Red Cross

This weekend was the inaugural installment of Cornell Cycling's "Red Cross" cyclocross race and it was a huge success by regional standards. I can only imagine the following this would get in New England.

In all, we drew 100 racers...which is probably how many riders register in the first 5 minutes for Gloucester...but numbers like that are huge for central NY, even for well established races. Despite (or because of!) the sloppiest conditions, the course was very ride-able and required a good mix of power and driving skills. We got rave reviews on the course and the venue. We have a winner for years to come!

On that note, the course's resistance to total deterioration has made me wonder why races like the Mercer Cup are so well received. Yes, there are a ton of great riders and the big national CX scene is amazing...but the course sucked! Even in dry conditions, the Mercer course was weak at best. A flyover does not make up for a total lack of terrain or anything interesting. Aside from the $$$ involved, how does a course like that make the cut? They could do a lot better for such a quality event.

Alright, enough of the rant there.

Laura came out to race AND take some photos. I'm sure there are a ton more in the works, but I think these really capture the day.

Newly minted NY state champ Wayne Bray in the whoops section


Some rode, some ran.

The leader of the 3/4 race before he flatted. Love those barriers!

It was a lot of work, but totally worth it in the end. Stay tuned for Red Cross v2.0 next year!

So long.

It's been a while to say the least.

I got surgery on my collarbone so that's fixed, but I can't ride yet. So no cross until at least late November, I suppose. All my pent-up energy has been going into my cross race and taking care of our new Australian shepherd puppy.

I haven't done any significant exercise since we got the puppy a week ago, and I've lost 10lbs since August when I was in great riding shape. My secret to losing 10lbs? Not doing anything...

...and it gets worse.

Seeing another orthopaedist today, but it seems that things have not improved in the week+ since the break.



I guess it should be noted that the first x-ray was taken when I was strapped to a backboard in ER, so things are relatively well held together. Unfortunately, the "comfortable position" I'm encouraged to maintain leaves my shoulder drooped and my collarbone pieces separated by an apparent 3-4cm.

D2R2

Long story short, I think my cyclocross season will take a hit...



Report/explanations LATER.

Mark your calendars

October 24, 2009.


After the duress and ridiculous bureaucracy associated with trying to host a race on Cornell's north campus last year, my vision of a cyclocross race would certainly have to change. For 4 years now, I've driven countless times from Ithaca to Whitney Point-- our local portal of interstate travel-- and past the Broome-Tioga Sports Center on Route 79. Until last year, I never really noticed it. Then it became pretty obvious that it would be the perfect venue for an amazing cross race! Since then, I've always slowed up to take a careful look but had never actually stepped foot on the property.

Yesterday it finally happened.

We met with the owner Tom, who was incredibly receptive to the idea of the race. It's great to finally meet someone who tries to make these things happen, and not cast doubts! Make no mistake-- he shares the dream.

The track has their final race the following day, but they said it would be no problem for us to have our race, even if it delays their track prep time. In fact, they will be concurrently hosting our race and a Halloween party for an estimated 500+ motocross participants and fans. This means spectators! They even floated the idea of us having an exhibition race during their intermission on Sunday. Beyond amazing. Oh, and did I mention that they asked if we needed any more jumps built??? Or whether we thought we would have enough speed to clear one of their smaller doubles???

Needless to say, this is an exciting time.

Good reasons to stay inside...

NJ State Fair Spectacross

Friday night I left 4.5 hours in advance of the race, for what Google Maps estimated was a 3 hour drive. Indeed it typically is, since I had done this drive before, when the venue was host to the NJ State Championships in 2007. 3.5 hours later and I'm not past the usual 2 hour mark near Scranton, as Pennsylvania sees it fit to close I-81 to one lane for ~40 miles. Before turning off to drive meandering detours, I risked certain public indecency by changing into my kit and mtn shoes while sitting in stalled traffic.

I pulled into the parking lot to hear that the inimitable Jonny Bold had taken the win in the final 30 minute "sprint" race. It had rained all day and it looked like a swim out there. The course was all greasy mud (and whatever else you can imagine might be prevalent on the grounds of a State Fair...). For the win, Bold netted $250, from a field of 14(?) guys! Colin won $85 for 5th Now this is a race!

Saturday was sunny and hot and the course had dried out for the most part. There was a nice smooth foot-wide track bordered by chaotic hardened tire marks from the previous night. If you could stay on the smooth line, it was tacky and fast, but if you went awry it took a little work to come back. One large puddle remained on course that left one particular corner increasingly slick with each lap.

Half of the course was essentially a big pinwheel contained in an area approximately the size of a velodrome infield. Following this, we exited the area over a mound of dirt, did some more typical cx-style turns, through some stock pens, over a barrier set, over another dirt mound, and finally a 100m straight section back took us back to the pinwheel/stadium area. Each lap took about 3:05-3:10 in the elite race. Over the course of a 50 min. race we did 17 laps, I think. They didn't finish the construction of the run-up (over an abandoned car) due to a power loss, which was probably a good thing. I'm not sure I would have risked tripping on a rusty car for the novelty.


Suffice to say, despite my improving technical abilities, this course did not suit my strengths and a lack of straights thwarted a lot of passing opportunities (for everyone). The first few laps saw the race mostly together before Jonny Bold and Alec Donahue decided to stretch things out. Colin, David Wilcox, myself, and a few others got jammed up behind some "first lap all-stars" and the gaps were already well open. GAME (mostly) OVER.

The next few laps were spent trying to get around to close the gaps to the lead (or make the gaps seem less laughable). I botched a turn and swung wide in the pinwheel, yielding a position to an opportunistic Colin. Lesson learned- do your best to not end up in the ruts. I followed for the remainder of the lap before maneuvering past again on the only section where I could hammer. It also helped that the others were taking feeds at the time.

I took the lead of our small chase and tried to put the pressure on, attempting to drop the rest...which actually succeeded for a little while. There was actually a small gap! However, my time at the front was frought with a mess of nervous mistakes. Following the barriers it took a solid 400m to find my pedals, in which time I managed to almost lose the bike over the dirt mound and seriously jam up Colin in the process.

