-exam "freedom ride," my brother dropped me on a highway overpass. I vowed vengeance then and there.
So, in this past calendar year, I have ridden 3,700 miles and raced 18 times. I now average a good race-weight of 150, and I know that I'm in better shape at 35 than I was at 25. I'm posting up the best racing results of my career, but just haven't managed to get the sprint or the "killer instinct" to start landing myself into the top 5. But stay tuned...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Rainy Matteson
On Monday, the Tuesday night weather forecast wasn't too promising. But by early Tuesday afternoon, the hour-by-hour prediction on weather.com was for partly cloudy skies and temps in the mid-70s. So I loaded up the car and made the 60+ mile drive to Matteson. Skies started darkening the closer I got, and as I exited onto 57 South a few random raindrops hit my windshield.
There was sunlight poking through as I got registered and put my bike together. There were some dark clouds in the vicinity, but it didn't look like anything would head our way. However, by the time that we were warming up on the course, things started going south. A big bolt of lightning flashed in the distance, and the dark clouds started to gather directly overhead.
About 25 "A" riders rolled to the line, and at 6:05 the officials whistled us on our way for the first 15 lap race. No sooner had we negotiated the first turn over the railroad tracks than four riders sprinted off the front like raped apes. This drove the pace of the field up to over 30 mph. A few Canadian geese wandering across the road were rather startled by us as we came around turn 3...had they been a little closer, it could have been ugly.
By lap 2 fat raindrops were ploinking here and there. And no sooner had we crossed the start/finish to begin lap 3 than it began raining in earnest. We cautiously rolled through the rest of the lap, and as we came around to the line the race officials were already packing up their battered Dodge Omni. Game over, man, game over. After four minutes and 40 seconds of racing.
So, all told I drove about 130 miles to race for less than 2 miles. Lesson learned: never trust weather forecasters.
There was sunlight poking through as I got registered and put my bike together. There were some dark clouds in the vicinity, but it didn't look like anything would head our way. However, by the time that we were warming up on the course, things started going south. A big bolt of lightning flashed in the distance, and the dark clouds started to gather directly overhead.
About 25 "A" riders rolled to the line, and at 6:05 the officials whistled us on our way for the first 15 lap race. No sooner had we negotiated the first turn over the railroad tracks than four riders sprinted off the front like raped apes. This drove the pace of the field up to over 30 mph. A few Canadian geese wandering across the road were rather startled by us as we came around turn 3...had they been a little closer, it could have been ugly.
By lap 2 fat raindrops were ploinking here and there. And no sooner had we crossed the start/finish to begin lap 3 than it began raining in earnest. We cautiously rolled through the rest of the lap, and as we came around to the line the race officials were already packing up their battered Dodge Omni. Game over, man, game over. After four minutes and 40 seconds of racing.
So, all told I drove about 130 miles to race for less than 2 miles. Lesson learned: never trust weather forecasters.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Chicago Criterium, Chicago, IL, July 26, 2009
Today I did something I’ve never done…I raced in the heart of downtown Chicago. I had intended to register for the Masters 30+ 4/5 race (smaller field and a later start time), but by the time I got online to do so the field had reached its limit. So I had to race the Cat 4 race…with about 120 other riders, and at 8:50 in the morning. This meant a 5:00 alarm and hauling myself all the way into Chicago as the sun was rising.
It was a beautiful, but windy, day. Temps were in the low 70’s at race time, with winds ranging from 9 to 13 mph. The course was a long rectangle around part of Grant Park. The Start/Finish stretch ran on South Columbus Drive, with a left onto East Jackson Drive (featuring a mild kicker up and over some train tracks), left onto Michigan Avenue, a soft left into the curve of East Congress Plaza Drive, another soft left back onto Michigan Avenue, left onto East Balbo Drive (again, up and over those train tracks), and another left for the long sprint to the finish. The course took us right past Buckingham Fountain…I took note of how pretty it was while I was warming up, but I didn’t notice it even once during the heat of battle!
After having been taken down by bad pavement at Arlington Heights, I was glad to see that the pavement was, for the most part, good. There were a few bumps and manhole covers here and there, but nothing of consequence. The sketchiest part of the course was Turn 2 (from Jackson onto Michigan Avenue). We went from 4 lanes down to 2, and if you went wide you would find yourself eating concrete.
Kev was off camping somewhere, and the fields were full by the time that Chris went to register, so I was the only Wheel Fast rider present. All of the bandages and gauze from my Superweek crash were finally off, so I was sporting some nice fresh pink skin on my left elbow, knee, and shin. It had been hiding under all that gauze, waiting to be revealed like a debutante at a ball.
After the Cat 5s finished their race, I made the stupid mistake of taking a warm-up lap. As I came around to the line, I found myself at very tail end of the mass of 120+ riders that were already at the line. Super.
We started off fast and almost never let off the gas. Moments after the whistle we were already barreling down Columbus at over 30 mph, and this was par for the course for the rest of the race. Despite a pretty stiff cross-wind, we’d do 30+ mph along Columbus and Michigan, and 26 or 27 mph along Jackson and Balbo.
The South Chicago Wheelmen rider that also rides a Rock Lobster (sorry, but I don’t think I’ve ever gotten his name) and I started out together at the back. Knowing that he is a very strong rider, I grabbed onto his wheel as he started the long trek up through the mass of humanity. However, after a few laps I lost contact with him. I’d move up where I could, but never was able to get very far. I don’t think I ever had fewer than 40 riders in front of me.
As I’ve mentioned before that being that far back in the peloton subjects you to the “caterpillar” effect in the corners. Nowhere was this more prevalent (and annoying) than in Turn 5 (from Michigan onto Balbo). We scrubbed speed here more than in any other corner…and for no apparent reason! We’d be flying along Michigan at 30 mph, then slam on the brakes to take the turn at only 17 or 18 mph. We lost almost any momentum that we had going into that kicker of an uphill over the railroad tracks. Numerous times I had to stand on the pedals to generate the force necessary to get over that hump, maintain contact with the lead riders, and get back up to full speed.
This uphill acceleration from 17 mph back up to almost 30 mph on every lap really started to take it out of me. 8 minutes into the race and I was already wondering if I had the strength to finish this thing. Fortunately, the hip achiness that had been plaguing me all week was a non-factor…it never once flared up on me.
At one point, as we came around through the start/finish, I looked down at my computer and found that the screen was blank. Crap. I hit the “on” button and got it going again. It had kept all of the prior data, so I was dismayed to see that only 10 minutes had elapsed. I tried to push the pessimistic thoughts away, telling myself “you will finish, you will finish.”
Fortunately, at about the 7 to 10 mile mark, the tempo slowed down ever so slightly…we were only hitting 27 or 28 mph along Columbus and Michigan Avenue! Fortunately, this was enough to give me a bit of a breather…I actually began to believe myself that I would finish.
The race organizers decided to show no mercy…prime laps were called at both 4 and 3 laps to go, driving the pace up. My computer started yelling at me that my heart rate was too high…um, no s***, Sherlock.
On the 3rd to last lap, I started to fall behind on the kicker on Balbo. I gave it all I had, but by the time we came around to the Start/Finish, I had been spit out the back of the main field and was by myself. I tried to put a positive spin on this, telling myself that the odds of crashing were now quite slim. I caught up with a Spidermonkey rider and we rode the remaining laps together in stoic, pained silence. However, I actually managed to smile at the official taking note of my number as I crossed the finish line.
All in all, it was a pretty clean race. One rider went down solo in a corner late in the race, but that was the only crash that I saw. Other positives were that a) it was in a beautiful location; b) I didn’t crash; and c) despite enduring a high level of suffering, I was able to hang with a field moving 27-30 mph for over 30 minutes.
The negatives were a) I was never able to move to the front of the field; and b) I need to be able to deal with inclines better. Granted, having to regain over 13 mph of speed going uphill (thanks to excessive needless braking) didn’t help things at all. Had I been able to take that corner at speed and use the momentum to get over most of the rise, I might have been able to conserve a bit more energy and actually stay in the field until the very end. But that constant hard acceleration just killed me.
Next up for me are more Tuesday night crits and Downers Grove in mid-August. I’ll probably do Glencoe, and I’m already eyeing the Ronald Reagan Criterium in Dixon (in September). It is hard to believe that we are almost in that “winding down” part of the season. Looking back, however, it has been a pretty long season…I’ve done 13 “official” races and 4 nights at the training crits in Matteson. My legs have carried me for almost 3,000 miles this year, and I have some very silly tan lines to show for it. Best of all, today notwithstanding, I’ve posted the best results of my racing career!
STATS:Race time: 38:40
Distance: 16.8
Average pace: 2:19/mile
Average speed: 25.9
Max speed: 31.7
Average HR: 178
Max HR: 185
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
A Disappointing Evening
The Matteson Tuesday Night crits on July 21 marked my return to racing for the first time since my crash a week ago at the Arlington Heights Superweek criterium. The road rash is healing, but my left hip still aches a bit. This achiness turned out to be my downfall on this evening.
I met up with Kev and Chris, and we carpooled down to Matteson. Skies were overcast, with a light breeze and temps in the mid-70s. We arrive early, so we had plenty of time to register, gear up, and get in a good 11-mile warmup. About 20 riders rolled to the line for the "A" races, with a similar number lined up behind us for the "B" races.
The first race was the usual 15 laps. Attacks went off from the whistle, driving the pace up to about 30 mph. Despite telling myself to just sit in with the field in this first race, I soon found myself right near the front. Still, I managed to hang back a few riders, and kept my nose out of the wind. At this point my hip was still doing OK. I hung out at the front until the final lap, when the surge of sprinters left me in the dust and I just rode in with the field.
The second race (the usual 30 laps) was brutal. Again, the attacks started on the first lap. A small group got about 20 seconds on the field, and we hit the gas to reel them in. As we brought the time gap down, I started feeling worse and worse. By lap 10 I was almost gassed. I temporarily lost contact with the field, but through sheer willpower I fought through the pain and caught back on. We finally caught the break, just in time to have the tempo kick back up again for the mid-race sprint lap. Afterward, the pace calmed down a bit and I found myself in 2nd position. I took a hard pull into the wind before pulling off. I let about 6 riders come around me, then tried my best to relax the legs and recover.
At one point as I negotiated a corner, I heard from right behind my right shoulder "what the f***, Wheelfast?" Wondering to myself just what I had allegedly done wrong, I glanced back to see who this comment had come from. I will just say this: it was an odd comment coming from a rider who, despite having "committed to riding in a safer manner" still twitches back and forth from wheel to wheel without looking and with no regard to who may or may not be in the way.
The rest of the race started to pass in a haze of pain. The officials tacked on a couple extra laps to give some space between us and the B racers for their final sprint. This was the point where my hip really started to make its presence known. With every push of the pedal it felt as though a tiny demon was shoving his pitchfork into me. With 3 laps to go I finally lost it. Kev had let me know that we were at the back of the field, and I started to drift off the back. Kev eased up just a bit to give me a wheel. Just as we caught back on, the field surged again and I couldn't hold. Again, Kev drifted back to pull me back on, but I knew it was futile. I yelled "go," and he hit the gas. He caught back onto the field as I watched them ride away from me. With gritted teeth, I rode out the remaining two laps by myself.
The 3rd race was my downfall. A South Chicago Wheelmen rider attacked right after the whistle, and again we were flying at 30 mph. I was able to hang on for all of 5 of the 15 laps. With my hip on fire, I just couldn't generate the power necessary to push at those speeds. I got popped out the back of the field. I had told myself going into this final race that if I got popped I would just exit rather than re-absorbing into the field. So, I rode out 2 more laps by myself, then voluntarily abandoned the race. I watched the remaining laps from the sidelines, then joined Kev and Chris as they cooled down.
All in all, it was a very disappointing evening. I hate getting popped. It wasn't the confidence-builder that I hoped it would be going into Sunday's Chicago Criterium. Still, I have a few more days to recouperate, so hopefully the hip is feeling better by then. Also, on Sunday I'll be amongst my own Cat 4 peeps for much shorter race...I only have to hang for 35 minutes + 2 laps. Full report to follow...
I met up with Kev and Chris, and we carpooled down to Matteson. Skies were overcast, with a light breeze and temps in the mid-70s. We arrive early, so we had plenty of time to register, gear up, and get in a good 11-mile warmup. About 20 riders rolled to the line for the "A" races, with a similar number lined up behind us for the "B" races.
The first race was the usual 15 laps. Attacks went off from the whistle, driving the pace up to about 30 mph. Despite telling myself to just sit in with the field in this first race, I soon found myself right near the front. Still, I managed to hang back a few riders, and kept my nose out of the wind. At this point my hip was still doing OK. I hung out at the front until the final lap, when the surge of sprinters left me in the dust and I just rode in with the field.
