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!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
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
Burnham Super Spring Criterium, South Beloit, IL, March 28, 2009
Going into this race, I knew that it would be miserable. The forecast for my 8:15 am race projected strong winds and temps in the high 20s. Had I not already preregistered, I very well may have stayed in bed. In hindsight, though, with the 3rd Kenosha Velosport Spring Training Criterium being cancelled on Sunday, I was glad that I didn’t. At least I got one race out of this weekend…and a pretty epic one it was.
It was not part of my race-day plan, but I was wide awake by 4:00 am, with my mind already in race-mode. I give up on sleep and get up at 4:15. I pull together the gear that I hadn’t already prepped the night before, stretched, got dressed, and had my ritual pre-race breakfast (Grape Nuts and raisins in vanilla-flavored soy milk, in case you were curious). I head out the door into the cold and dark at 5:45.
I’m at the Blackhawk Farms Raceway in South Beloit by 7:00. Registration is already up and running, and the process is quick and easy. The facilities are wonderful…registration is not in a tent, but rather in a nice, warm building. And in a dramatic departure from most race-day facilities, the restrooms are in their own building...and they are warm, very clean, and have showers/changing rooms.
After pinning my number, I pull the bike onto the trainer and start warming up. I have on two pairs of socks, leg warmers, a t-shirt, a short-sleeve jersey, arm warmers, a vest, and my long-sleeve jersey. I cover as much of my face as possible with a balaclava. As I warm up, I keep my fleece pullover on…and I am still cold! I warm up for a bit, then run my spares over to the wheel pit. Then it is back to the trainer to finish my warm-up and down a Clif Bar. OK, let’s get this over with!
The course is a 1.9 mile loop, roughly in the shape of a “C.” Since it is an auto/motorcycle racing speedway, the course is wide open with very smooth pavement and lots of fun twists and turns. We race clockwise around the loop, facing a brutal headwind coming into the long start/finish stretch.
I roll to the line a few minutes before 8:15 with about 40 other riders. Tower Racing has a huge presence (about 10 riders), as does xXx (about 7 riders). I am the only Wheel Fast representative, which feels very lonely after the great presence that we have had the past few weekends in Pleasant Prairie.
After the usual instructions, the whistle blows and we get off to a really slow start. We’re soft-pedaling at about 18 MPH, and I’m thinking that everyone is going to use this first lap to feel out the course and get an idea of how the wind affects the various parts of the loop. Wrong! After ¼ of a lap, a Purdue University rider jumps, and is joined by a rider each from Tower Racing and xXx. A four-man chase group forms after a few seconds, so I move to the front and hit the gas to bridge up to this group. I expend a lot of energy, cranking up to about 32 MPH to join them, but fortunately I am able to grab onto a wheel. I am realizing that my legs aren’t feeling too good at this point, and am hoping like hell that they come around. A quick peek under my arm tells me that I have hauled a few riders from the field with me, but I can’t tell how many. At some point we are joined by the rest of the peloton. The break stays away, however, and eventually develops a 45-second gap.
A xXx rider moves up toward the front, right about where I am sitting, and says “are we going to let that get away?” Well, hell no! He jumps, I grab onto his wheel, and we are joined by another xXx rider and a few Tower riders. We crank up the pace, and at one point we hear a spectator yell “they’ve got 20 seconds on you.” I take a very painful turn at the front of the paceline, then drift off for my rest. But suddenly the paceline disintegrates, then reforms, and I find myself in second position again. The lead xXx rider pulls off, so with almost no chance to recover, I find myself at the front of the line yet again. Argh. At this point, though, the field has caught up to our chase group. I let myself fall back into the safety of the pack, being careful, though, to keep myself in the front 1/3 of the field.
The scariest moment of the race comes about 20 minutes in. I am sitting on the left side of the field when a Tower rider comes up along the left and without even looking decides to squeeze in right next to me, pushing me into the rider on my right. The three of us are bumping elbows, there is the ugly sound of metal connecting with metal, and we jostle around for a few seconds. My mouth gets the best of me and I shout “don’t pinch me, [expletive deleted]!” We finally distance ourselves from each other, Tower apologizes, and I respond (a bit more calmly) with “just hold onto your line.”