My troublesome reign at the front finally ended as I stacked it on the back side of the dirt mound leaving the pinwheel. I'm still not sure what happened, but I found myself with some curiously oriented shifters and a dropped chain. Colin et al. closed the gap and left me behind in the melee.

From there, I lost my nerve and was bleeding just a little more time as I tip-toed in and out of every one of the 6,403 turns per lap, eventually finishing in 7th. Until the crash I was riding halfway decent, but things turned bad pretty quickly. I found myself tired and sneaking forward on my saddle, putting more and more trust on the traction of an unsteady front wheel. This apparently does not work. BUT, 7th place gets you $70 here...so I made up all the entry fees for the weekend, coming out $5 ahead if you don't count the $6 lemonade I purchased after. Had I been able to race both days, I may have acquired enough $ to pay for a weekend of Verge racing. I think Jonny Bold just about won a season's worth of entry fees.

Unfortunately, this makes waiting for September that much more difficult. What a tease.

No respect for CX

I was looking at the Embrocation Cycling Journal's new website just now and came across this article

http://www.embrocationmagazine.com/racer-s-program-for-dating

Contained therein is the following:

"Racing wraps up in most places in September or early October. If you are racing after that, it’s ‘cross, which does not require the same discipline as road or mountain biking, leaving you free to socialize as a normal person.

Go ahead, join your co-workers for happy hour, it’s OK if you miss a ride here or there. Racing Saturday morning? Whatever, it’s just ‘cross. Go ahead and take that cute girl from the produce section out for dinner; you don’t need a full night’s rest for a 50-minute effort. Besides, we all know ‘cross is just an excuse for beers afterwards, and that beer will taste much better if preceded by a 50-minute effort the evening prior (though the barriers might be more challenging)."

Cross doesn't require the same discipline as road? Are fun and discipline mutually exclusive? I realize the article is largely in jest, but I reserve my indignation! I spend far too much time driving to and from New England and worrying about tire pressure to take a joke!

Great jersey...or greatest jersey ever?

Incredible.


How could anyone with such class get busted for super obvious doping?

ORAMM 2009

The 10th installment of the Off-Road Assault on Mt. Mitchell (ORAMM) was my second edition. Last year, curiosity led me to sit in the sweltering rear seat of a Mazda MPV for 14 hours to experience my first. So why not do it again? Only this time, jam two more people and gear into said MPV for a total of 5 intrepid souls.

Last year I clocked 7:27:58, slotting into 103rd place out of 315 finishers. This year I hoped to take some time off and avoid paralyzing cramps over the last several miles. The keystone of my plan was to consistently ride-- not stop for minutes at a time at the aid stations eating. I was more than a little worried about bonking hard last year, and I would almost hazard a guess that I ate too much. I also was not a fan of Heed and relied solely on water for drinking. I came to this realization at the final rest stop where the Endurolytes I consumed were far little too late, as I would soon find out. Ultimately, enduro racing (for me) is a balance of going fast enough to not be on course forever versus not going so fast as to burst into flames.

This year I decided to be a little more aggressive on the road ascent that led to the base of Kitsuma Peak, the first singletrack climb. I don't descend particularly well relative to actual mountain riders, so I was previously concerned about plugging up the track during the first looooooong and technical descent, since that's probably the only fun part of an enduro race. This year, the sentiment was, "whatever...they'll find a way by me."

I think I must have hit the trail in the top 30 places which left enough daylight to ride up most of the initial technical climbs. Last year saw me walk/run/scramble up the slopes in pretty heavy traffic. Immediate improvement! I kept the ascent controlled, ran switchbacks where I had to (most people had to, in my defense!), and generally maintained my position. When it came to the descent I was willing to let the bike run a lot more than last year and actually had very few guys track me. In fact, I caught two riders on the descent, whose gingerly navigation was half the reason riders from behind could close the gaps to me. And unlike road cyclists, the guys passing me were actually awesome, patient, and thankful when I gave them room to squeeze by.

Following the Kitsuma section, there are a few miles of road riding until the first aid station and the next ascent up Star Gap. I spotted Vanya at the rest stop, taking in some early food. I quickly grabbed a banana, a handful of cashews, and a full bottle, spending not more than a minute in the process. I was feeling good.

Star gap is a series of rideable and nigh impossible switchbacks that one ascends early and descends late in the race. More than obviously built to be ridden DOWN. Thus, it's pretty technical but not all that taxing if you stay relaxed and roll with the frequent on/off the bike transitions.

About halfway up, I heard Vanya from many feet below, on a lower section of trail. A couple of minutes later, he had rejoined and passed me, erasing any advantage I had gained via my "efficient" food stop. I tried to stay with him on the descents that followed, but erred on the side of safety when a tight switchback reminded me of my usual descending hesitance. He can go ahead without me! I figured I would see him at the base of the descent, and the start of the monstrous Curtis Creek climb, just like last year.

Following the technical descending are some punchy rollers and swooping gravel descents. With knowledge of the long descent ahead, I felt obliged to pin my effort on the small climbs ahead. In only a short time I caught and re-passed Vanya (probably much to his surprise). As we hit the gravel double track, I had daylight in front and behind. The enduro is a lonely race...

I floored the descent, making the most of my largest gears and whatever handling skills I possess. A small grass track in the center allowed judicious two-wheel slides through the gravel before the grass kept you tracked through the remainder of the turn. It was awesome-- easily my favorite (read: easiest) descent. Much to my surprise, I think I actually gained time on Vanya in this section- my gap at the bottom seemed larger than what I had at the top. Another super quick aid station cleared, I was on my way to the base of Curtis Creek.

Curtis Creek is easily the most harrowing feature on the course profile, gaining roughly 3000 vertical feet over the course of 9-10 miles. If it were paved, it would be a HC climb in the Tour de France. But it's not paved...it's rocky dirt. Stand at the your own risk. Or at least, "stand and look really uncomfortable with your ass way back so you don't spin your rear."

