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.
Showing posts with label Tuesday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tuesday. Show all posts
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Matteson Tuesday Night Crits, August 4, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Rainy Matteson
On Monday, the Tuesday night weather forecast wasn't too promising. But by early Tuesday afternoon, the hour-by-hour prediction on weather.com was for partly cloudy skies and temps in the mid-70s. So I loaded up the car and made the 60+ mile drive to Matteson. Skies started darkening the closer I got, and as I exited onto 57 South a few random raindrops hit my windshield.
There was sunlight poking through as I got registered and put my bike together. There were some dark clouds in the vicinity, but it didn't look like anything would head our way. However, by the time that we were warming up on the course, things started going south. A big bolt of lightning flashed in the distance, and the dark clouds started to gather directly overhead.
About 25 "A" riders rolled to the line, and at 6:05 the officials whistled us on our way for the first 15 lap race. No sooner had we negotiated the first turn over the railroad tracks than four riders sprinted off the front like raped apes. This drove the pace of the field up to over 30 mph. A few Canadian geese wandering across the road were rather startled by us as we came around turn 3...had they been a little closer, it could have been ugly.
By lap 2 fat raindrops were ploinking here and there. And no sooner had we crossed the start/finish to begin lap 3 than it began raining in earnest. We cautiously rolled through the rest of the lap, and as we came around to the line the race officials were already packing up their battered Dodge Omni. Game over, man, game over. After four minutes and 40 seconds of racing.
So, all told I drove about 130 miles to race for less than 2 miles. Lesson learned: never trust weather forecasters.
There was sunlight poking through as I got registered and put my bike together. There were some dark clouds in the vicinity, but it didn't look like anything would head our way. However, by the time that we were warming up on the course, things started going south. A big bolt of lightning flashed in the distance, and the dark clouds started to gather directly overhead.
About 25 "A" riders rolled to the line, and at 6:05 the officials whistled us on our way for the first 15 lap race. No sooner had we negotiated the first turn over the railroad tracks than four riders sprinted off the front like raped apes. This drove the pace of the field up to over 30 mph. A few Canadian geese wandering across the road were rather startled by us as we came around turn 3...had they been a little closer, it could have been ugly.
By lap 2 fat raindrops were ploinking here and there. And no sooner had we crossed the start/finish to begin lap 3 than it began raining in earnest. We cautiously rolled through the rest of the lap, and as we came around to the line the race officials were already packing up their battered Dodge Omni. Game over, man, game over. After four minutes and 40 seconds of racing.
So, all told I drove about 130 miles to race for less than 2 miles. Lesson learned: never trust weather forecasters.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
A Disappointing Evening
The Matteson Tuesday Night crits on July 21 marked my return to racing for the first time since my crash a week ago at the Arlington Heights Superweek criterium. The road rash is healing, but my left hip still aches a bit. This achiness turned out to be my downfall on this evening.
I met up with Kev and Chris, and we carpooled down to Matteson. Skies were overcast, with a light breeze and temps in the mid-70s. We arrive early, so we had plenty of time to register, gear up, and get in a good 11-mile warmup. About 20 riders rolled to the line for the "A" races, with a similar number lined up behind us for the "B" races.
The first race was the usual 15 laps. Attacks went off from the whistle, driving the pace up to about 30 mph. Despite telling myself to just sit in with the field in this first race, I soon found myself right near the front. Still, I managed to hang back a few riders, and kept my nose out of the wind. At this point my hip was still doing OK. I hung out at the front until the final lap, when the surge of sprinters left me in the dust and I just rode in with the field.
The second race (the usual 30 laps) was brutal. Again, the attacks started on the first lap. A small group got about 20 seconds on the field, and we hit the gas to reel them in. As we brought the time gap down, I started feeling worse and worse. By lap 10 I was almost gassed. I temporarily lost contact with the field, but through sheer willpower I fought through the pain and caught back on. We finally caught the break, just in time to have the tempo kick back up again for the mid-race sprint lap. Afterward, the pace calmed down a bit and I found myself in 2nd position. I took a hard pull into the wind before pulling off. I let about 6 riders come around me, then tried my best to relax the legs and recover.