The second race (the usual 30 laps) was brutal. Again, the attacks started on the first lap. A small group got about 20 seconds on the field, and we hit the gas to reel them in. As we brought the time gap down, I started feeling worse and worse. By lap 10 I was almost gassed. I temporarily lost contact with the field, but through sheer willpower I fought through the pain and caught back on. We finally caught the break, just in time to have the tempo kick back up again for the mid-race sprint lap. Afterward, the pace calmed down a bit and I found myself in 2nd position. I took a hard pull into the wind before pulling off. I let about 6 riders come around me, then tried my best to relax the legs and recover.
At one point as I negotiated a corner, I heard from right behind my right shoulder "what the f***, Wheelfast?" Wondering to myself just what I had allegedly done wrong, I glanced back to see who this comment had come from. I will just say this: it was an odd comment coming from a rider who, despite having "committed to riding in a safer manner" still twitches back and forth from wheel to wheel without looking and with no regard to who may or may not be in the way.
The rest of the race started to pass in a haze of pain. The officials tacked on a couple extra laps to give some space between us and the B racers for their final sprint. This was the point where my hip really started to make its presence known. With every push of the pedal it felt as though a tiny demon was shoving his pitchfork into me. With 3 laps to go I finally lost it. Kev had let me know that we were at the back of the field, and I started to drift off the back. Kev eased up just a bit to give me a wheel. Just as we caught back on, the field surged again and I couldn't hold. Again, Kev drifted back to pull me back on, but I knew it was futile. I yelled "go," and he hit the gas. He caught back onto the field as I watched them ride away from me. With gritted teeth, I rode out the remaining two laps by myself.
The 3rd race was my downfall. A South Chicago Wheelmen rider attacked right after the whistle, and again we were flying at 30 mph. I was able to hang on for all of 5 of the 15 laps. With my hip on fire, I just couldn't generate the power necessary to push at those speeds. I got popped out the back of the field. I had told myself going into this final race that if I got popped I would just exit rather than re-absorbing into the field. So, I rode out 2 more laps by myself, then voluntarily abandoned the race. I watched the remaining laps from the sidelines, then joined Kev and Chris as they cooled down.
All in all, it was a very disappointing evening. I hate getting popped. It wasn't the confidence-builder that I hoped it would be going into Sunday's Chicago Criterium. Still, I have a few more days to recouperate, so hopefully the hip is feeling better by then. Also, on Sunday I'll be amongst my own Cat 4 peeps for much shorter race...I only have to hang for 35 minutes + 2 laps. Full report to follow...
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Superweek Bensenville...sittin' this one out.
Today's crit in Bensenville was the last of four Superweek Masters 30+ 4/5 races that I had registered for. This morning I had to make the difficult decision to eat the entry fee and sit this one out.
As you know from my last post, I went down pretty hard yesterday at Arlington Heights. I sustained no major injuries, but am sporting a fair amount of road rash along the left side of my body. Last night I was full of "sure, I can still race tomorrow" bravado. But then a restless night of uncomfortable sleep dawned on a morning of bone-deep achiness. Despite some early-morning Advil, just hauling the garbage out to the curb was a very painful experience for my left shoulder. A few trips up and down the stairs of my house made it clear that the ache in my left hip would make it extremely hard to generate the sort of power needed to accelerate my body up to race speed for 45 minutes. I know that the pros race through this sort of pain (and worse) all the time...but, unlike them, I don't get paid to do it.
So, despite having already paid the entrance fee, I have determined that attempting to race today would just be a waste of time and energy. Further, the fields in the past three races have been a lot more squirrely than I had hoped they would be by this point in the racing season...the thought of crashing on pre-existing wounds is a risk I'm just not willing to take. Still, this was a very hard decision to make. Aside from the "I feel like a sissy" factor, I also hate to not be there for my teammates. I wish them the best of luck (and safety!) today.
I should be in good enough shape to get my race legs underneath me again at the Matteson Tuesday night crits next week, and then it is the Chicago Criterium on July 26. But for now, as the Dead once sang, it is just time to "sit down and patch my bones."
As you know from my last post, I went down pretty hard yesterday at Arlington Heights. I sustained no major injuries, but am sporting a fair amount of road rash along the left side of my body. Last night I was full of "sure, I can still race tomorrow" bravado. But then a restless night of uncomfortable sleep dawned on a morning of bone-deep achiness. Despite some early-morning Advil, just hauling the garbage out to the curb was a very painful experience for my left shoulder. A few trips up and down the stairs of my house made it clear that the ache in my left hip would make it extremely hard to generate the sort of power needed to accelerate my body up to race speed for 45 minutes. I know that the pros race through this sort of pain (and worse) all the time...but, unlike them, I don't get paid to do it.
So, despite having already paid the entrance fee, I have determined that attempting to race today would just be a waste of time and energy. Further, the fields in the past three races have been a lot more squirrely than I had hoped they would be by this point in the racing season...the thought of crashing on pre-existing wounds is a risk I'm just not willing to take. Still, this was a very hard decision to make. Aside from the "I feel like a sissy" factor, I also hate to not be there for my teammates. I wish them the best of luck (and safety!) today.
I should be in good enough shape to get my race legs underneath me again at the Matteson Tuesday night crits next week, and then it is the Chicago Criterium on July 26. But for now, as the Dead once sang, it is just time to "sit down and patch my bones."
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Superweek Arlington Heights Criterium, Arlington Heights, IL, July 14, 2009
Picture, if you will, one of those wipe-board signs sometimes seen in the workplace that says something like “Accident Free Since 2006” or “472 Days Since a Work-Related Injury.” Now picture one of them that says “Crash Free Since September 2004.” Lastly, picture Stephen slowly and sadly erasing “September 2004.”
As Sam Elliott once said in The Big Lebowski, “sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes…well, it eats you.” Today, I got eaten.
The course was a technical, mile-long, 8-corner course…a rough “figure 8” where the top half of the “8” stretched out for two long blocks, and the bottom half was a small square around a park. The weather was sunny and warm with a pretty stiff breeze going south for those long blocks after Turn 2.
Kev, Chris and I rolled to the line with about 40 other riders to do battle for 22 laps. Even after my hard effort yesterday, I felt good during my warm-up and was confident that I could post a good result today. However, it became clear after the start that today was going to be a struggle. The field almost instantly strung out, and the pace was hot…close to 30 mph. I was pretty far back in the pack, and was subject to the whiplash braking and accelerating through all eight of those turns.
The worst part for me was the acceleration out of Turn 8 and onto the long Start/Finish straightaway. The strung-out riders at the front could take that turn at full speed and mercilessly hit the gas, while we bunched-up riders at the back lost a lot of momentum in the turn and had to accelerate extra hard to maintain contact with the front riders. A few laps in and my legs were already screaming on that particular segment. I fought to maintain position, and moved up if I could. I did my best to hang onto Chris’s wheel, as he appeared to be riding strongly.
About 7 laps in and I was already starting that fatalistic “am I gonna be able to finish this thing” kind of thinking. Chris asked how I was doing, and I let him know that coming out of Turn 8 was killing me. He advised that I take the turn in a lower gear, spin through it, and then shift to a higher gear after we're already out of the turn, rather than pushing the high gear through the turn. I take this advice to heart for the next few laps.
I recall coming around to the Start/Finish and seeing that there were 12 laps to go. I think to myself “OK, almost halfway there, you can do this…” And then came Turn 8.
We were strung out, so I didn’t have to brake because of anyone in front of me braking. I remember pedaling through the turn to maintain as much momentum as possible. I was upright one moment...and then the next moment I was sliding across the pavement on my left hip and elbow. I saw Chris hitting the pavement in front of me. I remember apologizing to Chris for taking him down, as I was still sliding across the pavement. And, sure, there was probably some profanity in there, as well. I also remember mentally bracing for the impact of other riders hitting me, but fortunately that didn’t happen…I had slid out far enough to the right that anyone behind me could steer to the left and avoid running into me.
Fortunately, Chris only sustained some road rash on his elbow, and no damage to his bike. He was able to make it over to neutral support and get back in the race, where he finished with the field. As for me, my day was done.
Other than my front wheel getting popped off during the crash, and having both of my brake levers turned inward into the bars and getting scratched up, there was no real damage to my bike, either. My body…that is another story. The emergency crew was on me within seconds, checking me out and making sure that I wasn’t seriously injured. I was a bit shaky (that adrenaline was still pumping like mad!), but was pretty sure that my injuries were merely superficial.
I walked over to the support truck, where two EMTs checked me out, cleaned my wounds, and bandaged me up. I sustained some good road rash on my left elbow, the outside of my left knee, almost all the way down my left shin, my left hip, and some “road burn” behind my right knee. I count myself very lucky that there was nothing broken, nothing sprained, and that no stitches were needed anywhere. My shoulder is a little sore right now, and once the Advil wears off I’m sure I’ll be hurting elsewhere, too.
So, the million dollar question was “how did it happen?” It occurred so quickly that I couldn’t tell whether I had been bumped by another rider, or whether I went in so fast that my wheels just went out from underneath me. Turns out, it was neither…in the turn was a rough bit of pavement that formed a “lip.” I hit that undulation in just the right spot, which bounced my wheel as I was leaning into the turn at about a 30-40 degree angle, and thus ended my day.
The worst part (other than having crashed my own teammate) was finding out that there had already been several crashes in that exact same spot. In fact, Kev and I were speaking with a police officer afterward and she stated that she had pointed out that very spot to the race organizers and requested that they paint it with bright orange caution paint. The painting of such spots is de rigeur for our sport, so that we can quickly identify problem areas and stay away from them. However, when she pointed this out to them, they pooh-poohed it, saying “oh, that won’t be a problem!”
So now I begin the process of healing. As the Black Night said in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, “it’s just a flesh wound...’tis but a scratch.” I’m really wishing now that I hadn’t pre-registered to race tomorrow. We’ll see how I’m feeling, and how the weather holds out. Storms are predicted, so if I wake up and it is raining, I’m just going to go back to sleep and eat the entry fee.
STATS: I have none, because my Garmin apparently crapped out in the crash. All I know is that I got in about 11 miles of racing, and that we were often going at close to 30 mph. I would be curious to know what my heart rate was doing, but c’est la vie…
As Sam Elliott once said in The Big Lebowski, “sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes…well, it eats you.” Today, I got eaten.
The course was a technical, mile-long, 8-corner course…a rough “figure 8” where the top half of the “8” stretched out for two long blocks, and the bottom half was a small square around a park. The weather was sunny and warm with a pretty stiff breeze going south for those long blocks after Turn 2.
Kev, Chris and I rolled to the line with about 40 other riders to do battle for 22 laps. Even after my hard effort yesterday, I felt good during my warm-up and was confident that I could post a good result today. However, it became clear after the start that today was going to be a struggle. The field almost instantly strung out, and the pace was hot…close to 30 mph. I was pretty far back in the pack, and was subject to the whiplash braking and accelerating through all eight of those turns.
The worst part for me was the acceleration out of Turn 8 and onto the long Start/Finish straightaway. The strung-out riders at the front could take that turn at full speed and mercilessly hit the gas, while we bunched-up riders at the back lost a lot of momentum in the turn and had to accelerate extra hard to maintain contact with the front riders. A few laps in and my legs were already screaming on that particular segment. I fought to maintain position, and moved up if I could. I did my best to hang onto Chris’s wheel, as he appeared to be riding strongly.
About 7 laps in and I was already starting that fatalistic “am I gonna be able to finish this thing” kind of thinking. Chris asked how I was doing, and I let him know that coming out of Turn 8 was killing me. He advised that I take the turn in a lower gear, spin through it, and then shift to a higher gear after we're already out of the turn, rather than pushing the high gear through the turn. I take this advice to heart for the next few laps.
I recall coming around to the Start/Finish and seeing that there were 12 laps to go. I think to myself “OK, almost halfway there, you can do this…” And then came Turn 8.
We were strung out, so I didn’t have to brake because of anyone in front of me braking. I remember pedaling through the turn to maintain as much momentum as possible. I was upright one moment...and then the next moment I was sliding across the pavement on my left hip and elbow. I saw Chris hitting the pavement in front of me. I remember apologizing to Chris for taking him down, as I was still sliding across the pavement. And, sure, there was probably some profanity in there, as well. I also remember mentally bracing for the impact of other riders hitting me, but fortunately that didn’t happen…I had slid out far enough to the right that anyone behind me could steer to the left and avoid running into me.
Fortunately, Chris only sustained some road rash on his elbow, and no damage to his bike. He was able to make it over to neutral support and get back in the race, where he finished with the field. As for me, my day was done.
Other than my front wheel getting popped off during the crash, and having both of my brake levers turned inward into the bars and getting scratched up, there was no real damage to my bike, either. My body…that is another story. The emergency crew was on me within seconds, checking me out and making sure that I wasn’t seriously injured. I was a bit shaky (that adrenaline was still pumping like mad!), but was pretty sure that my injuries were merely superficial.