I don't have an elapsed time for the climb, but Cameron did it in 52(?) minutes, I believe. So that's pretty long. I wasn't in the business of riding for the win, so I kept the pace reasonable and sustainable. Cameron's pace was more than likely unreasonable and unsustainable for all but very few. Over the hour+ of riding, I think I picked up maybe half a dozen guys. FAR less than last year. At this point, I began to wonder where I sat in the race standings. The herd was pretty thin up there.

The course provides an all too brief rest/descent before sending you up ANOTHER mountain, to meet the Blue Ridge Parkway at just around 5000'. Mentally it's a good landmark. When you reach the top, you know you are just about 3/4 through the race and practically done with the significant climbing. And for me, it's about the point where you can begin to think about how far back you will slip from there to the finish.

After a mile or two on the parkway, there's an annoyingly lengthy hike-a-bike section that brings you to the top of the aptly named Heartbreak Ridge. Look at the profile. That's a lot of elevation drop in not so much trail. The trail itself resembles more of a hiking trail than anything I'm used to riding in Shindagin or elsewhere. Outside of being exhausted and on a 26" hardtail, it's a hell of a good time. The kind of good time that makes you appreciate that your bike was (hopefully) constructed by a competent welder (carbon mountain bikes aside). On more than a few occasions I found myself wondering how the bike and fork can take such a sustained beating (and just how hot my brake rotors were). Point your bike and proceed accordingly.

At the bottom of Heartbreak Ridge, you find yourself at the top of Star Gap again. This time you take the switchbacks DOWN. Word of advice- no front brakes allowed. I learned my lesson last year as I endo'd down more turns than I'd like to admit. This year the plan was- practically stop before the turn, remove my left hand from the front brake lever, ass back off the seat (or straddle the top tube), lock up the rear, and hope to slide around. This worked for all but the steepest drops. For those, I adopted the two step process of riding straight to the apex and following this with a tap dance 180 turn. Stupid but effective.

Once at the bottom of Star Gap, all that remains is another bitchy dirt road climb up Mill Creek Road followed by a final ascent/descent of Kitsuma. Last year, this section was the death of me, so I was quite mindful of the cramping potential on the steep climbs that awaited. Luckily my race plan went off without a hitch, and the Heed came through big time. I lost a couple spots to a couple podium-bound Masters racers on the descent, but it was otherwise unremarkable. This was about as good as an enduro race gets.

I ended up in 31st place with a time of 6:13:48, just about 1'15" faster than last year. Ultimately, I think going under 6 hours was totally possible and is my goal for next year. I never felt taxed on the ascents, so I think I could definitely afford to lose some time there. And maybe (1 year to go!), I'll learn to descend well enough to not hemorrhage so much time anytime the trail goes down.

Down to North Carolina...

Clearly the culmination of the season is coming at Spectacross next weekend, but this coming weekend is the Off-Road Assault on Mt. Mitchell. As always with "casual" enduro racing, the question remains:
a) do I go easy, eat often, and generally cruise...thus riding for 7+ hours
or
b) do I go slightly harder, waste less time, and finish quicker.

Yes, going harder requires...well, going harder... but being on a bike for possibly 1-2 hours longer has its drawbacks as well.

As a reminder of what you're missing (shame), here is the profile:


The trek begins Thursday.

Bonus notes:
After gifting my Nevegals to Molly, I've been riding garbage 1.8" Panaracers for the last 6 months. NO MORE! Worst tires ever. Coming in the mail today is a 2.0" Kenda Karma for the rear and a 2.1" Kenda Excavator for the front. Finally back to decent rubber.

New ride!

After 4 years and 3 seasons of racing, my Specialized has certainly seen better days. It was time to lose weight and spring for an upgrade...

...and that's that.

Housatonic Hell.

I've had mixed relations with this race. My first year in 2007 was great- a 2nd place finish in the cat 4's, which I blame on a finishing climb clusterfuck. Due to the Masters field arriving at the same time, the eventual winner got into a small group of Masters racers ahead of our pacecar. I didn't see this until about 200m to the line, after figuring I had the win locked up. Oh well. That was my last race as a cat 4.

Come 2008- I hurt really bad in the p/1/2 field, and ended up in a small group 5:17 off the winning pace. Probably the hardest race I had done to date.

Now, 2009. My racing and fitness was starting to improve and I had a couple good workouts in the week prior. Probably one too many, in retrospect. I think it will serve me well at Fitchburg, but I think I came into Sunday a little tired. Or that's the story I'm sticking with...

Sunday looked like it was going to rain- fortunately it held off, but damn...it was unbelievably humid, so the race was moist nonetheless.

I got in about a mile of warm-up before the start. This is better than nothing, but hardly enough to warm-up at all. I always hate the first 20 miles of every race because I'm just not ready to move quickly...but I'm not about to ride for an hour before a 80 mile race. This is why I object to road racing!

Since they changed the course last year, the race starts neutral up Constitution Hill...but it can hardly be considered neutral when you're going faster than you will on the following ascents.

In any case, I spent the first lap hanging out and yo-yo'ing near the back of the field while I tried to find my legs. It wasn't terrible for the most part, except for the staircase hill about 2/3's through. That hurt a lot. A few attacks jumped off there and the field strung out behind. As one might guess, I was in the chasing effort.

Eventually the field coalesced on Constitution Hill, where I was pleased to find out that we only had to do 3 laps of the course. I previously thought we had 4! Did I mention how seriously I examine the details? I suppose I would have had a more positive outlook on the race had I known that previously.

The second lap was noticeably better. I don't know if it was because the pace slowed or that I was finally warmed up. I contend it was the latter. Cameron asked if I had suffered a flat because he couldn't find me previously. Unfortunately, the only thing that was flat was my legs (not that a flat wheel would be fortunate...). As we came to the staircase climb on lap 2, I was slightly more attentive...but all the attentiveness in the world won't get you into all the breaks. Right about here, Driscoll (and probably others) allegedly attacked. Then I heard a loud pop and Cameron raised his hand. As usual, flats happen at the worst possible times. It's also the curse of new wheels- my Ksyrium SLs flatted in my first race at Army two years ago. If I weren't already barely holding on, I considered gathering Don and dropping back to help. Unfortunately, then we would have three people out the back and not just one...

