Leland Kermesse, Leland, IL, April 21, 2012

Today was the day that all area bike racers both look forward to and fear at the same time...the Leland Kermesse.   A 15-mile circuit in the middle of the still-barren cornfields with five miles of gravel and barely a tree to block the wind.  

I had made it my mission to finish the race this year, come hell or high water.  I had finished (and taken 8th) in the 2009 race, but that was on a shorter, 10-mile course with only one mile of gravel.  In 2010 the organizers expanded it to the 15-mile loop.  I abandoned after one lap...despite sunny skies, the winds were horrendous (30+ mph gusts) and I had absolutely nothing in the tank.  I sat out the 2011 edition, as it was just a few weeks after our son was born.  I thought about going, then looked out the window at the horrible weather and said "uhhhh...no."

So it was with a great deal of determination that I swore to finish it this year.  The weather was actually quite nice...mostly sunny skies, and manageable wind.  Early in the morning I met up with newly-minted Cat 3 Bryan Fuller and his friend Tom, who was going to work the feed zone.  Along with Jim Spanish, and with the gentle, melodious strains of Steel Panther caressing our ears, we carpooled down to Leland.  

The Cat 4s were scheduled to do 4 laps/60 miles.  About 75 riders had pre-registered, but only 66 rolled to the line.  I had numerous Bicycle Heaven teammates in the field, and my old WFR komrade Jason R was there, too.  The officials sent us off for the mile-long neutral roll-out, and although there isn't supposed to be any jockeying for position during this neutral time, tons of guys were stealthily moving up and around.  

We hit the official start line, and the hammer came down.  For the first few miles of pavement we were crushing it at 27-28 mph, but with the usual Cat 4 slowing/accelerating/slowing/accelerating for no reason.  The follow moto was constantly blaring his horn for yellow-line violators.  Despite the high tempo, I was feeling good...HR was moderate, breathing was fine, and my legs were responding to the accelerations just fine.  So far, so good.

When we hit the first gravel section, though, I got caught behind a few riders who allowed a gap to open.  About 20 or so riders opened up some ground on my position, but I just couldn't get around to bridge up to them.  They didn't get too far up the road, and I was confident that once we exited the gravel I'd be able to close the gap.  I spent the next section of pavement as "the tip of the spear" trying to chase down the lead group.  We were gaining ground on them as we neared the next section of gravel.  And that is when the day took a turn for the worse.  

I was still in the lead of the chase group as we negotiated the right-hand turn.  I took it very slowly and cautiously, not knowing what the condition of the gravel was.  I took a pretty easy line at no more than 10-12 mph.  But the gravel in the turn was very deep and very loose, and in a nanosecond it had grabbed my front wheel and I went down hard on my right side.  A rider directly behind me ran straight into me and got tangled up.  As I lay there in the gravel with my right calf almost cramping up, this guy starts screaming "f--k!  F--K!!!!"  I think I even said "I'm sorry," but what could I do?  It happens to the pros, too, dude.  I couldn't tell if his profanity was directed at me or was just general venting that he was now losing time on the lead group.  

I picked myself up and dusted myself off.  The corner marshal asked "are you OK?"  My response was "mostly."  The palm of my right glove, and the skin underneath, were shredded.  I knew I had some road rash (gravel rash?) on my right hip, but my shorts weren't even torn.  I could tell that my right knee had been chewed into a little bit, along with my right forearm.  But all in all it wasn't too bad.  For a brief moment I thought "crap, 12 miles into the race and I'm gonna have to abandon."  But then I resolved to do at least one more lap and see how I was feeling.  My bike seemed to be OK, but for the fact that my left brake lever was turned 45 degrees inward from where it should have been.  So I wrenched it back into place, hopped back on the bike, and rode off.  

Lap two went pretty well.  I connected with teammates John and Matt F, and we worked together.  At one point we came across the lead group of Cat 4 women, where Mara was riding strong.  We overtook them, and moments later they overtook us.  This back-and-forth went on several times.  Technically, the different fields aren't supposed to "mix," but it was difficult here because we were all riding at about the same tempo.  Staying separate proved to be difficult.  John and Matt ended up getting a small gap on them, but I was momentarily gassed and hanging on to the back of the women to catch my breath.  At which point one of the women sniped at me "you've gotta get off of our paceline, dude, this is the Elite women's field."  Uh, not quite...you're Cat 4, not Elite.  Get over yourself.  If the roles had been reversed, and a woman was hanging on to the back of the men's field to recover, I never in a million years would have yelled at her to get out.  Whatevs.   Duly "chastened," I stood up on the pedals and cranked it to get back up to John and Matt.    

Aside from some stinging pain in my hand and hip, I was feeling pretty good, so I made the right turn to continue on to Lap 3.  I snagged a fresh bottle from Matt H as I came through the feed zone.  John, Matt F and I continued to work together until the later stages of that lap, as I fell off of their pace and ended up alone.  I choked down part of a Clif Bar and some gel, and resolved to tough it out through the rest of the race.  As I made the turn to start Lap 4 I grabbed another bottle from Matt H and off I went for the final 15 miles.  

My low point came at mile 50.  I was going solo into a headwind, and I had to force my legs to keep them turning over.  I kept telling myself "10 more miles, you just have to do 10 more miles, and in a few miles you're going to have more favorable winds."  I gritted my teeth,kept going, and watched the miles tick off on my computer.  I was pretty elated as I made the left-hand turn to ride out the final kilometer to the finish.  Despite crashing and riding 48 more miles with less skin than I had started the day with, I had conquered the Leland Kermesse and upheld my promise to finish it.  

