80

Cherry Brick Road

By Jared Rogers | Aug 30, 2010

Race name: Cherry-Roubaix Criterium
Race date: Saturday, Aug 28, 2010

This weekend’s adventures took me to my parent’s transplant home of Traverse City Michigan for the 3rd Annual Cherry-Roubaix.  I missed the first two due to varying circumstances so I was really looking forward to making it this year.  Unfortunately, my health threatened to derail my plans on Thursday when I got extremely sick with flu like muscle aches.  Needlesss to say, I wasn’t 100% in my right mind during most of the races this weekend, but still managed to have a little fun and represent us Chicago folk pretty well up in the Cherry Capitol of the world.

Friday

The whole week the town had been partying with bike related stuff, including some events grouped as the “Fixed Gear Symposium.” Well on Friday, they mixed bike racing with their weekly party called “Friday Nite Live” – a lot of people with good music, food and a really chill vibe.  The event?  150M sprints in downtown Traverse City.  This was absolute sweetness for a self proclaimed sprinter like myself.  I’d be competing in the fixed gear and men’s open gear categories’.

The concept was simple enough – get up on one of three start ramps, get a 10 second count down, go all out for 150M and beat the other two riders.  Can’t be that hard right?  So the first wave was the open geared category and there were like 27 of us.  I wait…and wait…and wait and then finally get called with the last wave.  It’s me and another rider…who just happends to be wearing a BMC kit.  I’m getting clipped in and the guy below my ramp says “you know who you’re racing right?” I reply “yeah” as I think to myself “and it really doesn’t matter ‘cause if he’s gonna kick my butt he’ll do it with ease.” Well the rider I was staged with was newly minted Pro Larry Warbasse of BMC’s U23 Squad.  Traverse City is his hometown so why not come out and have a little fun right?

We get our countdown and I take off down the ramp.  About 2 seconds into our run I can tell that something isn’t right ‘cause the crowd is letting out “oohhhs” and “aaawwwws.” Well, I’m not looking back so I just keep going as fast as I can and try not to kill myself as I go flying into the ultra short shut down area.  As I am making my way around the block back to staging (so I can do my fixed gear run) I run into Larry and ask what happened.  Turns out that when his bike met the pavement he unclipped (which sucks).  We got to chat for a few seconds on our way back about his return from Utah and some other tid bits (really cool guy).  I later learned that he won the Fixed Gear hill climb by like 30 seconds over the nearest competitor.  When I got back to staging I found out that Frankie Andreu mentioned that the unknown xXx rider from Chicago might be someone to watch out for.  If only I felt better…

The rest of the night would see me get 3rd in my second open gear heat (and somehow get eliminated) and get 2 1st place finishes on the track bike before getting knocked out by a Cat 1 in my first elimination round.  Oh well, I need to get some rest for tomorrow anyway because climbing up that start ramp was wearing on me each trip.

Saturday

It’s a nice, sunny, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky, kinda hot and sort of windy day.  This would be a nice day to race if there was just a little shade.  Oh well, at least it wasn’t raining.  Before the race I ran into teammate Ernie Majarucon (who took 2nd in his race), former teammate Newt Cole (top 10 in the 45+) and everyone’s favorite fan Nikki Cyp.  It was cool to see some familiar faces at a race that was 5 hours away from Chicago.  Also representing the Chi was Half Acre (Jamie Sanchez, Tim Strege and Todd Simeone) and Rhythm Racing (Evan Jahn).

Our race was slated for 30 minutes +1 on a 6 turn course that included a stretch of cobbles.  Technical courses are always cool to race on, but I have never really been a fan of cobbles.  I mean, it’s 2010 already, can’t we get some smooth pavement to run on?  But I have to say, these were some of the smoothest cobbles that I’ve ridden on so it really wasn’t that much of an issue.  Gun goes off and I get a hole shot clip in and hit the first turn in like 3rd wheel.  This is gonna be sweet.

Jamie was on the front in between myself and another rider.  Then he started to get a gap and the other rider wasn’t closing it.  Seeing as we’re both from Chicago, I decided to sit tight and see if he could get a little separation off the front, which he did.  The gap got bigger and bigger and all the while the Peloton is saying “let him go.” I’m thinking, “yeah, let him go ‘cause if the gap get’s big enough no one is going to bring him back.” We’ll, they let that go on for a while before they had enough and started chasing.  Me?  I just stayed top 5-7 wheels the entire time and let everyone else do the work.  They would eventually reel Jamie in about 10-12 minutes into the race despite some good blocking by his teammates and some soft efforts on the front from yours truly.

Most of the remainder of the race saw me cruising on the front and trying to not fall too far back.  At 20 minutes in I found myself on the front and decided I would test how I was “really” feeling.  I put the pace car in my sights and took off after it.  Funny thing, it just sped up and tried to get away from me.  Stupid pace car!  We’ll I strung the field out for a little bit and realized that I wasn’t really 100%, but I still had some juice in the legs.  But at 4 to go I got pushed to the back somehow and had to work my cherries off to get back towards the front.  In the process, Evan and another young rider got off the front which caused everyone to ramp up the pace which made it even harder to get back into a good position.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t do it fast enough and found my self in a tight bunch sprint.  The separation between 9th and 12th (where I finished)?  2/100ths of a second.  Not the best, but I’ll take it for a guy who could barely stand up two days before this race.  Evan finished 3rd and Todd took 11th.

After the race I saw the family, hung out with Nikki for a while (thanks for the ice) and saw Newt rock 6th in the 3’s.  Now here’s to a few days of rest before 4 days of brutal racing down in STL.

Sweaty finish at Chicago Tri

By Jeremy Anderson | Aug 29, 2010

Race name: Chicago Triathlon
Race date: Sunday, Aug 29, 2010

I finished 13th in the elite division and 3rd in the M 40-49 division in a hot, humid Chicago Triathlon today.  I finished in a time of 2:05:50. My bike split was slower than I would have liked but I’ll take it given the wind.  I PRed on the run portion of the race.  I rode HED three spokes, HED aero bars, and a Get-A-Grip frame.

Champion of Chicago: Part Two

By Liam Donoghue | Aug 17, 2010

Race name: Soldier Field Crit
Race date: Tuesday, Aug 17, 2010

Repeat.

Technicalities

By Luke Seemann | Aug 17, 2010

Race name: Glencoe Grand Prix
Race date: Saturday, Aug 14, 2010

I was glad I showed up early to Glencoe. The first thing I saw was a woman crashing in Turn 1. I noted a troublesome lip in the gutter and filed a memo to not go too wide there. The next hour was spent walking the course and taking notes, then riding it a few times during the children’s race, trying to take the turns at race pace to get accustomed to them.

On such a technical course, position is key and it would be important to take advantage of any chance to move up. I’m not the best handler, but I was able to start well and make my way near the front. Even near the front, I stayed on guard the entire race, taking any opportunity to make up a spot or two, either by drafting onto a free ride or by taking a faster line in a corner. Attrition would be heavy here, so you also had to mind the gaps. At the first hint of flagging from the rider ahead of you, you had to sprint around him or risk getting caught behind an even larger gap.

The two Aerocat riders in the 30+ race were noticeably in a different league. One was a former pro and masters national champion, the other a former mountain bike Olympian from Colombia. Early in the race they did a bit of the old “Saturn sit-up” and one of them got down the road alone. This was leading into the first points sprint. I was sitting about fifth wheel and something rash came over me—I jumped on the third-to-last turn.

Obviously I have no business getting mixed up in a sprint competition. But I felt I could catch the field by surprise, and indeed, I was able to hold on for third. Who knows what could happen from this point—maybe I could get lucky in the next few sprints, too.

This sprint led to a brief three-man break that lasted for about a lap, but I think we were too cooked from the sprint to give it the gas that was required. Too bad.

I continued to focus on position and cadging free rides toward the front. Leading into the second points sprint I was again positioned in the top 10. This time I jumped even earlier, hoping to again catch folks by surprise. This didn’t work as well, but I still hung on for fourth, with the previous second-place sprinter getting fifth. By my math that made us tied for second. Huh.

No concerted attacks would come for the rest of the race until two riders slipped off at the end. I think the pace was too high for anyone to try, and I could sense that the pack was getting smaller, though I dared not look back.

Third sprint. This time I just didn’t have enough gas or position to contest. And I’m pretty sure the same Aerocat rider won all three points sprints. Rats.

From then on it was all about position. I was feeling good, but not so good that I felt I could sustain an effort off the front. So I just tried to conserve and keep position. Hopefully the natural sprinters had fallen to attrition.

I had some bad luck in the final laps, however, having to close a few gaps, including when someone unclipped in front of me on the final climb. That’s racin’. But it meant I had to scramble to regain contact and make up as many positions as I could.

In the end I finished a few spots out of the money, but I was pleased to not have anyone pass me in the sprint, which given my track record is rather extraordinary.

I probably would have done better had I not burned so many matches on those point sprints. But they did have the benefit of keeping me near the front of the race, and that was pretty important. So it may have been a net gain, and it’s always fun to try something new.

An hour later it was time for the 1/2’s race. This was strung out single-file from the start, but I was doing fine hanging in. About 20 minutes in, however, my calves started cramping up bad. It’s always hard to determine what causes a cramp—not enough water? too much water? not enough food? the wrong food?—but in any case, I was done.

I’m pretty bummed I wasn’t able to see how I could perform at this level, but happily this gave me the opportunity to see Dave Moyer put in a great effort to make the winning six-man break. (I had been so far back in the pack, I had no idea anyone was off the front.)

Technical courses aren’t my strength, but I can’t wait to try this course again next year.

Broken Dreams

By Ryan Fay | Aug 15, 2010

Race name: Glencoe Grand Prix
Race date: Saturday, Aug 14, 2010

The Glencoe Grand Prix isn’t just another race on the calendar.  It’s a highlight of the local cycling scene, but also the national level.  This year, the Glencoe Grand Prix would be home to the US National Criterium championship making an already great race even better.  The race presentation of everything from the start/finish banner, referee station, pro team cars, live music, food, and Goose Island beer was very pro.  The day was well attended by spectators.  Needless to say, everyone was targeting this race to preform well in.  My motivation was as high as it’s been since Snake Alley.

The category 4 field was sold out with 100 riders; possibly the biggest group I’ve ever raced with.  A few things were certain: a good start position would be important, the race was going to be FAST, and that there would be splits in the pack due to the technical nature of the course and varying ability level.  I hustled around the mandatory free lap before lining up and slotted into the 3rd row.

The first few laps were a scramble at 28-30 mph.  I was sitting at the back of a group of about 20 riders when I noticed that there was actually a gap forming up ahead with 20 riders in it.  I made a quick decision to put in an effort to bridge.  The race was up the road and quickly moving away.  It was a huge effort to catch onto the back of the group, but I made it.  Others would also make it too, but there were many who missed out.  Unfortunately for the team, only Owen Aronson and myself were represented in the lead group.  The accelerations and gaps forming everywhere at the back half of the field kept strong team riders like Adam Herndon and John Wolters out of the lead group.  That was definitely not part of the script.  The race would have been different if more teammates would have been there.