Gaps opened up and I thought about bridging. I tried, but I just ended up sitting in the gap with another guy. Looking back, we had a small group coming, so I decided we should wait up and get some critical mass. And there went the race.

The groups ahead had all the horsepower, so they got out of sight pretty quickly. About as quickly as our group settled in and faded backwards. I feel like I could have made it had I been more appropriately positioned on the climb, but these are things that only seem plausible after the race.

Following this, we had a nice little group that seemed to be working well enough together. We lost a few guys here and there and the group whittled down from 7, to 5, to 4. Occasionally we picked up a popped rider from ahead, but they didn't stay with us for long. None of us had any idea where we were as far as placing...so we just kept riding.

As we came up to the final climbs, one of our companions decided he was going to ride alone. He opened a 20m gap and just rode there for the next several miles. After working together for 30 miles, Don and myself were not exactly going to let this guy solo in. So we gave him just enough rope to hang himself. With probably 8 km to go, the gap finally closed and Don hit the front hard. Not seeing a reaction from the other two, I also went and we got our alliterative two man team time trial going. It's too bad we weren't actually fighting for any decent placings because it felt awesome. I felt momentarily very pro. We picked up another rider in the process, passed Adam Myerson cruising in, and were forever rolling by remnants of the women's p/1/2/3 field.

Unlike our previous recruits, this last guy held on strong and did his share of the work to secure our positions ahead of our previous companions. He also gave me an excuse to sprint for a placing since I was sure Don wouldn't engage.

I timed my pulls well, and as we came to the final kilometer Don sat on the front and drove us right to the turn that would drop us probably 200m from the line. With Cameron neutralized by his flat, I suppose the pride of Ithaca-based cycling was on my shoulders...a daunting prospect! Racer X (later identified as David Costa from Anthem) came around Don just after the turn and began his charge to the line. Last year I was cut-off by going to the inside...so naturally I did it again(!). After a sloppy mess of shifts I found the right gear and finally stood up to begin my own sprint. It wasn't pretty (or fast), but I mustered enough power to make the pass and win the sprint for 27th place!!!!!!! I was a little disappointed to find that my PT read a max wattage of 866w. Surely it missed the final sprint there...

In any case, this race remains very hard. To have 51 finishers from 82 starters speaks volumes about how difficult the course is. None of the hills are terribly difficult by themselves, but their location and combination makes for a messy race. I just wish I had that second lap to replay again. I don't know where I would have finished, but I know I would not have missed that break a second time. I suppose there's always next year to reclaim my formerly amicable relationship with the Housatonic Hills.

What do you think...

...about ProTour riders at domestic p/1/2 races?

http://www.velonews.com/article/93695/armstrong-wins-nevada-city-in-solo-break

Really, Lance? After 7 TdF wins, a world championship, etc. you couldn't just sit in and let some local or domestic pro take the win?

I slightly vacillate on my feelings toward this, although I am predominantly against it. I'll be clear that I'm certainly not against the exposure that these riders bring to local events, but...

As evidenced by the sentiment on the velonews.com forum (most likely populated by old guys riding Serottas and Colnagos), they would have you believe that most racers LOVE guys like Lance and Levi lining up since they get to "rub elbows with the pros." I don't think Lance et al are there to rub elbows with anyone. (Incidentally, I wonder if any riders literally try to rub Lance's elbows...would he yell at you?) They claim they are there to train...and then they ride away from the field? If you're going to ride away from the field for training...why not go hammer some solo miles instead? Or better yet- go race against other ProTour riders in Europe. Let's be honest...we know how good these guys are- we cannot actually comprehend how fast they are. I would guess that a fair amount of domestic pros don't need a reminder of this. Yes, it is by definition a PRO race...but there are different levels of pro, just as there are different levels of amateur. I don't get to enter cat 4/5 races just to get some "good training" in. Lance and Levi have the roads of the Giro and the Tour to compete- let the continental guys have their day.

I'm actually very curious about the thoughts of domestic pros and local heros in any racing discipline. I feel like it has to be a crushing realization to know you are so good, but yet not able to race at the highest level*. Oh yeah...then Lance shows up, wins your target race, and then plays it off as a training day. I bet everyone is ecstatic to see those guys on the pre-reg list. Me? I couldn't care less- this isn't my livelihood. I just get spit out the back quicker.

Also, where does Livestrong get their ideas for kit design?


*I apologize if any legitimately good athletes read this and subsequently become depressed.

2010 MTB World Cup...in NY

This is pretty awesome--

http://www.cyclingnews.com/news/2010-mountain-bike-world-cup-to-return-to-the-us

Now if we could only get a CX world cup in the US...

I've never been to Mont Ste. Anne without snow, but that seems like something I should definitely do sometime.

Wilmington-Whiteface RR

This weekend saw me on the road and en route to the familiar Adirondack region for the second inception of the Wilmington-Whiteface race. I definitely remember this weekend being one of my favorite from last year-- a good course, reasonable length, and a huge finishing climb. My race report from last year reminds me that I had a superb moustache and I got third place in a 3-up "sprint" for the line.

I was happy to learn that the race would be back again, this time with the addition of a criterium in Saranac Lake on Sunday. It's good to see quality events like this grow year to year, even though I chose to skip the crit.

On Saturday morning, I saw there were 41 riders registered for the p/1/2/3 on bikereg, so I was optimistic that our field might break 50- which would indicate the race doubled in size in only a year. As a bonus, a bigger field usually means there's more places to hide and be lazy- definitely my modus operandi during road races. I don't have the final numbers, but I think it must have been around 50, although I saw quite a few pre-reg'd cat 3's choosing to relegate themselves to the cat 3/4 field. Yeah, they probably heard about me...ha.

A race this close to Canada means there was quite a contingent of Quebecois who traveled south of the border. This typically means lots of early, often fruitless, attacking eventually punctuated by implosion. It also means there's a lot of peloton chatter only privy to those fluent in French bike-speak. Let's call this international flair.