We’re really cooking now. The field tops out at almost 34 MPH as we come around to the start/finish with about 8 miles of racing under us. A spectator yells out that that the 3-man break is disintegrating. Sure enough, I look up the road to see the three individual riders with distance in between each other. There are various accelerations by both xXx and Tower, and I make sure to cover all of them and keep myself toward the front. I’m really suffering now, to the point that I don’t even notice when we absorb the riders who had been in the break.
The legs are screaming at me, but as we come around with 2 laps to go I know that I’ll be able to finish this thing. As we come around with one to go, the gruppo compatto eases off on the gas. I look down at the computer to see that we are barely doing 18 MPH. I’m not complaining…it is a nice chance to shake out the legs and grab a quick drink before the madness of the final sprint. The jockeying for position really starts in earnest on the straightaway before the turn into the finish. I am too far back for my liking, so I jump up the left side and insert myself into the front 10 riders. As we make the 90-degree right hand turn, the games begin. I manage to hold my position better than I have in previous weeks. In fact, I am ecstatic to see that I am actually passing riders! I make the mistake, however, of standing up too early to mash on the pedals, and I fry the legs just a bit too quickly. That effect of that error was compounded by the Tower rider who decided that halfway to the finish would be the perfect time to just sit up and pack it in. What the hell? I have to dive to the right to avoid running straight into him, and fortunately there was no one right next to me. At this point, the best I can do is to sit down and crank as hard as possible to the line. As I eyeball the field ahead of me, I estimate that I’m finishing somewhere in the top 15.
After a cool-down lap I roll back to the car. As I take off my shoes, I am disturbed to discover that I can barely feel my toes. I throw the bike into the car, grab my wheels from the pit, and then change into my street clothes in the warmth of the bathroom. After a few minutes in the car with the heat cranked at my feet, I wander back into the warmth of registration to wait for the results. They only post to 12th place, and unfortunately I am not part of that group. So I’ll just have to wait until the full results get posted online.
I drive away pretty happy with the results. I fought through brutal cold and wind, bridged up to a chase group, covered all the various moves, almost got taken down, and through it all finished pretty strong. All in all, it was a great, well-organized race, and the course was awesome. I highly recommend that everyone keep in mind to put it on their calendars for next year.
STATS:
Race time: 38:59
Distance: 15.15
Average pace: 2:34/mile
Average speed: 23.3
Max speed: 33.9
Average HR: 166Max HR: 181
It was not part of my race-day plan, but I was wide awake by 4:00 am, with my mind already in race-mode. I give up on sleep and get up at 4:15. I pull together the gear that I hadn’t already prepped the night before, stretched, got dressed, and had my ritual pre-race breakfast (Grape Nuts and raisins in vanilla-flavored soy milk, in case you were curious). I head out the door into the cold and dark at 5:45.
I’m at the Blackhawk Farms Raceway in South Beloit by 7:00. Registration is already up and running, and the process is quick and easy. The facilities are wonderful…registration is not in a tent, but rather in a nice, warm building. And in a dramatic departure from most race-day facilities, the restrooms are in their own building...and they are warm, very clean, and have showers/changing rooms.
After pinning my number, I pull the bike onto the trainer and start warming up. I have on two pairs of socks, leg warmers, a t-shirt, a short-sleeve jersey, arm warmers, a vest, and my long-sleeve jersey. I cover as much of my face as possible with a balaclava. As I warm up, I keep my fleece pullover on…and I am still cold! I warm up for a bit, then run my spares over to the wheel pit. Then it is back to the trainer to finish my warm-up and down a Clif Bar. OK, let’s get this over with!
The course is a 1.9 mile loop, roughly in the shape of a “C.” Since it is an auto/motorcycle racing speedway, the course is wide open with very smooth pavement and lots of fun twists and turns. We race clockwise around the loop, facing a brutal headwind coming into the long start/finish stretch.
I roll to the line a few minutes before 8:15 with about 40 other riders. Tower Racing has a huge presence (about 10 riders), as does xXx (about 7 riders). I am the only Wheel Fast representative, which feels very lonely after the great presence that we have had the past few weekends in Pleasant Prairie.
