Pinchy's Heavenly Adventures

ABD Fall Fling Pella Criterium, West Chicago, IL, September 24, 2011

2011-09-24T15:27:00.000-07:00

Today was my 15th time racing at “The Pelladrome” during the 2011 season. Every Wednesday night From May through September, ABD puts on training criteriums at this flat, 0.80-mile, near-oval stretch of pavement next to the Pella Windows factory in West Chicago. I was able to make it out to those races 14 times this summer, and today it was “for real.”

ABD has upped the ante for the Fall Fling series this year, awarding a cool $2,000.00 to the team that scores the most number of points (based on results) during the 4-race series. Bicycle Heaven has the numbers and the talent to make us serious contenders for this windfall of cash.

So it all started today. I mixed it up in the Cat 4 race with two other Bicycle Heaven teammates, Scott and Spanish. Skies were cloudy, the rain held off, temps were moderate, and the wind was manageable. A whopping 19 riders took to the line for 40 minutes plus two laps of racing.

Allow me to go off topic for a moment. Seriously, only 19 riders? This is a great series with serious cash on the line, and the weather was just fine. I know that road racing numbers have been down this year, while CX is on the rise. But 19 riders was just sad. And it meant that only the top 10 spots would score points for the $2,000.00. Had the field had just one more person, the points would have gone 20 deep, and I actually would have contributed to the team effort. But more on that later.

I had an added incentive to avoid embarrassing myself today…right as we were rolling off of the line, my wife and awesome 6-month-old son arrived at the course to shout out their encouragement. They were joined shortly thereafter by Stephanie’s sister, and I had a nice little cheering section.

We took off at a brisk but easily manageable pace. Here and there some guys would drill the speed up a few notches to soften up the field, but the tempo always backed down shortly thereafter. There was a prime sprint early on, and I was in good position. But a couple guys really wanted that 10 dollar prize more than I did…I wound up for the sprint, but backed off when they got a small gap. I decided that I would rather keep myself fresh for the final sprint than waste myself for $10.

Shortly thereafter, a Team Mack rider took a flyer with one guy attached to his wheel. Scott was next to me and predicted “they’re not going anywhere.” Moments later, another Mack rider flew up the left side to bridge up and Scott changed his mind. “OK, now we have to go.” “Yes we do” was my reply, and we hit the gas and reeled them in.

Another prime sprint for $10 came and went. I halfheartedly hit the gas, but backed off when it became clear that I couldn’t close the gap.

About halfway through, I was up front with a xXx rider. He looked over and asked “do you have any teammates in the field?” “Yeah, I’ve got two guys.” He asked “do you want to try a breakaway?” I gamely responded “why not?” He stood up and hit the gas and I followed suit. I don’t know whether we ended up with any sort of gap, but we each took a pull before I realized that the field was nipping at our heels.

This xXx rider and I spent most of the race near the front. In fact, I don’t think that I was ever further back than 5th wheel position the whole time. At one point, xXx said lamented that “we’ve been up at the front the whole time…this probably means that we’re going to lose.” And it is true, I spent way too much time working at the front. I could have pulled off and let myself be swallowed by the bulk of the field, but on the other hand I wanted to be up at the front in case there were any breaks or primes to cover. And it was fun to hear my name called out by the announcer one time when I led the field through the start/finish. Hey, I’m easy to please.

The rest of the race passed pleasantly enough. Surges here and there, but nothing that I couldn’t cover and there were no serious threats. It was fun to see my wife and baby every time I came past, and I was feeling good enough that I was even able to smile at them a few times.

The pace went nuts with two to go, but as we came around with one to go, it settled down a bit. Guys were jockeying for position, taking a quick breather for the grand finale. On the backstretch is where things went crazy again. As we approached turn four, I was still in about 5th or position and giving it everything. I tried to shift down but quickly realized that I was already on my smallest cog. Crap. I stood up and smashed on the pedals, my face locked in a vicious rictus of pain, thinking “too many guys, I see too many guys in front of me.” I badly wanted a podium finish (top 5 would have done it), but in the end I had to settle for 12th. Which, as mentioned previously, put me just out of the points for the omnium.

The good news, however, was that Scott took 2nd and Spanish took 10th. In all, Bicycle Heaven had a great day…Patrick Fasse won the Cat 1/2, Andy Swims won the Cat 3 (in fact, we took 4 of the top 5 in the Cat 3), Rob Kelley won the Masters 40+ 1/2/3, Andy Kerr won the Masters 50+, Hal took 2nd and Mike took 4th in the Masters 40+ 4/5, and Karen Enockson made the podium in the Women’s 4. So, at the end of Stage 1 Bicycle Heaven was holding the lead in the omnium, with 104 points to ABD's 102.

Personally, though, it was a disappointing day. I badly wanted a podium finish, but just couldn’t make it happen. However, racing has definitely become more fun for me. There was a point in my racing career (OK, years and years and years of my racing career) where I would suffer like a dog, hoping to just hang onto the peloton and get a field finish. Hoping not to get blown off the back and pulled for being “out of contention.” But, thanks in large part to the ABD training crits, I feel like I have really improved my skills and can really feel like part of the race…mixing it up for primes, chasing down breakaways, actually being a part of the final sprint and not just dangling off the back (although that did happen a few times earlier this spring).

I can’t make tomorrow’s time trial, but will be at both the DuPage Tech Park Circuit Race next Saturday, and the grand finale in Wood Dale next Sunday. Two more races, two more chances to get points for the team. Stay tuned…

Winfield ABR Championship Criterium, Winfield, IL, August 14, 2011

2011-08-17T10:11:00.000-07:00

With yesterday’s DNF embarrassment still painful in my mind, I drove back over to Winfield for the second race of the weekend. I was worried about how today’s hill would feel after my weakness on yesterday’s incline. However, the hill on this course is quite different.

The course is a big rectangle. Shortly after leaving the start/finish there is a left turn, followed a block later by the long straightaway up the 2-step hill. There is a bit of flat before the road tilts upward, so the momentum gained along that section is almost enough to get you over the first section. Then there is a brief flat followed by the steep “kicker” at the top. Then there is a left-hand turn into a block-long downhill (with some horrible pavement, I might add), followed by one more left hand turn into the long downhill to the start/finish.

Only about 25 riders rolled to the line for the Cat 4 race, and this has been a disturbing trend all season. Turnout for many of the races over these past few months has been down from the last few years. The blogs and boards are all a-twitter with speculation as to why this is, and there appear to be no easy answers.

After the usual instructions we took off for 35 minutes plus 3 laps. I had no teammates in my field, but my brother Kev was on the sidelines cheering me on. Throughout the race he did a complete circuit of the course, so each lap I heard his encouragement at different points.

For most of the race, I felt good. I was managing the hill with few problems, and had no difficulty regaining ground any time I found myself too far back for comfort. There were some attacks on the hill, but none of them got away, and I was able to cover all of them. I always made sure to be near the front of the field, since the acceleration coming off of the hill was always intense. Before I knew it, the lap counter was already showing that we were 15 minutes in.

I shook out the legs and sipped my Gatorade every chance I could to keep the tank topped off. I kept a close eye on the lap cards, and soon we hit the 30 minute mark. I told myself that I just had to hang on for 5 more laps.

As we came across the line with 2 laps to go, I was at the very front of the field and still feeling pretty relaxed. Kev shouted his encouragement, and I was feeling good enough that I even smiled and stuck out my tongue at him. So far, so good.

Or so I thought. We had lowered the pace quite a bit, and in hindsight this was a big mistake. As we entered came out of turn two and were facing the hill, we were probably only somewhere in the low 20s. As soon as the gradient increased, several riders launched a vicious assault. When I stood up on the pedals to match their acceleration, it was as if someone hit an “off” switch somewhere deep in side of me. My heart rate redlined and my legs turned to mush. I struggled my way to the top of the hill, going in reverse of what everyone else was doing. My only hope was to be able to grab back onto the peloton on the downhill. But it wasn’t to be.

Despite my best efforts, I ended up riding the last lap alone, picking off one rider on the final downhill to snag 22nd out of 23 finishers. I was not happy to have ridden so well for 97% of the race only to have it fall completely apart during the last 3%. But I took some consolation that I had recovered a little bit of dignity after the previous day’s DNF.

And, all in all, it was a good weekend for the Bicycle Heaven crew. David Pratt won the Cat 5 races both days, and on Sunday Hal took 2nd in the 40+ Cat 4, Andy Kerr was 3rd in the 50+, Peter Kelly and Eric Christ took 7th and 8th in the Cat 3, and Andy Swims snagged 8th in the 30+.

Winfield Twilight Criterium, Winfield, IL, August 13, 2011

2011-08-17T10:10:00.000-07:00

Today was the first of two races put on by ABD this weekend in Winfield. I hadn’t participated in this race since the 2009 edition, and faithful readers will recall that it had kicked my butt. I wish I could say that this year was different. I also wish that I was a multi-millionaire living on a private island in the San Juan Islands. But some things just aren’t in the cards…

How was the course? Well, to plagiarize my own report from 2009, it is 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.

Rider turnout for the Cat 4 race was incredibly weak. Only about 22 riders rolled to the line for 30 minutes plus 3 laps, and when the whistle blew we took off at a brisk pace. Hal was my only Bicycle Heaven teammate in the field. I was near the front of the field the first time up the hill. Of course, there was mad acceleration turning off of the hill, and I found myself losing ground. The pack strung out, but bunched up again the 2nd time up the hill. Already my legs were starting to sing, and not in a good way. They were singing like Yoko Ono.

Well, the long and short of it is that at 8 minutes I was gassed, at 10 minutes in I was gapped, and at 20 minutes in I was lapped. The official didn’t pull me, and I soldiered on for another 10 minutes. At that point, the rain started up again. In hindsight I should have just sucked it up and finished the race, but I have seen too many crashes caused by miscellaneous detritus (i.e. lapped riders) on the course. Today, I was a piece of that detritus. So as I came across the line after 30 minutes, I eyeballed the official and made the throat-cutting “I’m done” motion. DNF.

I had hoped for better, but I knew that the next day would be a chance to redeem myself.

Geneva Grand Prix (Superweek), Geneva, IL, July 9, 2011

2011-08-17T10:03:00.000-07:00

Wow, I am long overdue in writing up this report. I can’t really explain or justify the delay, since I did reasonably well in this race…at least, to a point. Do you remember that old Kellogg’s commercial where a bunch of wind-up toys are shown winding down, and Wilt Chamberlain (I think) cautions kids that the same will happen to them if they don’t eat a nutritious breakfast? Well, today I was one of those wind-up toys.