The race got away easy enough, although there was a remarkable amount of attacking during the neutral roll-out. Something was lost in translation, I suppose. As we finally came out of neutral, I set about my spot tail-gunning the field and surveying my efforts. I knew that attacks would go, but I was content with the fact that most breaks would be inevitably slowed by the looming finishing climb. I heard a lot of chatter to the tune of, "yeah I'm just going to sit in and see what happens on Whiteface." I have to admit...I like that attitude.

As mentioned in last year's report, there is a ~7 mile rolling section which leads the field out to the roughly 14 mile loop. There are some big ring grinders, some false flats, and some swoopy downhills, but the course isn't very selective for the most part. However, there is one climb near the feed-zone that always spawns attacks. I wasn't necessarily looking forward to this portion, as I remember suffering terribly there last year. But at least I knew what to expect.

I don't remember much of the first loop, except that I made a conscious effort to be near the front on the climb so that gaps wouldn't open. If I don't remember it, that's usually a good thing. Pain has a way of making things memorable.

Lap 2 was a little different- this time I was fairly attentive on the climb, but somehow a small group slipped off the front over the top. Cameron was in there, so I made an effort to be near the front but not actively chasing. It also didn't seem to be a terribly dangerous break, as they were visibly sabotaging any collective efforts. Unfortunately for them, the move lasted about half a lap before we all came together.

Finally, the end of lap 3 was where the race came apart/together. Prior to the climb, a group of probably 7 riders shot off somewhere. Don represented the Ithaca contingent in this break, so our consciences kept our [greedy] legs in check. Even though I'm riding for Cambridge, I'm not going to sabotage the efforts of my fellow Ithacans (more justifiable laziness on my part). The break was away for quite some time, but it was clear that this was not necessarily the final, winning move. Anyone out front that long would be hard pressed to hold the effort up Whiteface. The time gap was fairly consistent and they were visible on the straighter sections of the course, so there wasn't any particular sense of urgency.

As we hit the riser, Cameron was on the front driving the pace; naturally the field was pretty strung out behind. I was doing my best to cover gaps and not lose my chance at a decent finish. I bounced from rider to rider, trying to recruit a critical mass to bridge up. Unfortunately, they were arguably more wasted than me, so I finally had to just put my head down and do it alone...and I eventually made it, all crappy shifting issues aside. Phew! We had 9 riders here, and only 7 just ahead. Time to go.

Unfortunately this was the most unwilling group I've ever been with. Of the 9 riders, only 3-4 were consistently putting their face in the wind. Cameron and I represented 50% of this effort, although our pulls were merely for show, given that Don was still ahead. Dan Vaillancourt from Colavita incessantly barked demands at us and was being generally unpleasant. I was told to "pull faster" even though no one was behind me to keep the rotation going. He would lightly surge off the front, then look back and give us a pretty disdainful look. Given that this race would entirely happen on the final climb, I'm not sure why he was acting so rushed. The break was in sight...they weren't going anywhere.

In any case, our group worked well enough to stay near the break and off the front of the field as we came off the circuit course. All we had left was a 7 mile rolling drag to the climb. And then 1.6 miles at 8% average gradient. No big deal...

As expected, the lead was starting to shed some of its riders. First to go was Don, who we picked up several miles from Whiteface. He came back to our group, took a few pulls, but soon fell off the back on a short but pretty difficult riser. Most of us were woefully over geared, evidenced by the low, griding cadence and punctuated by the popping of hard shifts. Two more riders came back to us (and presumably went). I guess there were still 4-5 guys up the road. The group became downright dysfunctional as no one wanted to waste any effort before the mountain.

So there we were- allegedly 1.6 miles from the line as we turned onto the Whiteface highway. I could see the pacecar ahead- the leaders were only a couple hundred meters out of reach. Cameron instantly went to the front, bringing Dan Vaillancourt and a couple others with him. I threw my water bottles and settled in with a smaller group right behind, not quite ready to make a huge effort. Unfortunately, this probably turned out to be a bad decision.

After only a couple hundred meters of sitting in this group, it became pretty clear that we were going far too slow and quickly losing distance to the leaders. So I struck out alone and sure enough, I found myself in no-man's land. At this point, I was matching the speed of the group ahead...I was just 100m in arrears. Ack! Fortunately, I was picking up the shattered remnants of the original break and improving my position. Someone asked me if I knew where the finish was. Obligingly (stupidly), I described it...probably meaning I should have been riding harder. I started to count the riders ahead, and checked my shoulder behind. As I scanned for the pace car, I saw a lone figure in a Chris' Cookies/Swan Cycles kit with probably 50-100m on the next riders. Cameron was absolutely killing it- I would later find out he averaged 429W over the 8 minute ascent(!). I then counted four more bikes ahead, and found myself faced with 400m to go and a fairly insurmountable gap to 5th place. I looked back, decided I was safe, and cruised in. The careful reader will note this meant I got 6th and I garnered $55 for the effort. I have to say, I'm pretty happy with that...and the Wilmington-Whiteface race remains one of my favorites.

But that was only part of the weekend-

Later that night, Jake B. and myself did the Whiteface climb in the rain. Long story short- the way up was as nice as I could expect- perfect temps, cool rain. Unfortunately what was great on the way up was awful on the way down, mostly due to my lack of appropriate clothing (arm warmers...). I wouldn't go so far as to say I was close to being hypothermic, but I had to stop probably a dozen times to "warm up". Rainy descents at 45mph are not fun when you're fighting a shiver-induced speed wobble. That said, I would still do it all again. I'd probably bring a jacket next time, though.

Naturally we couldn't be satisfied with only one climb, so Sunday morning saw us at the top again- this time in the sun with 70 degree temps. I have to say it's much better that way.

A cyclocross PSA

With CX nationals in December, it can only serve that the logical thing to do (rather than conform to the standards of the rest of the cycling world) is to move the US season earlier.

Of course, all self-respecting crossers know about the NJ State Fair SpectaCross (sponsored by Erwin Vervecken Web Design) on July 31-August 1. However, in some attempt to further accelerate the CX season into July(!), the Mount Snow Classic is having a CX race on July 25, to accompany the usual host of mtb races. And yes, I found this because I was already searching BikeReg for cyclocross races. In June.