I walked over to the support truck, where two EMTs checked me out, cleaned my wounds, and bandaged me up. I sustained some good road rash on my left elbow, the outside of my left knee, almost all the way down my left shin, my left hip, and some “road burn” behind my right knee. I count myself very lucky that there was nothing broken, nothing sprained, and that no stitches were needed anywhere. My shoulder is a little sore right now, and once the Advil wears off I’m sure I’ll be hurting elsewhere, too.
So, the million dollar question was “how did it happen?” It occurred so quickly that I couldn’t tell whether I had been bumped by another rider, or whether I went in so fast that my wheels just went out from underneath me. Turns out, it was neither…in the turn was a rough bit of pavement that formed a “lip.” I hit that undulation in just the right spot, which bounced my wheel as I was leaning into the turn at about a 30-40 degree angle, and thus ended my day.
The worst part (other than having crashed my own teammate) was finding out that there had already been several crashes in that exact same spot. In fact, Kev and I were speaking with a police officer afterward and she stated that she had pointed out that very spot to the race organizers and requested that they paint it with bright orange caution paint. The painting of such spots is de rigeur for our sport, so that we can quickly identify problem areas and stay away from them. However, when she pointed this out to them, they pooh-poohed it, saying “oh, that won’t be a problem!”
So now I begin the process of healing. As the Black Night said in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, “it’s just a flesh wound...’tis but a scratch.” I’m really wishing now that I hadn’t pre-registered to race tomorrow. We’ll see how I’m feeling, and how the weather holds out. Storms are predicted, so if I wake up and it is raining, I’m just going to go back to sleep and eat the entry fee.
STATS: I have none, because my Garmin apparently crapped out in the crash. All I know is that I got in about 11 miles of racing, and that we were often going at close to 30 mph. I would be curious to know what my heart rate was doing, but c’est la vie…
Monday, July 13, 2009
Superweek Richton Park Criterium, Richton Park, IL, July 13, 2009
Today was the second of four Superweek races that I had registered for. The weather was sunny and warm, with light winds. Joined by WheelFast Racing teammates Kev and Chris, we were scheduled to race for 25 miles around a 0.7 mile course in a residential area around Pierce Park. The course was a rough oval raced counter-clockwise, with three 90-degree turns and one sweeping turn. The pavement was mostly good, but with some cracks and patched areas.
With today being a weekday, the field was a little smaller than Saturday’s race…only about 40 riders rolled to the line. Again, there was a huge presence from Beverly Bikes/Vee-Pak, and decent showings from South Chicago Wheelmen, xXx, and WDT/Allvoi.
The lap counter showed that we would be doing 30 laps, so it was apparent that our race had been shortened from 25 miles to about 21. I really didn’t mind. Again, my goal was to sit in near, but not at, the front. I wanted to conserve energy, yet not be subject to the constant slowing and acceleration that plagues the back of the field.
The pace started off relatively mellow, but quickly accelerated to about 27 mph when two riders took a flyer off the front. Come on, guys…first lap? Really? They were quickly reeled back in, but the pace still stayed pretty high. Because the course was shorter than Saturday, and because we didn’t have long, six-block straightaways, we didn’t quite accelerate up to the speeds that we were hitting on Saturday.
About 10 laps in, a group of 5or 6 riders escaped and got a solid lead on the field. All the major teams were represented in the break, so this was a serious threat. A chase group took off to reel them in, and Chris was a part of this group. I saw him move up the right side to join the pursuit, and although the legs felt good enough to join the chase, I was completely boxed in and couldn’t grab his wheel. They slowly closed the gap, and eventually the rest of the peloton caught on and we were gruppo compatto once again.
Now that we were all together, I took this as an opportunity to gain some ground. I moved up toward the front of the field, and when the lead rider pulled off I found myself alone at the front. As we came by the Start/Finish with 15 laps to go, I was hoping to hear my name called out by the announcer (hey, I’ll take my moments of glory whenever I can get them). No such luck. I led the entire lap, despite having slowed down the pace a bit (into the low 20s) and moving toward the right side of the road after what I felt had been a decent pull. It seemed that the field was happy to let me hang out and expend more energy than I really cared to be expending at the time.
So I was still at the very front as we came around with 14 laps to go. Again, I hoped for some shout-out love from the announcer to make my effort somewhat worthwhile, but the guy was pretty tight-lipped. I led the field around for another whole lap before a Tower Racing rider jumped in front. Thinking he might be making a break that I might like to be a part of, I instantly jumped onto his wheel. But no breakaways here…he just rode tempo. Soon more riders surged around me and I let myself be swallowed up by the protection of the peloton.
With about 10 laps to go, I drifted back to Hammer, and he let me know that we were now at the back of the field. Huh? I didn’t see all that many riders in front of us…we must have shelled off a good number of riders. Unfortunately, by this point I knew that Kev was one of those popped riders. We lapped him, but he did manage to finish.
As soon as Chris let me know of our rearward positioning, I started to move up. Right in the middle of the next turn, however, my day nearly ended. A couple of South Chicago riders, and perhaps some xXx riders (Chris recalled seeing a few white jerseys) went down right in front of me. But for mere inches, I too would have been taken down. However, I hit the brakes just right (not too hard, not too soft), and my rear wheel bounced about two feet to the right. Not only did this keep me from stacking into the carnage, but it also positioned me facing perfectly down the street. I hit the gas and managed to catch onto the inevitable post-crash surge. Chris, too, managed to avoid the wreckage, and on we went.
Coming through the Start/Finish right after the crash, I started to get the sensation that my rear tire was either going flat, or that I had loosened up my rear wheel with my rightward bounce. We were still within the time allowed for neutral support, so I could have gotten a fresh wheel and been shoved back into the field. However, that can really screw up your momentum, and isn’t the ideal situation. So I made a few quick glances downward, and determined that a) my rear skewer was still firmly in place and b) my rear tire still seemed to be fully gassed. I shook it off and rode on. It turns out that it was just some rough, undulating pavement…Chris had encountered the same sensation in just about the exact same place.
The next few laps passed by without too much incident. Some of the corners were dicier than they should have been, and there was a fair amount of (mostly unjustified) yelling in the pack as to who was not holding their line. I managed to keep my position near the front of the field the whole time, and was happy that my legs hadn’t been fried by my two laps at the front. I hoped that my legs, lungs, and heart would all still be cooperating when we hit the last lap.
And how was that last lap? Shortly after we passed the Start/Finish, an ABD rider took a vicious flyer off the front. The field cranked up the speed to reel him in, and fortunately I still had enough gas in the tank to maintain my position. So, sitting in about 10th position, we negotiated the final turn and sprinted for the line.
I maxed out at almost 32 mph in the sprint, and managed to mostly hold position. Through squinted eyes and clenched teeth I eyeballed about 10 riders in front of me. I could see Chris moving up the right side of the field, but was more concerned about staying in front of the rider immediately to my right.
Prize money for this race went to the top 12 finishers. As I hit the line, I knew that I would be either just in the money, or just out of it. And I was spot-on correct…but on the “just out” side. I took 13th, but since it was Chris who took that 12th spot (netting a check for $20), I didn’t mind at all. I was just happy that, despite leading into the wind for way too long, I improved upon Saturday’s result by four spots…so if I can repeat that feat tomorrow, I’ll be in the top 10!
STATS:
Race time: 53:49
Distance: 21.47 miles
Average pace: 2:30/mile
Average speed: 23.9 mph
Max speed: 31.9 mph
Average HR: 172 bpm
Max HR: 186 bpm
With today being a weekday, the field was a little smaller than Saturday’s race…only about 40 riders rolled to the line. Again, there was a huge presence from Beverly Bikes/Vee-Pak, and decent showings from South Chicago Wheelmen, xXx, and WDT/Allvoi.
The lap counter showed that we would be doing 30 laps, so it was apparent that our race had been shortened from 25 miles to about 21. I really didn’t mind. Again, my goal was to sit in near, but not at, the front. I wanted to conserve energy, yet not be subject to the constant slowing and acceleration that plagues the back of the field.
The pace started off relatively mellow, but quickly accelerated to about 27 mph when two riders took a flyer off the front. Come on, guys…first lap? Really? They were quickly reeled back in, but the pace still stayed pretty high. Because the course was shorter than Saturday, and because we didn’t have long, six-block straightaways, we didn’t quite accelerate up to the speeds that we were hitting on Saturday.
About 10 laps in, a group of 5or 6 riders escaped and got a solid lead on the field. All the major teams were represented in the break, so this was a serious threat. A chase group took off to reel them in, and Chris was a part of this group. I saw him move up the right side to join the pursuit, and although the legs felt good enough to join the chase, I was completely boxed in and couldn’t grab his wheel. They slowly closed the gap, and eventually the rest of the peloton caught on and we were gruppo compatto once again.
Now that we were all together, I took this as an opportunity to gain some ground. I moved up toward the front of the field, and when the lead rider pulled off I found myself alone at the front. As we came by the Start/Finish with 15 laps to go, I was hoping to hear my name called out by the announcer (hey, I’ll take my moments of glory whenever I can get them). No such luck. I led the entire lap, despite having slowed down the pace a bit (into the low 20s) and moving toward the right side of the road after what I felt had been a decent pull. It seemed that the field was happy to let me hang out and expend more energy than I really cared to be expending at the time.
So I was still at the very front as we came around with 14 laps to go. Again, I hoped for some shout-out love from the announcer to make my effort somewhat worthwhile, but the guy was pretty tight-lipped. I led the field around for another whole lap before a Tower Racing rider jumped in front. Thinking he might be making a break that I might like to be a part of, I instantly jumped onto his wheel. But no breakaways here…he just rode tempo. Soon more riders surged around me and I let myself be swallowed up by the protection of the peloton.
With about 10 laps to go, I drifted back to Hammer, and he let me know that we were now at the back of the field. Huh? I didn’t see all that many riders in front of us…we must have shelled off a good number of riders. Unfortunately, by this point I knew that Kev was one of those popped riders. We lapped him, but he did manage to finish.
As soon as Chris let me know of our rearward positioning, I started to move up. Right in the middle of the next turn, however, my day nearly ended. A couple of South Chicago riders, and perhaps some xXx riders (Chris recalled seeing a few white jerseys) went down right in front of me. But for mere inches, I too would have been taken down. However, I hit the brakes just right (not too hard, not too soft), and my rear wheel bounced about two feet to the right. Not only did this keep me from stacking into the carnage, but it also positioned me facing perfectly down the street. I hit the gas and managed to catch onto the inevitable post-crash surge. Chris, too, managed to avoid the wreckage, and on we went.
Coming through the Start/Finish right after the crash, I started to get the sensation that my rear tire was either going flat, or that I had loosened up my rear wheel with my rightward bounce. We were still within the time allowed for neutral support, so I could have gotten a fresh wheel and been shoved back into the field. However, that can really screw up your momentum, and isn’t the ideal situation. So I made a few quick glances downward, and determined that a) my rear skewer was still firmly in place and b) my rear tire still seemed to be fully gassed. I shook it off and rode on. It turns out that it was just some rough, undulating pavement…Chris had encountered the same sensation in just about the exact same place.
The next few laps passed by without too much incident. Some of the corners were dicier than they should have been, and there was a fair amount of (mostly unjustified) yelling in the pack as to who was not holding their line. I managed to keep my position near the front of the field the whole time, and was happy that my legs hadn’t been fried by my two laps at the front. I hoped that my legs, lungs, and heart would all still be cooperating when we hit the last lap.
And how was that last lap? Shortly after we passed the Start/Finish, an ABD rider took a vicious flyer off the front. The field cranked up the speed to reel him in, and fortunately I still had enough gas in the tank to maintain my position. So, sitting in about 10th position, we negotiated the final turn and sprinted for the line.
I maxed out at almost 32 mph in the sprint, and managed to mostly hold position. Through squinted eyes and clenched teeth I eyeballed about 10 riders in front of me. I could see Chris moving up the right side of the field, but was more concerned about staying in front of the rider immediately to my right.
Prize money for this race went to the top 12 finishers. As I hit the line, I knew that I would be either just in the money, or just out of it. And I was spot-on correct…but on the “just out” side. I took 13th, but since it was Chris who took that 12th spot (netting a check for $20), I didn’t mind at all. I was just happy that, despite leading into the wind for way too long, I improved upon Saturday’s result by four spots…so if I can repeat that feat tomorrow, I’ll be in the top 10!
STATS:
Race time: 53:49
Distance: 21.47 miles
Average pace: 2:30/mile
Average speed: 23.9 mph
Max speed: 31.9 mph
Average HR: 172 bpm
Max HR: 186 bpm
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Superweek Blue Island Pro Am, Blue Island, IL, July 11, 2009
Today was the first of the four Masters 30+ Cat 4/5 Superweek races that I had signed up for. The course was a long rectangle…two long 6-block straighaways and two 1-block legs. The course was one mile in length, and we were scheduled to ride 20 laps. The roads and corners were nice and wide, but there was some sketchy pavement…lots of patched holes and manhole covers to avoid.
