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...
Friday, July 31, 2009
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.
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