The only issue is that this weekend would conflict with ORAMM. Decisions.

Connecticut Stage Race

This past weekend was the CTSR- a new addition to the racing calendar...and a good one at that. New races are probably a big gamble, but this one seems to have worked out. I could see it being a staple of the calendar in future years.

I normally enjoy stage races because it usually means a good TT can set you up for a solid GC placing without too much work in the other mass start races. Well, that is if you're relatively good at time trialing...

I was hoping for perhaps a top 20 placing in the TT on Saturday. I had a good 30-second man in James Morrison (Embrocation), and I was running scared from Josh Lipka (BikeReg/Cannondale). I first ran into James at the Syracuse Stage race a couple years ago. He's a good, smart road racer, but he often seems to lament the time trial. Before going off, he asked me to say something nice when I passed him. Based on prior time trials, I figured I might be able to at least pull even with him over the 8 mile course, so he would be a good carrot to pull me to a decent time. Of course this speculation was based on last year's racing and fitness.

The course was out and back, so I was consciously planning my return effort as I went out. A course preview would have been pretty helpful in retrospect. As I recall, it was a slight downhill into a flat section, then a long false-flat grind to the turn-around. Ultimately a power rider's TT course- not flat but not hilly enough. Processing that I would have to really move it on the false flats, I generally didn't push too hard on the downhills. This was probably a mistake. If I should learn anything from the road races, it's that I consistently let gaps open on downhills...so it should make sense that I should work these portions above all else...but I don't.

In any case, I think I maintained my gap to James over the first half. As we met near the turn-around, I started to ballpark the gap by visual inspection. With the grind up to the line, I figured I could reel him in around there. OK, not bad. Also, as I watched Lipka approach the turn-around, it seemed that I only gave up a handful of seconds. Could this mean I was actually having a decent TT, despite what I was feeling?

As I came back, I started to look ahead, scanning the horizon for James...but he was nowhere that I could see. He nailed the return route, and was consistently opening the gap. I was hurting a bunch, and couldn't really find my top end. Nevertheless I tried to concentrate on my race to not get caught by Josh Lipka. And I didn't. I looked back at the line, and figured he only put 10 seconds into me. I was momentarily happy until I overheard discussions about how Josh was sick all week, or something.

Then I saw the results, and found out I was 42nd out of 62. I definitely hoped to do better than that! Cameron and Don killed their time trials, putting them in 7th and 9th place, respectively, with Peter Bradshaw in between them. Twice now I've lost to Peter by a handful of seconds in TT's...this time he had me by over a minute. Looks like I have some work ahead of me...everyone seems to be riding really strong this year.

So yeah- later that day was the circuit race. I sat near the back, content to chase back on after every turn, victim of the accordion. Cameron averaged 270W for the hour long race, even putting in some attacks off the front. I averaged 298W, sitting at the back looking stupid. M u s t. w o r k. o n. p o s i t i o n i n g. I think Will Dugan soloed away on the last lap to take the win ahead of the field. Insane that he can ride that hard and hold off the bunch. But basically nothing drastic happened on GC. Yet, somehow I moved up to 37th, either from DNF/DNS's.

Sunday was a 91 mile road race...for ALL fields. I did well enough at the brutally hilly Penn State race, and I did a century last weekend, so I finally felt like the distance wouldn't be the major hang-up for me. All I hoped to do was hold on, and maybe get into some lucky move.

The first 10 miles were really fast. Teams were sending guys off all the time, trying to get the breaks settled. One finally got away, containing people like Will Dugan and Roger Aspholm. I can't imagine trying to get away in a break with 80+ miles to go, but I guess you have to take chances if you know your legs will e there. Luckily, once they were clear, the pace settled...a little. I think BikeReg/Cannondale missed the break and Josh Dillon (2nd on GC) was in the field with us, so they were at the front, trying to keep the gap down.

The course was gently rolling- all big ring for the first 50 or so miles. I checked my PT...we averaged ~26mph for that whole time. As we came through the finish area for the first time, I was feeling pretty decent. Then some hills came.

Hills are usually never a huge problem, except when they're total power climbs. I was starting to feel the mileage (as was everyone else, it seemed) and each one of these ascents were really taking their toll. People were spread everywhere, and I was trying to bridge gaps and make contact with some semblance of a group. I found the back of the largest of groups, and for a brief moment, I thought I was safe. There was a small group (that included Cameron and Josh Dillon) that was busy bridging up to the main break. I figured that would put an end to the pain.

But no. Peter Bradshaw (and presumably others) didn't get into the bridge, and hence Embrocation and a couple others were moving our pack pretty quickly to defend their GC placings. I kept yo-yo'ing hard at the back and I began to feel the twinge of impending cramping every time I would stand up. I went from big-ringing everything to furiously spinning a 39x23. My stomach was having problems, I had to evacuate fluids, and I was just generally suffering. And not in a "wow, I'm suffering but doing awesome" kind of way. Just the crappy way.

I tried a couple more hard efforts to make contact, but I finally let them go. I realized we still had 20+ miles to go, and they had probably only started to crank up the pace. I gently rolled into the feed zone at mile 70 and asked for the quickest way back to the start...it was apparently along the course! Okay, I guess I'll have to finish this thing.

So I limped around for a few miles, enjoying the scenery, stopping to stretch, and using nature's bathroom. Finally, two guys from TargetTraining and CCNS picked me up and I worked with them for probably 15 kilometers or so. We passed Don at some point, who had flatted his tubular (and cracked the Zipp 202 rim...) and considered stopping, but decided I couldn't help anyway. His 9th place on GC was ruined, and another wheel would have only helped miles ago. He waited for the sag wagon.

Eventually, the CCNS guy dropped off to poach/collect water bottles at the now abandoned first feed zone, and I finally came to the realization that I had hemorrhaged enough time already that it didn't matter when I came in. TargetTraining guy kept going, and I cruised in the remaining distance...22 minutes behind the winner, and roughly 16 minutes behind the group that dropped me. I even went slow enough as to give up almost 6 minutes in the final 10km to my former out-the-back companion. Cameron and his small group managed to close the gap of 3:40 and make contact before the finishing miles. Ridiculous.