My goal was to sit in near the front, but not right at the front. I learned my lesson a few weeks ago at Cobb Park…I did too much work at the very front, and had nothing left in the tank for the final lap. Prize money for this race went to the top 12 riders, so there was a lot of motivation to grab one of those spots…if for no other reason than to recoup my entry fee!
I experienced a brief sense of foreboding during my warm-up on the trainer. I realized that this was going to be my 13th race of the season…10 “official” races and three Tuesday nights at Matteson. Would 13 be lucky or unlucky for me today?
With mostly sunny skies and temps in the low 80s, about 50 riders rolled to the line. Beverly Bikes/Vee-Pak had a huge presence, along with a good mix of South Chicago Wheelmen, xXx, and numerous other teams. WheelFast Racing was well represented by myself, my brother Kev, Chris Hammer, and John Mahr.
The whistle blew and we gunned it right from the start. Coming through the Start/Finish after the first lap, I looked down at my computer and saw that we were doing close to 30 mph. At this point I was sitting about 2/3 of the way back through the field. Despite the wide-open corners, there was a lot of unnecessary braking, which in turn led to lots of sketchiness. Knowing that things at the front would be a lot smoother, I started making my way up through the field. Two laps in, I came up alongside Kev and asked how he was feeling. He made a somewhat noncommittal answer…not a good sign. I was feeling pretty good…thanks to the long straightaways, I was able to avoid the dehydration issues that had plagued me at Cobb Park. I made it a point to grab a drink every other lap, and my body thanked me for it.
There was a sudden surge along the backstretch, so I hit the gas and moved up the left side of the peloton. I inserted myself near the front of the field, which by this time had really started to string out. Things were much smoother up here, and we negotiated the turns with minimal braking. The speed slowed down a bit after about five laps, but this was pretty short-lived. Soon after we were flying again, averaging about 26 mph.
This was one of those races where the first 10 laps lasted forever, but the 2nd half of the race flew by. There were random attacks here and there, but nothing stayed away…all the attacks did was to keep the pace high and shell riders off the back. Unfortunately, Kev and John were two of those riders…about 12 laps in, as the field was bombing down the backstretch, I saw the two of them alone and working together. Kev saw me and yelled out some encouragement.
With about 6 laps to go, two riders (Beverly/Vee-Pak and a team I couldn’t identify) took a flyer and got about a 3 block lead on the field. The peloton cranked up the pace and quickly reeled them back in. The rest of the race was a constant battle to maintain position. One moment I would be in the top 5, and then there would be a surge and I would find myself suddenly 15-20 riders back. However, my heart, lungs, and legs were all feeling good, and with minimal effort I could easily move up the side and insert myself right back in at the front.
With two laps to go, as we exited turn four and started barreling down the Start/Finish stretch, I heard the horrible sound of a crash behind me and to the left. This was the third crash of the day…there had been another large crash about halfway through, as well as one rider going down alone in a turn (he was apparently new to the sport and had simply gone in too hot).
With one lap to go, the pace was furious. Moving up along the Start/Finish stretch, I got myself positioned at the front in 3rd position, and held this until about halfway through the back stretch. At this point there was a small surge, but I kept pace and now only counted six riders ahead of me. The legs still felt good, and my heart rate was pretty relaxed. I was confident that I could use the wide road to gain position and move up in the final sprint.
Unfortunately, as we cleared turn 4 there was still carnage in the road from the crash, along with an ambulance (never a good sign). I could hear the officials whistling at us, but I couldn’t tell whether they were neutralizing the field or not. I eased up on the gas ever so slightly, which turned out to be a mistake. Other riders around me simply hit the gas and I had to expend some extra energy getting back up to speed. It didn’t help that a rider in a blue kit moved all the way from the left side of the road to the right without even looking, barely missing my front wheel by about an inch. I didn’t recognize the team kit, but clearly recall seeing “endureit” across his backside as it passed inches from my eyes. A rush of adrenaline took control over my tongue and I screamed “gosh darnit, endureit!” But, much like Ralphie in “A Christmas Story,” I didn’t say “gosh darnit.”
I continued to fight to the line and estimated that I finished somewhere in the 20s. However, when results were posted I was pleasantly surprised to see that I took 17th out of 42 finishers. I was a few spots out of the money, but top 20 in the first Superweek race is pretty good! I have three more races in the coming days to (hopefully!) improve.
STATS:
Race time: 47:32
Distance: 20.07
Average pace: 2:22/mile
Average speed: 25.3 mph
Max speed: 31.2 mph
Average HR: 172 bpm
Max HR: 188 bpm
My goal was to sit in near the front, but not right at the front. I learned my lesson a few weeks ago at Cobb Park…I did too much work at the very front, and had nothing left in the tank for the final lap. Prize money for this race went to the top 12 riders, so there was a lot of motivation to grab one of those spots…if for no other reason than to recoup my entry fee!
I experienced a brief sense of foreboding during my warm-up on the trainer. I realized that this was going to be my 13th race of the season…10 “official” races and three Tuesday nights at Matteson. Would 13 be lucky or unlucky for me today?
With mostly sunny skies and temps in the low 80s, about 50 riders rolled to the line. Beverly Bikes/Vee-Pak had a huge presence, along with a good mix of South Chicago Wheelmen, xXx, and numerous other teams. WheelFast Racing was well represented by myself, my brother Kev, Chris Hammer, and John Mahr.
The whistle blew and we gunned it right from the start. Coming through the Start/Finish after the first lap, I looked down at my computer and saw that we were doing close to 30 mph. At this point I was sitting about 2/3 of the way back through the field. Despite the wide-open corners, there was a lot of unnecessary braking, which in turn led to lots of sketchiness. Knowing that things at the front would be a lot smoother, I started making my way up through the field. Two laps in, I came up alongside Kev and asked how he was feeling. He made a somewhat noncommittal answer…not a good sign. I was feeling pretty good…thanks to the long straightaways, I was able to avoid the dehydration issues that had plagued me at Cobb Park. I made it a point to grab a drink every other lap, and my body thanked me for it.
There was a sudden surge along the backstretch, so I hit the gas and moved up the left side of the peloton. I inserted myself near the front of the field, which by this time had really started to string out. Things were much smoother up here, and we negotiated the turns with minimal braking. The speed slowed down a bit after about five laps, but this was pretty short-lived. Soon after we were flying again, averaging about 26 mph.
This was one of those races where the first 10 laps lasted forever, but the 2nd half of the race flew by. There were random attacks here and there, but nothing stayed away…all the attacks did was to keep the pace high and shell riders off the back. Unfortunately, Kev and John were two of those riders…about 12 laps in, as the field was bombing down the backstretch, I saw the two of them alone and working together. Kev saw me and yelled out some encouragement.
With about 6 laps to go, two riders (Beverly/Vee-Pak and a team I couldn’t identify) took a flyer and got about a 3 block lead on the field. The peloton cranked up the pace and quickly reeled them back in. The rest of the race was a constant battle to maintain position. One moment I would be in the top 5, and then there would be a surge and I would find myself suddenly 15-20 riders back. However, my heart, lungs, and legs were all feeling good, and with minimal effort I could easily move up the side and insert myself right back in at the front.
With two laps to go, as we exited turn four and started barreling down the Start/Finish stretch, I heard the horrible sound of a crash behind me and to the left. This was the third crash of the day…there had been another large crash about halfway through, as well as one rider going down alone in a turn (he was apparently new to the sport and had simply gone in too hot).
With one lap to go, the pace was furious. Moving up along the Start/Finish stretch, I got myself positioned at the front in 3rd position, and held this until about halfway through the back stretch. At this point there was a small surge, but I kept pace and now only counted six riders ahead of me. The legs still felt good, and my heart rate was pretty relaxed. I was confident that I could use the wide road to gain position and move up in the final sprint.
Unfortunately, as we cleared turn 4 there was still carnage in the road from the crash, along with an ambulance (never a good sign). I could hear the officials whistling at us, but I couldn’t tell whether they were neutralizing the field or not. I eased up on the gas ever so slightly, which turned out to be a mistake. Other riders around me simply hit the gas and I had to expend some extra energy getting back up to speed. It didn’t help that a rider in a blue kit moved all the way from the left side of the road to the right without even looking, barely missing my front wheel by about an inch. I didn’t recognize the team kit, but clearly recall seeing “endureit” across his backside as it passed inches from my eyes. A rush of adrenaline took control over my tongue and I screamed “gosh darnit, endureit!” But, much like Ralphie in “A Christmas Story,” I didn’t say “gosh darnit.”
I continued to fight to the line and estimated that I finished somewhere in the 20s. However, when results were posted I was pleasantly surprised to see that I took 17th out of 42 finishers. I was a few spots out of the money, but top 20 in the first Superweek race is pretty good! I have three more races in the coming days to (hopefully!) improve.
STATS:
Race time: 47:32
Distance: 20.07
Average pace: 2:22/mile
Average speed: 25.3 mph
Max speed: 31.2 mph
Average HR: 172 bpm
Max HR: 188 bpm
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
I'm so tired of this...
Tired, I tell you. Literally.
No, not of bike racing...not a chance of that! Last night's Matteson crits brought my total of races for the year up to 12. I've already registered for 5 more in July, plus the Downer's Grove crit in August. And there will be others.
What I am tired of is what I am calling "post-race insomnia," for lack of a better or more technical phrase. Here's the situation...
I have raced the Tuesday night crits at Matteson three times this year. All three times I have been home by 9:30 (yeah, I live pretty far away), and in bed by 10:00. And all three times, despite being shattered and exhausted from 50 or 60 kilometers of hard racing, I have laid in bed, wide awake, until almost midnight. And even once I do manage to fall asleep, I wake up repeatedly (last night / this morning it was at 2:00, 4:00, 5:00, and awake for good at 5:20).
Some internet research has confirmed that vigourous exercise a few hours before bed can make it difficult to fall asleep...the theory is that the excercise causes a release of endorphins, which give a person energy, thus making sleep elusive. I'm not about to stop racing on Tuesdays, but I really don't like this side effect. Has anyone else out there experienced this? Has anyone found a way to beat the system?
But how was the racing, you ask? Crazy fast! The weather was cloudy, cool, and breezy...a marked contrast to last week's sweat-fest. About 25 riders, rolled to the line for the "A" races. We did the usual...15k, 30k, and 15k. Kev and I were the only WFR representatives, along with a huge contingent of South Chicago Wheelmen riders. Despite the more favorable weather, I never felt all that good. I had gotten in a decent warm-up (nine laps around the course), but certainly didn't feel all that warmed up in the first race. With little more than rubbery legs, a high heart rate, and the determination not to get dropped, I managed to stick with the front of the field until just about the end. When the sprint came, Brian (from SCW) and I let the field surge past and rode on in.
The legs started to come around during the 2nd race. A group of about 8 riders got away early on, and stayed away until mid-way through the race. I helped to reel them back in, but unfortunately my turns at the front of the chase group always seemed to come right after we turned into the rather stiff headwind. I expended a lot of energy doing this. We finally caught them after 15 laps. But the pace didn't come down for so much as a second, because lap 15 had been designated a "sprint lap." Again, I managed to stay near the front for the remainder of the race, working with a rotating cast of SCW riders (one of whom also rides a Rock Lobster). On the final lap, the 3 SCW riders at the front jumped, and although I was sitting in 4th position I had no gas in the tank they easily rode away from me. A few other riders surged around me at the end, and I had to hang on and content myself with about 10th.
The third race was sheer misery. A small group made a move early on...Kev came around my right side, encouraging me to jump on. I just shook my head and uttered a meek "[expletive deleted] no!" Still, a few seconds later I was able to "dig deep into my suitcase of courage." I grabbed a wheel and bridged up to the lead group. I remember seeing the lap cards showing only 7 to go and thinking "almost done, almost done, almost done" like a mantra. At 5 to go, the rubber band snapped. A group of 7-8 riders jumped, and all Kev and I could do was watch. They dangled in front of us, just out of reach. I stood up and mashed on the pedals a few times, hoping to be able to bridge up and pull Kev along with me. My hope was that when they turned into the tailwind they would use that time to relax...all I was hoping for was a decrease of 2-3 mph. Had they done that, we could have caught back on. But no...each time there was a faint glimmer of hope, that hope was dashed by an attack in the lead group, causing them to distance themselves even further.
With about 3 to go I looked back and realized that I had ridden Kev off of my wheel. Now I was totally alone, but for the "B" group who were now cooling down on the course...their races end 2 laps earlier than our "A" races. I gritted my teeth and kept pushing as hard as possible for the remaining laps.