This was one of the early Superweek races, sponsored by none other than Bicycle Heaven. It was a challenging, one-mile technical 8-corner course that featured a very tight right-hand turn coming out of a brief downhill, along with several “kicker” hills along the way.

Since my team was the title sponsor, I did some volunteer work in the morning before my afternoon race. I was at the course early to help set up barricades and put cones in people’s driveways (so they wouldn’t go driving out onto the course). Then I spent some quality time as a corner marshal.

What I saw as a corner marshal wasn’t heartening. I watched the Cat 4 race get blown apart within the first 2 laps. The field absolutely shattered very early on, and it was clear that it would be critical to stay at the front of this race. The riders who could get through the tight downhill & right turn at close to full speed could just drill it while the unfortunate saps at the back would have to hammer to maintain contact.

After my corner marshaling duties were over, I headed to the parking garage to get in a good warm-up in the shade, and then it was go-time. The Masters 35+ 4/5 field had five Bicycle Heaven riders in it, and since we were sponsoring the race we got individual call-ups to the line. I even had a small cheering section…Stephanie brought Ethan over to witness his first bike race, and her parents and sister followed along.

Our field was relatively small, with fewer than 40 riders. We were scheduled for 20 laps, and as soon as the whistle blew we strung out with Bicycle Heaven leading the charge for about the first three laps. Bryan hammered away at the front, and I stayed glued to his wheel. The pace was fast, but I was feeling good. The corner after the downhill was pretty challenging…in addition to the road narrowing down, the pavement was less than stellar. You really had to hold a tight line and hope that no one pushed you into the curb.

I was feeling good for most of the race. The hills weren’t presenting too much of a challenge, and I was able to hold good position. The long start/finish straightaway was a good place to gain any ground that was lost, and I took advantage of this several times. Plus, I received some good motivation from the cheers of my adoring audience. Although I’m pretty sure that Ethan was just looking at the pretty colors.

But, as has happened far too often this season, at some point my body just decided to clam up and shut down. Today, it happened after 13 laps. There was a brief uphill leading into turn 8, and it was here that I found myself going backwards at the end of the 13th lap. I lost contact with the field, and despite a valiant effort to grab onto that last wheel, I ended up by myself for the remainder of the race.

The good news is that I was still able to push hard enough that the field never caught me. I rode out the remaining 7 laps alone, but never suffered the indignity of hearing the pace car lapping at my heels or getting whistled off the course by the officials. And when all was said and done, I took 22nd out of 28 finishers.

So, I didn’t get the results that I wanted, but I finished the day with my dignity (and skin) intact. Lots of racing still left this year…

Tour de Villas, Des Plaines, IL, July 2, 2011

2011-07-08T02:58:00.000-07:00

Despite my dislike of all things hot and humid, I headed out in 90+ degree heat for 30 minutes of Cat 4 action at the Tour de Villas. The course is a perfect oval in a residential area of Des Plaines…think Sherman Park, but with better pavement and less crime.

Given the complete and utter lack of anything even remotely resembling a “turn,” I knew that this would be a shootout from start to finish.

I arrived at the course with plenty of time to spare, only to find out that all races were running at least 45 minutes behind. So now I really had plenty of time to spare. Super. I hooked up with fellow Bicycle Heaven teammates Bryan and Jim, and we did some easy warm-up laps on the smaller “inner oval.” We were also joined by Psimet chief Rob Curtis and some of his men. After a while, we took a break to watch Matt take 3rd in the 30+ race. Matt’s girlfriend Mara took 2nd in the women’s 4/5 race, so it was shaping up to be a great day for Bicycle Heaven.

After some more time spent warming up, we rolled to the line. 37 riders took off from the whistle, and the pace was pretty mellow, at first. After a lap spent at about 21 mph, we soon ramped it up into the 26-27 mph range. I found the tempo to be very manageable. Despite the heat, I was feeling good, but was very sure to drink every chance I got. Any time I felt that I was too far back I was easily able to move up the side of the field and insert myself back into the lead riders. Since there were no turns to speak of, there was never the whiplash/caterpillar effect. Although the race was mostly clean, there were a few profanity-inducing moments. Late in the race an unattached rider in a Hawaii triathlon jersey moved left without looking and almost took out my front wheel, bringing on a mild bout of blasphemy. A few minutes later, a Tati rider did the same thing. Please, people, look before you make a move! Criterium 101, truly.

With about 4 laps to go, I heard the sound of the moto tailing the pack, and knew that I needed to get back to the front. As we roared past the start/finish I sprinted up the left side and ducked back in right next to Bryan, announcing my presence. At one point during the next few laps I realized that I didn’t see Bryan anymore, and wondered where he went (turns out he flatted with two laps to go, ending his day).

Halfway through the final lap, I was sitting in third wheel position and hoping for a great finish. However, as is my wont, I wasn’t able to maintain position during the surge and ended up taking only 14th. A solid, but unimpressive, result.

Next up is the Geneva Grand Prix, sponsored by Bicycle Heaven and one of the first races of the phenomenon known as Superweek. 20 miles of pain and suffering through the quaint streets of Geneva…I can’t wait.

Cobb Park Criterium, Kankakee, IL, June 18, 2011

2011-06-21T03:29:00.000-07:00

After the debacle at last week’s criterium in Galena, I sought to do a little penance at Cobb Park. I had only pre-registered for the 12:00 Masters 30+ 4/5 race, but then I received an email the night before that the 11:10 Women’s 3 race was being replaced by an open Cat 4/5 race. So, I decided to double up and do one race right after the other.

The forecast called for scattered thunderstorms at race time, and as I warmed up on the trainer the clouds thickened and the wind increased. The sun won out, however, and the weather was perfect for racing.

I had raced here two years ago, and at that time we went around the 0.70 mile course counter-clockwise. This year, however, we were doing it clockwise…which I had no problem with, since the two-block long uphill from 2009 now became a two-block long downhill. Two thumbs up to that!

Open 4/5

30 riders rolled to the line for the 30-minute Open 4/5 race. As soon as the whistle blew, one of the Tati women flew off the front. A rider bridged up to her and together they held the field at bay for a few laps as we chased them down. Immediately I knew that this wouldn’t be a repeat of last weekend. I felt relaxed, and my legs were comfortably managing the tempo. I was able to easily maintain my position in front for most of the race, sitting anywhere from 4th to 6th wheel the whole time. It felt great to go bombing through the sweeping right-hand turn into the start/finish straightaway after the long downhill without touching the brakes.

Shortly after the first attack by Team Tati, another of their women launched an attack. She didn’t stay away, but it was clear that the riders in orange had every intention to race aggressively. One prime was called about midway through the race. A few riders got a gap on the field and duked it out for whatever they were giving away, but then let themselves be absorbed back into the peloton after the sprint, rather than seeing if they could keep the gap.

It was a very clean race…from where I sat, at least. Everyone was riding smart, and for the most part we were gruppo compatto. Even the chicane in turn two didn’t cause any drama, and there were no high-speed wipeouts on the fast corner after the downhill.

When the sprint came at the end, I gave it my all and ended up finishing 14th.

Masters 30+ 4/5

After a quick cool-down lap, I had just enough time to pull of my jersey, pin on my new number, suck down some Gatorade and a hit of honey (the poor man’s Gu), and roll back to the line. This time there were 50 of us ready to do battle. I still felt pretty fresh after the last race, so I went into those one with high hopes of being able to pull off a decent finish.

We had to start off with a neutral lap to allow an ambulance onto the course. For once, though, the ambulance was responding to a house call and not to a fallen rider.

After reassembling at the line, we were whistled off for another 30 minutes of aggression. The pace was faster than the last race, and the bigger field meant that we had to negotiate the turns and the chicane anywhere from 2 to 4 riders wide. Being surrounded by greater numbers meant that there was a bit more of the whiplash slowing and accelerating through some of the turns. Whereas in the first race I was able to negotiate the final turn without hitting the brakes, I often had to feather them this time around to make some minor adjustments to my speed.

Also, because of the greater numbers and the more aggressive riding, it was more difficult to maintain my position than it had been during the previous race. However, I was mostly able to keep myself up within the front third of the peloton. If I found myself slipping back, I would use either the start/finish straightaway or the long downhill to zip up the side of the field and back into a more favorable position. I was still feeling good, ad the legs were doing everything that I asked them to do.

I didn’t have the greatest position when the final sprint came. An 11-tooth cog would have been a big help, but sadly I was maxed out on my 12. Still, I was able to outgun a South Chicago Wheelmen rider and snag an 18th place finish.

So, I ended my day with two solid, if unremarkable, finishes. I felt great, and ended up doing six times more racing than I had managed at Galena (60 minutes’ worth as opposed to 10 minutes). South Chicago Wheelmen put on a great day of racing, and I look forward to returning next year.

Tour of Galena Criterium, Galena, IL, June 12, 2011

2011-06-13T18:05:00.000-07:00

What could make a person drive almost 5 hours, round-trip, for a 30 minute bike race? For starters, the fact that this particular bike race is in Galena…the quaint mining town that was once home to General Ulysses S. Grant, and where President Lincoln once delivered a speech from the balcony of the DeSoto House. Having grown up about an hour away from Galena, it was the destination for many family trips over the years, as well as my 8th grade class field trip (and don’t ask what year that was, thank you very much).

So it was with much excitement when the Tour of Galena omnium was announced. Although I opted to skip both the time trial (I just don’t do ‘em) and the road race (hills and I don’t get along very well), I really anticipated the chance to race the criterium in the historic downtown area.

In hindsight, I should have stayed a tourist.

The course was, for lack of a better description, an elongated 0.7 mile teardrop, with a bottleneck on the backstretch leading into a really tight hairpin left turn going into the start/finish straightaway. I knew that this would string out field and subject the poor saps at the back to a dramatic caterpillar effect as the guys at the front hammered out of the turn. As I sat at the line with about 25 other riders, I told myself to get to, and stay up at, the front.

However, sometimes there is a disconnect between making the body do what the mind is telling it that it should do. I started off with great position, but let too many guys drift around me in the early stages of lap one. Perhaps I was a bit too tentative on the brick pave to be found in the sweeping left hand turn shortly after leaving the start/finish. Whatever the cause, I soon found myself way to far back. I should have expended some extra energy early on to get back to the front. That is an easy thing to say, but a hard thing to do. Especially when I realized that my legs felt like lead. I had nothing.

Just as I expected, the riders at the front just absolutely drilled it coming out of the hairpin turn. There was a speed display at the start/finish and I noticed during the 2nd lap (when I was still tenuously with the field) that we were zipping through at 27 mph. Every time we came out of that hairpin I had to stand up and mash on the pedals as best as I could to either stay with, or catch back onto, the peloton.

