...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.