Sherman Park Criterium, Chicago, IL, June 12, 2010

The 2009 edition of the Sherman Park Criterium was marked by pouring rain, resulting in 40 minutes of eating road grime and furiously blinking the grit out of my eyes. Notwithstanding, I had been able to score an 8^th place finish. With only “scattered thunderstorms” in the forecast this year, I was hoping to avoid a repeat of the weather and to improve on last year’s finish. I had felt good at the Wednesday night crits this week, so I was feeling optimistic.

Kev and I carpooled into the city, and at registration I was presented with bib number 911. Kev joked that hopefully they wouldn't have to call 911 for me today. That goes without saying! After some confusion over Kev’s bib number got straightened out, we set up the trainers and got in a good warmup. With about 15 minutes to race time we headed over to the course. I was stopped by one of the registration guys asking “are you Butler?” They had screwed up mynumber, too. I was unpinned and given number 912.

Although the skies were overcast and it was very humid, there hadn’t been so much as a hint of rain. Until, that is, we headed out onto the course for our warmup lap. A few small plinks of rain splattered here and there, but nothing too worrisome. Then the wind picked up. And as we rounded turn four, the skies opened up and it poured. Great…2009 revisited.

The officials pulled us from the line, and everyone took shelter wherever they would. We were called back to the line about 10 minutes later. The organizers had shortened the Masters 30+ 4/5 race this year to only 30 minutes, which now I was thankful for.

About 60 riders rolled to the line. As would be expected, there were a lot of xXx guys, plus random pockets of South Chicago Wheelmen and Beverly Bike. Bryan was the only Bicycle Heaven rider, and the Psimet guys were totally AWOL, as was WDT. We were informed that there would be five prime laps, for a shirt, Clif bars, gift certificates, and cash.

The pace from the get-go was fast, but manageable. I spent the first few laps toward the back, getting into a rhythm and avoiding the potholes. Still, on the backstretch of the 2^nd lap I hit one of said potholes squarely in the center. I got a good jolt and prayed that I hadn’t flatted. Fortunately, the Tire Gods were smiling on me today and I remained fully pressurized.

Four laps into the race and I was tired of being at the back. I made my move up the right side of the field as we barreled through the Start/Finish and inserted myself into the front 10 riders. On the whole, this was a race of me gaining position and losing position. With no hard corners, the pack pretty much rode 4-5 riders across the whole time and we never strung out. I found that this made it difficult to escape the pack and gain any ground. This was unfortunate, because my legs were feeling strong, my lungs were clear, and my heart rate stayed pretty low. Not once did I ever feel like I was red-lining. Had I been able to get and keep good position, maybe I could have made something happen at the end.

Despite the conditions, it was a very clean race. I felt someone brush up against me once, and one time I moved slightly to the right and made a little contact with another rider. It was my fault and I apologized several times. No harm, no foul, and everyone kept going on our merry way.

Towards the end of the race I found myself way too far back again. Kev came up on my right side and announced his presence. I told him “I’m nowhere close to where I want to be.” I was boxed in, however, and there was no good way to escape. I had done a poor job of watching the lap counters and still thought we had several laps in which I could try to improve my position. As we zipped by the Start/Finish, I was surprised to see the lap cards set at “1.” I thought to myself “holy cow, this thing is almost over!” I was still boxed in with nowhere to go. I kept scanning for any opportunity to move up, but no openings presented themselves. I resigned myself to just staying upright and riding this one out.

In the end, I took 38^th out of 53 finishers. Another mediocre finish, which has been all too representative of this season. Still, it was a lot of fun, and it was great to have Kev riding strong in the field with me.

ABD Training Crits, June 9, West Chicago, IL

After a three week absence from the Pelladrome, it was great to be back for another Wednesday night of racing, despite the strong winds that made the backstretch a challenge. The evening was warm and sunny, with nary a cloud in the sky. About 35 riders showed up to duke it out, including WFR teammates Jason and John.