After getting my bearings and a slight recovery, I move up to the front to keep the pace high.  I was also testing the breakaway waters.  Nobody really attacked off the front and got anywhere largely because the pace was set so high.  I ended up taking first in the last of the sprint points laps. It was nice to get the points since other races don’t have them - the prize for most points was a watch.  I hadn’t planned on going for those sprints earlier, now I was wishing that I had.  A lap later, a two place prime is called.  Generally speaking, I don’t go for primes.  This time I did and I crossed the line 2nd behind John Villena from Rhythm Racing, taking home a case of Gatorade.  That was the first prime I had ever won. I even got to pick my flavor: lemon-lime.  Most importantly, I was liking my chances out of this group.  The race continued to wind down and the group stayed fast.  By then, at least one group of riders had been pulled from the race.  Another was in danger of being pulled by the referees, but they would survive to the finish.

The last lap comes, and my position is seemingly solid.  After the hill and slight bend to the left, a rider curiously makes a from the move to the left, pushing me into a curb.  I yelled NO NO NO NO before crashing into someone’s front yard.  I’m obviously animated at that point.  The race was over for me.  I was banged up and scraped a bit, but otherwise was fine.  The bars got turned in the fall, so I brought the bike over to the very conveniently located Mavic neutral support station to get them straightened out so I can still “finish” the race.  As I get to the finish area, there are kids everywhere because they are getting staged for their races.  I was asked to leave the course, but I explained and went to the referees to make sure I would factor into the results.  My final placing was 39th, awesome.  Had I stayed upright, a top 10 was in the bag and a top 5 wasn’t unreasonable.  Good thing I won that Gatorade.

My frame was actually cracked in that crash too.  Broken equipment is an ugly side of the sport, especially when things happen out of the control of the rider.  The dream is over, and the season may be cut off sooner than anticipated.  At least I’ve got my health.

Despite the end of the race not going to plan and having some busted hardware, I had a good day otherwise.  Thanks to friends Aaron, Janet, Mike, and Michelle for making it out and supporting.  It was also nice to see Chris Kinonen win in the 3’s race in an amazing breakaway and Dave Moyer finish 5th in the 1/2 race.  Glencoe was great.  I’ll be again for more next year.

UPDATE: I was informed on Monday that I had been chosen as a winner of a raffle for a Sram Force Gruppo.  What an unbelievable prize to win.  The proceeds of the raffle tickets went to a great cause: The Glencoe Educational Foundation.  That broken frame stings just a little less now…

Glencoe Grand Prix, my new favorite race

By Chris Kinonen | Aug 15, 2010

Race name: Glencoe Grand Prix
Race date: Saturday, Aug 14, 2010

A technical, high-profile, big summer crit with a large field.  Not exactly what I think of as an ideal race for personal success but as a team, we had a very strong line up with Seegs, Koster, Wiberg, Morrissey, Truemper, Pankonin, Murray and myself.  It was a good mix of riders with varied and complementary talents.  Before starting, Randy said we had to race in front, basically in the top 10, because it was so difficult to move up during the race.  That was fine by me.  The technical nature of the course caused me more than a bit of anxiety about competing in the frequently sketchy 3’s field and I would be more than happy leading the way at the front.

I got a good start and pretty much went straight to the front.  During the first few laps, I was either at the front or in the top 10, staying out of trouble, and getting a feel for the corners at full speed.  I think shortly after the first sprint for points, about 5 laps in, Flatlandia’s Dave Jaggi got a small gap.  I moved up and put in a modest acceleration to close the gap.  Looking behind me, I was surprised to see that I had actually created a gap and by the time I got to Dave, we probably had about a 10 second lead.  It was time to begin our 30+ minute two man escapade to the finish.

I knew that the ease with which we got off and extended our gap meant only one thing.  The xXx boys behind us were doing a stellar job slowing down the field.  No doubt, this was the key to our eventual success.

So there I was, very early in the race in a 2 man break.  The breakaway is my favorite part of bike racing, but this seemed a bit early to me.  I thought that if a break stuck, it wouldn’t be until the 2nd half, and I was pretty sure it was only a matter of time before we would be caught.  Nevertheless, we both just put our heads down and kept a steady, high pace.

Dave was a great break away partner and rode strong the entire race.  I think we had similar ability and took equal pulls throughout.  As the second sprint for points approached, I told Dave that I didn’t care about the points, he could have them.  He said the same thing, and we continued our unified march to the finish.

The time gaps given to us were somewhat erratic.  We were told 15 seconds, then a half a lap later, 30 seconds.  It really didn’t matter.  We were committed to a maximal effort for as long as we could hold it.  With about 20 minutes to go, however, I was suffering.  It was going to be tough to make it with such a long way left to race.  I stopped looking at the lap counter and my bike computer and just settled into a rhythm to tick off the miles. 

My teammates, friends, and people I didn’t even know cheered us on. It helped a lot.

Headed through the start finish, I inadvertently glanced up at the lap counter and saw 3 laps to go.  I began to realize that one of us was probably going to win.  There were no more words spoken from that point on.  We continued to alternate pulls. 2 laps to go. The crowd was amazing. 1 lap to go.  My teammates had set this up for me, I had to deliver. Do I attack the hill or wait for the sprint?  Dave wasn’t showing signs of weakness, so I didn’t think I would drop him on the hill.  I’d wait for the sprint.  ½ lap to go.  I was leading and I knew we wouldn’t be caught.  I didn’t expect Dave was going to volunteer to pull through so close to the finish, so I eased up a bit to recover.  2 corners to go.  I stay on the far left side of the road with an eye to my right to see if he’s going to make a move.  Last corner.  I drop it down 2 gears and begin my sprint as soon we round the bend.  I sprint with moderate intensity at first.  I can see his wheel right behind me.  Half way down the home stretch, I give it full throttle.  The finish line is oh so close.  Another glance down and Dave’s wheel is gone.  The finish line is upon me.  I raise my arms in victory for the first time since I was 17 years old.  Getting the win was surreal, and honestly still probably hasn’t sunk in.

The first thing I do is congratulate Dave on a great race.  I would have been proud to end up 2nd to him.

Of course I can’t give enough credit and thanks to the team for giving me the chance to win.  I owe all of you.

I wasn’t anticipating the podium interview, and if I had to do it over, I would start by thanking the promoters and organizers of this great race, as well as the beautiful Village of Glencoe.  Maybe I’m biased.  I think most people are going to love the races they win.  In this case however, I think the accolades are appropriate.  It was a great course and an extremely well organized race.  We can only hope they continue to host the US Pro crit championship.  Thank you.

Chase Group 1 - 1:34

By Jared Rogers | Aug 15, 2010

Race name: Glencoe Grand Prix
Race date: Saturday, Aug 14, 2010

So I rolled across the line exhausted.  The journalist and photographers swarm me.  I see a familiar face; it’s Robbie.

RV: So Jared, looks like you all had a hard day out there today.  Could you comment on how the break formed?

JR: Yeah, we were gunning from the start.  I got the word in the radio that we were to push pace.  When we hit the downhill section I just went to the front and drove it as hard as I could.  When we got to the uphill, I swung off and saw that we had a small group of 10 and xXx had three in the group.  From there we just tried to keep the hammer down and stay out of site.  Looks like it worked.

RV: With this win, do you feel that your season has been validated?

JR: It helps with the confidence.  It’s been a long season and despite a lot of good results, until you get that W it makes for a stressful situation.  I mean, we’ve got a lot of good riders and we work really well together.  But when the victories keep eluding you, it makes you question yourself.

RV: Downer’s/Glencoe typically marks the end of the crit season, but this year there are a few more races.  What’s next on deck for you?

JR: I’m going to take some time off and then get BEEP, ready BEEP, for BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP…..

Stupid alarm clock – I was really enjoying that dream!  Oh well, it’s 7AM and time to get ready for a day of doubling up (Cat 4 and 30+ Open).  Wonder how it will all play out?

CAT 4
100 riders and a 10 turn technical course.  Considering there are about 40 of us who race regularly, I have no idea where the other 60 came from.  Stay up front and work our plan (we had 18 riders or so) is all I can think of.  Officials send us off and the pace goes ballistic from the beginning – which was expected.  I find Wolters and slot in behind him as we work towards the front.  Somewhere in lap three I got separated from him, but managed to find DJ to keep it moving.  Then the gaps started forming and I kept having to burn tons of matches to come around and maintain contact.  Long story short – pace stayed too hot, too long, on too hot of a day and I got ejected from the main group (which I am guessing is about 40) somewhere around 16 minutes in.  I got passed by a second group and eventually hooked up with a third group, which I would stay with for the rest of the race.

This being the PRO National Criterium Championships means one thing – if you’re out of contention, you will get early finished (i.e. pulled).  Whenever I went to Downers Grove (the traditional site of the Championships) that was my main objective, don’t get pulled.  So we’re about 20 minutes into this thing and all I can think about is where is that freaking pace car and where is the follow moto?  The moto answer was clear, it was right behind us, which meant that we were the last group on the course.

In our group was myself, Adam and DJ.  Adam and three other riders were at the front killing themselves.  I was about 6 wheels back yelling for people to take short pulls.  Let it be known that I wasn’t yelling because I wanted other people to do the work – I wanted them to pull off the front so I could help.  Our only chance of staying in the race was to keep the pace close to or above 25 mph.  I could help do that if I was on the front, but I didn’t have enough left in the tank (at that point) to come past 5 riders to get there.  Needless to say, despite not working all that well together, we somehow managed to keep the peloton about 25 seconds off our heels.

It’s funny sometimes what you remember of a race. Like Fowkes looking at this watch each time we came by the start line and the lap counter moving down ever so slowly.  Like seeing Wolters come back from the peloton and yelling at him to slot in with us.  Like slowing down at 3 to go and thinking we weren’t going to make it unless we picked it up.  I remember being on the back stretch and hearing the announcers yelling prime – 2 laps to go.  Well, at least I knew they were at the start finish and that we had some time.  And then came the final lap.

In cycling there is a gentlemanly rule – if you didn’t do all the work, you don’t take an unjust finish.  Adam and the three other riders did the lion’s share of the work so they deserved to come across the line before me.  But being fresh did allow me to do one final act of teamwork.  Between 3 and 4 I came up the left to get on the front (I told Adam during pre-race that I would lead him out if we found ourselves together at the end).  He saw me moving up and just slotted in behind me.  My job was to now push as hard as I could for as long as I could and not lose him in the process.  So I took the descents like I was in Tron and scurried up the rise like I was Schleck.  I delivered him as close as I could to turn 9, pulled off and then rode in (avoiding a crash caused by a blowout in turn 10).

Like my dream I rode across the line spent.  But Robbie was no where to be found this time and I had no idea where I finished.  I eventually made my way back to our team’s tent and learned that Adam took 1st out of our group.  I also learned that he got bad positioning at the start which put him so far back.  Too bad for both of us, I know that we were both looking to do well at this race.