At one point as I negotiated a corner, I heard from right behind my right shoulder "what the f***, Wheelfast?" Wondering to myself just what I had allegedly done wrong, I glanced back to see who this comment had come from. I will just say this: it was an odd comment coming from a rider who, despite having "committed to riding in a safer manner" still twitches back and forth from wheel to wheel without looking and with no regard to who may or may not be in the way.
The rest of the race started to pass in a haze of pain. The officials tacked on a couple extra laps to give some space between us and the B racers for their final sprint. This was the point where my hip really started to make its presence known. With every push of the pedal it felt as though a tiny demon was shoving his pitchfork into me. With 3 laps to go I finally lost it. Kev had let me know that we were at the back of the field, and I started to drift off the back. Kev eased up just a bit to give me a wheel. Just as we caught back on, the field surged again and I couldn't hold. Again, Kev drifted back to pull me back on, but I knew it was futile. I yelled "go," and he hit the gas. He caught back onto the field as I watched them ride away from me. With gritted teeth, I rode out the remaining two laps by myself.
The 3rd race was my downfall. A South Chicago Wheelmen rider attacked right after the whistle, and again we were flying at 30 mph. I was able to hang on for all of 5 of the 15 laps. With my hip on fire, I just couldn't generate the power necessary to push at those speeds. I got popped out the back of the field. I had told myself going into this final race that if I got popped I would just exit rather than re-absorbing into the field. So, I rode out 2 more laps by myself, then voluntarily abandoned the race. I watched the remaining laps from the sidelines, then joined Kev and Chris as they cooled down.
All in all, it was a very disappointing evening. I hate getting popped. It wasn't the confidence-builder that I hoped it would be going into Sunday's Chicago Criterium. Still, I have a few more days to recouperate, so hopefully the hip is feeling better by then. Also, on Sunday I'll be amongst my own Cat 4 peeps for much shorter race...I only have to hang for 35 minutes + 2 laps. Full report to follow...
I met up with Kev and Chris, and we carpooled down to Matteson. Skies were overcast, with a light breeze and temps in the mid-70s. We arrive early, so we had plenty of time to register, gear up, and get in a good 11-mile warmup. About 20 riders rolled to the line for the "A" races, with a similar number lined up behind us for the "B" races.
The first race was the usual 15 laps. Attacks went off from the whistle, driving the pace up to about 30 mph. Despite telling myself to just sit in with the field in this first race, I soon found myself right near the front. Still, I managed to hang back a few riders, and kept my nose out of the wind. At this point my hip was still doing OK. I hung out at the front until the final lap, when the surge of sprinters left me in the dust and I just rode in with the field.
The second race (the usual 30 laps) was brutal. Again, the attacks started on the first lap. A small group got about 20 seconds on the field, and we hit the gas to reel them in. As we brought the time gap down, I started feeling worse and worse. By lap 10 I was almost gassed. I temporarily lost contact with the field, but through sheer willpower I fought through the pain and caught back on. We finally caught the break, just in time to have the tempo kick back up again for the mid-race sprint lap. Afterward, the pace calmed down a bit and I found myself in 2nd position. I took a hard pull into the wind before pulling off. I let about 6 riders come around me, then tried my best to relax the legs and recover.
At one point as I negotiated a corner, I heard from right behind my right shoulder "what the f***, Wheelfast?" Wondering to myself just what I had allegedly done wrong, I glanced back to see who this comment had come from. I will just say this: it was an odd comment coming from a rider who, despite having "committed to riding in a safer manner" still twitches back and forth from wheel to wheel without looking and with no regard to who may or may not be in the way.
The rest of the race started to pass in a haze of pain. The officials tacked on a couple extra laps to give some space between us and the B racers for their final sprint. This was the point where my hip really started to make its presence known. With every push of the pedal it felt as though a tiny demon was shoving his pitchfork into me. With 3 laps to go I finally lost it. Kev had let me know that we were at the back of the field, and I started to drift off the back. Kev eased up just a bit to give me a wheel. Just as we caught back on, the field surged again and I couldn't hold. Again, Kev drifted back to pull me back on, but I knew it was futile. I yelled "go," and he hit the gas. He caught back onto the field as I watched them ride away from me. With gritted teeth, I rode out the remaining two laps by myself.