The format was same as weeks prior. The first race was a 15 minute/8 lap race for the newbies (and a warmup for the veterans). The second was a 25 minute/13 lap pursuit race, and the third was a 20 lap points race. Not counting the first race, that accounts for about 27 miles of racing…not bad training at all in the middle of the week. Cupcake primes were plentiful to make sure that the pace stayed hot.

The first race passed pleasantly enough. After the newbies got underway, we slowly rolled out. The pace was relaxed until about the 4^th or 5^th lap, at which point we pushed pretty hard to work the kinks out of the legs. During the surge I kept myself near the front, in about 5^th wheel. After that surge, the pace slowed to a crawl again and we rode out the remainder of the “race” together.

As soon as the whistle blew to start the first race, John Mahr grabbed a moment of glory and took a flyer off the front. A few riders gave chase, but he stayed away for most of the first lap. I found myself in the unenviable position of leading into the wind for a couple of the early laps. Sometimes it is fun to be the “tip of the spear,” but into a stiff wind…not so much. A cupcake prime was called on the 4^th lap, and with that the preliminary niceties were over. Psimet had a good presence tonight, and on this 4^th lap they surged en masse to the front of the field and set a blistering pace. My legs were taking a while to come around underneath me, and I had to hang on for dear life. I figured that they would spend a few laps trying to separate the wheat from the chaff and then would relax the pace a bit, but they never let up. Another sugar-laden prime was called on the 10^th lap, and this is where I started to come unglued. After the prime spring, coming out of Turn One the front of the field surged even more and I waved goodbye as they gained a decent gap on me. On the backstretch, I stood up and jammed on the pedals, desperately hoping that I could gain ground as they slowed down in to the headwind, but I just couldn’t close the gap. I rode out the remaining laps by myself and rolled meekly across the line.

I rolled back to the car to grab a fresh bottle. Someone had a radio on and tuned in to the Hawks/Flyers game. The game was scoreless as we were called back to the line for race number three.

The points race started out pretty mellow, but it didn’t take long to ramp up to full speed. I found myself behind Illinois State Champion Jessi Prinner and figured that I should stay glued to her wheel as long as possible. I hung out toward the back of the for the first 10 laps, conserving as much energy as possible and hanging on throughout the points and prime sprints. About midway through the race, as we zipped past the start/finish, it was announced that the Hawks were tied 1-1 with the Flyers.

I stayed within the front 5-10 riders for most of the remainder of the race. With about 5 laps to go, my calves started to feel like they could cramp up at any moment, which is a less than pleasant feeling. I gulped some Gatorade and hoped for the best. As we entered the backstretch with two laps to go, I found myself in 2^nd wheel position. Halfway down the stretch, the lead rider pulled aside. I got hit with the wind and it was like getting slapped in the face. My legs were completely sapped and rather than taking the pull I drifted left to let the field come through. The rider right behind me chastised me, saying “take a pull, there are only 2 laps to go…it isn’t going to kill you!” I’ll admit that he was right, and I was ashamed of my cop-out. I had nothing left, however, and was still on the verge of cramping. I figured it was better to just get out of the way than force everyone to maneuver around me as I dragged my lead anchor behind me. I reinserted myself somewhere midway through the field and hung on. Jason appeared out of nowhere and moved himself up toward the front of the field. It all fell apart for me, as it usually does, during the bell lap. Again, the main surge occurred right out of Turn One, and the just rode away from me, despite my best efforts to hang on. I rolled in alone, closing out another fine night of racing at the Pelladrome. A Stanley Cup victory for the Blackhawks just a few hours later put the cherry on top of the evening.

All in all, the racing this evening was a lot cleaner than it was three weeks ago. Only once did I have a rider drift into me, and a simple “whoa, whoa, whoa” was enough to make him realize the error of his ways. I’m glad to hear that these races will be continuing throughout the summer, and I look forward to attending as many as possible Thank you ABD and Pella!