30+ Open
Okay, so my second race was scheduled to start about 40 minutes after the finish of my first.  During this time I found out that in the 4’s, only 38 of the 100 riders finished on the lead lap.  Everyone else was either early finished or DNF.  What’s even more shocking is that in the lead group there were only 25 riders and our chase group was 1:34 behind them.  Me? I finished 33rd, Adam 28th, Owen 11th and that’s all I had time to see before something dawned on me.  Why are there masters riders rolling slowly behind the kids?  Crap, that’s my race!

Once they let me back across the road, I managed to get back to the tent, get my shoes and other gear on, get my old number off with the help of Nick and Meg (thank goodness I pinned it under my first) throw my bike over the barricade and get to the line (still somewhere in the middle of the pack).  The result?

The race didn’t start off as fast as the 4’s and there was tons of breaking for the first lap.  But it eventually strung out with the weaker riders getting pushed to the back or outright shed.  In the end, I got ejected (too much work for one day) and early finished somewhere around 21 minutes in.  Oh well, it was fun while it lasted and I could get an early start on my drive home to my daughter’s first birthday party (which meant I wouldn’t get yelled at for being too late).  It would also give me some time to think about just how poorly I had performed.

When you’re a competitor, you tend to be hard on yourself.  You tend to berate yourself whenever things don’t go your way.  Heck, you may even wonder why you do this thing at all.  There are the almighty highs and the cavernous lows.  And then there is reality.  When I was at the party my sister asked me how I did in the race and I told her that I finished 33/100.  Her response was “wow, that’s pretty good.  To finish 33rd out of that many racers is pretty impressive.” It was that statement that made me think “normal” for a second.  To you and I, 33rd is a failure when you are aiming for the podium.  It shows that you’re not all that strong and that you’re not on the top of your game.  But to all the normal people out there, it’s a far cry from what they could ever do on a bike.

So with that said, I’m not too disappointed with my results.  Besides, there’s always next week to try it all over again.  Until we meet again on the road…

Make It Stop!

By Jared Rogers | Aug 8, 2010

Race name: Grayslake Cycling Classic
Race date: Saturday, Aug 7, 2010

Yeah, that’s how I felt at some point in each of the two races at Grayslake this weekend.  This is a course that I love and have raced several times.  It’s fun, fast, not too technical but has many sweeping turns and is a blast to race.  The added twist this year?  I would double up and do the 30+ open.  I’ve double up and done masters races before (mostly 4/5 until they started raising the age to 35+) so that wasn’t the issue. The twist would be that this would be only my second 30+ open…ever.  Let’s just say that the first one was over so fast that I didn’t even know it started; so I avoided them for an entire year.  I was hoping to last a little longer than a lap this time.

Cat 4

Line up with 50+ other riders and have a good position.  Get a good clip in (which is hard because I run my peddle tension super high for sprinting purposes) and notice that they are stringing out as soon as we hit turn one.  Pace is high and doesn’t let up…for about 14 minutes straight.  I keep looking at the HR monitor but it doesn’t matter, I’m at 95% of my theoretical max so all I see is flashing numbers. Who is driving?  Fay and company – go figure.  Please make it stop!  I keep trying to cool down but it’s not working.  Pace would stay north of 26 mph for the duration of the race.

I’m sliding back, but I’m not worried because I’m only about 20 spots from the front.  We go around a few turns and I swear I hear the moto behind me.  I take a look back, I’m 2nd to last!  WTF?  Where is everyone else?  I gun it up the left during a straigtaway because there is no way I’m hanging out at the back.  Come around a turn and there is about 20 people pulled off on the left side of the road.  Hmmm, Pace Car must have told them to get out of the way (wrong delirious kid, there was a crash you didn’t hear).  4 to go, time to find a wheel.  There goes Q from P5…there goes Mr. Perez in the IU kit…those two wheels are about as good as it gets.

Pace slows way down with 3 to go.  Fay yells at the lead six “come on guys, let’s pick it up.” A rider yells back “what have you done?” They start arguing.  “Ryan, stay focused!” I yell from behind.  Squirrels are running rampant around the front of the pack.  I’d rather ride safe than go to work with a broken face.  Lose the good wheels but manage to stay close in the sprint.  Finish 11th.  Q and Mr. Perez?  1st and 7th respectively.  Spent 27 minutes at 95% and ran an average HR of 178 for 40 minutes of racing.  My threshold last year was 172.  Guess I have a new threshold?

30+ Open

I spent two hours eating and hanging out with teammates.  Get warmed up and ready to go for round two (course now includes a chicane). Pull up to the line but have to wait a little bit as one of the racers who just finished and is on the podium will be racing with us (woman from Team Mack).  Good, at least I will know one wheel I can follow because I am now entering foreign territory.  I know only a few of the riders but it doesn’t really matter, they’re all 1’s, 2’s or 3’s.  Can I not race?  I really don’t want to anymore.  I typically have to pee a billion times before a race.  This race?  My arms are literally shaking.  Adam tells me I have to race.  Riders ready?  Crap, here we go.

I get another good clip in and slot in about 5th wheel.  Riders start to peel off until I am second wheel.  Two riders come around and get about a 15 meter gap.  All I hear from behind me is “go get him.” Crap, I wasn’t ready to work just yet.  Lead rider pulls off and I start digging for about 30 seconds but I’m already not feeling it.  Roll off and reslot in somewhere towards the front.  Attacks keep coming – they’re trying to establish the break.  Average is about 4/10th of a mile slower than what we ran in the 4’s BUT, the accelerations to reel in the flyers are hurting me after already having raced.  We never braked in the corners or the chicane (so refreshing compared to the 4s) and were single file most of the time.  Crap, can we please slow this down?  Yeah right, get to the back of the train kid.  A good friend (Mike Shea) told me to just survive until the break got away, then things would calm down.  Too bad the break got away about 2 minutes AFTER I cracked off a massive acceleration to reel in the front riders.  27 minutes in, I waved the last two riders around and slowed down.

Can I quit?  Now just how will that look on the site?  DNF.  Not happening, I started it, I will finish it.  Adam and Meg gave me TDF cheers every time I came around (complete with running along the side of the course).  You’d be surprised just how much of a difference a cheer can make when your body is breaking down underneath you.  Lapped by the break at 39 minutes and by the field as we crossed the line for one to go.  Finished 24th out of 31 starters.  Not the best result, but I wasn’t DFL either.  Kid asks if I want a lemonade for 25 cents.  I tell him I’m wearing a skinsuit, I don’t have anything on me.  Meg offers to buy all three of us a cup.  Best 25 cent lemonade I ever had.  Plus one of Meg’s cupcakes to wash it down with – life is well now!

Next up?  Glencoe 4s and another 30+ open.  Why do I keep doing this?  Must be something in the Kool Aid…lemonade…cup cakes…

Riding Across Indiana 160 Miles at a Time

By David Heckelsmiller | Aug 3, 2010

Race name: RAIN
Race date: Saturday, Jul 17, 2010

A brief disclaimer: I realize the main intent of this section is to report on actual races, but as my account will hopefully show, this event qualifies.

Overview:

-RAIN (Ride Across Indiana)- one day, 160 miles
-Approximately 1500 starters
-Mass start at 0700 in Terre Haute; ends at Earlham college in Richmond
-Sponsored by the Bloomington Bicycle Club
-bottle/food hand-offs allowed
-2010 winner finished in 6hrs20min
-mostly flat with some long, low grade inclines

Now, on to the fun part:

I came to this ride expecting an endurance challenge- what I found was a well-organized Gran Fondo-esque unsanctioned race. 1500 starters- 1200 finishers. Most come out to ride. A select few come out to compete.

This latter group forms a tight lead pack of approximately 50-100 riders, many of whom do have support vehicles. Let me be frank: these guys are haulin’ and not holding anything back. There were all the usual characteristics of a lengthy road race- crashes, failed bottle handoffs, et al. I had the opportunity to ride with this group for the first 90 miles until, having completely run out of food/water, I was forced to make a brief stop. During this time, there were instances I found myself in my highest gear, spinning a 100+ cadence, and still struggling to hang onto the slipstream.

The last 70 miles were a combination of bridging gaps from one small group of stragglers to another, battling heat and exhaustion, and managing nutrient intake. In the final analysis, this event was a great time. It didn’t have the hills of the Insane Terrain Challenge, but the length and racing atmosphere surely made up for it.

Hoping for rain, preparing for sun.

By Adam Herndon | Aug 1, 2010

Race name: Tour of Elk Grove
Race date: Saturday, Jul 31, 2010

I had signed up for the Tour of Elk Grove shortly after registration opened. Then I forgot about it, seriously. Other things popped up and required my attention( have your heard about the realy cross race?) so it wasn’t until last week when I tried to registar again and relized that I had already had done so. Then I heard about the payouts and saw the course and got excited about the race.

I have found that last year I put a lot of pressure on myself in races. This year I decided that I wasn’t going to do that. I wasore interested in stay consistant and growing a little, rather then fading over time. And so far this year that is what I have been able to do. The first few races a looked to stay in the top half and rarely even contested sprints. Then I started to formalize a training plan and I grew more and more confident in my form.

So I went in to this race confident in myself. I knew barring a crash I could determine where I finished. So I got there ready for 45 mins of action, except it was 35. Were I had thought a break would go in a 45 min race, I now knew it would be 35 mins of speed, especially without the rain to cause people to lose heart. 

The team had a lot of members in this race and we knew we could keep it pretty animated. I had a few wheels that I was looking out for but just planned to keep towards to the front and not waste time on primes.  The first half started fast with us laying down some hard attacks and me glad to sit in. About half way through I started to move up knowing that the 4’s have been crashy lately. Then came the first of prime laps and some guys move to front and I sit 6 or so back. We come around the last turn and they sprint and I cruise at a pretty fast pace. When I see them all sit up I drill it think less people in the end the better. We do this again, fast pace, sprint for prime, I sit in and then drill it afterwords. No reason to let anyone rest.

I see the final laps counting down and I am still up front and a long comes a teammate we trade 30 sec pulls while everyone else is uniterested in doing any work. On the back side of the 2nd lap to go I force my way off the front and take 3rd or 4th wheel. We gett the bell and I realize I am in good placing. Don’t crash in the 180 no reason to waste all the work. A tire explodes behind us on the backside, keep face foward and go. Get ready to sprint. We round the final turn and the front slows just a little. I knew that this was about 400m out and with a fast group I didn’t want to be swarmed in the finish. I also know I have been doing long solo sprints, so I could hold 400m. So I go. I see one wheel behind me, I push harder. I started to see one rider coming on the right, I now sprint all out. At the line it’s close and I throw. I come away happy with 5th. My best result so far this year and proof that everything is working. Possible one of the fastest races and I felt like I could go for a while longer.

Great Day but so so results for me

By Thomas Kabacinski | Jul 26, 2010

Race name: Whitefish Bay Classic 4/5
Race date: Sunday, Jul 25, 2010

I traveled out to Whitefish Bay for the last of the Superweek series. I was hoping my week of night work and my parents visit wasn’t going to drain me too much.