Well, to make a long story short, I found myself off the back at only six minutes into the race. It is very demoralizing to have the rear moto buzz past you as you suck wind. A South Chicago Wheelman rider grabbed on to my wheel, but with as fast as the field was going on such a short-distance course, there was no chance of us being able to work together sufficiently to catch back on. Not the way I was feeling, at least. And, sure enough, as we came around to the start/finish after 10 minutes, there was the friendly official with whistle in mouth to usher us off of the course.

In a fit of pique I grabbed my wheels from the pit and headed back to the car. Although I really should have stuck around and cheered on my teammate Bryan to his 11th place finish (sorry, Bryan!), I couldn’t stomach watching the rest of the race. I changed and wandered over to the Kandy Kitchen, a family favorite over those many years, to pick up some of the best malted milk balls in the world (I swear that the chocolate surrounding the malt ball is half an inch thick).

I thought that I had done everything right. I had done an easy-to-moderate 30 mile ride on Saturday to open the legs up. I hadn’t participated in the grueling road race the day before that many of the others in the field had raced. I got to the course early and got in a good warmup. The temps were mild and the winds were moderate (although you could feel them on that backstretch).

I hadn’t involuntarily DNF’d since Glencoe last August, and it is a horrible feeling. I knew that my training this season would take a back seat to the new addition to our family, and very rightly so. Still, I have been able to put in more miles than I thought that I would, and have been posting up some decent, if unspectacular, results. Which makes it that much harder to get pulled from a race. For some insane reason, the official race results show me finishing in 25th place. But I know better. I “finished” mo more than Mozart finished his Requiem, or Gilbert Stuart his portrait of George Washington.

Hopefully I can redeem myself at Cobb Park next weekend. Stay tuned…

Monsters of the Midway Criterium, Chicago, IL, May 14, 2011

2011-05-23T18:14:00.001-07:00

I have been a little slow in getting this race report posted. The race was, after all, over a week ago. Why the delay, you ask? Well, because the race sucked. And I really have nothing deep about which to write. But if for no other reason than to have a comprehensive record of my season, here’s how it went down…

Why did it suck? For starters, it felt more like late March than mid-May. Skies were cloudy, temps were in the high 40s, and the wind was blustery. I had carpooled into the city with my brother Kev, and while warming up on the trainers we wondered aloud many a time as to why we were putting ourselves through this. Kev has his own reasons for mistrusting this race, having walked away from it two years ago with seven stitches in his upper lip.

As I pedaled away on the trainer, going nowhere, my lungs just didn’t feel all that good. Was it the weather? Was it something in the air? I tried to put it out of my mind, knowing full well that how I feel during a warmup often has no bearing on how I feel during the race.

63 riders had registered for the race, but only 52 rolled to the line. Bryan and Don were with me representing Bicycle Heaven. Kev was the sole Wheelfast rider. As to be expected, there were lots of xXx, Beverly Bike, Spidermonkey, and Rhythm Racing. We took off into the wind for 30 minutes of suffering.

The race was fast from start, as we drilled it down the long straightaways, trying to avoid the brutal cross wind. I just hung out at the back, not able to do anything to improve my lot in life. I would try to move up here and there, but my legs and lungs just weren’t doing what I needed them to be doing, and I never got up to where I wanted to be.

Having been in the “laughing group” at the back of the peloton the whole time I really can’t address what tactics were going on at the front. A couple of prime laps were called here and there. About 3 or 4 laps in I thought that we might slow down and relax for a few laps, but no dice. The front of the field kept hammering away and I just hung on for dear life. Poor Kev got popped and was pulled about 15 minutes in. He did cheer very loudly for me every time I came by, though.

One positive aspect of the race, though, is that for once there were no crashes. In stark contrast to years past, everyone was racing smart and safely. One unattached rider almost went down solo coming out of a turn…I don’t know if he had scraped a pedal or had come unclipped, but to his credit he kept it upright and no one plowed into him.

Sadly, with a mere two laps to go, my hopes of just clinging on for a pack finish were shattered. About halfway through the lap my body firmly said “nope” and the next thing I knew I was spit out the back. The crosswinds were so bad that as soon as you lost the protection of the peloton, you could kiss it goodbye forever. So, with Kev still yelling his encouragements I rode out the remainder of the race alone, finishing about half of a lap down from the field. Which meant that I missed seeing Bryan take 4th in the sprint.

I ended up being placed 29th. The officials “placed” the riders 50 deep, although not all of them finished (as Kev, in 47th, can attest). I also know that I wasn’t DFL out of the “true” finishers, since there were apparently a few groups behind me.

So, it was a disappointing day but there is still a lot of racing to be done. Now that the ABD Wednesday Night Crits at the Pelladrome have started back up, I’ll be hitting as many of those as possible. And I just registered today for the Tour of Galena criterium on Sunday, June 12. Stay posted…

Ronald Reagan Criterium, Dixon, IL, May 7, 2011

2011-05-09T18:25:00.000-07:00

The 3rd annual edition of the Ronald Reagan Criterium marked the first time that I had participated in this race. A large part of my prior avoidance of this race was the fact that I knew it had some hills to it. Despite 4 years of training and racing in the Bay Area of California, Stephen and hills (at least at race speeds) simply don’t mix. But after sissying out on the Leland Kermesse, I had some penance to do. So, with a spiffy, newly-redesigned team kit in hand I headed over to Dixon.

The forecast had called for showers and moderate winds at race time, but fortunately the precipitation never materialized. Also, we were relatively well sheltered from the wind in downtown Dixon. Temps were pretty warm, so for the first time this season I rode sans arm and/or leg warmers.

The course was a figure-8 around the downtown area. After making a few right-hand turns we would be faced with a 2-block grinding uphill, with a couple of other, shorter “kicker” inclines before coming around to the start/finish again.

I can honestly say that this was the first race I have been in at which the field was treated to a history lesson at the line. The announcer went on for several minutes about the life story of our 40th president before we received final instructions and were whistled off by the official.

So, with Accept’s “Balls to the Wall” bouncing around in my head (very un-Reaganesque, I might say), I rolled off of the line with 34 other riders for the Masters 30+ 4/5 race. I was the only Bicycle Heaven representative in the field, along with a good showing from Psimet, xXx, Half Acre, Flatlandia, and others.

I was surprised to find myself feeling pretty good the first time going up the hill…and the next time, and the next. I worked really hard to shut the pessimistic “yeah, but just wait until the next time…or the 10th time” thoughts out of my head. As for the rest of the course, there were some rough areas of pavement, but for the most part the corners were wide open and everyone rode pretty safely. There was not (to my knowledge, at least) a single crash in the race. I didn’t even witness any near-misses.

After only 3 or 4 laps of “counting up the time,” the officials started counting down the laps. The first announcement that I remember was “13 to go!” I started using a mental trick that I picked up from my teammate Bryan on a recent training ride of sprint repeats up Johnson’s Mound. As we approached each climb, he had announced “only 4 more times after this one” as opposed to “5 more to go.” Knocking off one number, mentally, actually made a big difference.

The hill continued to feel good, and to my great surprise I was often able to gain position during the course of those two blocks. It was too bad, then, that I would lose any gains on the downhill and on some of the turns. I am well aware that one of my shortcomings is that I am reticent to bomb through corners at full speed, which means that I tend to scrub off bits of speed, which then results in loss of position.

I don’t recall any attacks going off the front, and if they did they didn’t stay away. From my position at the back of the field, it appears that we rode gruppo compatto the whole time. Going up the hill with 2 laps to go, I moved up the left side and got myself into the front third of the peloton. Of course, I failed to hold this position, and as we came around for the bell lap I was too far back again. The last time up the hill still felt relatively OK, but I wasn’t able to gain as much position as I would have liked. And then, after turning into the downhill the big surge started and the rubber band finally snapped. I started to fall back through the field, and in the end I finished dangling by myself, coming across the line about 10 seconds after the pack. I took 20th out of 25 finishers, so I was quite happy to find out that I had not been the lantern rouge.

All told, it was a great day for Bicycle Heaven. Justin took 4th in the 3/4 race, Jim took 13th in the Cat 5 race, and Adam took two primes in a row in the Masters 30+ 1/2/3 race before Patrick took the win with a throw of his bike (before going on to take 5th in the Pro 1/2/3 race). Next weekend is the Monsters of the Midway Criterium at the Midway Plaisance of the University of Chicago. Let’s hope that there will be fewer crashes than in years past…

Sherman Park Criterium, Chicago, IL, April 9, 2011

2011-04-11T03:24:00.000-07:00

The 2009 and 2010 editions of this race had featured pouring rain but relatively few crashes. Unfortunately, 2011 saw the reverse…the weather was dry as a bone, but a new crash occurred every few minutes.

This race had previously been held in June, but this year it was bumped up by two months to accommodate a new racing series in Galena. As a result, the City of Chicago had apparently not had a chance to clear up and patch the road circling Sherman Park. The course was nothing but rough pavement and potholes. Untold numbers of cans of orange spray paint gave their lives to mark the rough spots.

I raced Masters 30+ Cat 4/5, and this was my 2nd race riding for Bicycle Heaven. Joining me at the line were Bryan and Scott. Mike had crashed hard in the Cat 4 race and left by ambulance. Best wishes go to him for a speedy recovery. A total of 76 riders rolled to the line for 35 minutes of racing. My brother, and former Wheelfast Racing teammate, had been waitlisted and ended up cheering for me from the sidelines.

The whistle blew and we flew off the line. 1/3 of the way through the first lap and I heard someone by me yell out “you’re flat!” I didn’t know who he was referring to, even though I had just ridden over a very rough patch of road. Within a few seconds, though, I started getting “that feeling.” I looked down and saw my rear tire mushroomed out. Great…a puncture on the very first lap. I threw up my arm and let the pack ride by me. As I gingerly rode back to the pit a corner marshal thought I had already been shelled off the back and shouted an encouraging “get up there!” I smiled and shouted back “I’m flat!”

I rolled to the start/finish, grabbed my spare rear wheel, and the helpful folks in the pit tossed it on for me. I clipped in and waited for the official to announce “the pack is coming…start rolling and merge in.” I inserted myself into the right side of the field and joined up with Bryan.

From that point forward, it was nothing more than a fight for survival. Over the course of the race there were at least four crashes. Only one of them occurred right in front of me, but fortunately the fallen riders were parting to the left and the right like the Red Sea and I was able to ride through the middle and sprint back up to the field. I found out after the race that Scott had been crashed early on but was able to rejoin the field, and that Bryan had to ride off into the grass after getting caught behind a crash.

Early on, after one of the first crashes, a xXx rider came tearing up the left side of the field, just past the start/finish, swearing like…well, much like I do during crashes or near-miss situations. I don’t know if he had been involved in the crash or was just venting at the general squirrelyness of the field. Either way, his displeasure was apparent.