All told, I got in 36.5 miles of solid, albeit disappointing, racing. And I burned close to 2,200 calories in the process, so I definitely earned my post-race fig bars! I won't be able to make next week's Tuesday crits, so my next race will be the Masters 30+ 4/5 Blue Island Superweek criterium.
No, not of bike racing...not a chance of that! Last night's Matteson crits brought my total of races for the year up to 12. I've already registered for 5 more in July, plus the Downer's Grove crit in August. And there will be others.
What I am tired of is what I am calling "post-race insomnia," for lack of a better or more technical phrase. Here's the situation...
I have raced the Tuesday night crits at Matteson three times this year. All three times I have been home by 9:30 (yeah, I live pretty far away), and in bed by 10:00. And all three times, despite being shattered and exhausted from 50 or 60 kilometers of hard racing, I have laid in bed, wide awake, until almost midnight. And even once I do manage to fall asleep, I wake up repeatedly (last night / this morning it was at 2:00, 4:00, 5:00, and awake for good at 5:20).
Some internet research has confirmed that vigourous exercise a few hours before bed can make it difficult to fall asleep...the theory is that the excercise causes a release of endorphins, which give a person energy, thus making sleep elusive. I'm not about to stop racing on Tuesdays, but I really don't like this side effect. Has anyone else out there experienced this? Has anyone found a way to beat the system?
But how was the racing, you ask? Crazy fast! The weather was cloudy, cool, and breezy...a marked contrast to last week's sweat-fest. About 25 riders, rolled to the line for the "A" races. We did the usual...15k, 30k, and 15k. Kev and I were the only WFR representatives, along with a huge contingent of South Chicago Wheelmen riders. Despite the more favorable weather, I never felt all that good. I had gotten in a decent warm-up (nine laps around the course), but certainly didn't feel all that warmed up in the first race. With little more than rubbery legs, a high heart rate, and the determination not to get dropped, I managed to stick with the front of the field until just about the end. When the sprint came, Brian (from SCW) and I let the field surge past and rode on in.
The legs started to come around during the 2nd race. A group of about 8 riders got away early on, and stayed away until mid-way through the race. I helped to reel them back in, but unfortunately my turns at the front of the chase group always seemed to come right after we turned into the rather stiff headwind. I expended a lot of energy doing this. We finally caught them after 15 laps. But the pace didn't come down for so much as a second, because lap 15 had been designated a "sprint lap." Again, I managed to stay near the front for the remainder of the race, working with a rotating cast of SCW riders (one of whom also rides a Rock Lobster). On the final lap, the 3 SCW riders at the front jumped, and although I was sitting in 4th position I had no gas in the tank they easily rode away from me. A few other riders surged around me at the end, and I had to hang on and content myself with about 10th.
The third race was sheer misery. A small group made a move early on...Kev came around my right side, encouraging me to jump on. I just shook my head and uttered a meek "[expletive deleted] no!" Still, a few seconds later I was able to "dig deep into my suitcase of courage." I grabbed a wheel and bridged up to the lead group. I remember seeing the lap cards showing only 7 to go and thinking "almost done, almost done, almost done" like a mantra. At 5 to go, the rubber band snapped. A group of 7-8 riders jumped, and all Kev and I could do was watch. They dangled in front of us, just out of reach. I stood up and mashed on the pedals a few times, hoping to be able to bridge up and pull Kev along with me. My hope was that when they turned into the tailwind they would use that time to relax...all I was hoping for was a decrease of 2-3 mph. Had they done that, we could have caught back on. But no...each time there was a faint glimmer of hope, that hope was dashed by an attack in the lead group, causing them to distance themselves even further.
With about 3 to go I looked back and realized that I had ridden Kev off of my wheel. Now I was totally alone, but for the "B" group who were now cooling down on the course...their races end 2 laps earlier than our "A" races. I gritted my teeth and kept pushing as hard as possible for the remaining laps.
All told, I got in 36.5 miles of solid, albeit disappointing, racing. And I burned close to 2,200 calories in the process, so I definitely earned my post-race fig bars! I won't be able to make next week's Tuesday crits, so my next race will be the Masters 30+ 4/5 Blue Island Superweek criterium.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tuesday Night Crits, Matteson, IL, June 23, 2009
It seems to me that one of the definitions of "insanity" should be "racing one's bike for two hours when the heat index is over 100 degrees." Be that as it may, I made the long drive from Elburn to Matteson to meet up with Kev, Chris, and John for the summer-long series known as the Tuesday Night Crits.
I had last ridden these races two weeks ago when the weather was a bit more favorable. At that time, my sole WFR teammate was Derek. As is par for the course, we did three races that night...a 15k, a 30k, and another 15k. All in all, things went well for me. I almost got shed off the back of the pack 8 laps into the 1st 15k race, but managed to catch back on and finish with the field. I did get blown off after 20 laps of the 30k race. I ground it out alone until the field caught me with 3 laps to go. Since these are training crits, it is perfectly legit (and encouraged) to rejoin the field...so rejoin I did, and rode in with the field. Surprisingly, I felt much better in the 3rd race...again, I only finished mid-field, but felt comfortable and was never once in fear of getting popped.
Tonight saw the usual three races. On account of the heat, however, the 2nd race was reduced to 20k (again, sandwiched by two 15k races). In every race I had a similar experience to Cobb Park. That is, for the most part I felt strong and relaxed, managed to ride at the front for almost the entirety of each race, but then had no gas left in the tank to do anything but watch helplessly on the final lap as waves of riders surged around me to contest the sprint. With the exception of the last race of the night, when I think I managed to land a top-ten finish, mid-field finishes were all I could manage. The lesson that I'm taking from this is that, for as much fun as it is to ride up at the front, perhaps I need to also drop back at times to rest up within the safety of the peloton, move back up to the front with 3-4 laps to go, and then sprint like hell.
Despite a high temp of 91.4 and 66% humidity (thus sayeth my Garmin), the heat really only seemed brutal when we stopped riding. I have found that in the heat (no pun intended) of battle I tend not to notice the temperature anyway. The wind generated by moving 25-30 mph helped to keep things cooler, but when we were stopped at the line in between races was when the sweat really started pouring. Still, I managed to stay pretty well hydrated (going through 6 bottles in the course of a few hours, including warm-up and cool-down) and never got "the chills" like I had started to at Cobb Park.
I think that the heat did make me lose my cool (OK, that time the pun was intended) mid-way through the final race. We were flying at close to 30 mph, my legs were screaming at me, and my heart was redlining (I maxed out at 191). Kev was on my wheel, and a group of about 5 riders started to put a gap on the field. I was a few wheel lengths behind and heard Kev shout "close that gap, get on their wheels!" He was being a good teammate and giving me encouragement and in return I loudly blew up "if I could, I would!" Or something like that...my memory is a little fuzzy. Despite my temporary disbelief in my abilities, however, I did manage to grab onto some wheels and catch onto the group. So there is my mea culpa...sorry, Kev!
When all was said and done we had put in 33 miles of racing, averaging close to 25 mph. Weather permitting, I'll be doing these races again next Tuesday. Then my next "official" races are Superweek...I'm now registered for the Masters 30+ 4/5 races at Blue Island, Richton Park, Arlington Heights, and Bensenville.
See you at the races!
I had last ridden these races two weeks ago when the weather was a bit more favorable. At that time, my sole WFR teammate was Derek. As is par for the course, we did three races that night...a 15k, a 30k, and another 15k. All in all, things went well for me. I almost got shed off the back of the pack 8 laps into the 1st 15k race, but managed to catch back on and finish with the field. I did get blown off after 20 laps of the 30k race. I ground it out alone until the field caught me with 3 laps to go. Since these are training crits, it is perfectly legit (and encouraged) to rejoin the field...so rejoin I did, and rode in with the field. Surprisingly, I felt much better in the 3rd race...again, I only finished mid-field, but felt comfortable and was never once in fear of getting popped.
Tonight saw the usual three races. On account of the heat, however, the 2nd race was reduced to 20k (again, sandwiched by two 15k races). In every race I had a similar experience to Cobb Park. That is, for the most part I felt strong and relaxed, managed to ride at the front for almost the entirety of each race, but then had no gas left in the tank to do anything but watch helplessly on the final lap as waves of riders surged around me to contest the sprint. With the exception of the last race of the night, when I think I managed to land a top-ten finish, mid-field finishes were all I could manage. The lesson that I'm taking from this is that, for as much fun as it is to ride up at the front, perhaps I need to also drop back at times to rest up within the safety of the peloton, move back up to the front with 3-4 laps to go, and then sprint like hell.
Despite a high temp of 91.4 and 66% humidity (thus sayeth my Garmin), the heat really only seemed brutal when we stopped riding. I have found that in the heat (no pun intended) of battle I tend not to notice the temperature anyway. The wind generated by moving 25-30 mph helped to keep things cooler, but when we were stopped at the line in between races was when the sweat really started pouring. Still, I managed to stay pretty well hydrated (going through 6 bottles in the course of a few hours, including warm-up and cool-down) and never got "the chills" like I had started to at Cobb Park.
I think that the heat did make me lose my cool (OK, that time the pun was intended) mid-way through the final race. We were flying at close to 30 mph, my legs were screaming at me, and my heart was redlining (I maxed out at 191). Kev was on my wheel, and a group of about 5 riders started to put a gap on the field. I was a few wheel lengths behind and heard Kev shout "close that gap, get on their wheels!" He was being a good teammate and giving me encouragement and in return I loudly blew up "if I could, I would!" Or something like that...my memory is a little fuzzy. Despite my temporary disbelief in my abilities, however, I did manage to grab onto some wheels and catch onto the group. So there is my mea culpa...sorry, Kev!
When all was said and done we had put in 33 miles of racing, averaging close to 25 mph. Weather permitting, I'll be doing these races again next Tuesday. Then my next "official" races are Superweek...I'm now registered for the Masters 30+ 4/5 races at Blue Island, Richton Park, Arlington Heights, and Bensenville.
See you at the races!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Cobb Park Criterium, Kankakee, IL, June 20, 2009
The first 42 minutes of this race were a blast. The last two minutes…not so much.
The course is a 0.70 mile loop, roughly in the shape of Nevada (for lack of a better description). Shortly after leaving the start/finish, there was a sweeping left hand turn (into both a headwind and a slight uphill), then a narrow 90-degree turn onto a divided boulevard, a quick right/left jog, then another 90-degree turn past the “party house” (more on that later), and lastly a sweeping turn back onto the long start/finish stretch along the Kankakee River. Temps were in the mid-80s with 10 mph winds and 50% humidity.
Today officially marked Kev’s return to racing after his crash at the Monsters of the Midway Criterium. We had decided to race the Masters 30+ 4/5 race. We got in a good, albeit sweaty, warm-up on the trainers before rolling over to the course to pedal around as we watched the last few laps of the women’s 1/2/3 race. Kev’s wife Kim had come to cheer us on and take pictures, and was positioned along the scenic start/finish straightaway across from the river.
About 40 riders rolled to the line, with good representation from South Chicago Wheelmen and xXx, along with Beverly Bike/Vee Pak and Proctor. Immediately after taking off, a rider took a flier off the front. Shouts of “let him dangle” echoed around the field. I started midway through the field and was subject to some unnecessarily hard braking through the turns and the jog…the dreaded “caterpillar” effect. As we came around to the start/finish stretch, I used the wide road to move up along the left side of the peloton, hitting 34 mph in the process. I firmly insert myself into the very front of the field. I lost track of Kev, but hoped that he was somewhere right behind me.
The course is a 0.70 mile loop, roughly in the shape of Nevada (for lack of a better description). Shortly after leaving the start/finish, there was a sweeping left hand turn (into both a headwind and a slight uphill), then a narrow 90-degree turn onto a divided boulevard, a quick right/left jog, then another 90-degree turn past the “party house” (more on that later), and lastly a sweeping turn back onto the long start/finish stretch along the Kankakee River. Temps were in the mid-80s with 10 mph winds and 50% humidity.
Today officially marked Kev’s return to racing after his crash at the Monsters of the Midway Criterium. We had decided to race the Masters 30+ 4/5 race. We got in a good, albeit sweaty, warm-up on the trainers before rolling over to the course to pedal around as we watched the last few laps of the women’s 1/2/3 race. Kev’s wife Kim had come to cheer us on and take pictures, and was positioned along the scenic start/finish straightaway across from the river.
About 40 riders rolled to the line, with good representation from South Chicago Wheelmen and xXx, along with Beverly Bike/Vee Pak and Proctor. Immediately after taking off, a rider took a flier off the front. Shouts of “let him dangle” echoed around the field. I started midway through the field and was subject to some unnecessarily hard braking through the turns and the jog…the dreaded “caterpillar” effect. As we came around to the start/finish stretch, I used the wide road to move up along the left side of the peloton, hitting 34 mph in the process. I firmly insert myself into the very front of the field. I lost track of Kev, but hoped that he was somewhere right behind me.