In the end, I finished in 37th- almost DFL among those that completed the race (38 out of 62 starters on Saturday). I should also note that I would have gotten 36th (woo!) if the CCNS guy had been just 15 seconds slower in getting to the line. I was unknowingly and figuratively nipped at the line!

But it was still fun- the CTSR gets a thumbs up.

Anybody have legs I can borrow until I can find mine?

Catch-up

I had a "great" report about ECCC Easterns that was inevitably interrupted by other things. Oh well. Maybe it will surface someday.

Long story short: Penn State Easterns course-- 4 laps at ~21 miles each, with probably close to 2000 ft of climbing per lap.

I ate and drank well enough, made the right selections (it's not hard to figure out where this will happen when there's a 5 mile climb), and was only dropped with several miles left to get 5th place. Not bad for the company I found myself in- I'll leave you to stalk their results, but the top 4 were: Jim Camut (Land Rover/Orbea), Thom Coupe (BikeReg/Cannondale), Austin Roach, and Clayton Barrows (CRCA Empire/Rite-Aid). I think less than half the field managed to finish. I love the course, but contend that it's too hard and demoralizing.

So that was good.

Since then, I did a 6 hour enduro two weekends ago- the Highland Hex. I cruised around, ate some food, and ended up riding for 6 laps in 6.5 hours. Did I mention that I love races where there is absolutely no pressure to perform? I should note that Cameron lapped me twice. Ouch.

Finally this past weekend I did a modified Kancamagus ride with Jordan.



The above loop is 91 miles, but we totaled 104 miles. We supplemented the loop by adding a 5 mile climb up NH 118, made famous by the Dartmouth road race last spring. Spirits were high, but speeds were low. I think we bordered on randonneuring pace (16.? mph)...but I couldn't care less. I'm proud that I averaged only 167W for the ride. I felt great then, but unfortunately I must have left my legs in New Hampshire...

This coming weekend is the CT Stage Race, consisting of a time trial, a circuit race, and a 91 mile road race (for ALL categories). We got our TT start list today. I've never been passed in a TT, but that may very well change...

All the disc wheels and dimpled shoe covers in the world won't help me now.

Binghamton Circuit Race

The original plan for the weekend of April 24-25 consisted of MIT's road race and the re-introduced Quabbin Reservoir RR. Unfortunately, I succumbed to laziness and the pile of school work...so I stayed local. As it turns out, this was a wise decision, as the Quabbin P/1/2/3 race sounded like a disaster. As I gleaned from the CB listserv, the pace vehicles took the peloton on a detour off course. Mayhem ensued, and the majority of the field was presumably DNF'd, although somehow they got placed. Sounds kind of hilarious, though...I almost regret missing it.

Instead, a contingent of Cornell riders rode out to Watkins Glen on Saturday to do some course reconnaissance for our race bid next year. For those not familiar with our schemes, we are renting the Watkins Glen International track for the team time trial and the finish of the road race.

Now imagine the grandstands packed with rabid collegiate cycling fans...

With the exception of ~100m of pavement, the route is pretty great. Nothing too epic as far as climbing, but it's very scenic and has some interesting course elements like a dirt power climb and a state prison. With a >10% climb just several miles from the finish, the layout is perfect to set up some drama as the riders enter the Watkins Glen International track for the final drag to the line. We're pretty excited for the potential of that weekend.

All told, that was 71 miles for myself...while those who didn't drive halfway to WG ended up with 95. With the Binghamton Circuit race on Sunday, I figured I could do without those extra 24 miles.

On Sunday was the aforementioned circuit race...with the other 7 cat1/2/3's. Central NY events are notoriously under-attended among the cat 1/2's. I'm not sure if it's a function of population density or what...but it's nigh impossible to get a sizeable field in CNY. I guess I'm part of the problem, so I can't complain.

In any case, they lined us up with the Masters fields, which almost made it seem like a legitimately sized race. I was curious as to how a race like this would play out...do you go with attacks that are full of Masters racers? Does everyone sit around and wait for the young guys to make their moves? I guess it ultimately doesn't matter.

To contrast this race with every other one I've done in the last two years- usually I have a difficult time positioning myself near the front...I am most often found at last wheel when there's nothing going on. This time I couldn't get off the front. Myself and the other 1/2/3 young'ns were unofficially the pacesetters for the day. Or at least for 3 laps.

Cory Burns (former Fiodifrutta, now Embrocation) was in our field, so everyone's eyes were fixed on what he was up to. He made a couple efforts on the short hill the first few times through, which most of us dutifully followed. Each time we lost a few more people until we finally had the break. Only 10 minutes in, we had 5 people clear. After a few more laps it was down to 4. Myself, Wayne Bray, Steve Sloan, and Cory- 4/6's of the cat 1/2/3's. Masters racers did their thing behind us.

We kept a good paceline over the next few laps to solidify the gap over what was left of the field. I kept looking at the lap cards, since I knew it was only a matter of time before the attacks started coming and my legs would pay for their effort on Saturday. Unfortunately I was looking at the wrong lap cards, and we were farther from finishing than I thought. Damn.

With three (actual) laps to go, Wayne attacked us and I was -- to quote the MAC cyclocross announcer -- "out the back faster than a bean burrito with a prune juice chaser". (Side note: the MAC needs a new color commentator). I was really feeling yesterday's effort and let them go ahead. As far as I was concerned, 4th place was good enough for me.

As we came down the hill to the backside of the loop, I could see the lead 3 about 150m ahead. From my vantage, it looked like Cory stood to put in another attack (into the headwind) when he went down in a heap. I got conflicting stories on the cause of the crash- it was either a chain slip or Cory just washed out his rear wheel. Steve went with him, and Wayne narrowly avoided the yard sale. Suddenly I went from fourth to second. As I passed through, I began to realize I probably would have been behind them in the crash had I managed to mark the attack. That would be the last thing I would have needed for me to further dislike road racing.