Overall, I was feeling good, but I found myself tensing up just waiting for the next crash to happen. Despite the pre-race instructions to just ride straight over the rough patches instead of swerving to avoid them, I think that a lot of the wrecks were due to people disregarding that very advice and making very nervous, twitchy moves without looking.

As with previous years, I had problems keeping position on this course. It is so flat, wide, and oval that the pack is almost always five or six riders across. It is very easy to get boxed in for extended periods of time, and very difficult to extricate yourself from the masses.

At about 17 minutes in I was starting to feel a little tired. It wasn’t the “oh my god I’m about to blow up” kind of tired, but just a general sense of fatigue. I just tried to relax, grab a drink, and try to stay as fresh as possible for the finish.

With 5 laps to go I knew that I needed to move up. I was sitting midfield, but it wasn’t where I wanted to be. I was able to escape up the side and make my way closer to the front. And that is about the time when the “Red Sea” crash occurred. The front of the field accelerated like mad at the first sound of scraping metal, and I had to expend a bit more energy than I wished to catch up with them.

With one lap to go I found myself boxed in along the left side of the peloton. I could see Bryan up at the front and I wanted to get up there with him. Unfortunately, I was unable to escape and had to settle for a pack finish, but glad that I was still upright and with all of my skin intact. However, as I came across the line I heard the announcer say “and that was Bryan Fuller!” For the win! Scott had also been in great position with a few turns to go until a xXx rider swept across his front without looking, almost taking out his wheel.

My official placing was 20th, which was better than last year (38th) but worse than my 8th place finish in 2009. Of the 76 riders that started, only 48 finished. Quite the attrition rate, and my guess is that a lot of it was due to the crashes (as opposed to riders just getting shelled off and pulled by the officials as "out of contention").

Next up…the hell that is the Flatlandia Kermesse.

Kenosha Velosport Spring Training Criterium #1, Pleasant Prairie, WI, March 13, 2011

2011-03-15T17:00:00.000-07:00

With temperatures in the mid to upper 30s and with winds at 8-10 mph, I ventured north of the Cheddar Curtain for the first race of the 2011 season. This was my debut race for Geneva-based Bicycle Heaven, having transferred from Wheelfast Racing in the off-season.

Our Cat 4 race was scheduled to last 35 minutes. However, there was a bad crash in the Cat 5 race (involving lost teeth, a broken jaw, and blood on the pavement) which necessitated a visit from the ambulance. I’m sure the thoughts and best wishes of every rider went out to the fallen, knowing that “there but for the grace of god go I.” The incident set the day’s schedule back by about half an hour, so after a vote at the line the officials decided to cut our race to 30 minutes. Unbeknownst to us at the time, they would end up cutting even more. But I get ahead of myself…

About 35 riders rolled to the line after the ambulance left the course and the, ahem, “moisture” had been washed off of the pavement (in the words of the ABR official). I lined up in the front row. Looking around, I saw handfuls of Team Mack, Psimet, ABD, and Spidermonkey riders.

Forget the preliminaries, let’s go! The pack gunned it right from the whistle, and we instantly strung out. I sat in 5^th wheel position for a lap or so, and then let myself drift back to 7^th wheel. I was feeling good and trying to stay as relaxed as possible. Spending 30+ minutes in the drops is always a bit of a shock to the system so early in the season, and I was focusing on keeping my upper body relaxed.

After a few laps of riding single-file, the pace dropped, but only ever so slightly. We bunched together as a peloton and followed every attack, of which there were plenty. However, most of them were solo and none of them really had any hope of staying away. A Mack rider launched a particularly wicked attack about halfway through, but the field reacted in kind and reeled him in.

Surprisingly, the race was pretty clean for it being so early in the season. Only once did I have to loudly announce “hey” to an Expo rider who started drifting into my path as we zipped along the start/finish stretch. Here and there I would announce “on the right…on your left,” but never in response to any close calls and never in anger. Not once did a single profanity cross my lips, and that is saying a lot. And there wasn’t any of the infuriating “slowing…braking!” that can often permeate a Cat 4 field.

Over halfway into the race and I was still feeling good. I never got boxed in, and any time that I found myself too close to the back I would use the ample road space to move back up near the front. My lungs were clear, and my legs were steady. I never felt gassed, and actually found myself enjoying the hard efforts…especially when we turned into the start/finish stretch and powered over the mild incline.

With only a few minutes left to go I once again found myself near the back. However, I was right behind a couple of Spidermonkey guys…knowing that their team has pulled down some good results in the past I figured that I should keep an eye on them and follow their moves.

With 3 laps to go I was still near the back, so after turn one I jumped up the left side and get back near the front. My plan was to hold position, grab a drink, and relax the legs as much as possible. I never imagined that during the course of that lap we would go through some sort of bizarre time warp, because as we came around again the lap cards were now showing 1 to go. Really? Those two minutes were really going to make-or-break the racing schedule for the rest of the day? But c’est la vie…

The field went berserk, and what ensued was pretty close to an all-out sprint. I obviously need to work on my power, because I lost too much ground. Still, I continued to fight like hell, and after we negotiated the final turn I hit the gas as much as possible. I finished 17^th out of 21 finishers…which was a pretty mediocre finish, but I like to think that I could have done better if I’d had another lap in which to get set in position.

My availability for the next few races is in considerable doubt, with my wife being due on March 21. I would love to Joliet and Burnham, but we’ll have to see. At the very least, I should be back in action for the Sherman Park crit and the agony-inducing Leland Kermesse. Stay tuned…

It's go time.

2011-03-12T05:27:00.000-08:00

Faithful readers (all 2 or 3 of you...you know who you are) might have noticed a subtle change in the name of this blog. "Pinchy's Wheelfast Adventures" has become "Pinchy's Heavenly Adventures." No, I did not shuffle off this mortal coil and am not typing this from beyond the grave. Rather, in the off-season I made the difficult decision to leave my Wheelfast komrades and join the ranks of Bicycle Heaven. Tomorrow's season-opening criterium in Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin will be my first race under the blue, black, and teal of the BH crew.

Is it race time already, you ask? Oh heavens, yes. Time to see what kind of shape I'm in after all of those hours in the basement riding to suffer-inducing training videos. Pinchy has received a thorough cleaning, and is sporting a new cassette and a chain that isn't as stretched out as Gumby. He could still use to be recabled, but we're getting there. It is time to put the rubber to the road and turn those pedals in anger.

That being said, the early part of this racing season is going to up in the air for me. This is because it is also "go" time in another important way...my wife is due with our first child on March 21. This is smack dab in the middle of all of the Pleasant Prairie crits, the Joliet Autobahn race, and the South Beloit Blackhawk Farms Speedway race. Not knowing whether the baby is going to be punctual like his father, or whether it will opt for an early or late checkout, means that I'll have to be making a lot of game-day decisions. I won't want to be hours away at a race when she needs to be heading in to the hospital! Also, being a first-time father I have no idea what the time impact and fatigue levels are going to be. Fortunately, my wife is very supportive and is encouraging me to keep riding and racing as much as possible. She still doesn't like it when I shave my legs, though.

Hopefully the baby comes more or less on time, so that things have started to settle down a bit by the time that the Sherman Park Crit and the Leland Kermesse roll around in April. Maybe it won't be pouring down rain during Sherman Park. Maybe we won't have 30 mph gusts during the Kermesse. A man can dream, right?

The legs are starting to feel somewhat strong. Pinchy is clean and tuned up. And the house is now cluttered with crib, stroller, basinette, etc. So, be it on the road or in a delivery room, it is definitely go time.

ABD Fall Fling Circuit Race, West Chicago, IL, October 2, 2010

2010-10-03T05:30:00.000-07:00

I shouldn't have even bothered. Rolling terrain, a healthy dose of brutal winds, plus a pinch of impending illness made for a very short and painful day in the saddle.

The course today was right across the street from the "Pelladrome" in West Chicago. It was a 1.8 mile paved loop around what had been planned to be an office park. The Cat 4s were on tap to do 14 laps. The east and west ends of the course both featured a fair amount of uphill which in the absence of wind would have been manageable. But not today...

I hadn't pre-registered, so as the wind whipped around me on my walk over to registration the rational part of my mind said "back out while you still can." Perhaps I should have listened to that voice. But I laid my money down, got my number, and headed back to the car for a warm-up on the trainer. As I spun, clouds started to gather and the wind seemed to get worse.

After one warm-up lap out on the course I rolled to the line with 22 other riders. All the usual suspects were there. My nightmare began as soon as the whistle blew...I performed one of the most amateurish clip-ins of my racing career. For the life of me I just could not get that left cleat engaged in the pedal! I felt like a total goob as riders surged past me.

And surge they did. This field had no intention of hanging together to fight the wind...those at the front clearly intended to shatter what little peloton we could have had and turn this into a 25-mile strung-out drag race. After finally getting myself clipped in, and hauling a** to join up with the field, I could tell that this was not going to end well. My legs felt like two lumps of lead and my heart rate was already through the roof.

I soon found myself spit out the back of the main field, but fortunately I was not the only one. I was able to get in a four-man group with Beverly Bike, WDT, and a Purdue rider. Initially there was still hope that we could catch back on to the field, but with each passing moment that hope got further and further away. As did the field.

By now I was in agony. My lungs were burning, and with each gasp it was like breathing in liquid fire. All the while, my heart was firmly lodged somewhere right behind my uvula. We dropped the WDT rider, and picked up someone else, keeping our group at four. But then the uphill start/finish stretch was my downfall. I lost touch with my group, and found myself all alone out in the wind.

I rode another two laps to make for a tidy 7.5 mile "race." I was caught on the backstretch by the 40+ Cat 4/5 field that had been started right behind the Cat 4 field. And on the start/finish stretch I looked behind me and saw the pace car breathing down my neck. As I rode past the official at a mere 22 minutes into the race I made the imaginary slash across my neck and stated "I'm done." As I rode away I heard them announcing over the loudspeaker that 483 had dropped out. Thank you everyone, I suck.

What an ignominious end to the season.

ABD Fall Fling “Pelladrome” Criterium, West Chicago, IL, September 25, 2010

2010-09-26T10:32:00.000-07:00

Today marked the 6^th time that I raced at the “Pelladrome” this year. I had been able to make it out for five of the ABD Wednesday Night Training Crits, but today the race actually counted for something.

With mostly cloudy skies and temps in the low 60s, I actually started to overheat while warming up on the trainer. First off was the wind vest, then went the arm warmers.More clouds started to roll in, and after one warm-up lap on the course I zipped back to the car to pull back on the arm warmers. My lungs felt tight and my legs felt heavy, so I was a bit pessimistic about how the day was going to go.