The 3rd race was my downfall. A South Chicago Wheelmen rider attacked right after the whistle, and again we were flying at 30 mph. I was able to hang on for all of 5 of the 15 laps. With my hip on fire, I just couldn't generate the power necessary to push at those speeds. I got popped out the back of the field. I had told myself going into this final race that if I got popped I would just exit rather than re-absorbing into the field. So, I rode out 2 more laps by myself, then voluntarily abandoned the race. I watched the remaining laps from the sidelines, then joined Kev and Chris as they cooled down.
All in all, it was a very disappointing evening. I hate getting popped. It wasn't the confidence-builder that I hoped it would be going into Sunday's Chicago Criterium. Still, I have a few more days to recouperate, so hopefully the hip is feeling better by then. Also, on Sunday I'll be amongst my own Cat 4 peeps for much shorter race...I only have to hang for 35 minutes + 2 laps. Full report to follow...
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
I'm so tired of this...
Tired, I tell you. Literally.
No, not of bike racing...not a chance of that! Last night's Matteson crits brought my total of races for the year up to 12. I've already registered for 5 more in July, plus the Downer's Grove crit in August. And there will be others.
What I am tired of is what I am calling "post-race insomnia," for lack of a better or more technical phrase. Here's the situation...
I have raced the Tuesday night crits at Matteson three times this year. All three times I have been home by 9:30 (yeah, I live pretty far away), and in bed by 10:00. And all three times, despite being shattered and exhausted from 50 or 60 kilometers of hard racing, I have laid in bed, wide awake, until almost midnight. And even once I do manage to fall asleep, I wake up repeatedly (last night / this morning it was at 2:00, 4:00, 5:00, and awake for good at 5:20).
Some internet research has confirmed that vigourous exercise a few hours before bed can make it difficult to fall asleep...the theory is that the excercise causes a release of endorphins, which give a person energy, thus making sleep elusive. I'm not about to stop racing on Tuesdays, but I really don't like this side effect. Has anyone else out there experienced this? Has anyone found a way to beat the system?
But how was the racing, you ask? Crazy fast! The weather was cloudy, cool, and breezy...a marked contrast to last week's sweat-fest. About 25 riders, rolled to the line for the "A" races. We did the usual...15k, 30k, and 15k. Kev and I were the only WFR representatives, along with a huge contingent of South Chicago Wheelmen riders. Despite the more favorable weather, I never felt all that good. I had gotten in a decent warm-up (nine laps around the course), but certainly didn't feel all that warmed up in the first race. With little more than rubbery legs, a high heart rate, and the determination not to get dropped, I managed to stick with the front of the field until just about the end. When the sprint came, Brian (from SCW) and I let the field surge past and rode on in.
The legs started to come around during the 2nd race. A group of about 8 riders got away early on, and stayed away until mid-way through the race. I helped to reel them back in, but unfortunately my turns at the front of the chase group always seemed to come right after we turned into the rather stiff headwind. I expended a lot of energy doing this. We finally caught them after 15 laps. But the pace didn't come down for so much as a second, because lap 15 had been designated a "sprint lap." Again, I managed to stay near the front for the remainder of the race, working with a rotating cast of SCW riders (one of whom also rides a Rock Lobster). On the final lap, the 3 SCW riders at the front jumped, and although I was sitting in 4th position I had no gas in the tank they easily rode away from me. A few other riders surged around me at the end, and I had to hang on and content myself with about 10th.
The third race was sheer misery. A small group made a move early on...Kev came around my right side, encouraging me to jump on. I just shook my head and uttered a meek "[expletive deleted] no!" Still, a few seconds later I was able to "dig deep into my suitcase of courage." I grabbed a wheel and bridged up to the lead group. I remember seeing the lap cards showing only 7 to go and thinking "almost done, almost done, almost done" like a mantra. At 5 to go, the rubber band snapped. A group of 7-8 riders jumped, and all Kev and I could do was watch. They dangled in front of us, just out of reach. I stood up and mashed on the pedals a few times, hoping to be able to bridge up and pull Kev along with me. My hope was that when they turned into the tailwind they would use that time to relax...all I was hoping for was a decrease of 2-3 mph. Had they done that, we could have caught back on. But no...each time there was a faint glimmer of hope, that hope was dashed by an attack in the lead group, causing them to distance themselves even further.
With about 3 to go I looked back and realized that I had ridden Kev off of my wheel. Now I was totally alone, but for the "B" group who were now cooling down on the course...their races end 2 laps earlier than our "A" races. I gritted my teeth and kept pushing as hard as possible for the remaining laps.