At this point there was no catching Wayne over the next couple of laps, so I checked my shoulder, dialed back the pace, and cruised in for my ill-deserved 2nd. Sometimes it's better to be lucky than good!

Penn State ECCC easterns report soon.

Back on it.

It's been two months since anything. So let's recap.

-I did one 10k skate race at Prospect in February. It hurt and I realized I have about 5% of the upper body strength I used to have.
-I probably did not do a workout over 1.5 hrs from September through March. While every other cat2 is out there sleeping in altitude tents and training 20+ hours every week, I think I have yet to do a 10hr week.
-I passed my A-exam (yes, not cycling related), which means I get to stay at Cornell until I get my PhD or they really get tired of me. That is half the reason I have been "lazy" about training. Such is life.

Two weeks ago I did the Army ECCC race, which consisted of a 80 minute circuit race and a hillclimb TT. A short race and a hillclimb- perfect. The circuit race was tactical brilliance on my part.

The key to establishing a potential break is to let all the good riders (Driscoll, Lipka, Frey, etc) go off the front, and then snap up the remaining placings when everyone else is too lazy to care (or won't chase their teammates).

There they go

For the first few laps, things were a little crazy as the big guys attacked and the mere mortals did their best to find their wheel. A lot of times, this included people sweeping across the road and hitting my front wheel. Thankfully I can ride my bike well enough to not have things like that crash me. Eventually the instigators broke everyone's spirit and cruised off. With about 4 laps to go, I jumped with Steve Pingree (Army) and Jose Soltren (MIT) and we got some room on the field. I kept yo-yo'ing on the downhill/flats and finally I was popped off the back when we hit the stretch of road with a 40mph headwind. That's ok, though, since Steve admitted he spent some time in Tucson training and that guy Jose is a diesel engine. Luckily we were far enough off the front (yet so far from the front) that I held on for 9th place. Ha!

Bridging up to the second break

The Sunday hillclimb was relatively uneventful, as TT's usually are. I watched some D riders take off like they were doing a downhill TT, only to pass them back a few hundred meters later during my warm-up. So my course reconnaissance alerted me to the fact that you can't go too hard. However, I didn't ride enough of the climb to actually know what was coming.

Then I rode up the hill and got 10th place. So that was pretty good too. I could tell it's been a while since I opened up my legs, though. I couldn't quite get them to hurt like I know they can. But I suppose that will come.

I just saw this announcement about the NJ State Fair Cross Spectacle (Spectacross). A run-up over a car? Where do I sign up? Also- apparently the race is sponsored by Erwin Vervecken Web Design.

"Erwin Vervecken is a three-time World Professional Cyclocross Champion and a member of the Revor Pro Cycling Team. Fluent in several languages, Erwin Vervecken has proven to be as talented in website design as he is on the cyclocross course."

After visiting his site cyclocross.be I'm fairly certain he is more talented on the cyclocross course. That said, I haven't done HTML since high school, so he's better than me. Or maybe I'm just not crazy about "Courier New" font like the Belgians. His other sites look better, though.

A product review

It's feast or famine in the cycling-related blog. I don't think I'll be racing until at least April, so I will have to shift gears a little bit.

Since cross nationals (December 14), I have been on one 2 hour mountain bike ride. Aside from that, I've done some half-assed nordic skiing in North Sandwich, NH. While I loved the amazing (and free) trails behind Molly's home, a 3km loop is not super motivating. Yes, you ski every day, but you have to be motivated to endure anything more than half an hour.

After my random sampling of cycling acquaintances via facebook and blogs, I've determined that a lot of the people I race against are well into training regimens. The level of commitment varies from temporary relocation (e.g. to warmer locales) to the purchase of altitude tent systems! This is worrisome because it might force me to train against my will in some attempt to satiate my competitive drive. Short of injury, I can't help it. However, I need to remember that a lot of these riders didn't just finish 3 months of cyclocross. The point? I need my time off- stop training and making me feel guilty!

So,

Today I went for a really stupid ride outside. Really stupid because I haven't ridden in 3 weeks, it was 15 degrees outside, and it was snowing. But it was fun and I schooled the non-cross riders in the snow, if anyone who saw me at NBX Day 2 can believe. Now, as someone intimately familiar with the singular experience of winter riding, I will offer my very first product review-- the Wegmans plastic bag.

I still can't find my Louis Garneau booties that I got last year. And I refuse to buy useful gear that is less than the cost of a single race entry, because I have skewed values. As so many know, winter riding poses the issue of freezing feet.

In the past I've used plastic shopping bags in my shoes- usually going with a good wool/synthetic winter sock, followed by a plastic bag, followed by the shoe (and bootie, if available). Your foot will still freeze, although it's not terrible. The plastic bag is nice to keep your foot dry from road spray. It's also entertaining to people who are properly equipped.

Today I borrowed from the world of aquatics, adopting the idea of a wet suit. The setup was as follows: bag over naked foot, followed by a sock, a bag, a sock, and finally a shoe. I've had too success with latex gloves under ski gloves in the past- your hands will actually sweat and stay warm. I figured this would have a similar effect if the the sweat doesn't freeze in your shoe. But that's why I wore two (2) pairs of socks! It was a gamble.

My first impression was that walking around was uncomfortably weird...but it was accompanied by the familiar crinkling sound, which I liked.

Unfortunately this setup was awful. My feet never warmed up. They instantly went numb. And kept getting more numb. I don't have anything to compare against, though. Maybe I should have used a different setup on each foot, comparing the relative pain after the ride.

In any case, my feet were shriveled, cold, and white after taking off my shoes. White is typically a problem. Puffy red (and eventually peeling) ear lobes are pretty typical after a long day of skiing for me, but I've never actually gotten frostbite. Fortunately, it was my tight shoes that left my feet that color, not impending frostbite. Several hours later, it seems there's no ill effects. So I guess the plastic bag gets my endorsement.

So the next time you're at the market...don't annoy the cashier- take the plastic. That is, unless you shop at some high end store (or sZupermarket in Budapest) where they charge you for bags.