As the sole WFR rider, I rolled to the line with about 40 other guys. There was good representation from ABD, xXx, Mack, Project 5, and Beverly Bike/Vee-Pak. The race was fast right from the whistle, and we instantly strung out. For the few two laps I was sitting comfortably in 10^th wheel position. I was feeling good…the lungs had cleared out and my legs were doing everything I asked them to. There was a bit of a breeze on the backstretch, but I was able to stay protected.

I used the next few laps to improve my position. For the third and fourth laps I sat 8^th wheel, and for the fifth and sixth laps I had moved up to 6^th wheel. Suddenly, there was a vicious attack from Beverly Bike and Mack. No longer strung out, we were riding 3 to 4 across to reel them back in. At about 10 minutes in, the sole PACT rider veered from right to left without even looking, coming mere inches from taking out my front wheel. I curse loudly, and other riders jeer his poor move, shouting “Rider of the Year!”

At about 20 minutes in there were a few more attacks, forcing the pace up even higher. It was at this point that my lungs started to tighten up, but I just held on and tried to stay relaxed. The attacks never amounted to anything. Shortly thereafter, a prime lap was called for a set of handlebars, keeping the pace high. After the prime sprint, the pace mellowed out a bit, and on the backstretch I moved up the right side of the field to get back into the top ten.

At 33 minutes in I found myself in 5^th wheel position. A Beverly Bike rider launched a sole attack along the start/finish stretch, and at first no one reacted. Then a voice from behind, like Obi Wan speaking to Luke on Dagobah, said “if we don’t go, he’s going to stay away.” OK, if you insist. Those of us at the front stepped on the gas and by the backstretch we had reeled him in.

Then started a series of sketchy moves. A few of the riders up front must have been hallucinating that there were in the Tour de France, because a line of riders started snake and back across the road for no apparent reason. I hung back and played it safe, sitting somewhere around 15^th wheel. A Mack rider to the right of me said “this is why there are so many crashes in Cat 4 races.” Amen, brother.
When the bell lap came around, I was sitting back in about 20^th position, but used the early part of the lap to move up into the top ten again. The final surge came about halfway through the backstretch, and as usual I started to lose ground. I put my head down and hammered for all I was worth, picking off a few riders here and there in the process. I came across the line almost neck and neck with a WDT rider, and I thought that I pipped him at the line. However, the official results placed him one ahead of me. When the dust settled, I had taken 19^th out of 27 finishers. Which is nothing spectacular, but way better than I could have hoped for, considering how I felt during the warmup.

Hopefully the weather is good next weekend. I plan to race the Fall Fling Circuit Race, which could be my last road race of 2010. Thanks for reading!

Glencoe Grand Prix, Glencoe, IL, August 14, 2010

2010-08-16T03:11:00.000-07:00

What should have been the height of my season was instead a short and disappointing day in the saddle.

When Downers Grove decided to not host the Criterium National Championships for the first time in over 20 years, Glencoe picked up the slack. Much like Downers, it was a technical, 10-corner course with a short (but challenging) hill. With the only Masters option for 30+ being a 1/2/3/4 race, I demurred and chose to mix it up with the young Cat 4s for a 45-minute race.

Kev and I, the only WFR representatives, carpooled up to Glencoe and set up the trainers in a parking lot next to the train tracks. In the course of a 30 minute warmup, I think that I sweated out the equivalent of half of my body weight. I could have wrung out my jersey when we were finished. Fortunately, I had brought a fresh jersey in which to race.

Once the Masters 40+ 1/2/3/4 riders were finished, we were let out onto the course for a warmup lap. The pavement looked to be decent (a few manhole covers here and there, but nothing to worry about), but some of those corners sure looked tight. As Kev and I rolled around to the start finish, we found ourselves stuck at the back of the field. My rear tire was literally the farthest back in the field of close to 100 riders. Crap.

The field strung out right from the whistle. I tried to jump up as far as I could, but still was probably 3/4 of the way back. The pace was furious until we hit each corner, at which point we had to slam on the brakes and then accelerate back up to speed. I found myself a few bike lengths behind another rider, and heard a voice over my shoulder say "are you going to close that gap?" I said "I'll try," stepped on the gas, and grabbed onto that wheel.

The hill was not as steep as the hill at Downers, but was a bit longer and did not have the benefit of being followed by a long descent. I knew from the first time up it that it was going to be problematic. Hills and I don't get along.

Two laps in and I was already starting to question how this day was going to turn out. I kept drifting back, working with whatever group I could for as long as I could before falling off the pace and grabbing onto a new group. About 10 minutes in I heard Kev yelling encouragement at me from the side of the road. I hadn't seen him since the start, but suddenly became aware that his day was done. At one point I was working with Bryan from Bicycle Heaven and a few other riders, but they lost me on the hill. At the end, it was just me and a rider from Half Acre. As we came around to the start/finish at the 20-minute mark, the race official stepped out into the middle of the road and crossed his chest with his arms. Game over, man, game over. I can't even remember the last time that I had been involuntarily pulled from a race...

What a horrendous day. In the final analysis, hills and heat just don't make for a good combination for me. I'm sure there will be a few ABD Wednesday night crits to hit before the leaves start to fall, plus a few of the Fall Fling races, but I can already feel the season winding down.

Calvin Butler, April 22, 1995 - July 10, 2010

2010-07-26T03:31:00.000-07:00

I was pre-registered for the Mill Race Cyclery Superweek race in Geneva, and it was probably going to be my only Superweek race of 2010. But sadly, late that morning, I had to take Calvin, my buddy of almost 15 years, for his last visit to the vet. To say that I was in no state to be surrounded by 50+ other riders, moving at 25+ mph, is an understatement. There are more important things than the bike.

Calvin had been with me since I started law school, and over the course of about 7 years moved with me from Illinois to Washington, from Washington to California, and back again. In the course of those moves, he traveled through 13 states, seeing more of the country than some people ever will in their lifetime. He saw me through 6 jobs, 4 girlfriends (one of whom is now my wife), 2 bar exams, and countless bike races. He bravely fought off joint, bowel, and thyroid problems for years, but in the end he just wasn't strong enough to fight off the cancer that took over with frightening speed.

Rest in peace, furry chum. May you now frolic in endless fields of catnip and rest beside rivers of milk.

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

2010-06-13T14:43:00.000-07:00

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^thout 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

2010-06-11T16:11:00.000-07:00

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^thlap 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!

ABD Training Crits, May 19, West Chicago, IL

2010-05-20T15:37:00.000-07:00

Kudos to ABD for putting on another great mid-week evening of racing, and to Pella for allowing us to spend another night zipping around the “Pelladrome.” It was a beautiful evening for turning the pedals in anger…temps were in the low 70s to high 60s, with gentle breezes. After taking 6 warm-up laps and downing half of a Clif Bar, I rolled to the line with about 35-40 riders. Kev and Chris had other commitments tonight, so Jason and I were the only WFR riders. Most of the field was was in the “B” (Cat 4/5) group, with about 8-10 “A” (Cat 1/2/3) riders.

The first race was 8 laps. The experienced riders let the newbie group get a gap on us before we started rolling up to speed. This first race of the night is really a race in name only. Everyone uses it mostly as a warm-up, and it wasn’t until the last few laps that we started to put the hammer down a little bit. I probably pushed a bit too hard on this warm-up race, but it felt good to be sitting right at the front and putting in a good effort. I led into the windy stretches on the 4th lap, and again on the last lap. When the final sprint came I just rode it in.

After a cool-down lap, it was right back to the line again for the 2nd race of the evening. This one was a 25 minute race with numerous primes for homemade brownies thrown in. The B group was given about and half-lap start before the A’s were unleashed to chase us down, which they did in pretty short order. Until that point, however, any “brownie primes” were solely for the B’s. Jason went for one of these primes, but was narrowly pipped at the line. The pace was fast, but I felt good. The burning lungs that had plagued me at the Monsters of the Midway Criterium were a thing of the past, my heart rate was well under control, and my legs were having no problem keeping up with the surges.

I do have to own up to making one stupid decision. Toward the end of the race, we came around the start/finish and the official was ringing the bell. As I zipped past I could have sworn I heard him saying “bell lap, bell lap.” The pace quickened, and I moved myself toward the front. As we came into the finishing stretch, there were about 5 guys ahead of me standing and mashing on the pedals. So, I did likewise, coming across the line in 6th place. However, as I sped past the official he announced “two to go, two to go.” Aw, crap…apparently I need to have my hearing checked! The pace intensified yet again, but I was able to hang on for those final two laps and finish with the field.

The third race was a 20 lap “points” contest with a sprint every 4 laps. As if that didn’t keep the pace hot enough, it seemed that every other lap was a prime lap (for water bottles, brownies, and t-shirts). And make no mistake, this was a crazy fast race. Still, my heart and lungs felt good, and I could even manage somewhat of a normal conversation. Early on in the race, the Bicycle Heaven rider who I had worked with for a brief stretch during the Leland Kermesse (sorry, I haven’t yet caught your name!) was on my wheel and called out “Hey Pinchy, you left me at Leland and broke my heart!” We chatted briefly about how brutal that race had been. I owned up to quitting after one lap, whereas he had toughed it out through the gale-force winds for all four laps, mostly by himself. That takes a lot of strength, both physical and mental.

Unfortunately, there was a lot of sketchy riding in this 3rd race. I know these are training crits, but there are still too many experienced riders making moves without looking, and not holding a straight line even on long, straight sections. One particular rider continuously bobs and weaves like a boxer in a prizefight.

The scariest moment of the night came about half-way through. On the stretch right before the start/finish straightaway, a rider in a red kit was on the far right and going backwards. Just as I was passing him, a xXx starts to dive to the right, directly into my path. I hit the gas and narrowly squeaked through, but it could have been ugly. A short time later, an ABD rider made a similar move. As he started diving into me I screamed “on your right, on your right!” Followed by a rather blasphemous bit of profanity.

During the final lap, I moved up the left side of the field and inserted myself into the top 5. I managed to stay there almost all the way to the final sprint, but some riders started to come around me. When we hit the final straightaway I tried to shift down one more cog, but there was no where left to go on the cassette. I stood up and accelerated to a full sprint, picking off a few riders here and there and ending up (I think) somewhere within the top 10.

It appears that the good folks at Pella are going to keep letting us use their facility, and ABD is going to keep organizing these races throughout the summer. This is great news for those of us who are simply unable to make it to the Tuesday night crits in Matteson. A huge “thank you” in advance to both organizations for making this happen!