After the usual instructions, the whistle blows and we get off to a really slow start. We’re soft-pedaling at about 18 MPH, and I’m thinking that everyone is going to use this first lap to feel out the course and get an idea of how the wind affects the various parts of the loop. Wrong! After ¼ of a lap, a Purdue University rider jumps, and is joined by a rider each from Tower Racing and xXx. A four-man chase group forms after a few seconds, so I move to the front and hit the gas to bridge up to this group. I expend a lot of energy, cranking up to about 32 MPH to join them, but fortunately I am able to grab onto a wheel. I am realizing that my legs aren’t feeling too good at this point, and am hoping like hell that they come around. A quick peek under my arm tells me that I have hauled a few riders from the field with me, but I can’t tell how many. At some point we are joined by the rest of the peloton. The break stays away, however, and eventually develops a 45-second gap.
A xXx rider moves up toward the front, right about where I am sitting, and says “are we going to let that get away?” Well, hell no! He jumps, I grab onto his wheel, and we are joined by another xXx rider and a few Tower riders. We crank up the pace, and at one point we hear a spectator yell “they’ve got 20 seconds on you.” I take a very painful turn at the front of the paceline, then drift off for my rest. But suddenly the paceline disintegrates, then reforms, and I find myself in second position again. The lead xXx rider pulls off, so with almost no chance to recover, I find myself at the front of the line yet again. Argh. At this point, though, the field has caught up to our chase group. I let myself fall back into the safety of the pack, being careful, though, to keep myself in the front 1/3 of the field.
The scariest moment of the race comes about 20 minutes in. I am sitting on the left side of the field when a Tower rider comes up along the left and without even looking decides to squeeze in right next to me, pushing me into the rider on my right. The three of us are bumping elbows, there is the ugly sound of metal connecting with metal, and we jostle around for a few seconds. My mouth gets the best of me and I shout “don’t pinch me, [expletive deleted]!” We finally distance ourselves from each other, Tower apologizes, and I respond (a bit more calmly) with “just hold onto your line.”
We’re really cooking now. The field tops out at almost 34 MPH as we come around to the start/finish with about 8 miles of racing under us. A spectator yells out that that the 3-man break is disintegrating. Sure enough, I look up the road to see the three individual riders with distance in between each other. There are various accelerations by both xXx and Tower, and I make sure to cover all of them and keep myself toward the front. I’m really suffering now, to the point that I don’t even notice when we absorb the riders who had been in the break.
The legs are screaming at me, but as we come around with 2 laps to go I know that I’ll be able to finish this thing. As we come around with one to go, the gruppo compatto eases off on the gas. I look down at the computer to see that we are barely doing 18 MPH. I’m not complaining…it is a nice chance to shake out the legs and grab a quick drink before the madness of the final sprint. The jockeying for position really starts in earnest on the straightaway before the turn into the finish. I am too far back for my liking, so I jump up the left side and insert myself into the front 10 riders. As we make the 90-degree right hand turn, the games begin. I manage to hold my position better than I have in previous weeks. In fact, I am ecstatic to see that I am actually passing riders! I make the mistake, however, of standing up too early to mash on the pedals, and I fry the legs just a bit too quickly. That effect of that error was compounded by the Tower rider who decided that halfway to the finish would be the perfect time to just sit up and pack it in. What the hell? I have to dive to the right to avoid running straight into him, and fortunately there was no one right next to me. At this point, the best I can do is to sit down and crank as hard as possible to the line. As I eyeball the field ahead of me, I estimate that I’m finishing somewhere in the top 15.
After a cool-down lap I roll back to the car. As I take off my shoes, I am disturbed to discover that I can barely feel my toes. I throw the bike into the car, grab my wheels from the pit, and then change into my street clothes in the warmth of the bathroom. After a few minutes in the car with the heat cranked at my feet, I wander back into the warmth of registration to wait for the results. They only post to 12th place, and unfortunately I am not part of that group. So I’ll just have to wait until the full results get posted online.
I drive away pretty happy with the results. I fought through brutal cold and wind, bridged up to a chase group, covered all the various moves, almost got taken down, and through it all finished pretty strong. All in all, it was a great, well-organized race, and the course was awesome. I highly recommend that everyone keep in mind to put it on their calendars for next year.
