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

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…

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

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.