The “party house” was at the corner of Turn 3. There was a large group of residents gathered in one yard to watch the race and cheer on all the riders. Unlike at the Winfield Twilight Crit a few weeks ago, there was no tantalizing aroma of grilling brats to tantalize me. Still, the party atmosphere and loud cheering was a great psychological boost every lap.
The race only had one prime lap (for a $100 gift certificate to a local bed & breakfast), which was called five minutes in. I lost some position by letting those who wished to contest the sprint move around me. Afterwards, I moved myself back up to the front and, for the most part, stayed there for the rest of the race. There were a few solo breakaway attempts that didn’t get anywhere. At one point two riders got a bit of a gap on the field, but were quickly reeled in.
About 20 minutes in, as we hauled it up the slight incline, I saw Kev stopped off to the left on a cross-street. It turns out that he had already been lapped and had moved aside to let the field zip by before continuing a valiant solo effort. He loudly cheered me on every time we came around him. Coupled with Kim’s encouragement, I had nice cheering sections at two parts of the course.
The scariest moment came at 31 minutes in. This was definitely the warmest race of the year, and although I had thought I was well-hydrated at the start, and had made the effort to drink whenever possible, it apparently was not enough. Despite the heat, I suddenly realized that I felt a bit chilly. On the start/finish stretch I reached for the bottle to take a big gulp of Cyto. No sooner had I raised the bottle to my mouth when a xXx rider to my right started to drift left toward me. I had to slam the bottle back into the cage and return both hands to the bars for better stability in case he were to make contact. Fortunately he didn’t and we continued on our way. However, it wasn’t until we came around again to the start/finish stretch that I was able to grab a drink. I felt much better a few minutes later.
At 36 minutes in, I heard the announcement that there were four laps to go. I knew that I only had to hang on for another 10 minutes, and tried to relax the legs as much as possible for the final push. As this point, I was still feeling good and optimistic about my chances for a good finish. With three laps to go, as I negotiated the narrow turn onto the boulevard, I had to move a bit to the left to avoid a rider drifting into me. As a result, I felt my left foot clip one of the safety cones, and hoped that I hadn’t knocked it down and into the path of other riders.
As we came around for the 25th and final lap, I was still holding my position at the front of the field. But then it happened…as we swept left into the wind and uphill, I blew up spectacularly. Despite pushing as hard as I could (and maxing my heart rate at 191), I couldn’t generate any power and could only watch as waves of riders passed me by. By this time Kev was watching the race with Kim. Looking back across the course, he could see my bright yellow and blue jersey moving backward through the field…not what he was hoping to see. Fortunately, after the next turn I was able to regain a bit of ground. Still, for the final sprint all I could do was try to maintain whatever position I could. I put in an undistinguished finish somewhere in the 20s. I didn’t bother sticking around to wait for the results.
All in all, the race was pretty clean...one of the advantages of racing in the “masters” class. There was a bit of unnecessary “squirreliness” negotiating narrow Turn 2 and the right/left jog, but there were no crashes…always a good thing. I took heart that I put in a really good effort, felt pretty relaxed throughout most of the race, and was able to hang at the front almost the whole time. Although my heart rate averaged 179 (quite a bit faster than last week’s average of 162), I never felt like I was “dying” until that horrible moment halfway through the last lap.
Next up are some more Tuesday night crits in Matteson, and then SuperWeek!
[PHOTOS COURTESY OF KIM BUTLER]
STATS:
Race time: 43:35
Distance: 17.75
Average pace: 2:27/mile
Average speed: 24.4 mph
Max speed: 34.1 mph
Average HR: 179 bpm
Max HR: 191 bpm
Monday, June 15, 2009
Sherman Park Criterium, Chicago, IL, June 13, 2009
When I had pre-registered for this race earlier in the week, the weather forecast was beautiful…warm and plenty of sunshine. By Friday the outlook had turned ominous…temps in the 50s/60s, along with rain, rain, and more rain. Having been tricked by such forecasts in the past few weeks, I dismissed it thinking “nah, it won’t actually rain.” But then, as Sebastian Bach of Skid Row once sang, I “woke up to the sound of pouring rain.”
Seriously wishing that I hadn’t already plunked down my money, I filled the water bottles, and loaded the car. This was to be my brother (and WFR teammate) Kevin’s return to racing after falling prey to the carnage at the Monsters of the Midway Criterium. He hadn’t pre-registered, so he made the game-day decision to solely be a spectator and cheer me on.
After we found a pretty choice parking spot near the course, I got my race number and proceeded to get dressed, wondering the whole time why I couldn’t have taken up a different sport…something easy and indoors…perhaps bowling. Kev was kind enough to pump up my tires and set the bike up on the trainer as I got dressed. I was able to warm up out of the rain under the covered stone entryway of a grand old church, watching the rain come and go.
The legs felt pretty good, so I was feeling optimistic. I had decided to race the 10:20 a.m. Masters 30+ 4/5 race, since it started two hours later than the Cat 4 race. Having successfully hung in with the “A” group (mostly Cat 1, 2 and 3 riders) at the Matteson crits on Tuesday night, I figured that I should be in good shape racing against my own peeps.
The course was a large “rectangular oval” (for lack of a better phrase) around beautiful Sherman Park in south Chicago. For the most part the pavement was good, and the four left-hand turns were wide open. This meant that very little braking would be involved…definitely a good thing on a rainy day like today.
After a warm-up lap around the course, I rolled to the line with about 40 other riders. The field limit of 75 had registered, so there were a lot of no-shows. Fine by me…on a day like today, a smaller field seemed safer. I was already splattered with road grit and grime after the warm-up lap, and it only got worse from there. The whistle blew and off we went into the rain at 25 mph. The pack was negotiating the random bumps and pavement cracks pretty well, and despite the wet conditions my bike felt pretty solid under me. Having crashed several times in the rain over the years, however, a small part of my mind spent 40 minutes pessimistically waiting for my wheels to suddenly slip out from underneath me.
Despite this nagging fear, everything else, with the exception of my eyes, felt great. The legs felt strong, my lungs were clear, and my heart rate stayed pretty low…I never felt like I was red-lining. As for the eyes, the incessant spray of water and grit in my face had me constantly squinting and blinking (and occasionally somewhat blinded). In my head I heard Luke Skywalker whining “I can’t even see…how am I supposed to fight?”
Surprisingly, on the whole it was a very clean race…except for early on when a rider in a black Merckx jersey moved left without looking. His rear wheel made solid contact with my front wheel. Fortunately, there was open space to the left of me and I was able to gently move away from him without incident. I was even able to keep the profanity in check…all he got was a loud “HEY!”
Early on about four riders took a flyer. I was close to the front, so I moved left and bridged up to them. We didn’t get any real distance on the field, and a moment later I took a quick glance under my arm to see the gruppo compatto directly behind me. After about 10 minutes of racing a prime lap was called. I was near the front, but let the pack surge around me…I wasn’t about to mix it up this early on for a t-shirt. Usually after the sprint for a prime the speed settles down a bit, but right after passing the start/finish we stepped on the gas again. I hung out in the back of the pack, despite hearing Kev yelling at me to move up. The pace wasn’t terrible, and my legs were feeling good. I knew there was plenty of time left and that I could move up whenever I pleased. So, after a few laps of getting carried along by the momentum of the peloton I shot up the left side and inserted myself back into the very front of the field.
There were random attacks here and there. There goes a xXx rider…OK, there goes a Beverly Bike-VeePak rider…there goes xXx again…lather, rinse, and repeat. None of them seemed very serious, and none of them stayed away. About 20 or so minutes in another prime lap is called, this time for a bottle of Zin. I think “nope, I’ve got plenty of wine in my basement…no need killing myself for this.” So again I let those who wish to contest the prime surge around me, and once that madness is past I move myself right back up to the front.
Shortly thereafter I heard them announce that there were only five laps to go. Such announcements are always a nice psychological boost. Up to this point I hadn’t been paying attention to the lap cards, nor had I been keeping an eye on my computer (it was coated with raindrops, so it was kinda hard to read, anyway). A couple riders took a flyer off the front and I was perfectly positioned to jump onto their break. I ended up in 2nd position, and when the lead rider pulled off I found myself in the unusual position of being the lead rider in the race. This is not a position that I am usually accustomed to being in! My first thought was “cool, I’m leading the race.” But then I realized “hey, I have no protection from the wind here…I don’t want to be here for too long.” After what felt like a decent pull I moved to the right to allow the next rider to pull through. He didn’t, and I led the break for the rest of the lap. Somewhere along the way the rest of the field caught back on to us. Guess I wasn’t going fast enough!
As we came around the start/finish with two laps to go, a prime lap is called for an iPod. I was more focused on keeping my legs fresh for the final sprint, so I didn’t try to contest this prime. I fell further toward the back of the field than I had intended, so as we came around for the bell lap I knew I had some work to do. I started to make my moves up through the pack, and got boxed in by a WDT rider and an International Christian Cycling rider. Halfway through the lap I heard the horrible sound of metal grinding on metal off to my left and behind me. Unbelievably, it turns out that no one had actually crashed. However, this bit of chaos opened the field up enough that I was able to move around WDT and ICC to get myself back to the front for the sprint. As we came around the final corner to the start/finish, I put on the gas. While sprinting as hard as I could, I eyeballed the field and counted only five riders ahead of me. Right at the line, however, a WDT rider came up alongside my right. I don’t know whether he pipped me at the line or not.
So, pending the official results I think I held on for 6th or 7th, which would be my best result ever. I was excited to feel so relaxed and comfortable throughout a miserable race. More importantly, I was happy that even amidst the chaos of the final lap I was able to move my way all the way up through the field and put myself in really good position for the sprint. Now I just need to break into the top 5!
[PHOTOS COURTESY OF KEVIN BUTLER]
STATS:
Race time: 39:48
Distance: 16.28
Average pace: 2:26/mile
Average speed: 24.5
Max speed: 30.0
Average HR: 162
Max HR: 177
Winfield Twilight Criterium, Winfield, IL, June 6, 2009
Two years ago this very day I was on my honeymoon, swimming in the Caribbean off the island of St. Lucia in the shadow of the Pitons. Today I was gritting my teeth and shredding my legs and lungs, cross-eyed with pain. I think I liked two years ago better.
The weather forecast called for rain, but when I left the house there were only a few random plinks and plonks of rain on my windshield. By the time I had registered and was warming up on the trainer there was a steadier drizzle, but by race time this had ended and the roads were dry.
This was the first of two races put on by ABD this weekend in Winfield. Today’s course was a mile-long loop raced counter-clockwise through a residential neighborhood. As soon as you left the start/finish and rounded the first sweeping left-hand curve you were faced with a 300 meter climb that topped out at 6.2%. From there it was all downhill…at the top of the hill was a left-hand turn followed by a few technical left and right turns. With the exception of the 90-degree turn at the top, the turns were pretty soft and could be bombed through at close to 30 mph.
About 50 riders rolled to the line. ABD had a huge presence, along with good representation from Bicycle Heaven, WDT, some Tower riders, and a few xXx’ers. The whistle blew and we were off at 24 mph. The field immediately strung out the first time up the hill, and I was caught somewhere in the middle. The lead riders accelerated like mad out of the turn, and I really had to sprint to catch up to them. The pack remained strung out all the way through the start finish, but started to bunch up the 2nd time up the hill. I caught up and inserted myself in the field. In hindsight, I should have tried to move up further. Again, there was a mad acceleration by the lead riders at the top of the hill, and the field strung out again. I was learning the hard way that if you weren’t at the very front at the top of the hill, you were subjected to a vicious “caterpillar effect.”
By this point we were only about 4 minutes in, and I realized how badly my legs were screaming at me. By the 3rd time up the hill, I realized that I was going in reverse. The lead group rode away from me, and I found myself with a group of 4 other riders…WDT, xXx, and two Bicycle Heaven riders. At one point, as we neared the top of the hill, some little kid started yelling “you need to go faster! You need to go faster!” Thank you, Professor Obvious…that thought hadn’t occurred to me yet. Needless to say, I was hurting too much to be even mildly amused by this.
About the 5th time bombing downhill, I got a very nice surprise. My wife, who had gone in to work downtown that morning, suddenly appeared on the right side of the road yelling encouragement to me. I literally did a double-take, having no idea that she was going to show up! This couldn’t have occurred at a better time…I was completely demoralized and her presence gave my morale a huge lift. Now I had a friendly face and an encouraging voice to look forward to on every lap.
My little group continued to stick together, and the race passed in a haze of pain. I don’t remember much, but I do recall that every time we crested the hill we were greeted by the tantalizing smell of grilling bratwurst. How easy it would have been to just dismount, grab a brat, have a seat in the grass, and be a spectator to the suffering, rather than a participant. But no, gotta keep going…
The dreaded moment occurred at 23 minutes in…the pace car came by us, and shortly thereafter we were lapped by the lead group. Fortunately, we were close enough to the end of the race that the officials didn’t pull us…we were allowed to finish and were given placings, albeit with one lap cut (the lead group did 17 laps, whereas all the lapped riders only did 16).