In the end, only 47 riders of the 66 starters finished the race.  Of those 47, I took 36th (John and Matt had come in just ahead of me to take 34th and 35th).  Bicycle Heaven had a pretty good day, overall.  Rob Kelly took 4th in the 1/2 race, Andy Swims got 4th in the 3s (and Bryan finished his first Cat 3 race), David Ross and David Pratt took 2nd and 6th, respectively, in the 4s, and Mara took 4th in the Cat 4 women's race.

Call me crazy, but I can't wait to do it again next year.  

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

Picture, if you will, one of those wipe-board signs sometimes seen in the workplace that says something like “Accident Free Since 2006” or “472 Days Since a Work-Related Injury.” Now picture one of them that says “Crash Free Since September 2004.” Lastly, picture Stephen slowly and sadly erasing “September 2004.”

As Sam Elliott once said in The Big Lebowski, “sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes…well, it eats you.” Today, I got eaten.

The course was a technical, mile-long, 8-corner course…a rough “figure 8” where the top half of the “8” stretched out for two long blocks, and the bottom half was a small square around a park. The weather was sunny and warm with a pretty stiff breeze going south for those long blocks after Turn 2.

Kev, Chris and I rolled to the line with about 40 other riders to do battle for 22 laps. Even after my hard effort yesterday, I felt good during my warm-up and was confident that I could post a good result today. However, it became clear after the start that today was going to be a struggle. The field almost instantly strung out, and the pace was hot…close to 30 mph. I was pretty far back in the pack, and was subject to the whiplash braking and accelerating through all eight of those turns.

The worst part for me was the acceleration out of Turn 8 and onto the long Start/Finish straightaway. The strung-out riders at the front could take that turn at full speed and mercilessly hit the gas, while we bunched-up riders at the back lost a lot of momentum in the turn and had to accelerate extra hard to maintain contact with the front riders. A few laps in and my legs were already screaming on that particular segment. I fought to maintain position, and moved up if I could. I did my best to hang onto Chris’s wheel, as he appeared to be riding strongly.

About 7 laps in and I was already starting that fatalistic “am I gonna be able to finish this thing” kind of thinking. Chris asked how I was doing, and I let him know that coming out of Turn 8 was killing me. He advised that I take the turn in a lower gear, spin through it, and then shift to a higher gear after we're already out of the turn, rather than pushing the high gear through the turn. I take this advice to heart for the next few laps.

I recall coming around to the Start/Finish and seeing that there were 12 laps to go. I think to myself “OK, almost halfway there, you can do this…” And then came Turn 8.


We were strung out, so I didn’t have to brake because of anyone in front of me braking. I remember pedaling through the turn to maintain as much momentum as possible. I was upright one moment...and then the next moment I was sliding across the pavement on my left hip and elbow. I saw Chris hitting the pavement in front of me. I remember apologizing to Chris for taking him down, as I was still sliding across the pavement. And, sure, there was probably some profanity in there, as well. I also remember mentally bracing for the impact of other riders hitting me, but fortunately that didn’t happen…I had slid out far enough to the right that anyone behind me could steer to the left and avoid running into me.

Fortunately, Chris only sustained some road rash on his elbow, and no damage to his bike. He was able to make it over to neutral support and get back in the race, where he finished with the field. As for me, my day was done.


Other than my front wheel getting popped off during the crash, and having both of my brake levers turned inward into the bars and getting scratched up, there was no real damage to my bike, either. My body…that is another story. The emergency crew was on me within seconds, checking me out and making sure that I wasn’t seriously injured. I was a bit shaky (that adrenaline was still pumping like mad!), but was pretty sure that my injuries were merely superficial.



I walked over to the support truck, where two EMTs checked me out, cleaned my wounds, and bandaged me up. I sustained some good road rash on my left elbow, the outside of my left knee, almost all the way down my left shin, my left hip, and some “road burn” behind my right knee. I count myself very lucky that there was nothing broken, nothing sprained, and that no stitches were needed anywhere. My shoulder is a little sore right now, and once the Advil wears off I’m sure I’ll be hurting elsewhere, too.


So, the million dollar question was “how did it happen?” It occurred so quickly that I couldn’t tell whether I had been bumped by another rider, or whether I went in so fast that my wheels just went out from underneath me. Turns out, it was neither…in the turn was a rough bit of pavement that formed a “lip.” I hit that undulation in just the right spot, which bounced my wheel as I was leaning into the turn at about a 30-40 degree angle, and thus ended my day.

The worst part (other than having crashed my own teammate) was finding out that there had already been several crashes in that exact same spot. In fact, Kev and I were speaking with a police officer afterward and she stated that she had pointed out that very spot to the race organizers and requested that they paint it with bright orange caution paint. The painting of such spots is de rigeur for our sport, so that we can quickly identify problem areas and stay away from them. However, when she pointed this out to them, they pooh-poohed it, saying “oh, that won’t be a problem!”

So now I begin the process of healing. As the Black Night said in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, “it’s just a flesh wound...’tis but a scratch.” I’m really wishing now that I hadn’t pre-registered to race tomorrow. We’ll see how I’m feeling, and how the weather holds out. Storms are predicted, so if I wake up and it is raining, I’m just going to go back to sleep and eat the entry fee.

STATS: I have none, because my Garmin apparently crapped out in the crash. All I know is that I got in about 11 miles of racing, and that we were often going at close to 30 mph. I would be curious to know what my heart rate was doing, but c’est la vie…