Monsters of the Midway Criterium, Chicago, IL, May 15, 2010

2010-05-16T15:42:00.000-07:00

I was really on the fence this year about racing this one. Last year’s sketchy crash-fest ended with my brother landing on his face and going home with 7 stitches. After much vacillating, I finally decided to take off the skirt and register. Earlier this week, my body asked me “are you really sure you want to race?” I came down with a sore throat, which by Friday had moved into my lungs and sinuses. Whereas I usually like to do a moderate ride the day before a race, I had been off of the bike since Monday. Still, my runny nose and congested lungs wasn’t enough to keep me from loading in the gear and making the trip into Chicago.

The day was overcast with medium winds. Regular readers will remember that the course is a 1.1 mile, rectangular 4-turn course with two half-mile straightaways along the Midway Plaisance at the University of Chicago. 72 riders rolled to the line for our 40 minute Cat 4 race. Kev and I were the only WFR riders, along with good representation from xXx, ABD, South Chicago Wheelmen, Half Acre, Spidermonkey, Psimet, and a host of others. Our wives had made the trip, and secured a place by the start/finish to cheer us on.

It was hot right from the whistle, and it never slowed down. We accelerated up to well over 30 miles an hour along the half-mile straightaways, only to scrub about half of that speed as we negotiated the quick turns at the ends of the rectangle. And then the harsh acceleration back up to 30+ mph. Lather, rinse, repeat.

This “caterpillar effect” was, as always, worse at the back of the field. Unfortunately, this is where I spent the entire day. My mind told me that it would be better if I could just throw myself up to the front, but my legs just wouldn’t go along with the program. Two laps in and I heard Kev’s voice over my shoulder, telling me “you’ve got to move up…get up there!” If only. My ill health was causing my lungs to perform a nice slow burn, and my legs just couldn’t generate the power to move up.

After what seemed like an eternity, I looked at the lap counter as we came around the start/finish and saw that we still had 11 laps left. I did my best to block out the defeatist thinking, but a small part of me said “holy cow, I don’t know if I can do this.” I had to stand on the pedals and jam out of the corners every time we turned into the long straightaways. Half of that length would be the struggle to move up into the field, and the second half would be spent trying to get a drink and rest up for the same effort going into the next straightaway.

A couple of primes were thrown in here and there, but we were already moving so fast that the change in pace was barely noticeable. That, or people just weren’t all that geeked to sprint for a loaf of bread. At some point I saw Kev sitting back in the field, but he was shed off the back a short time later. Little did I know that we were moving so fast that we lapped him three times during the race. To his credit, he toughed it out by himself and finished. I’m not so sure that I would have had the mental toughness to do that.

Fortunately, people were riding a lot safer than last year. Sketchy moves were minimal, and only once did I have to shout out “on your right, on your right” to someone drifting into my path. As we came around with two laps to go, I was finally beginning to believe that the race would end safely and that I could finish with the pack.

Sadly, neither was to be. Halfway through the backstretch, the field was spread across the width of the road. As I was settling into the back of the field, I heard the distinctive sound of the crunching of bikes going down and the scraping of metal sliding across pavement. Cries of “crash…CRASH!” shattered the air. The carnage started on the far right side of the field and worked its way left across the entire field. I had to scrub all speed and narrowly avoided being taken down three separate times. I kept threading the needle, and the third time I had to clip out, put my left foot down, and push myself around the downed riders. I clipped back in, hearing the loud moaning of the unfortunates. Someone was yelling “stop…stop…help them!” I felt bad, but these things are best left to the professionals. As I came around the start/finish to begin the final lap, I caught up with Kev. As I passed Stephanie and Kim, I gave the “thumbs up” to let them know that I hadn’t been involved. Kev and I rode most of the last lap together, happy that neither of us had been taken down. I managed a weak smile as I crossed the finish line.

Out of 72 riders who started, only 54 finished. Of those 54 finishers, I took 40th. Although I have yet to post any spectacular finishes, it has been quite a while since I have been one of those riders desperately hanging on to the back, hoping not to get popped. Usually I can sit in the front quarter of the field, only to fade into mediocrity during the final lap. I console myself with the knowledge that my health was far from 100%, and I look forward to getting back out there. Next up are the last of the Wednesday night ABD training crits.

ABD Training Crits Week 2, West Chicago, IL, May 5, 2010

2010-05-07T17:23:00.000-07:00

Having had to miss the first of four weeks of training crits put on by ABD at the West Chicago “Pelladrome,” I was excited about rolling to the line for the 2nd week of racing. Kev had been the sole WFR representative the week before and had given a “thumbs up” to the experience. I wasn’t so excited, however, about the gusting winds, but hoped that the field would be large enough to hide in.

The course is the same venue used last year for the first of the “Fall Fling” races. It is next to the Pella factory in West Chicago (hence the “Pelladrome” designation). With the exception of one 90-degree turn right after the start/finish, the rest of the course is a large, 0.8 mile oval with smooth pavement.

After pinning my number and downing half of a Clif Bar, I rolled off for a few warm-up laps. In hindsight, I should have skipped this step. Fighting the wind on the backstretch, even at a warm-up pace and in the small chainring, took just a little bit out of the legs that I could have put to better use later in the evening . Plus, the first race turned out to be nothing more than a relatively easy 15-minute warmup anyway.

Race One, a 15 minute / 6 lap race, was solely for the benefit of the beginners. They were whistled off and the rest of us, acting as “pack fodder,” followed at a 20-second interval. The pace was mellow so as to avoid overtaking the newbies, and was a good opportunity to warm up the legs some more while being able to hide a bit from the wind. Some guys started to push the pace a bit during the second half of the race, and got a little distance on the field, but I had no intention of getting gassed too early in the headwind.

Race Two, a 25-minute / 13 lap race, was where the real action began. I was joined at the line by fellow WFR rider Jason R. The “A” group of about 12 to 15 Cat 1/2/3 riders were whistled off, and then the 30 or so “B” riders (the Cat 4/5 group) was unleashed 20 seconds later. Kev mentioned that last week there was an immediate jump by some riders to bridge up to the A group, but it didn’t happen this week. The field was pretty content to ride out the first few laps at a manageable pace. There were some surges here and there, but no real attacks. I kept myself in the front 5-10 riders at all times. A “cookie prime” was called as we came around for lap 6. I did not plan on gassing myself for a Costco cookie, so I just sat in with the field. Shortly after turning out of the headwind, a Psimet rider and an ABD rider took off to contest the sprint, and from my vantage point in the field it appeared that Psimet took it. The duo showed no signs of wanting to re-integrate with the field, and we spent the next two laps chasing them down. Another prime lap was called on lap 9, and again on lap 11. I hung on with the surges and kept myself safe from the wind within the field.

On the back stretch of the bell lap, I was sitting comfortably in about 6th position. I then felt a hand bump into my right hindquarters…a rider wearing an “Australia” jersey was trying to sneak into a hole that really wasn’t there. The end result was that I got pushed out into the wind for the whole of the backstretch, sapping needed energy that I could have used for the sprint. As we came around for the sprint, I had no jump whatsoever. I gave what I could, and spotted Jason flying around my left side for his 5th place finish. I probably rolled in somewhere within the top 10. All in all, not too bad.

After a cool-down lap I rolled back to the car, grabbed a fresh bottle and downed the 2nd half of that Clif Bar. Then it was back to the line.

Race Three was a 12 lap race with a sprint on every 4th lap. Everyone was whistled off at the same time, and the pace was pretty hot from the get-go. Again, I worked pretty hard to keep myself within the front quarter of the field, up with the A riders. The biggest surges were out of turn one, as we were exposed to the crosswind. As long as you could stay with that surge, you could keep yourself protected once you turned into the headwind.

A prime was called as soon as we came around for the second lap, and again I had no intention of contesting this. On the backstretch I got pushed to the outside by a rider in a full pro team kit. I instantly hit the gas and flew back around him and inserted myself into the front of the field. I refuse to get pushed aside by a rider who is not only wearing the full kit of a pro team that hasn’t even existed for four years, but who was wearing a fanny pack during the race!

To make a long story short, I hung with lead group for first 7 laps, then blew up on the backstretch. I watched helplessly as the front of the field rode away from me as I silently pleaded with my legs to bridge back up to them. It just wasn’t in the cards this evening. I found myself working with an ABD rider and one of the A group riders. With 4 laps to go we caught up with Jason and continued to work together. With 3 to go, I pulled our group along for the entire lap …ABD steadfastly hung onto my wheel and didn’t make any attempt to relieve me, even when I drifted right to let him come around. As we came around with 2 to go, Jason put me out of my misery and sprinted to the front…I grabbed onto his wheel, with ABD still resolutely glued to mine. Jason led the entire lap, and then we were down to the bell lap. ABD finally took the lead on the backstretch, and I hid from the wind as best as I could. The pace ramped up coming out of turn 3, and it was every man for himself. As I watched Jason and ABD hurl themselves toward the line, I pushed as hard as I could to fend off the riders coming up behind me.

In short, it was good to get in some solid mid-week racing, now that I am unable to make it down to the Matteson Tuesday Night Crits. This series is “confirmed” through May 19, but let’s hope that they can keep it going all summer

Flatlandia Leland Kermesse, Leland, IL, April 17, 2010

2010-04-18T14:48:00.000-07:00

I am weak…and a quitter.

If you have been a faithful reader since last year, you’ll be familiar with this style of race. If not, and you are wondering what the heck a “kermesse” is, here is a brief recap.

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.

Last year’s course was a 10 mile circuit with one mile of gravel on each lap. The Cat 4s did four laps. This year, the sadistic organizers expanded the circuit to 15 miles, with 5 miles of gravel each lap. Again, the 4s were set to do four laps. Yep, that’s right…a 100k road race for Cat 4s.

Last year’s weather featured scattered thunderstorms, 20+ mph winds, lightning, and a downpour during the last few miles of the race. This year the skies were sunny, but the weather was cool and the winds were horrific…from the north/northwest, and in the upper-20 mph range with gusts into the 30s.

Race time for the Cat 4s was 9:15, and I was at the course by 8:00. After getting my number, I sat in the car and finished getting dressed. I could tell that trouble was brewing…the wind was buffeting my car to a degree that it felt like sitting on an airplane during mild turbulence. Super.

After a decent warm-up on the trainer and a quick stop to shed a few ounces, I rolled to the line with a field of close to 100 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 all hell broke loose.

I did not have good position, starting about 3/4 of the way back in the field. Once the front of the field hit the start line, they flew off like a raped ape. From the get-go, I knew that I was in trouble. My legs felt like two leaden hams, and I could generate zero power. Struggling to not get knocked around too much in the gusting winds, I suffered through the whiplash accelerations and slowdowns that the back of the field always has to contend with. I hung on, hoping that the legs would come around and settle down. We turned out of the wind for a brief stretch, and the field strung out as the front started to accelerate away from us.