After what seemed like an eternity, I looked down at my computer to see that we had crossed the 30-minute mark. I took some comfort in knowing that the end was very near. At about 36 minutes, the officials rang the bell lap as we came around the start/finish…OK, only one more time up that hill. I fought my way up the hill, and pushed as hard as I could on the downhill. I didn’t want to lose position…and those twists and turns were a lot of fun at 30 mph! A short distance up ahead, I could hear the announcer calling out the final sprint. I pushed as hard as possible all the way to the end, and only had a couple riders come around me. When all was said and done, I took 37th out of 46 finishers.
In sum, this was a very challenging race. That hill completely shattered the field…Stephanie said that the field was so blown apart that riders were spread out all along the course, and that there was always someone riding by her. It is disappointing to get lapped, but I certainly wasn’t alone. I’m just not a climber! Given my poor performance on the hill today, I decided to forego Sunday’s race (it, too, featured a pretty challenging hill). I will focus my energies this week on the Tuesday night crits in Matteson and perhaps the Sherman Park Criterium in Chicago on Saturday.
STATS:
Race time: 37:50
Distance: 14.10
Average pace: 2:40/mile
Average speed: 22.4
Max speed: 31.5
Average HR: 171
Max HR: 179
The weather forecast called for rain, but when I left the house there were only a few random plinks and plonks of rain on my windshield. By the time I had registered and was warming up on the trainer there was a steadier drizzle, but by race time this had ended and the roads were dry.
This was the first of two races put on by ABD this weekend in Winfield. Today’s course was a mile-long loop raced counter-clockwise through a residential neighborhood. As soon as you left the start/finish and rounded the first sweeping left-hand curve you were faced with a 300 meter climb that topped out at 6.2%. From there it was all downhill…at the top of the hill was a left-hand turn followed by a few technical left and right turns. With the exception of the 90-degree turn at the top, the turns were pretty soft and could be bombed through at close to 30 mph.
About 50 riders rolled to the line. ABD had a huge presence, along with good representation from Bicycle Heaven, WDT, some Tower riders, and a few xXx’ers. The whistle blew and we were off at 24 mph. The field immediately strung out the first time up the hill, and I was caught somewhere in the middle. The lead riders accelerated like mad out of the turn, and I really had to sprint to catch up to them. The pack remained strung out all the way through the start finish, but started to bunch up the 2nd time up the hill. I caught up and inserted myself in the field. In hindsight, I should have tried to move up further. Again, there was a mad acceleration by the lead riders at the top of the hill, and the field strung out again. I was learning the hard way that if you weren’t at the very front at the top of the hill, you were subjected to a vicious “caterpillar effect.”
By this point we were only about 4 minutes in, and I realized how badly my legs were screaming at me. By the 3rd time up the hill, I realized that I was going in reverse. The lead group rode away from me, and I found myself with a group of 4 other riders…WDT, xXx, and two Bicycle Heaven riders. At one point, as we neared the top of the hill, some little kid started yelling “you need to go faster! You need to go faster!” Thank you, Professor Obvious…that thought hadn’t occurred to me yet. Needless to say, I was hurting too much to be even mildly amused by this.
About the 5th time bombing downhill, I got a very nice surprise. My wife, who had gone in to work downtown that morning, suddenly appeared on the right side of the road yelling encouragement to me. I literally did a double-take, having no idea that she was going to show up! This couldn’t have occurred at a better time…I was completely demoralized and her presence gave my morale a huge lift. Now I had a friendly face and an encouraging voice to look forward to on every lap.
My little group continued to stick together, and the race passed in a haze of pain. I don’t remember much, but I do recall that every time we crested the hill we were greeted by the tantalizing smell of grilling bratwurst. How easy it would have been to just dismount, grab a brat, have a seat in the grass, and be a spectator to the suffering, rather than a participant. But no, gotta keep going…
The dreaded moment occurred at 23 minutes in…the pace car came by us, and shortly thereafter we were lapped by the lead group. Fortunately, we were close enough to the end of the race that the officials didn’t pull us…we were allowed to finish and were given placings, albeit with one lap cut (the lead group did 17 laps, whereas all the lapped riders only did 16).
After what seemed like an eternity, I looked down at my computer to see that we had crossed the 30-minute mark. I took some comfort in knowing that the end was very near. At about 36 minutes, the officials rang the bell lap as we came around the start/finish…OK, only one more time up that hill. I fought my way up the hill, and pushed as hard as I could on the downhill. I didn’t want to lose position…and those twists and turns were a lot of fun at 30 mph! A short distance up ahead, I could hear the announcer calling out the final sprint. I pushed as hard as possible all the way to the end, and only had a couple riders come around me. When all was said and done, I took 37th out of 46 finishers.
In sum, this was a very challenging race. That hill completely shattered the field…Stephanie said that the field was so blown apart that riders were spread out all along the course, and that there was always someone riding by her. It is disappointing to get lapped, but I certainly wasn’t alone. I’m just not a climber! Given my poor performance on the hill today, I decided to forego Sunday’s race (it, too, featured a pretty challenging hill). I will focus my energies this week on the Tuesday night crits in Matteson and perhaps the Sherman Park Criterium in Chicago on Saturday.
STATS:
Race time: 37:50
Distance: 14.10
Average pace: 2:40/mile
Average speed: 22.4
Max speed: 31.5
Average HR: 171
Max HR: 179
ABD Memorial Day Weekend Masters’ Races, Wood Dale, IL, May 23, 2009
Today I had to face the three letters that no bike racer wants next to their name: DNF. Did Not Finish.
The races put on this weekend by Athletes By Design (ABD) were solely “masters” races. For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, this means that they are for older racers. Categories are broken down by age, category, or some combination thereof…such as “30+ Category 4/5,” “40+ Category 1/2/3,” and so on. I am 35, and the only race that I could enter today was the “30+ 1/2/3/4 field.” I am a Cat 4, so this means that I had to race with guys that are just a step below pro (the Cat 1s). I knew that this race was going to be difficult, but just hoped that I could stay with the field.
The course was a rectangle in a business park, with good pavement and four wide, sweeping left turns. This meant that we wouldn’t have to scrub too much speed in the corners. My only concern was that the light poles in several of the corners weren’t padded at all…wouldn’t want to crash into them!
It was a beautiful day for racing, with temps in the high 70s and light breezes. After a good warm-up on the trainer, and one lap around the course, about 60 riders rolled to the line. Unlike last weekend, today I lined up right at the front of the field. Fellow WFR racer (and newly-minted Cat 3) Derek suddenly appeared to my right, incognito in a plain red jersey. He had just ridden over to watch, and hadn’t planned on racing, but got talked into it by another rider…hence the camouflage.
The whistle blew, and off we went. I looked down moments after the start to see that we are already rolling at close to 30 mph. We rolled through the corners anywhere between about 22 and 25 mph, and then would accelerate back up to 30-33 mph on the straightaways.
To make a long story short, I quickly learned that I am not at the level of a Cat 1 or 2. The first 10 minutes of the race felt good. I was able to maintain position in the field, and if I lost any places I was able to gain them back relatively easily. I marked Derek, and tried to stay on his wheel. After 10 minutes, I started to feel the burn, and by 14 minutes in I was starting to go in reverse. And then a prime lap was called…goodnight, Irene. Game over. The field accelerated, and this time I just couldn’t hang on. I found myself spit out the back at the 16-minute mark.
I connected with two other riders, but couldn’t get any real collaborative effort going. Before I knew it, our ragged three-man paceline had become a two-man paceline. It goes without saying that two riders can’t match the might of Cat 1s and 2s going full steam, and we got lapped at the 23 minute mark.
Ordinarily, lapped riders (or “riders out of contention”) are pulled from the race by officials to keep the course open and safe. The officials didn’t pull me, but over the course of my racing career I have seen too many accidents caused by lapped riders still out on the course. So, as I rolled through the start/finish I made a “throat cutting” motion and voluntarily announced to the officials “I’m done.”
I rolled back to Bob (one of the ABR officials) to make sure that he had spotted my number and knew that I was no longer in the race. We chatted for a few minutes, and he confirmed that the attrition rate from the race was already pretty substantial. I took some comfort in knowing that I wasn’t the only one blown out of the water!
So, it was disappointing to not finish the race, but I knew going in that it would be a possibility. I can’t remember the last time I pulled a “DNF” that wasn’t the result of being involved in a crash. I would still like to test the waters of a Cat 3 race to see if I can hang with those guys. There is still a lot of racing left this year!
STATS:
My race time: 23:46
My distance: 9.77
Average pace: 2:26/mile
Average speed: 24.7
Max speed: 32.9
Average HR: 176 / Max HR 187
Monsters of the Midway Criterium, Chicago, IL, May 16, 2009
Bottom line: this was a race that I would really like to forget.
The day was beautifully sunny, but extremely windy. The course is in the heart of the University of Chicago, along the beautiful Midway Plaisance (scene of the 1893 Columbian Exposition/Chicago World’s Fair). It is a rectangular 4-turn course with two half-mile straightaways. We had a tailwind on the Start/Finish stretch, and a brutal headwind on the opposite side.
We were scheduled to roll at 12:20 for a 40 minute + 2 lap race. However, due to an earlier crash in the women’s race, all of the races were shortened and were running about ½ hour late. So, shortly before 1:00 we lined up for 30 minutes + 2 laps. The field was huge, with about 100 Cat 4s. As Kev and I rolled up to the Start/Finish after a warm-up lap, we found ourselves at the very back of this mass of humanity.
The day was beautifully sunny, but extremely windy. The course is in the heart of the University of Chicago, along the beautiful Midway Plaisance (scene of the 1893 Columbian Exposition/Chicago World’s Fair). It is a rectangular 4-turn course with two half-mile straightaways. We had a tailwind on the Start/Finish stretch, and a brutal headwind on the opposite side.
We were scheduled to roll at 12:20 for a 40 minute + 2 lap race. However, due to an earlier crash in the women’s race, all of the races were shortened and were running about ½ hour late. So, shortly before 1:00 we lined up for 30 minutes + 2 laps. The field was huge, with about 100 Cat 4s. As Kev and I rolled up to the Start/Finish after a warm-up lap, we found ourselves at the very back of this mass of humanity.
After the whistle blew, we took off with the wind at our backs. Kev and I took the opportunity to move up right away toward the front of the field. It became clear after the first turn that the corners were going to be an issue. The field slowed down excessively going into each corner, and way too many riders failed to hold their lines. After Turn 2, a rider in an Indiana University jersey cut across my front wheel without even looking. I hit the brakes and narrowly avoided having him take out my front wheel.
Aside from the squirrelyness in the corners, I was feeling good. We were zipping along the Start/Finish at 30+ mph, and only slowing down to 24 mph into the headwind. My biggest problem was holding position. I would move forward along the straightaways, only to get caught behind some excessive braking in the corners while masses of riders moved up along the sides. I would come out of a corner and find myself 20 riders further back than when I was going into the corner. Argh, gotta move up again! 3 laps in, I realized that my breathing was a little wonky. I was wheezing a little bit, which almost never happens.
It was bound to happen…11 minutes in, as I pedaled through Turn 1 I heard the sound that every racer hates to hear…the sound of metal hitting the pavement. Fortunately, I was far enough ahead and to the left that I was not affected. However, I knew that Kev had been somewhere behind me, and I hoped that he hadn’t gotten mixed up in it.
A few laps later, Kev suddenly appeared from out of nowhere at the front of the field. I put 2 and 2 together and realized that he had been pushed back into the field at the Start/Finish after the crash. I moved myself up to his wheel and he confirmed that he had been taken down. I asked if he was OK, and he replied “I think I lost my new front wheel.” Physically, however, he was uninjured.
The race settled into a routine…gain position, lose position, gain position, watch out in the corners, etc. Fortunately, my breathing issues had settled down. Coming around to the Start/Finish I heard the announcement that there were 2 laps to go. Moments thereafter, disaster struck again. About halfway along the windy backstretch, I heard the telltale sounds of another crash. Again, I was far enough forward and to the left to completely avoid it, but I could tell by the sounds of it that it was a big crash. Again, I knew that Kev was somewhere behind me, so I could only hope (again) that he wasn’t involved.
As we rolled past the Start/Finish for the final lap, I looked down at my computer and saw that only 28 minutes had elapsed. Part of me was mad that they had shortened our race even more, but another part of me was glad that the crash-fest would soon be over. After Turn 2 I moved to the left of the field, into the headwind, and moved myself up to the front of the pack. As we slowed down and moved to the left to pass by the scene of the crash, I saw a rider in a yellow jersey sitting on the ground. As we got closer I could see that that it was a South Chicago Wheelmen rider. At that point I went into “survival mode,” hung on through the remaining turns, and contented myself to ride this one out. The turns were clean, and I pushed as hard as I could to the line. I passed a few riders, and estimated that I probably took about 25th. My worst finish of the year, but I was just glad this one was over.