All told, I got in 36.5 miles of solid, albeit disappointing, racing. And I burned close to 2,200 calories in the process, so I definitely earned my post-race fig bars! I won't be able to make next week's Tuesday crits, so my next race will be the Masters 30+ 4/5 Blue Island Superweek criterium.
No, not of bike racing...not a chance of that! Last night's Matteson crits brought my total of races for the year up to 12. I've already registered for 5 more in July, plus the Downer's Grove crit in August. And there will be others.
What I am tired of is what I am calling "post-race insomnia," for lack of a better or more technical phrase. Here's the situation...
I have raced the Tuesday night crits at Matteson three times this year. All three times I have been home by 9:30 (yeah, I live pretty far away), and in bed by 10:00. And all three times, despite being shattered and exhausted from 50 or 60 kilometers of hard racing, I have laid in bed, wide awake, until almost midnight. And even once I do manage to fall asleep, I wake up repeatedly (last night / this morning it was at 2:00, 4:00, 5:00, and awake for good at 5:20).
Some internet research has confirmed that vigourous exercise a few hours before bed can make it difficult to fall asleep...the theory is that the excercise causes a release of endorphins, which give a person energy, thus making sleep elusive. I'm not about to stop racing on Tuesdays, but I really don't like this side effect. Has anyone else out there experienced this? Has anyone found a way to beat the system?
But how was the racing, you ask? Crazy fast! The weather was cloudy, cool, and breezy...a marked contrast to last week's sweat-fest. About 25 riders, rolled to the line for the "A" races. We did the usual...15k, 30k, and 15k. Kev and I were the only WFR representatives, along with a huge contingent of South Chicago Wheelmen riders. Despite the more favorable weather, I never felt all that good. I had gotten in a decent warm-up (nine laps around the course), but certainly didn't feel all that warmed up in the first race. With little more than rubbery legs, a high heart rate, and the determination not to get dropped, I managed to stick with the front of the field until just about the end. When the sprint came, Brian (from SCW) and I let the field surge past and rode on in.
The legs started to come around during the 2nd race. A group of about 8 riders got away early on, and stayed away until mid-way through the race. I helped to reel them back in, but unfortunately my turns at the front of the chase group always seemed to come right after we turned into the rather stiff headwind. I expended a lot of energy doing this. We finally caught them after 15 laps. But the pace didn't come down for so much as a second, because lap 15 had been designated a "sprint lap." Again, I managed to stay near the front for the remainder of the race, working with a rotating cast of SCW riders (one of whom also rides a Rock Lobster). On the final lap, the 3 SCW riders at the front jumped, and although I was sitting in 4th position I had no gas in the tank they easily rode away from me. A few other riders surged around me at the end, and I had to hang on and content myself with about 10th.
The third race was sheer misery. A small group made a move early on...Kev came around my right side, encouraging me to jump on. I just shook my head and uttered a meek "[expletive deleted] no!" Still, a few seconds later I was able to "dig deep into my suitcase of courage." I grabbed a wheel and bridged up to the lead group. I remember seeing the lap cards showing only 7 to go and thinking "almost done, almost done, almost done" like a mantra. At 5 to go, the rubber band snapped. A group of 7-8 riders jumped, and all Kev and I could do was watch. They dangled in front of us, just out of reach. I stood up and mashed on the pedals a few times, hoping to be able to bridge up and pull Kev along with me. My hope was that when they turned into the tailwind they would use that time to relax...all I was hoping for was a decrease of 2-3 mph. Had they done that, we could have caught back on. But no...each time there was a faint glimmer of hope, that hope was dashed by an attack in the lead group, causing them to distance themselves even further.
With about 3 to go I looked back and realized that I had ridden Kev off of my wheel. Now I was totally alone, but for the "B" group who were now cooling down on the course...their races end 2 laps earlier than our "A" races. I gritted my teeth and kept pushing as hard as possible for the remaining laps.
All told, I got in 36.5 miles of solid, albeit disappointing, racing. And I burned close to 2,200 calories in the process, so I definitely earned my post-race fig bars! I won't be able to make next week's Tuesday crits, so my next race will be the Masters 30+ 4/5 Blue Island Superweek criterium.
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