After a long drive and great weather and course I was ready to give it a whirl. I was able to get a good warm up in and take a bunch of laps around the course. I met Paymon and Tracy from our team and we were ready to give it hell.

There were 50 plus riders and as in 4/5 races there were some skid-dish riders in the field. 12 of the 24 laps were enough to get the pace up and the field thinned down.

Tracy did a great job of getting to the front 5 after 1 lap and he was glued there the whole race. I took a further spot in top 20 for most of the race. I spotted two crazy guys from Expo racing who I didn’t think were too safe in the field cutting off lines and weaving in and out. I figured they were a good pair to follow.

As the race went on that theory went out the window as they were just a bit too crazy for my well being. With 5 laps to go the pace was high but not high enough to prevent the riders from swelling in size on the straight aways. In the short legs of the course the pace would pick up and thin things out.

After reading Liam’s race report I felt great and was thinking maybe I could grow up and be like Liam and pull out a win. I guess, I am still just a kid as I was just about 10 spots too far back. On the last lap the pace was hot and I couldn’t make up too many spots. Tracy was up there and ran into the wacky Expo guys too. I came in 20th well behind Tracy who did well.

Oh yeah the Expo guys? They came in 4th and 7th......I wanted to bitch to the officals about them but didn’t want to sound like a cry baby. Oh well maybe a few well placed elbows or a Mark Renshaw headbutt will be more applicable next time with them.

Champion of Chicago

By Liam Donoghue | Jul 16, 2010

Race name: Soldier Field Crit
Race date: Wednesday, Jul 14, 2010

We were promised crepes (there were no crepes), baguettes (there were no baguettes), bocce-type games (does cycling count?), and French music (when off the front, I heard Phoenix’s 1901 play, so that totally counts).

When that apparently all fell through, they found a guy who spoke French to introduce the start of the race. I don’t speak French. But I swear I just heard him say…

“Did he just say we’re racing to be the champion of Chicago?” I asked Dave at the front of the start line, as we both laughed.

Up until that point, I thought this was a simple training race, a mid-week prep crit that was meant to serve as a tune-up, a way to train that leadout, a way for sprinters to jump into a break and see what that’s all about. But now I knew much better. It’s Bastille Day, and clearly my French-speaking opponents already knew that we were in no ordinary crit; we were battling for the French National Championship of Chicago. There would be no horsing around. Except for the horsecops I saw wandering around during my warmup – they’d surely be horsing around.

The gun erupted (there was no gun). I eyed my challengers and thought about what I would tell them if I could communicate with them. Je m’apelle Liam. Would they even understand that? Oui. I don’t even know what that means. Vive le Tour! Huh? Man, I wish I knew more French.

Attaque! Ooo, I knew that one. So I did. On lap two, while Tommeke was pulling on the back straightaway. And so begins our odyssey. When I say “our,” I mean my bike and me. Because at first, no one wanted to bridge up. So I came back, and Dave attacked. That didn’t stick, so I came back with another counter maybe a lap later. This one stuck.

Chris Padfield joined up, naturally, and I was happy to be relieved, at least for a while, because I was solo for much too long. He then took a few pulls that were a bit much for my feeble legs, and he dropped me maybe a lap and a half after joining. Au revoir, monsieur. I remained in what had previously been “the front of the race” and was now “no-man’s land” since Padfield was farther up the road. The field behind me was splintering, and—well I’ll be! That looks like Marcel Statechamp off the front of the main field, trying to bridge up to me! So long as you don’t bring other people with you, Moyer, I’m cool with that. A few laps later, Dave’s chipper “Hey buddy!” woke me from my reverie-filled crepe, I mean crepe-filled reverie – no I don’t. The two of us marched on—the Soldier Field parking lot our Champs Elysees—attempting to get to the ringleader. With the sun slowly setting, we were tailed by a train of two totally tubular team Tati riders, who, together with the two of us, took to trading pulls to track down that tall time triallist. The gap hovered around 15-20 seconds, while the lap counter reeled off lap after lap. Losing time to go in the race, but not gaining time on the man out front. Not good.

I was sitting in, catching my breath, and felt better with every second. On days that you have it, you often get a feeling that cannot be described my mere words. It’s a feeling of unstoppable certainty. Like a vision. I am unbreakable. You cannot beat me. I will win.

To tell the truth, I wasn’t feeling this 10 minutes into the race. Definitely wasn’t feeling it when Chris bridged up to me, nor when Dave came and we were trading pulls. But once our group of four – two xXx and two Tati – began a quick, steady rotation, that feeling came. All it took was a bit of wind-catching at the back of a group. It was a most assured feeling of “this race is over; I win.” And I was saying this to myself as the time gap was still sitting at 20 seconds and there were maybe 14 laps to go. I’m saying this to myself after hearing Kenny Labbe announce to the crowd that Padfield had just made contact with the main field and was now a lap up. Somehow, despite all this information that strongly hinted at the contrary, I simply knew: I would win.

Once the lap counter ticked down to 11, I had to leave the peacefulness of the four-man group and venture back out on my own. So I attacked, and chased as if the World Championship of Chicago were on the line. I’m getting closer and closer, using some points-race knowledge from the velodrome – in regards to timing when you lap the field—to plan my ultimate regrouping. Crossing the start/finish line with three to go, I make contact with the back of the field. I am tempted to tell Briney, who’s been busting his ass all race to make sure Dave and I could stay off unimpeded, that I’m there. But Padfield is at the front of the group, and I don’t want him to hear. Espionage. Sneak attack. Ninjabike. So I don’t tell Tom, and on the windy backstretch, I stand up on the pedals and sprint past the whole group. Apparently Dave was in that group, too? None of this made sense to me at the time, but no time to think! Time to ATTACK! Padfield is a bit surprised, and I have a gap on him. I am going all-out, hoping I can keep this gap to the line. Two laps to go. That is a long time to hold a man of his caliber off. I don’t look back. I’m so confident that I just know he isn’t on my wheel. Close, but not on it. One lap to go. Haha, I’m totally going to win. Windy backstretch, I get low, look underneath my arm, down behind me, and boom. There he is. On my wheel. And the pack is following him. Whoops. I immediately sit up. We’re now at roughly 500 meters to go, but that includes 2.5 turns, and I don’t know how long I’ve been giving him a free ride behind me. Did I foul this one up? He stays glued to my wheel, we slow more, and the pack swarms around us. Yelling. Chaos. Yet we’re still going slow, he’s still behind me. Let them have their field sprint, hooray. I wait for him to attack, listening attentively, watching shadows from the street lights. We turn left. Just one and half turns until the final 50 meters to the line, and it’s still cat and mouse. I see Tom, a remnant from the field sprint, shoot by us. “Hey, Tom!” I remember saying, though who knows how loudly. Nor why I was yelling that. We’re roughly 150 meters from the line. I jump, take the last couple corners ahead of Chris, and stay ahead of him to the finish.

I am the Chicago Champion of the Universe.

Later, on the podium, I am flanked by two of the most beautiful French women I have ever seen (they were not French.) Bernard Hinault (Kenny Labbe) shakes my hand, and recommends I join him at his estate in Bordeaux once the tour is over (he politely asks if we could speed the ceremony up because he has to get home). The ladies hand me a novelty-size bottle of champagne (red tote bag with a water bottle inside), the contents of which I jettison all over my adoring fans (teammates), some photojournalists blinding me with their flashbulbs (Luke and others with iPhones), and of course the now-giggling podium girls (I didn’t actually get champagne).
“Je t’aime, mes amours,” I tell the two as they each kiss one cheek. “Je t’aime.”

Lake Geneva

By Greta Neimanas | Jul 15, 2010

Race name: Lake Geneva Crit, SuperWeek
Race date: Wednesday, Jul 14, 2010

I’m not a crit racer. I come to SuperWeek because it’s a weakness I’m trying to improve, and to gain some fitness by racing everyday. It seems this plan is the opposite of the other girls in my field. They’re all crit racers and they’re here because they’ve got crazy jumps, and are wily in a field sprint. Well, that’s not me… at all. My training is pretty specific to the time trial, and SuperWeek is a bonus.

Finally after four days of trying unsuccessfully to win a race, and one day of what appeared to be a protest that I missed the memo about, it happened. The Lake Geneva crit is definitely one you should check out next year. It was a two corner course (the other two were cut off so they were just sweepers) and had the topography of a Pringle. The “climb” through the start/finish looked like more than it was, and the headwind on the back side was more of a factor than that “climb” was.

Women’s racing is too nice. Nobody wants to hurt themselves or other people, they just roll around and exchange cookie recipes most of the time. Nobody ever wants to sack up and take a pull because they’ll get tired, or it’s too hot, or they have a hangnail, I don’t know. If you figure out why they do that, please let me know because I’ve been wondering for a long time. When I show up to a race, I want to finish with my tongue tangled in the spokes of my front wheel knowing I had some guts and did everything I could do. This usually means getting in a break, or off the front. After being off the front for half the race on Saturday, I’ve been marked like a bingo card.

The course in Lake Geneva suited my strengths pretty well, and the conditions played in my favor too- warm and windy. After the atrocity of a “race” on Tuesday, someone put up $100 cash for the first person to lap the field in an effort to get the girls racing. I took my turns at the front, tried to go solo, tried to go with a few potential breaks only to be brought back. I even picked up some points towards the sprint jersey just for kicks. The winning move finally went with 12 laps to go. A girl went early for the final sprint points at 10 to go. She got a pretty good gap quickly, but nobody wanted to step up and chase or go with, they were just going to let her go. I decided it was time to go, and accelerated hard in the saddle and was away. I was able to bridge to the girl quickly. She was struggling a bit and told her to just sit on and recover for a bit. I thought I could stay away solo for 12 laps, but just incase, I wanted to have another person with to share some of the work with. She was interested in the sprint points, I didn’t care. I told her she could take them all while I worked to establish the gap. After the sprint points, she was gassed and I went on alone. Time to tape the flashlight to my hand and keep running into the pain cave. 9.5 laps to go. My coach was on the sidelines giving me splits each lap- 15 seconds, 20, 30, 35, 40, 50, 55, 1min, over a minute. On the last lap I could see the field going into turn three while I was on the straight away. I wanted to lap the field but couldn’t quite do it- I needed one or two more laps. Now that I’ve had some time to decompress and reflect a bit, I’m still happy with the win, but angry I didn’t catch the field.

It was great to finally get a win this week, and a win in an able bodied race is always really satisfying. A big thanks is in order to all of you for the support you give me and putting up with my race reports. Now go race with some guts people!

90mi and a Bike Race

By Courtney O'Neill | Jul 11, 2010

Race name: Bloomington Cycling Grand Prix
Race date: Saturday, Jul 10, 2010

Hello from the road!  I am just over 1,000 miles into my cross country ride from Boston to Santa Barbara with Bike & Build this summer.  It has been fun, exhausting (mostly from leader duties, to say nothing of the biking), and generally awesome.