As I passed by the scene of the wreck on my cool-down lap, I saw Kev sitting in the grass on the left side of the road. His hand is up to his mouth, and I see blood. A lot of blood. Fortunately, Kim was with him. I yelled out “is Kev OK” to which Kim shouted “no!” As soon as I could, I got turned around and zipped back to them. His upper lip was badly split open, and he had a bunch of road rash. Thankfully, he had no broken bones and no missing teeth.
We got Kev to the University of Chicago ER as quickly as possible. We were able to stay with him throughout the entire process…however, I didn’t watch anything involving needles (the pattern on the curtain suddenly became very interesting when the needles appeared). He walked out with 7 or 8 stitches on his upper lip. To his credit, he remained in good humor and spirits throughout. He took it all so much better than I ever could have.
So, despite a marginal finish I was glad that I stayed upright. I feel bad for Kev (and for the other riders affected by the crashes, at least one of whom got injured a lot worse), but he “took it like a champ” and will race another day.
[PHOTO COURTESY OF KIM BUTLER]
STATS:
Race time: 30:46
Distance: 13.03
Average pace: 2:21/mile
Average speed: 25.5
Max speed: 33.0
Average HR: 170
Max HR: 185
Leland Kermesse, Leland, IL, April 25, 2009
In short, this was the hardest race I have ever ridden.
The race was set up as an homage to the Belgian “kermesse” style of racing. In Flemish, “kermesse” means “carnival.” When towns would hold a carnival, they would hold a bike race to help earn money for the carnival owners. The course would be about 16 km, would incorporate both town and farm roads, and would always include sections of gravel and/or pave (i.e. cobblestones). And since they often take place in the spring they are usually horrifically windy. Having read about this type of racing in Joe Parkin’s “A Dog in a Hat” (on loan from the Chris Hammer Cycling Library), I was excited about the opportunity to give it a try.
If the goal was to make it authentic, the organizers of this race (with some help from Mother Nature) succeeded in spades. The course was a 10 mile loop that included 1 mile of gravel right before the start/finish. Although the forecast early in the week had been beautiful (low 80s and sunny), race day brought a different story…cloudy skies, scattered thunderstorms, and 20+ mph winds. A cyclocross bike would have been ideal for this race, but since I don’t own one I decided to just run some wider tires. I made a quick run to Bicycles, Etc. earlier in the week and walked out with some Bontrager 700x25s in the hopes that they would provide a smoother ride over the gravel and, more importantly, puncture resistance.
Race time for the Cat 4s was 12:30, so I was in Leland shortly after 11:00. Kev showed up shortly thereafter, and turned out to be the only other Wheelfast representative. After a decent warmup on the trainers, we rolled to the line with about 30 other Cat 4s. The roll-out from the school in Leland was neutral for about a mile until we reached the Start/Finish line. Then the game was afoot! The first few miles rolled by relatively easily.
The pace cranked up as we hit the first section of full-on headwind. A group of about 7 riders got a gap on the field. I cranked up the pace in an attempt to bridge up, and ended up dangling by myself in no-mans-land for the rest of the lap. It was maddening…I could see the group just ahead of me, but no matter how hard I fought I just could not close the gap. I was hoping that they would slow down when they hit the gravel section, but that just wasn’t to be.
So, going into the 2nd lap I sat up and let myself get absorbed into the group behind me. I was hoping to see Kev in there, but he wasn’t. There was a rider each from WDT, Cuttin’ Crew, and Tower, along with a few other random riders. We formed the most disorganized paceline that I have ever had the misfortune to be in. Riders wouldn’t pull through, they would pull off on the wrong side, etc. It was a complete mess. The rain that started falling during the section of headwind just made it that much more miserable. I reached for the water bottle and realized how sore my shoulders already were...one of my big problems on the bike is tensing up my shoulders, and it was painfully obvious that I was doing just that.
By lap three, our group was down to me and a rider each from Cuttin’ Crew and Tower, along with a WDT rider that had been cast out of the lead group. This time around, we actually got a decent paceline going. It would have been nice to have more than 4 riders in the group, but you take what you can get. After turning out of the headwind, we picked up another WDT rider that had apparently also fallen out of the lead group. Shortly thereafter, we get eclipsed by the Cat 1/2 field. One of the WDT guys refused to move to the left to let them by…in fact, he moved further over to the right, directly in the way of the 1/2s. He got an earful from the field as they tried to get around him. Then, even though we had been explicitly instructed to not join other fields, he, along with his teammate, hopped right on to the back of the 1/2 field.
One of the WDT riders couldn’t hang with the 1/2s and eventually dropped back into our group. However, he all but refused to do any work…he was right after me in the paceline but very rarely followed through. Fortunately, after they realized that he was leaving me dangling out front, the Tower and Cuttin’ Crew riders would breeze by him to take the lead and give me some relief.
After what already seemed like an eternity of racing, the four of us came around the start/finish to begin the final 10-mile lap. The skies had darkened and we started seeing lightning. Super. We continued our ragged paceline through the headwind, which for some reason didn’t seem quite as bad the last time around. As we turned out of the headwind, I took the lead and cranked up the pace. We dropped the Cuttin’ Crew rider, leaving just me, Tower, and WDT. After leading for a bit, I let WDT take over. Tower fell off a bit. For some odd reason, WDT kept looking over his shoulders every 2-3 seconds…and this went on for several minutes. I have no idea what he was doing…whether he was looking to see if anyone was behind us, or whether he was trying to gauge how I was feeling. Very Lance Armstrong/Jan Ulrich on Alpe d’Huez in 2001. Either way, I was actually feeling pretty good and made sure to put on a stoic poker face.
By this point, the thunder and lightning really started to intensify. Tower caught back on with us shortly before we turned into the gravel for the final time. And just as we did, the rain hit! There is nothing quite like hammering along a gravel road with stinging rain pelting your face as lightning flashes and thunder booms right over your head. Pure insanity. Tower and WDT accelerated, and I simply couldn’t match their effort. Also, and this may be a cop-out, but part of me didn’t want to chase them. I realized that I was 1.25 miles from the finish, and I really didn’t want to risk crashing. I was content to push at my own pace, knowing that there was no one else close behind me. After what seemed like the longest mile of my life, I made the right turn and rode out the final 1/4 mile to the finish. When the final results were posted I found that I took 8th.
Caked with gravel dust, and with shoes and socks squishing with water, I turned around and soft-pedaled the mile back to the car. I encountered Kev as he was driving away (he finished his day after 3 laps). We chatted for a minute about the race, and then I rode back to the car to wipe off and dry out.
All in all, it was a challenging, epic ride. It turns out that we had faced winds ranging from 14.9 to 23.0 mph. The wind, coupled with the rain, lightning, thunder and gravel made it an unforgettable experience. Oddly enough, I can’t wait to do it again next year.
STATS:
Race time: 1:59:39
Distance: 39.91
Average pace: 2:59/mile
Average speed: 20.0
Max speed: 33.2
Average HR: 167
Max HR: 185
The race was set up as an homage to the Belgian “kermesse” style of racing. In Flemish, “kermesse” means “carnival.” When towns would hold a carnival, they would hold a bike race to help earn money for the carnival owners. The course would be about 16 km, would incorporate both town and farm roads, and would always include sections of gravel and/or pave (i.e. cobblestones). And since they often take place in the spring they are usually horrifically windy. Having read about this type of racing in Joe Parkin’s “A Dog in a Hat” (on loan from the Chris Hammer Cycling Library), I was excited about the opportunity to give it a try.
If the goal was to make it authentic, the organizers of this race (with some help from Mother Nature) succeeded in spades. The course was a 10 mile loop that included 1 mile of gravel right before the start/finish. Although the forecast early in the week had been beautiful (low 80s and sunny), race day brought a different story…cloudy skies, scattered thunderstorms, and 20+ mph winds. A cyclocross bike would have been ideal for this race, but since I don’t own one I decided to just run some wider tires. I made a quick run to Bicycles, Etc. earlier in the week and walked out with some Bontrager 700x25s in the hopes that they would provide a smoother ride over the gravel and, more importantly, puncture resistance.
Race time for the Cat 4s was 12:30, so I was in Leland shortly after 11:00. Kev showed up shortly thereafter, and turned out to be the only other Wheelfast representative. After a decent warmup on the trainers, we rolled to the line with about 30 other Cat 4s. The roll-out from the school in Leland was neutral for about a mile until we reached the Start/Finish line. Then the game was afoot! The first few miles rolled by relatively easily.
The pace cranked up as we hit the first section of full-on headwind. A group of about 7 riders got a gap on the field. I cranked up the pace in an attempt to bridge up, and ended up dangling by myself in no-mans-land for the rest of the lap. It was maddening…I could see the group just ahead of me, but no matter how hard I fought I just could not close the gap. I was hoping that they would slow down when they hit the gravel section, but that just wasn’t to be.
So, going into the 2nd lap I sat up and let myself get absorbed into the group behind me. I was hoping to see Kev in there, but he wasn’t. There was a rider each from WDT, Cuttin’ Crew, and Tower, along with a few other random riders. We formed the most disorganized paceline that I have ever had the misfortune to be in. Riders wouldn’t pull through, they would pull off on the wrong side, etc. It was a complete mess. The rain that started falling during the section of headwind just made it that much more miserable. I reached for the water bottle and realized how sore my shoulders already were...one of my big problems on the bike is tensing up my shoulders, and it was painfully obvious that I was doing just that.
By lap three, our group was down to me and a rider each from Cuttin’ Crew and Tower, along with a WDT rider that had been cast out of the lead group. This time around, we actually got a decent paceline going. It would have been nice to have more than 4 riders in the group, but you take what you can get. After turning out of the headwind, we picked up another WDT rider that had apparently also fallen out of the lead group. Shortly thereafter, we get eclipsed by the Cat 1/2 field. One of the WDT guys refused to move to the left to let them by…in fact, he moved further over to the right, directly in the way of the 1/2s. He got an earful from the field as they tried to get around him. Then, even though we had been explicitly instructed to not join other fields, he, along with his teammate, hopped right on to the back of the 1/2 field.
One of the WDT riders couldn’t hang with the 1/2s and eventually dropped back into our group. However, he all but refused to do any work…he was right after me in the paceline but very rarely followed through. Fortunately, after they realized that he was leaving me dangling out front, the Tower and Cuttin’ Crew riders would breeze by him to take the lead and give me some relief.
After what already seemed like an eternity of racing, the four of us came around the start/finish to begin the final 10-mile lap. The skies had darkened and we started seeing lightning. Super. We continued our ragged paceline through the headwind, which for some reason didn’t seem quite as bad the last time around. As we turned out of the headwind, I took the lead and cranked up the pace. We dropped the Cuttin’ Crew rider, leaving just me, Tower, and WDT. After leading for a bit, I let WDT take over. Tower fell off a bit. For some odd reason, WDT kept looking over his shoulders every 2-3 seconds…and this went on for several minutes. I have no idea what he was doing…whether he was looking to see if anyone was behind us, or whether he was trying to gauge how I was feeling. Very Lance Armstrong/Jan Ulrich on Alpe d’Huez in 2001. Either way, I was actually feeling pretty good and made sure to put on a stoic poker face.
By this point, the thunder and lightning really started to intensify. Tower caught back on with us shortly before we turned into the gravel for the final time. And just as we did, the rain hit! There is nothing quite like hammering along a gravel road with stinging rain pelting your face as lightning flashes and thunder booms right over your head. Pure insanity. Tower and WDT accelerated, and I simply couldn’t match their effort. Also, and this may be a cop-out, but part of me didn’t want to chase them. I realized that I was 1.25 miles from the finish, and I really didn’t want to risk crashing. I was content to push at my own pace, knowing that there was no one else close behind me. After what seemed like the longest mile of my life, I made the right turn and rode out the final 1/4 mile to the finish. When the final results were posted I found that I took 8th.
Caked with gravel dust, and with shoes and socks squishing with water, I turned around and soft-pedaled the mile back to the car. I encountered Kev as he was driving away (he finished his day after 3 laps). We chatted for a minute about the race, and then I rode back to the car to wipe off and dry out.
All in all, it was a challenging, epic ride. It turns out that we had faced winds ranging from 14.9 to 23.0 mph. The wind, coupled with the rain, lightning, thunder and gravel made it an unforgettable experience. Oddly enough, I can’t wait to do it again next year.
STATS:
Race time: 1:59:39
Distance: 39.91
Average pace: 2:59/mile
Average speed: 20.0
Max speed: 33.2
Average HR: 167
Max HR: 185
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