STATS:
Race time: 38:59
Distance: 15.15
Average pace: 2:34/mile
Average speed: 23.3
Max speed: 33.9
Average HR: 166Max HR: 181
Kenosha Velosport Spring Training Criterium #2, March 22, 2009
With temps hovering around 52 degrees and winds strong enough to make the flags stand at full attention, Wheel Fast Racing took the line for the second weekend of racing in Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin. Again, the fields were surprisingly small. Chris Hammer, Derek Held and I lined up with about 30 Cat 4s, and John Mahr lined up behind us with about 15 Cat 5s. ABD had a slightly larger presence than last week, as did South Chicago Wheelmen, but where is xXx?
The course is 0.70 mile loop around a business park. The course is roughly in the shape of a capital “D” that we race counter-clockwise. There are two 90-degree left turns and two sweeping left turns. The start/finish is along the backside of the “D,” heading south with a slight uphill coming out of the turn at the top.
After the instructions, which unfortunately included such nuggets as “lapped riders can re-enter the field,” the whistle blew and we were off. In my head, I hear Kev saying “just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” We face a strong headwind on the long backstretch, which also makes for challenging crosswinds on the shorter sections, but it gives us a nice tailwind along the start/finish.
I spend the first lap moving through the pack to get to Hammer’s wheel. Having done so, we spend Lap 2 sitting comfortably in the field, about 20 riders back. As we turn off of the start/finish stretch at the beginning of lap 3, it is time to get serious and move up. I keep myself firmly glued to Hammer’s wheel as we move up the right side of the peloton to insert ourselves into the front. By this point, we are zipping along at 28 mph. The pace is noticeably faster than last week. I look down at the computer to see that only 8 minutes have gone by, and think to myself that this is going to be a long race. However, as we come around to the line I notice that the lap cards already have us about 3 minutes further along than my computer shows. With the pace of this race, I’m not complaining if they shave off a few minutes!
Ten minutes into the race and now we’re booking along at almost 30 mph on the straightaways. I’m starting to see a little cross-eyed, but fortunately the pace backs off a bit and the race settles into a more comfortable groove. Perhaps it is because the wind is knocking us around, but the field seems a lot more “squirrelly” this week, and we are hitting our brakes more often than last week. There are small attacks here and there, but nothing that stays away. I busy myself with staying toward the front and out of the wind, trying to do as little work as possible.
At around the 25 minute mark, a two-man break has put a little distance into the field. I am up at the front with Derek, who is leading the charge to reel them in. Hammer is behind me somewhere, but I can’t tell where. As Derek pulls off, I find myself alone at the front. I continue the chase along the windy backstretch, and almost blow up in the process. After turning out of the headwind, I let myself get swallowed by the field, but try not to let myself fall too far back. I hang on for dear life through the acceleration up the hill into the start/finish. Shortly after turning into the windy backstretch, Hammer comes up along my left side with an encouraging “come on.” I grab his wheel, down some Cytomax, and catch my breath as we work our way back up toward the front.
As we come around with three laps to go, the pace heats up but Chris, Derek and I hold on near the front of the field. I am sitting somewhere around 10th position. The furious pace seems to back off a bit during the next lap…everyone seems to be taking a brief opportunity to grab a drink and rest the legs before the final push.
One to go…after the turn from the start/finish, an ABD rider launches a vicious solo attack that no one can match, and his effort wins the day. Hammer moves toward the front along my right side, and I try move with him but can’t match his effort. I’m still holding in about 10th position as we come around to the S/F. Up ahead, Hammer had almost been taken into the curb by two WDT-Allvoi riders sweeping far to the right, but he held his ground and outsprinted one of them for a 3rd place finish. I fight like hell, giving it every last shred of what I have, but I can’t gain or maintain position and see several riders coming around me. I fight all the way to the line and hope for the best.
We take three cool-down laps, retrieve our wheels from the pit, and then it is back to the car for a change of clothes and some fig bars. Hammer, Derek and I wander over to registration to check out the Cat 3 race and wait for the official results. When they get posted, I see that I took 14th out of 25 finishers.
So, unfortunately, I slipped a spot from my 13th place finish last week. However, I console myself with the fact that it was a much harder race than last week. And if nothing else, I proved to myself that I can put in a really hard effort late in the race…and although I might almost blow up doing so, I am able to recover enough to still finish toward the front of the field.
STATS:
Race time: 42:35
Distance: 16.87 miles
Average pace: 2:31/mile
Average speed: 23.8 mph
Max speed: 29.6 mph
Average HR: 172 bpm
Max HR: 182 bpm
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