As we made our way out of the mountains and into the midwest, our days have been getting longer.  Friday was our first century day, followed by a 90 mile day in to Bloomington, IN (famously captured in Breaking Away). 

And lo and behold, when we rolled into town there was a bike race happening a block away from our overnight host.  Well, between peer pressure and my own secret desire to race my bike I decided to sign up for the Women’s Open.  I had 90 miles under my belt already, but that just meant that I was really warmed up, right?

As they started call ups I realized that Becca Finley, of cycling powerhouse Marian University, was on the line.  Oh crap, I thought, this is going to be really fast and I’m not quite sure how my legs are going to hold up.  And fast it was.  I was hanging on for the first 20 or so minutes until I unfortunately (or fortunately for my legs maybe) got caught behind a crash and lost contact with the peloton.

I spent the last half of the race with a two other riders, then by myself when they clearly didn’t want to work, then with two others that I bridged to.  The racing, however, is not the interesting part.  It was my fan base of 31 Bike & Builders who were cheering at the top of the incline with letters painted on their chests doing coordinated cheers and the wave and ridiculous things on every time I came through.  The announcer took note of the mayhem and spent a couple laps talking about Bike & Build and how I had already biked 90 miles today.

I finished for 20th.  Mehh.  But it was maybe one of the most fun races I’ve done.

You Know Shouldn’t Race, But…

By Peter Allen | Jul 9, 2010

Race name: Team Apache 40K TT
Race date: Saturday, Jun 26, 2010

You know shouldn’t race, but…

You have a nasty cold and your sinuses the feel like they’re going to explode, but then you remember that’s why they make psuedoephedrine.

Your throat is so dry and scratchy that it’s hard to eat dry food, but then you praise the folks at Clif Bar for developing Shot Bloks.

Your Hed H3C gets a flat on the way to the start line, but then you’re happy you have a Hed Stinger 9 as a backup in the car.

Your achilles tendonitis is still bothering you, but that’s because you’ve slacked off doing the effective exercises you learned at Athletico.

You had been anticipating overcast skies, but switching lenses on your Rudy Project Horus are snap (literally) for the changing conditions.

Your Cycleops PowerTap shows that your race wattage was worse than during a recent commute, but then again it’s amazing how much wattage you can generate when you’re running late for a meeting.

Your Pactimo skinsuit normally keeps you plenty cool, but then you were dumb enough to wear a Camelbak under it which acted like a hot water bottle (especially with heat indexes in the mid-90s).

You’re cranky after spending 5+ hours in the car driving to your race AND then your wife’s race, but are then overjoyed at dinner when you find out that they’ve got Goose Island IPA on tap.

You know you shouldn’t have raced, but what else would you have done...organize your sock drawer (actually, I need to do that)?

------------------------------

I decided to have a different take on race reports after today’s Apache 40K TT. Given everything that happened today, it was probably the forces at be telling me that it would have been smarter to stay home and take the day off.  Some folks had it, others didn’t (including me). If you race enough, you know that you will have great races, bad races, and many in between. Besides, racing is the reason why we train, plus it motivates us to keep training. We spend so much time and money on our sport that it seems like a waste not to “utilize” our “investment”. I remember one of my teammates reminding me, “If you don’t, the other guy will be.” Hope to see you at the next race!

Great Junior Camp

By Sarah Mythen | Jul 5, 2010

Race name: xXx Junior Camp
Race date: Thursday, Jul 1, 2010

This Junor camp was great! I went to camp hoping to get more experience on my new bike.  I ended up coming away with more than I had ever hoped for.

The first thing I learned was how to attack hills and work with all of my gears.  After I mastered how to do that I practiced balancing and learning different ways to stand up, and how they affected my speed and energy level.  As each day passed I was able to go further distances on the rides.  The last day I was there we did a recovery ride and drills.  The drills were very fun.  I learned how to set down and pick up a bottle on the ground.  I practiced being off balance near another person and how to rub their wheel if necessary.  They are all great skills that I know I will use.  Another thing that was nice in addition to getting all the bike skills was having the support vehicle.  It was nice to know that if you got too tired or you ran out of water you could just go to the support vehicle and take care of what you needed to.  The caution sign on the top of the support vehicle gave an added touch.

Camp was perfect for getting comfortable on my bike.  I had a great time with all the other juniors on the team.  I can’t wait for next year so I can gain more skills.

P.S. Thanks Emanuele Bianchi and Bill Seliger for pushing me up some of those tough hills. Thanks Dave Mindick for keeping in the back with me when I was tired. Thanks for the support from all the other juniors; Kyle, Samuele, Victoria, Mateo, Cameron, Sean, and Harrison.

State Champ

By Dave Moyer | Jun 29, 2010

Race name: Proctor Cycling Classic
Race date: Sunday, Jun 27, 2010

This had to be one of the best rides of my career.  It was also one of those rare races that started well, progressed well and ended well.

The elite team team had made this race a priority, and we toed the line with six riders who each presented his own threat.  With about 40 guys in the field we had solid numbers and were confident in our ability to affect the outcome of the race, which is a great feeling before the whistle.

The race started and Liam promptly set out off the front to try and establish an early move.  He was ridiculously active for the first 20 minutes, countering his own moves and single-handedly covering everything that looked promising in the beginning.  One move of three or four looked promising and stayed away for a couple laps, but didn’t have the right mix or motvation and got brought back.

Pretty soon after Liam was brought back I put in a counter-attack into the headwind on the backside and was happy to see Brian McVey followed.  Over the next lap or two several more bridged up until we settled in as 9 or 10, including Luke who smartly jumped onto one of the bridgers to get a free ride up to the move.  The break worked together reasonably well, and with about 30 minutes left we got word that we’d put a minute into the field, which can be attributed to the work of Tom, Ed, Liam and Randy in the field.

The news of the 60 second gap got everyone thinking about working a lot less hard as it was clear we’d stay away. I started putting in some very hard pulls try and whittle the group down, and I could see I was having some affect, but the group was too big for guys to get dropped.  With about 25 minutes to race I was on the front on the backstretch and I put in another hard pull and gapped the guys on my wheel, which only motivated me to push harder.  I expected a couple of guys to follow, but when I looked over my shoulder my 10m gap had turned into 200m.  I put my head down and tried to put time into them as quickly as I could.

I settled into my move and realized I’d jumped with 25 minutes to go, and started thinking about what I’d gotten myself into.  25 minutes is a long time to stay off the front in a state championship race, and I suddenly noticed that it was 85 or 90 degrees out.  About 15 minutes later I was 10 seconds off the back of the field, and found that I could chip away at the time as long as I avoided thinking too far into the future.  I’d broken the course into its component parts and only allowed myself to think about the section I was on.

I managed to hold onto a 30 second gap to the break and finish alone on the final straightaway.  I was exhausted in every way, but coming around the course a final time with everyone cheering made for a wonderful feeling and team victory.

I also gave my first newspaper interview to a local paper, which turned into this: (link)

Visions and decisive moments

By Luke Seemann | Jun 28, 2010

Race name: Proctor Cycling Classic
Race date: Sunday, Jun 27, 2010

First, a stolen-bike update. On Saturday I took the first steps toward a replacement by getting a fit at Get a Grip. It was a great experience. I think Michael diagnosed some hidden foot issues that had been vexing me, and he made some adjustments to my cleats and B-bike that immediately made me feel faster and more powerful. I was eager to put it into action at the state championships in Peoria.

30+
I knew there would be a break or at least a selection in this field, but I knew everyone else knew that, too, so I tried to be patient early on and wait for the pressure to build before trying anything myself.

About 15 minutes in we’d been racing hard and were strung out when the field slowed on the backstretch after making a catch. I let my momentum carry me down the side and off the front. This was a good place to go: If you can power through the headwind and up the kicker between Turns 7 and 8, you’re rewarded with a slight downhill and tailwind down the homestretch, and a small gap can quickly become a large gap. Hammer down the headwind one more time, and a large gap can become an unbeatable gap.

I was alone when I passed the start/finish for the first time. A prime was announced. OK, just stay off for a lap and I’ll at least get a prime.

I managed that, and I still had a gap of about 10 seconds. It would grow to about 20 over the next four laps, but 30 minutes would be a long time to stay off solo. What kind of fool would try that?

I kept plugging away, though, and was happy to see former Olympian Tom Doughty bridge up. Unfortunately, I think his escape animated the field, and after one short lap, half of the field caught us. I managed to latch on, but this was a fast-moving group and my time solo had taken a lot out of me. I was dropped a half a lap later.

At least now I knew how long I can stay off solo in a masters open race: About 15 minutes. Next time I’ll just have to make it the last 15, not the middle 15.

And that prime? Turns out it was awarded to the field. Rats!

P/1/2
We had a great squad lining up here: Myself, Randy, Ed, Liam, Tom Briney and Dave Moyer. Several guys who could stay away in a break, several guys who could win out of a bunch sprint, and one or two who could do both. We had the bases covered, and we were all in good spirits to be racing together.

Liam set the table for this race by making several attacks in the opening laps. This put the field under pressure, which is what we wanted.

When he wasn’t off the front, the rest of us were active in covering attacks, chasing and taking digs of our own.

I love this course because the wide tarmac makes it easy to navigate the pack. I could spend some time policing the front, go to the back to recover, then move back up once I was feeling fresh.

About 20 minutes in, Dave was off the front and I was about 10th wheel. Coming down the backstretch, I saw breakaway artist Scott Pearson attacking on the left side. I had the good fortune of being on Tomasz Boba’s wheel on the right, and as I saw him get out of the saddle I wound up to go with him.

He put in a huge effort, and holding his wheel was like holding on to a rocket with a butterfly net. But he successfully made it up to Scott, and soon we’d made it up to Dave.

Even though I had had a free ride, the effort cooked me good. My initial intention, then, was to put in a few stout pulls to give this group a few extra seconds toward its establishment and then float back to the pack, if not through it and off the back.

A lap later, I was still clawing to stay on when another few riders made it up to us. We were now 10, and Dave and I were the only riders with teammates. Just as important, there were no slouches here. Among them were Bryan from ReCycling, Cory from South Chicago Wheelmen and Hogan from Verizon. Basically, the heads of state—plus me.

And I was struggling. I was in the drops and really concentrating just to hold a wheel. Dave and Bryan in particular put in some punishing pulls. Once the break was safely set, I allowed myself to skip the occasional pull to help my chances of staying on. The first rule of Break Club, after all, is Do Not Get Dropped. I didn’t want Dave to lose the advantage of having a teammate, and I did not want to dishonor the hard work I knew was being done in the field.

About 20 minutes later we were hearing that we had more than a minute. Now it was time to think about an endgame.

How could I be useful to Dave? I could try to lead him out, but that’s not something we’ve been able to practice much. I could also try some attacks to open the door for a counter, but I didn’t have many matches left. I was also trying to think how we could split the field—if I could get Dave ahead of me and the sprinters like Tomasz behind me, maybe I could open a gap and catch them napping.