The rubber band snapped about two or three miles in, and I found myself spit out of the back of the field. Stragglers would come and go, but no one seemed interested in working together to make contact with the field again. I watched helplessly as the peloton moved farther and farther away from me.

Then came the gravel. Whereas the one gravel section last year was relatively packed down, it was not so with these new sections. Rough, loose gravel sucked at my wheels and threatened to take me down at any moment. A rider from Bicycle Heaven came by and motioned me on to his rear wheel. I grabbed on as best as I could. He yelled back “hey, you’re Pinchy!” I managed to get out a meek “yep.” We were joined by several other riders, including an MS Racing rider and a racer in an Illini jersey. We worked together for a while, but sometimes one of us would fall off, and we would be joined by another straggler for a while.

The gravel seemed to last forever. After a brief respite, we were met with another gravel section, this one no better than the last. I eventually lost contact with Bicycle Heaven, and found myself alone. Crawling along in the small chainring, I was seriously questioning why I bothered to even pull on the jersey this morning. A trio of xXx riders zipped by me, but I was unable to grab their wheel.

After a merciful stretch of pavement, I was met by the third and final gravel section of the circuit. I knew that I had a decision to make…within a mile I was going to hit the final turn of the lap. If I went right, I would embark on another 15 miles of solo suffering. If I went left, I would head into town and call it a day.

I honestly didn’t know which way the decision would go until the last moment, when I made the slashing motion across my throat and croaked “I’m done” to the corner marshal. Head down, I turned left. Although I felt much shame, I was not the only one. Upon returning to the parking lot of the school, I saw a lot of other riders milling about wearing 4-series numbers. The official results showed a total of 27 “DNF” riders.

In hindsight, I should have suffered through one more lap, if for nothing more than the training value. But I just could not bring myself to do it. Having had a very bad week already, I had mentally checked out of the race before it had even begun. I plan to “get back on the horse” at the Whitnall Park crit next weekend. There is still a long season ahead of me.

Burnham Super Spring Criterium, South Beloit, IL, March 27, 2010

2010-03-28T15:04:00.000-07:00

Today’s Cat 4 race was a sketchy crash-fest. Considering that it was on an auto/motorcycle speedway with perfect pavement and wide-open turns, this was completely unnecessary. It was almost like racing in a field of new Cat 5s.

One good thing was that the weather was much better than last year. In 2009, my 8:15 am start-time in the Cat 4/5 race was met with high winds and temps in the mid to high 20s. The Cat 4 start-time this year was 1:55, and we enjoyed temps in the high 40s/low 50s. There was enough of a crosswind along the start/finish stretch to make the flags flap around, but it wasn’t terrible.

Kev, Hammer and I carpooled over to South Beloit, and after getting our numbers we set up the trainers out of the wind. I start overheating during the warm-up, so I ditch the wind vest and opt to ride with just a jersey, a long-sleeve jersey, shorts, and knee warmers. After about 30 minutes of warm up we tear down the trainers and head over to the start/finish.

Once we were allowed onto the court, Kev rolls off to do a full warm-up lap, while Hammer and I opted to take a ½ lap. We then rolled to the line with 68 other riders. I had good position in the 2^nd line. When the whistle blew we took off at a pretty brisk, but manageable, pace.

I could tell from the very first lap that this field was going to be trouble. Too many guys would make moves without looking, there was a lot of bumping, and there was way too much braking and slowing. As I mentioned, there are no tight turns and the roadway is wide open. Every corner could be pedaled through and taken at speed, so why we kept hitting the brakes was a mystery. This race was also a bit odd in that there were never really any attacks. There were plenty of surges, but no breakaways.

Sketchiness aside, the first few laps passed relatively uneventfully. At one point I heard Hammer announce that he was on my wheel. At about 8 minutes in, I heard metal hitting pavement somewhere behind me and to my left. Considering how the field had been riding, I knew that it was just a matter of time. I don’t know how many riders went down. When a crash happens behind you, you treat it like it never happened...you don’t look back; you just hope that none of your mates were involved and keep going. More often than not, those riders not involved in the crash take this opportunity to hit the gas and you don’t want to miss the surge.

At 12 minutes in, I was still feeling really good but was farther back in the field than I wanted to be. Hoping that the front would be safer, I decided to expose myself to the wind, and moved up the outside of the left side of the field to get away from all the squirrelyness. I inserted myself back into the field somewhere within the top 20, and stayed there for pretty much the rest of the race.

Throughout the race, my legs and lungs felt really good, and my heart rate was well under control. As mentioned, there were a lot of surges, especially going into the start/finish. We would top out at over 30 mph on that stretch, while averaging around 25 or so on the rest of the course. I was easily able to hang with these surges, and never once feared that I was going to blow up.

With about 5 laps to go, I started hearing calls of “lapped riders up.” I looked down the road and saw Kev working together with a xXx rider. Nuts. As we moved past them I shouted out some encouragement for him to keep going. As we came around to the start/finish, the lap cards again showed 5 laps to go. Was this an error, or did we still have 5 laps? I was feeling good enough that I shrugged this off. When we came around for the next lap, the cards showed only 3 to go.

On the backstretch with 3 laps to go, there was a huge crash right in the middle of the field. It happened in front of me, but fortunately I was far enough to the left that I could get by without slowing down very much. I hit the gas and bridged up to the 20 or so other riders who had avoided the crash. At this point, I was mentally out of the race. All I wanted to do was to stay upright and finish. I knew that this wouldn’t be as easy. With 2 laps to go, a xXx rider made some really bizarre moves. He twitched to the right, all the way to the edge of the road, cutting across 3 riders. Then he twitched right again, out into the grass, and then twitched back onto the road…for no apparent reason whatsoever.

The paced turned blistering as we zipped past the start/finish for the bell lap. I was still feeling good, and still sitting in the top 20. I fought my way up the left side to gain some more position. Shortly after turn 2, however, there was yet another crash. Again, I stayed out of the way of the carnage, but unfortunately this crash sent Hammer out into the grass, and he had to come to a dead stop before rolling again. I fought to maintain whatever position I could, but was still eclipsed by some riders.

As we came around the final turn, I started to think that I was home free. I knew that there were too many riders in front of me, and that I would end up with a mediocre finish. Still, I started to mash on the pedals just to take whatever I could. And just as I was getting up to full speed, there is another crash. I see a rider sliding on the pavement right in front of me. I dived to the right, but now there was a most curious sight in front of me…a rider who was still upright and still had enough momentum to be moving forward, but whose rear wheel was completely tacoed. I could even smell the burning rubber as I dived right around him and fought my way to the line. Guys were sitting up all around me, but I kept sprinting the whole way and ended up taking 25^th out of 58 finishers.

My biggest problem during the race was getting position. Had the field been riding safely, I would have taken a lot more chances to move up into open gaps. There were so many times when I would see a gap, but right next to that gap would be a rider who I had seen twitching around. I simply didn’t want to take the risk of moving forward only to have the squirrel decide to twitch over into that space that I had hoped to occupy. Perhaps I just need to be more fearless. There is still a long season ahead of me to work on that.

Kenosha Velosport Spring Training Criterium #1, March 14, 2010

2010-03-15T18:04:00.000-07:00

Wind, wind, and more wind was the order of the day. Fortunately, there was a fair amount of sun, and temps were in the mid-to-high 40s. To refresh your recollection from last year, this 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.

Four representatives of Wheel Fast Racing rolled to the line for the spring opener of racing in Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin. Chris Hammer, John Mahr, and I lined up with about 40 other Cat 4 riders. Kev was absent, choosing to soak up the sun in Mexico rather than soaking up some pain in chilly Wisconsin. Right behind us was Jason Roggenbauer, lined up with about 20 Cat 5 riders. A dedicated cross and MTB racer, Jason was about to experience his first-ever criterium.

No one team had a strong presence, and xXx and South Chicago Wheelmen appeared to be completely absent from our races. After one warm-up lap on the course, I take my place in the 3^rd line of riders. Instructions are given, and the whistle blows! We take off at a relatively mellow pace. My Garmin computer had crapped out on me toward the end of last season, so I’m flying blind, with no idea of how fast we are going.

As we round turn two into the wind, it is like getting hit in the face. If you weren’t relatively protected in the pack, it felt like someone had grabbed your bars and given them a shake. I think this accounted for some of the squirrely riding…people were simply getting knocked around by Mother Nature.

The mellow pace doesn’t last long, and by the time a few riders started to make a big effort, I was right at the front and in perfect position to grab onto their train. Bad idea. For one, there was no chance that the effort would stay away. I don’t even know if we gained any distance on the field. I should have just stayed in the safety of the field, which soon swallowed us up. As we came around to the Start/Finish, the lap cards showed that only six minutes had elapsed. I felt completely gassed and had to hope that I could recover back in the peloton.

As the pace slows on the backstretch, I see Hammer for the first time. As he moves past me I hear “come on, Stephen.” OK, time to hit the gas. I move myself up near the front of the field, but am careful to avoid being at the front.

Minor attacks are launched here and there, but nothing can stay away in that wind. The field never strings out, which is both a good and a bad thing. Strung-out fields mean high speeds, and I didn’t know whether my legs could handle that. Compact fields can result in some squirrely riding, though, and taking corners at speed riding 4 or 5 riders abreast can be dicey. For the most part, however, the riding was relatively clean. About halfway through the race, I took a nice jolt from someone’s bars on my backside right as I was replacing my water bottle in the cage. Not a pleasant surprise, but nothing hard enough to cause a crash. I didn’t even swear! I just said “easy, now…”

With a few laps to go, we catch up to the 5s field. The fields were allowed to merge, but in a compact field this causes a confusing situation where you can’t quite tell whether the riders around you are 4s or 5s, and you can lose sight of those 4s whose wheels you were just trying to stay on. I’m not a fan of allowing fields to merge.

With two laps to go, Hammer moves up the right side of the field. He announces his presence, but I’m a) too far back, and b) boxed in and can’t get over to his wheel. This is unfortunate, because Jason, who was near the front of the field, grabs his wheel, and the two of them gain some seconds on the field. It is a strong effort, and one that I would have liked to be a part of. Perhaps with 3 of us working together we could have stayed away. Sadly, they got swallowed up by the field with about one lap to go.

Going into the final lap, I’m further back than I want to be, so I use the wide backstretch to gain some position. Still, I can feel that I’ve got nothing for a sprint, and as we negotiate the final few turns, I just have to hold on as best as I can and settle for a finish with the field.

We take two cool down laps, and then it is back to the car for some warm clothes. We watch a bit of the 3s race as we await results. Hammer took 14^th, and I took 19^th. Jason nabbed 6^th in the 5s race…not a bad showing for his first road race. We’ll see if we can improve on those results next week…and hope for less wind!