While I was musing on these options, Dave took things into his own hands by escaping on the back stretch. He can give you a better description of how it went down, but to my eyes it didn’t resemble an attack that much, which is why it may have worked so well. He just pedaled harder, got a few meters of gap, then 20 meters, then 50 meters. The timing was exquisite.

There was still 25 minutes left to race, and his move put the rest of the break in disbelief. A lap later, ennui had already set in. When someone asked, “Are we really going to let that go?” I knew that we were now racing for second race. I may or may not have ground my palms together and let out a Montgomery Burns-like “Exxxcellent.”

With Dave safely 20 seconds down the road, I settled in as last wheel. It was still hard, but manageable, and it was a relief to see Dave get farther and farther away.

And it was with extraordinary relief that I saw the laps fall to below five. I needed to be done.

As dead as I was, I was still hopeful I had enough in the tank to pull out a good finish for myself. Scott Pearson is someone I admire and I knew he would try to escape. I was hopeful I could go with him and get at least one of us on the podium. With three to go, hostilities in the break commenced, and I started racing again.

On one effort off the front, however, I cramped up real good. I’m sometimes cheeky and fake cramps, but this one was for real, probably because I’d been out of water and food for 15 minutes. I pounded my thigh like I’d seen a cramped rider in the break do at Ghent-Wevelgem. This didn’t do much other than give myself a Charlie horse.

The remaining nine of us stayed together for the sprint. I had good position, but I was cooked. Coming around the final turn I knew I could get it up no longer. But that was fine: I was thrilled with 10th, I was more than thrilled to have Dave in 1st, and as I coasted in I could now give an encore post-up for the team.

Now, a few moments of sentiment. Indulge me, friends.

When you are on the rivet, visions come, not unlike the visions and hallucinations that might visit a person lost in the desert. (Now that I think of it, “Vision Quest” would make a good name for a coaching service.)

And it was with my nose on my stem in the break that a certain vision came to me, a vision of: This is Bicycle Racing. This moment, hitting boundaries and going beyond them, this teamwork, these big stakes, this heat, this drama—this was captured lightning, and I felt the previous six years of my life—the training, the expenses, the tragedies, the triumphs—had led to this. This was it. The essence of bicycle racing had distilled itself into this break. As much as I wanted the race to be over, I didn’t want to let this moment go.

It was not just on a personal level. Five years ago, our team barely had any 3’s riders. Now in addition to thriving 3’s and 4’s squads, we were in the elite state championships and in addition to Randy we had five other Cat 1’s and 2’s, and all of them were homegrown. No mercenaries. No free agents. Just good friends who’d all grown as riders together, each of whom would without a second thought turn themselves inside out for another.

This bicycle racing, it’s pretty cool. This team, also pretty cool. I’m so happy all of you are here to enjoy it with me.

Brian’s Dairyland

By Brian Morrissey | Jun 27, 2010

Race name: ToAD: Greenbush RR and Fon Du Lac Grand Prix
Race date: Thursday, Jun 24, 2010

It was quite a bit shorter than the full 11 stages that began last Thursday in Shorewood and ended today in Waukesha.  I also didn’t get any chocolate milk or a spotted cow jersey, but my own tour of Wisconsin included plenty of cheese, Spotted Cow beer (but I didn’t forget the Goose Island, either), and lots of fun racing.

After transferring all my gear from the I-Go Honda to the O’Hare rental and kissing Patty goodbye, I was on my way to Greenbush, Wisc. for the stage 8 road race in the Tour of America’s Dairyland.  Light traffic and a 7am departure netted me a great parking spot on the grass two full hours before race time.

Randy and Luke arrived as I spun and sweated on the trainer, even in the less humid, lower temperatures.  It was going to be a perfect day for racing, in lots of sunshine, and I was very excited to be in the same 35+ Masters field as these experienced and wily vets.  The only snag of the morning was finding a definite hole in my racing tubulars after hemming and hawing about a slow leak the night before.  Oh well, SRAM was present for neutral support, just one more PRO aspect of an apparently very well run series.

Our 50ish-sized field rolled out on time, just behind the Pro/1/2 field, and neither Luke or I were familiar with the course, beyond what people had told us about from last year.  But, even then, the 10-mile lap was reversed this year, so we’d just have to ride out and experience the first couple of laps and hope nothing got away before then.

The course profile went something like this, if memory serves:

A short uphill followed by a steep drop, then another up and down roller.  Here, you had to be careful of the hot tar strips, very hard to see on the new blacktop.  Very squishy, and your rear end fish tailed at the high speeds going downhill over them.  Then a left turn and a false flat, followed by a quick drop, another fast left turn, a couple rollers, then downhill to a right hand hairpin turn.  Here it got interesting with a series of uphill stairsteps which led to a fun downhill series of banking turns through thick forest (watch out for those potholes).  This shot out onto rough chip and seal pavement through farm fields, which brought back the wind, and then turned left into it.  The downhill speed quickly slowed and the pack bunched as riders looked to move up for the final series of downhill, banking turns, back through the trees and then into town.

Immediately riders were attacking but couldn’t get away.  The pack could chase too easily on the downhill, and there wasn’t enough support that early on through the headwind.  Much of the time the pace was downright comfortable and it seemed everybody was taking it pretty easy, saving energy for the hills or attacks later in the final laps.

Out on the chip and seal on the 4th lap, I was moving up when I heard Randy call me over.  “Luke’s off the front!” he semi-whispered.  This caught me completely by surprise as I still thought he was behind me, but you all know how much I pay attention in races.  Sure enough, there also must’ve been IS Corp in the break because they were up blocking and a dedicated chase was forming as soon as I moved to the front to do our part.

I sandbagged on two hard chase efforts, but coming through to start the final two laps, the break had slipped out of view, and the field’s speed came down to almost leisurely for much of the next time around.

The final lap was a bit more competitive, especially up the rollers, where I really had to fight to keep my position and not to cramp.  Through the twisty downhill section and out in the crosswind, Randy came by tapping my hip and we moved up to the front before the pack bunched up, where we held a great position.  However, he was on the outside, while I remained up against the yellow, which was my undoing amidst the final argy-bargy of the last two miles.  A lot of sketchy moves came past my left, squeezing me further and further and back.

If those guys really wanted to pull that stuff for a 6th place $50 check, they could have it.  I still had to go to work on Monday.  Randy managed to hold his position and finish 7th in the field sprint, for 11th overall.  I came in at the back for 37th, and heard Luke on the sideline giving me an encouraging yell.

4th place for him, out of a final five-man break.  What a stellar result in such a talented and stacked field as an open Masters race!  The man is crafty as hell, and can be counted on to find the one place on the course to make the move that counts.  In this case, on those stair-step hills, and then leverage the wind and the blocking behind to get out of sight.

After saying our goodbyes over the requisite post-race Culver’s, I was on my way to overnight in Milwaukee at my cousin Rick’s place on the northwest side of the city.  Friday I’d be headed back to Fon Du Lac, but tonight was dinner, beers, and visiting.

Rick met me at his house and we went and got some pretty good Mexican food, fish tacos for me:

After which we each got a haircut at his regular place, where they offered us a glass of wine while we waited, and I also got some locally roasted organic coffee.  The woman who cut my hair, Christinia, was a triathlete and we talked bikes the whole time.

The next morning after Rick left for work, I spent a few hours at Milwaukee’s successful local coffee chain, Alterra, over some housemade granola and a pot of French-press:

Then I departed for Fon Du Lac, the site of the series’ stage 9 criterium, and to meet former teammate and good friend Rick Dearworth for lunch before the race.

The Fon Du Lac Grand Prix has been around for many years in one series or another, and is famous for it’s fast speeds, with the long home- and backstretches.  Today’s trip past the start-finish would be blazing as well, with the tailwind down Main Street.

I was the only XXX-er in the field, along with a few other solo riders, including a Wisc.-based Pegasus rider who’d had some success in the series, and the venerable Voytek Glinkowski, of WBD-Allvoi.  Verizon and IS Corp had several riders each, so I’d be watching their moves in the headwind of the backstretch.

It was a very dynamic race.  Attacks were constantly going off in the wind, and the field was either chasing, or giving out the hangman’s rope, and then chasing.  I managed to be in a couple of early attempts and bridges, but midway through the race I found myself at the back recovering when the real assaults came.

Rick and Jared Rogers (who’d raced earlier) screamed at me to move up, but the chase was committed and wicked fast between laps 15 to go though seven or eight to go.  I could only hang on to the end and try for another chance when, and if, it slowed.  The good thing was that it was completely single file the entire time, so there was no rubberband effect, even at the end.

No brakes, just breaks.

(photo by John Gray)

Coming up on six to go, the field slowed just enough with indecision that I was able to move up and hear the announcer say, “Field prime! Set of tires to the field, starting with Triple X rider number eight-sixty-nine!” I had no intention of contesting a prime while leading the start of the lap, and after turn two I got out of the saddle for a medium intense effort to keep the pace up for the chase.  I was waiting for the jump, and when none came, I looked behind and saw a huge gap.

Talk about the right place at the right time.  IS Corp was blocking, the field was tired, and I’d just ridden away.  I took the prime with five to go and started thinking about my chances to bridge up.  I could see them about a quarter lap up, and I couldn’t let the pack catch me.

(photo by John Gray)

The break was shedding a few riders, which I then caught, worked with for a half-lap or so, and dropped in the head wind.  Approaching one to go, I was with one final rider, who, from the depths of my pain cave I can’t remember, either bridged to me or I caught him.

Either way, I pulled though turns 1 and 2, and into the wind, then shook him off my wheel and fought his gap effort to come though turn four in perfect position for a pounce.  Which I of course botched.  I waited too long, with me just behind him; we started sprinting at the same time, and that’s how we ended up, 7th and 8th.

“Sorry for screwing you,” he said.  “That’s racing, dude.  Great sprint!” I replied.  I was pretty happy, feeling the 100% effort and having salvaged a top ten in a bridge attempt after having missed the move, not to mention avoiding having to go shopping for tires for a while longer.

Rick and I enjoyed a Spotted Cow together and watched the Women’s Pro race from the AC comfort of the corner bar along the course, and then said our goodbyes.

I was in the town my parents grew up in, Kenosha, two hours later, despite all the construction and Summerfest traffic, to greet my dad and stepmom, and my aunt and uncle at their house.  We enjoyed a classic lakefront Friday fishfry and cocktails and spent the night catching up.

After a morning active recovery ride to the lakefront, checking out the Superweek criterium course and getting some espresso, the next day we attended the family picnic in Madison. This long-running reunion includes Baers, O’Keefes, and Scharches, in addition to the Morrisseys.  It was my dad’s first time attending in probably 40 years, and it’s been going on for longer than that.  It was complete with several rounds of bocci and one dude bringing a full martini set up.  But since I was driving, I had to wait until I got home for that much needed beer to end a pretty long day.

It was a pricey weekend to be sure, but a chance like that to merge family and racing can’t be missed.  I probably won’t be racing again until the very end of Superweek, in Kenosha at the end of July.  The Tour of America’s Dairyland was an excellent series for the small portion of it that I experienced, and I definitely will try to plan next year’s visit around the family picnic again.

The Too Tough To Tame Toad

By Jared Rogers | Jun 27, 2010

Race name: Tour of America’s Dairyland (TOAD) series
Race date: Sunday, Jun 27, 2010

Ever since it was announced that the Tour of America’s Dairyland (TOAD) series would be returning for it’s second running, it was on my radar.  And when my favorite Superweek races didn’t materialize I went ahead and signed up for the Cat 4/5 as this thing looked to be like one heck of a challenge. 

This series would be a few things to me; tough, long, challenging, fast and above all else – fun.  With there being 8 crits, 2 road races and me only having a handful of teammates at select races, I would really be forced to think about just what I wanted to accomplish on each day.  Because I was doing the entire series, I felt that I had a decent chance at placing well in the overall GC.  Also, coming back home with one of those spotted cow jerseys would also be nice!

So where do we begin?  Since there was a lot of racing, it could take hours to write about what happened at each one.  So in the interest of time listed below are the brief highlights of each day.  But before we start, there are a few acknowledgements that I don’t want to get lost.  First, serious thanks need to go to the promoter – Midwest Cycling Series and their premier sponsor, the Wisconsin Milk Marketing Board. Tom Schuler, Bill Ochowicz, Bill Koch, Jim Michler, Paul Weaver and Jack Hirt really know how to put on a Class A event and it showed.  All the folks at registration and results also deserve a word of thanks as their hard work made the daily check in and getting paid a breeze.  Second, a special thanks goes to the folks at Extreme Bike & Ski in Thiensville WI.  On the first day I really found myself in a pinch and they came through like champions.  Third, the USAC officials (Mark, Emma, Seth, DeeDee and Carl) did an excellent job keeping it all together and keeping track of where we all finished.  Lastly, to all the riders who did the entire series.  You guys were some of the best in the business and I can honestly say that I am a stronger rider do to the competition you dished out.

Stage One – Theinsville Fiddleheads Coffee Criterium
• Course was a four corner affair that had a tight turn two and a slight down turn into 3.
• Temps were hot this day and it showed on the heart rate monitor.  No matter how far down I unzipped the jersey, I felt like I needed more.
• The juniors from IS Corp left the gate like thoroughbreds and just ran around the course for the first 10 minutes. Boy do I remember what it was like to have excess energy to throw around!
• Turn two would see a rear tire blow out and me going off course on one of the other laps.
• With 6-7 to go I started my march up towards the front.  At 2 to go I was 12th wheel.  When I stood on the cranks in turn 3 I heard a loud pop and my bike pushed out into the curb, but I kept it upright.
• Final lap I would hear the same pop in between turns 3/4 and during my sprint.  Crappy mechanical put me into 23rd spot and just outside of points for the day.
• Took the bike to Sram and after 3 attempts to fix what we thought was the derailure, Jose resigned that it was a worn chain ring (I had just replaced the chain and cassette the weekend before, but the ring was original stock).  Took it to EB&S;and they were able to install a new ring that day and keep me in the series.

Stage Two – Giro D’ Grafton Criterium
• Six turn course with two slight uphills, wide open lanes and a nasty cross wind on a long finishing straight.
• It was a pretty mild start with a few attacks, but nothing that would stick.
• There was a crash coming through the start/finish line at 15/20 minutes that was the result of two riders touching.  I managed to shoot right and miss all of it.
• At 10 laps to go I tried to move up.  John Wolters was up front looking good and I wanted to be close to him if I could.
• With 5 to go a break goes off with Jared Craft (Psimet), Chris Moore (University of Iowa) and a Team Extreme rider.  They would get caught with 2 laps to go.
• With 1/2 lap to go, the move went up the right side and I was caught chasing on the left.
• In turn 6, two riders go down.  I break checked hard and cleared them on the inside but sideswiped Craft as we exited which caused me to unclip and have to restart my sprint.
• Yoeman (Pegasus), me and another rider went in a four man drag race for 300 meters, but I managed to pass someone to come in 20th for my first point of the series.

Stage Three – Appleton Criterium
• Once again the juniors went on the attack from the gun to get everyone all warmed up.
• I don’t remember hearing it, but apparently there was a crash on lap three.  Unfortunately, Konrad Witt (ABD) got caught behind it and was forced to chase for the rest of the race.
• I was felling a little prime happy so I went for the first $20 prime they threw at the field.  I went head to head with Joe Curtes (Fule Café) and lost by about 12” after I had closed about 7 bike lengths.  Oh well, I need to go sooner then right?
• A break of 4 got off at like 30 minutes.  The announcer (Todd Busteed) called a prime for a pair of Giro Havik sunglasses.  What was funny was that he called me out and said that I looked like I wanted them.  Guess I have to go for them right?  In the process we caught the break which I split on the left and an IS Corp junior split on the right.  By the time he saw me sprinting (and simultaneously laughing/heckling) it was all over with.  I would later tell him that the laughing was all in jest and that I was just trying to get in his head…but the crowd loved it!
• Pace went hot on the last lap and I moved up from 20th to take 14th in the field sprint.  Travis Miller (Brazen Dropouts) and a host of juniors would wind up on the podium.

Stage Four – Elkhart Lake Road Race At Road America
• 4 mile course at the historic speedway that saw the Nationwide Series there on Saturday.  We would turn 8 laps on this thing which had three climbs, the most significant one being the one at the start/finish area that would take about 40 seconds to pound up to the top of.
• There was an attack up the hill on lap 2 that I was able to cover, but the one on lap 6 was too much to hold and I got dropped.
• I rode hard for a lap trying to catch back on and then I time trialed the last lap just to save face.  Valiant effort but I would wind up finishing 50th.  The sad news for the day was that Brian Witry (Spidermonkey) was involved in a crash the last time up the hill and broke his arm.  This would end his series, which was a shame because he was riding pretty darn good.

Stage Five – Sheboygan Harbor Centre Bike Race
• Fast and flat four corner affair with a nice crosswind into a long 400 meter finish.
• Andrew Zens (Spidermonkey) went on the offensive from the beginning as a little retribution for taking out his teammate.
• Went for a $25 cash prime but came up short by about a bike length and the figured I would just rest for the remainder of the race.
• The attacks kept coming and a Spin City rider went off the front for a while.  Once he was caught, a break of four riders went off for 4 hellish laps in which the pack chased at 30+ mph to bring back with 7 to go.
• I was sixth wheel with 2 to go and the move went 40 meters before the place I wanted to go.
• Dug it hard up the long finish and took 10th.

Stage Six – Trek Waterloo Classic
• 1.6 mile course that included some mild climbs up through Firerman’s Park on the back side of the course.
• First few laps were hot.  Contested a prime but lost it by a few inches.  I would subsequently lead out another prime just to keep it safe and single file.
• Later in the race I was feeling good so I drove on the back side through the climb to keep it interesting (check out 2:43 in this video by Brian of Spidermonkey).
• With one lap to go I went for what I thought was a $100 cash prime, but turned out to be a $100 helmet prime.  Either way I won it, but was pretty gassed on the last lap and couldn’t turn the peddles anymore when it counted.  Finished 27th for the day.
• Side note – took my bike back home to tour the Trek plant, get some pictures of Lance’s TDF bikes and even got to take a photo with my man Rashaan Bahati (who one the Pro race that day).

Stage Seven – Greenbush Road race
• I do not do well in road races and today would be no exception.
• My legs were not feeling this hilly course from the get go and a bad line up at the rear of the field didn’t help.  I was buffeted by the crosswinds when I gapped at the back of the peleton and had to use a lot of energy to keep in contact.
• At 2.7 miles in I knocked my computer off my bike which was just enough distraction to get me gapped again.
• I would take a lap, get my computer and call it a rest day with a DNF.  There were still three more days of crits so why kill myself?  Davy Jones and John Wolters both did well and even made a little cash.

Stage Eight – Fond Du Lac Grand Prix
• Four corner crit with a windy back stretch and a massive tail wind on the finishing stretch.
• A solo break went from almost the gun until we hit the 25 minute mark.
• There were random counter attacks, but nothing was getting away.
• There was a crash with 2 laps to go in turn two, at which point I hit the gas and drove down the windy back stretch.
• The move went on the right side on the front stretch before we it one to go.  I thought it was too early (should have remembered it was only a 0.6 mile course) so I hesitated to go.
• Hooked up with a Fond Du Lac Cycling rider on the back stretch and moved up as I let the stung out peloton provide protection from the crosswind.
• Gained some more spots on the front during the sprint and finished 13th.

Stage Nine – ISCorp Downer Classic
• Triangle shaped course with a potentially tight second turn.
• Travis Miller (Brazen Dropouts) and Lionel Rocheleau (Geargrinder) went on the assault from the beginning and stayed off for about 6-7 laps.
• Once they were caught, none of the counters that anyone launched took hold.
• Rode an easy race and railed the outside of turn 2 most of the time to gain position and stay seated (vs. sprinting) on exit.
• With two to go was at the front behind Dave Racine when I saw Travis’ wheel open on the right side.  Slotted in behind Travis, but then two riders got dodgy on my left which freaked me out.  This put me on the inside for a ½ lap until I could work back to my outside lines.
• Dave Husdon called me to give me the leadout but we got kind of trapped in traffic and had to start sprinting kind of late.  Would finish 17th for the day.

Stage Ten – Carl Zach Cycling Classic
• The day started off pretty eventful.  About two hours before our race, we got a nice thunderstorm that left the course nice and wet and the air heavy with humidity.  No HED Stinger 60s today, I’d have to run my heavier wheelset with some Maxxis Detonators just to ensure I didn’t have a $90 flat.
• Course was a six turn gear grinder that had a slight uphill drag between one and two, a rollercoaster drop off into turn 5 and then a downhill run into a sweeping turn six and a slight uphill drag to the finish.
• Travis Miller (Brazen Droupouts) set a hard pace for the first few laps.  During the first ten minutes I actually considered dropping out as I was stuck at the back and due to the uphill drag and pace, it was almost impossible for me to move up.
• The front guys kept the motors running and the field started to slowly shed riders out the back one by one.
• In turn 5 I took an outside line several times and noticed that if you ran the gutter, you really had to put weight on the front as you came back on the pavement or the front could slide. I warned a U WI rider to watch the outside as he came up on my outside one time and the next thing I heard was a crash.  All I could say was “told ya so” and hope that he was okay.
• At 40 minutes in (six laps to go) I had no more juice to keep with the chase and it was my turn to fall off the back.  I counted 12 riders up the road (4 in the break and the rest chasing) and just told myself to keep going to the end.
• Hooked up with a Fond Du Lac rider and just tried to hold off a group of chasers (turns out they were lapped riders).
• Got caught on the last lap by the chasers, but drilled it the entire lap to stay in the front and held them off in the sprint.  Final position would be 15th and Wolters would come in 8th.