ABD Fall Fling Criterium, West Chicago, IL, September 26, 2009

2009-09-27T14:46:00.000-07:00

I didn't have high hopes for today. I hadn't raced in over a month (since Downers Grove), and being employed again had put a serious crimp in my training time. Some recent training rides had been less than pleasant...flat legs, burning lungs, etc. Still, having some end-of-season races so close to home was too good to pass up.

So, with cloudy skies and temps in the low 70s, I rolled to the line with 53 other riders. I was the sole Wheel Fast Racing representative...some of the other guys were doing a mountain bike race up in Kettle Moraine, and Kev didn't even know about the race. On the plus side, I had a huge cheering section...my wife, her parents, both of her siblings and their respective families.

The course was next to the Pella factory in West Chicago...with the exception of one 90-degree turn, the rest of the course was a large, 0.8 mile oval. Great pavement and wide turns meant that this would be a drag-race from start to finish.

My Garmin has been on the fritz lately, so I was racing blind. However, the pace was manageable, and my legs and lungs felt great. Attacks were launched here and there, but nothing stayed away. There was some squirelliness, but on the whole everyone was riding smart.

10 minutes in and a prime lap for some tires was called. The pace quickened, and I let myself fall back in the field, having no desire to contest the sprint. Afterward, I moved back up through the field. As usual, my plan was to stay near the front, but not at the front. The winds weren't bad, but enough that I wanted to stay within the safety of the field and keep my nose out of the wind.

20 minutes in and I still felt great. My heart rate was low, my lungs were clear, and the legs felt fresh. I would lose some position in the field, then regain it. I tried my best to stay within the top 10-15 riders. We crossed the 30-minute mark, and I was still feeling good. It was great to have so many people cheering so loudly for me each time we came around Turn 1.

With 3 laps to go, I suddenly found myself at the tail end of the field. In my head I heard Fred Willard saying "hey, wha' happened?" After Turn 2 I flew up the left side of the field and inserted myself back in the top 10. With 2 laps to go the pace really got hot. I dropped some position, but held on comfortably in the field.

Then came the bell lap. I was too far back for my liking, so as soon as we crossed the start/finish I started jamming to gain some ground. In hindsight, I should have held back just a little longer. After Turn 2 my legs suddenly turned to lead and I was dismayed to see masses of riders surging on either side of me. I tried to shift down and realized that there was nowhere else on the cog to go. I pushed as hard as I could all the way to the line for a 39th place finish out of 51 finishers.

So, it was a disappointing finish after a great race. Still, there was a lot to be happy about...after a month away from racing I felt comfortable in the field, my body cooperated, and I was able to put in a good showing for my fans. All in all, it was a good end to the season. See you next year!

National Championships, Downers Grove, IL, August 15, 2009

2009-09-27T14:06:00.000-07:00

A disappointing day.

The National Championship Criterium in Downers Grove is the high-water mark of the year for many cyclists. Everyone's seasons lead up to this very day. Having had an entire summer of unemployment to do nothing but train and race, I had high hopes for this day. Kev, Chris Hammer and I had registered for the Master's 35+ 4/5 race. Unfortunately, Chris got nailed with a bad case of pneumonia (necessitating an overnight stay in the hospital. So, just Kev and I rolled to the line with 73 other cyclists for 30 minutes plus one lap of racing.

The pace from the whistle was hot. However, the legs and lungs felt good. Having started with really bad field position, I was moving slowly up through the pack.

Disaster struck on Lap 3. Making the turn from Lane onto Summit (lovingly known, at least in the past, as "Mt. Fresca"), I found myself coming upon riders down in the road. I was far enough behind the carnage that I could scrub almost all speed...but not far enough to be able to avoid running right into it. I rode over the wheel of an ABD rider, lost all momentum, and tipped over right on top of him. I broke my fall by putting my left hand squarely onto his hip. I jumped right up, realizing that there was no damage to either my bike or my body. I hopped on the bike and accelerated like mad to catch onto the field.

This, however, was not to be. In hindsight, I should have tried to take a free lap. However, the officials can be merciless if there is no damage to the bike that requires fixing. You don't get a free lap simply by having been caught up in a crash.

I caught up to Kev, announcing "I'm on your wheel, Chief." We worked together for a bit, but at some point I rode him off of my wheel. The rest of the race was spent with a group of about 8 other riders (a diverse group including Bicycle Heaven, Half Acre, SCW, Tower, etc.). I can't say we exactly "worked together" as much as we just hung on for dear life. A spectator at the top of Mt. Fresca would announce our distance off of the main field. We heard anywhere from 24 to 30+ seconds. We had actually started to close the gap a bit when a prime lap was called. That put an end to any hopes we would have.

So, in the end we hung on to the finish. My official result was 46th out of 50 finishers. Disappointing, but at least I wasn't one of the 25 who didn't finish. And at least I suffered no injury in my minor crash. Like Cubs fans always say..."wait 'til next year!"

One Last Matteson, August 11, 2009

2009-09-26T16:05:00.000-07:00

I had thought, after the last Tuesday night crits, that I wouldn't be able to race them anymore. After a summer of unemployment, I received a job offer, and thought that I would be starting on Monday. The job is up in Woodstock, so my ability to get to Matteson would be nil.

Due to some internal miscommunication, my start date was set for Wednesday, so my Tuesday night was free for one last set of races.

I seriously thought about not racing tonight...I didn't want to risk crashing the night before I started a new job. However, the Matteson races have been pretty safe, the weather was good (albeit windy), and I knew that this would be, in fact, my last opportunity to race these crits. So, I loaded up the car and met up with Kev.

We knew going in that it was going to be brutal. The headwind on the backstretch was brisk, the fields were big, and this is late August...everyone has a full season under their legs.

Brutal, it was. So much so that I don't really remember much but the pain. I came unglued with a few laps to go in race number 1. About 7 laps into the 2nd race I was popped off the back. Kev was with me, though, so we struggled and suffered together. The field lapped us with about 5 to go, and we rode it on in with them. The third race went much better, surprisingly. Hung with the field until the surge on the final lap.

About midway through race #2 I was seriously regretting my decision to race tonight. But miles are miles, and racing is racing. It was good to get in one last tune-up before Downers Grove.

Matteson Tuesday Night Crits, August 4, 2009

2009-08-06T06:29:00.000-07:00

Mostly sunny skies and warm temps greeted the large "A" and "B" fields that assembled at the line at Matteson tonight. There was a bit of a headwind along the start/finish straightway...just enough to be a hassle. Kev was my sole WFR teammate, along with about 25 other "A" riders.

The first 15k race was fast right from the whistle. My goal was to sit in and keep myself fresh for the second race. Attacks went off here and there and were shut down. I stayed away from the front of the field and kept my nose out of the wind. With one lap to go the sprinters led the charge and I rode in with the field.

The second race was 25k. The pace started off relatively mellow, but it didn't take long for the attacks to begin. Despite the blistering pace, my legs, lungs, and heart were all feeling good, and I took a good pull at the front early on. Midway through, Kev came up on my right. I asked how he was doing, to which he responded "I feel like I'm going to throw up, but other than that..." OK, then. Apparently his noontime cinnamon roll hadn't been the best pre-race fueling option. Fortunately, this passed and he hung on with the field for the rest of the race. There were a few random surges late in the race that had me questioning whether or not I would get popped, but I held on and finished with the field again.

The third and final race was another 15k, and this one hurt. After one relatively slow lap, the pace just exploded. The 4th, 5th, and 6th laps were an exercise in sheer suffering. A couple riders escaped off the front, and a chase group of about 8 riders went hunting for them. I badly wanted to be a part of this chase, so I stood up, jammed on the pedals, and "dug deep into my suitcase of courage" to catch onto the back of the chase. However, no sooner did I catch on than the pace accelerated and I got popped again. I lost a little ground, then stood up and sprinted and caught a wheel. Yet again, the pace surged again and I went off the back. Argh. For the third time, I gritted my teeth and bridged up to the chase group. Finally, the break was caught and the pace eased up. The remainder of the race was fast but manageable as I hung on with the lead group of about 10 riders. I looked back after Turn 1 of the final lap and didn't see the rest of the field anywhere close. I had no legs left for the sprint, so I ended up riding in by myself somewhere between the lead group and the rest of the pack.

All in all, it was a pretty good evening of racing. I was able to hang with Cat 2s and 3s fresh off of Superweek and Elk Grove. Next up is the Masters 35+ 4/5 race in Downers Grove.

On a bittersweet note, however, this will be my last appearance at the Tuesday night races this year. I had interviewed for a job on Monday and got called downtown for a 2nd interview on Wednesday...at which point I was offered, and accepted, an associate attorney position in Woodstock. I start on Monday, at which point more than 5 months of unemployment will come to an end. I have enjoyed my "summer vacation" of riding and racing, but will be glad to get back to work.

One Year

2009-07-31T07:32:00.000-07:00

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...

Rainy Matteson

2009-07-29T04:53:00.000-07:00

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.

Chicago Criterium, Chicago, IL, July 26, 2009

2009-07-26T15:26:00.000-07:00

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

A Disappointing Evening

2009-07-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

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...

Superweek Bensenville...sittin' this one out.

2009-07-15T06:36:00.000-07:00

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."

Superweek Arlington Heights Criterium, Arlington Heights, IL, July 14, 2009

2009-07-14T14:26:00.000-07:00

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…

Superweek Richton Park Criterium, Richton Park, IL, July 13, 2009

2009-07-13T15:25:00.000-07:00

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

Superweek Blue Island Pro Am, Blue Island, IL, July 11, 2009

2009-07-12T15:20:00.000-07:00

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

I'm so tired of this...

2009-07-01T14:34:00.000-07:00

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.

Tuesday Night Crits, Matteson, IL, June 23, 2009

2009-06-24T11:57:00.000-07:00

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!

Cobb Park Criterium, Kankakee, IL, June 20, 2009

2009-06-22T05:37:00.000-07:00

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 “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

Sherman Park Criterium, Chicago, IL, June 13, 2009

2009-06-15T15:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-15T15:37:00.000-07:00

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

ABD Memorial Day Weekend Masters’ Races, Wood Dale, IL, May 23, 2009

2009-06-15T15:34:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-15T15:27:00.000-07:00

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.

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

2009-06-15T15:23:00.000-07:00

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

Burnham Super Spring Criterium, South Beloit, IL, March 28, 2009

2009-06-15T15:21:00.000-07:00

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

Kenosha Velosport Spring Training Criterium #2, March 22, 2009

2009-06-15T15:18:00.000-07:00

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