In the end, I didn’t get a cow jersey and my overall GC placing would be somewhere around 20 out of 72.  Despite not getting some of the results I wanted, I can honestly say that I am pretty satisfied with how I did.  The guns that were fired in this battle were no small ones and I think I held up pretty well.  If I can do the series next year, I promise that I will be back with a freakin’ Howitzer!

All in all it was an extremely fun series and I would HIGHLY recommend it to anyone.  This was some of the best racing in the Midwest and is of the caliber of all the big name races around Chicago.  July will be pretty light for me and then we’ll finish out the season with the big races of August and Cherry Roubaix up in Michigan.  Here’s to rest weeks!

Missed the break? Now what?

By William Pankonin | Jun 25, 2010

Race name: ToAD Greenbush Road Race
Race date: Thursday, Jun 24, 2010

One of the last true road races on my schedule. I really wanted to do well. Top ten at least. I took in the relaxed and easy atmosphere, lining up in the middle of our field of about 40 racers. We rolled out in neutral start, chatting about the other ToAD races and about who was who, and who was wearing the spotted yellow leader’s jersey. Then the race began and we continued to chat and yawn, and then a we noticed a rider way off the front in the distance. WAY off the front. Couldn’t even make out the jersey. Whatever. This race was pocked with hills and 50 miles long. Brave move for sure. I continued in the middle and often towards the back. I can only guess that while I loosened up in the lounge, riders bridged the move off the front one and two at a time, unbeknownst to me and many others. By the time we finished the first lap, those riders had turned the corner way before us, and I knew that was it. There were maybe 5 riders in the break. They would go on to put several minutes on the whole field. It’s a horrible feeling to see your best and strongest chances slip away like that. Had I positioned myself at the front, I could have paid attention and made a bridge attempt, been IN the break.

But hey, we still had 4 laps! Plan B. We ticked off two laps and nothing happened. I might not have ever left my endurance training zone. So, with two to go, I moved up front and picked up the pace. A guy attacked and I covered his wheel. He immediately sat up, but I kept on going. My largest gap touched the 20 to 30 second mark, but on the downhill, as I hammered away at my 12, a line of horses whizzed by me. “Good work.” “Nice job.” Maybe we dropped some folks, I don’t know. I found a slot and got in line. I just couldn’t ride around waiting for the end, and I could not end this race with fresh legs. There is something very unsettling about finishing a hilly road race of 50 miles with good legs.

We would hit the last turn all together. I studied this last 500 meters well, and knew the sprint would come late. There was a breeze and a slight uphill. About 5 riders blew up on the left side and I went by. What! Space! I could see a line! Right as I began to mash and shift, a rider went down in front of me. I move my left pedal up so it could clear his wheel, which was sliding over into my line. Good thing no one was on my right when I swerved. Then I went between two riders who seemed, well, a little shaky. When it was all saidd and done, I had lost my sprinting momentum and only finished 16th.

A great race, though. Love these Dairy Land gigs. Also fun to be active in the race, even after you realize your best chance is up the road.

Them’s the breaks

By Luke Seemann | Jun 24, 2010

Race name: Greenbush Road Race
Race date: Thursday, Jun 24, 2010

I was not digging this course at first. With almost 70 masters riders on narrow, windy roads, I found myself at the back for most of the first half, thanks to my sheer inability to hold position. I’d get halfway up through the crowded pack, then scrub some speed here, yield a wheel there, and suddenly I’d be at the back again.

But it was easy enough riding in the back, the occasional vexations of the accordion effect notwithstanding. As such, I was pretty sure nothing would stay away on this day. Everyone was just too rested. That said, I also wasn’t looking forward to a bunch sprint up the closing climb. It would be mayhem.

So as we started the fourth of six laps, I was able to find some good wheels and space and finally made my way up near the front. I thought some riders were off, but I wasn’t sure. As we approached a series of three steep, windy kickers, I told myself that if the opportunity came, I should go, even if it meant violating my guideline of “Don’t attack until it has hurt.” After all, I came to race, not to ride around in circles. Let’s race.

The opportunity came. We hit the hill and I was still in good position, and a lane opened ahead of me. Once everyone had settled into their climbing rhythms, I punched it.

By the time I looked back, I was out of sight. Such is the benefit of attacking up a windy road, as I discovered last year at Hillsboro: It doesn’t take much to get out of sight, and by the time you are gone, half the pack still won’t even realize you’ve left.

I had ridden solo for a mile or two when I was joined by IS Corp’s Chris Halverson and another rider. This was excellent: Halverson is a prolific champion in Wisconsin, and I knew his teammates would join Randy and Brian Morrissey in blocking in the field. As soon as they caught on, we worked together to drill it, and soon we caught two riders who had been up the road, making a five-man break.

Coming through the start/finish area, we were told we had 30 seconds. Over the ensuing rollers, I could see some chasers. I urged more speed, and after a few stout rotations, no chase would ever be glimpsed again.

So, how do I win this thing?

Halverson was without a doubt the strongest rider here. He pulled the mightiest, and he also came with the deepest palmares. This meant I’d have to outride him and outsmart him. That’s a tall order!

Naturally I sought to exploit my strengths. Coming through the series of kickers for the final time, I hung out at the back over the first one. I may have grimaced and feigned a cramp.

Over the second kicker, I attacked. Again I got out of sight quickly. This was still about 6 miles from the finish, a bit long for me to time trial, but I was hopeful that I could at least make our group smaller and lock in a better placing. I sensed some of the other riders were struggling. Ideally I could reduce it to just me and Halverson ... and maybe then I could get lucky in the sprint.

After another mile or two solo, I was caught. Rats. Did I do any damage? One. Two. Three. Four. Double rats. We were still all together.

And now that I’d opened hostilities, all eyes would be on me. I put in a few more attacks, but the timing and terrain never worked to my favor. Halverson even tried to put pressure on me by gapping himself, daring me to call his bluff and sprint around him to the others. In a perverse way, that was flattering.

Still, I was hopeful for the sprint. It was a long, not-terribly steep climb to the finish ... I should be OK on this one. If I just come around the corner toward the back, I should be able to follow wheels all the way to victory and a cowprint jersey.

A great plan! I sat fifth wheel with about a hundred meters to the corner. Perfect.

Unfortunately, I had wrongly assumed that the others were also planning on a drag race up the hill. Instead, Halverson put in a furious jump well ahead of the turn. Even if I’d seen it coming I don’t know if I could have covered it. The void he left created a gap between me and the other riders, and I just ran out of space to close it, crossing the line in 4th.

A proper podium is one of the many things that the Tour of America’s Dairyland does right, and I dearly wanted to take a place on it, if not win a cowprint jersey. So 4th felt a bit like first loser. Oh well. As I often say, better to have broken away and lost than to have never broken away at all.

Last shall be first, first shall be last

By Luke Seemann | Jun 19, 2010

Race name: Cobb Park Criterium
Race date: Saturday, Jun 19, 2010

As some of you are aware, I had a spot of bad luck last week when my racing bike and wheels were pinched from the trunk of my car. Fortunately I have a B bike, and our great sponsor Hed Cycling was able to quickly put some Jet 4’s underneath me. Back in business.

Quick verdict on the wheels: I like. I miss the velvety feel of the tubulars, but there’s still the signature speed and acceleration. They jump like kangaroos, and once they get up to speed, they stay there. Plus, they’re light, handy on any climbs.

And today’s course had a climb: A nice shallow rise between turns 1 and 2. It’s the sort of slow burner that’s well suited to me.

30+ 1/2/3/4
Before the race I chatted with Marc Zionts of Alberto’s, who beat me out of a two-man break last week at Sherman Park. I need to shed this last-in-the-break habit of mine, so I asked what I should have done to beat him.

Because Marc is a nice guy, he indulged me. I was on the right track, he said, by attacking early. Given my strengths, however, I just need a little more of a climb to get away.

Attack early, eh?

Attack on a climb, eh?

Duly noted.

As he was at Sherman Park, teammate Davy Jones was very active in this race. It’s great to see him riding so well and so smart. He got in an early break with Zionts, and at all other times he was covering moves and chasing.

There were efforts to break away the entire race, but with five to go, we were all together when someone strung us out down the homestretch. Mike Kirby saw this as the opportunity it was and told me so: “You need to counter this,” he said.

You don’t have to tell me twice. As we hit the hill, the pace hesitated and I attacked, digging all the way up. I didn’t look back until we hit the homestretch, where I saw two riders had come with me. I slotted in behind them.

As we approached the hill, we were slowing. I sensed the pack on us. “C’mon, guys, it’s now or never.” It would be never—for this group, at least.

As we hit the hill, the pack caught us and Erik Tomlinson of Spokes countered, drilling it up the hill. I went with him, clawing to stay in his slipstream. This was the decisive move, and only three others came with: Zionts, Illinois Cup leader Patrick Fasse of Bicycle Heaven and Dan Lang of Proctor, exactly the strong riders you want for a move to be successful.

The five of us rotated smoothly and buried ourselves. We were gone.

So how do I win this thing?

I’m certainly not going to outsprint four other guys, especially these guys, so I’m going to have to attack early. On the climb. Like Marc said.

One technique I had forgotten at Sherman Park was to gap yourself before attacking out of a break. If you open a few meters between you and the others, you can be closer to top speed when you go by, making it harder for them to grab your wheel.

And so it was that I’d come off a pull and was sitting last wheel as we hit the climb with two to go. I gapped myself, then launched up the right side. (That’s where there was a slight shelter from the wind, and the sun was casting shadows from left to right—I didn’t want my shadow to tip me off. Every millisecond of surprise counts.)

It worked. I heard a satisfying groan from the rest of the break. Even though it was one against four, my hope was that none of them would want to chase hard, lest they hurt their chances in a potential sprint. That appeared to be what was going on.

I kept digging. I had a good gap at the top of the hill. Now it was just a three-minute effort. Coincidentally, this is a workout I’ve been doing lately to simulate a breakaway: 20-second sprint, 3-minute threshold, 20-second sprint. Time to put theory into practice.

Down the hill. Gap holding. Just let me get through the homestretch. Gap holding. Just let me get up the hill. Gap still holding. OK, easy on the chicane, no need to risk a crash now. They’re not gaining. Final time down the homestretch. Sprint for good measure.

Hey, how ‘bout that. I won. No longer “last in the break”—or was it just a matter of making it a break of one?

In any case, I couldn’t have done it without Kirby or Davy, nor the support of teammates on the sidelines. It’s very nice to know so many people have your back.

And I’m pretty sure the Hed wheels helped, too. I should note that I also won the first time I used my last set of Hed wheels. Coincidence?

P/1/2/3
A few hours later I lined up again. I’d be alone this time, and there were a lot of unknown riders in the field. Surely a break would get away, but it would be tough to pick the right one.

Early on I was not nearly selective enough. I was going at every apparent opportunity, but none got anywhere. Too many fresh legs. After reminding myself to be patient, I sat in for the next 20 minutes and let others do the attacking and chasing.

With about 25 minutes left, I was struggling. I thought about dropping out. I’d already gotten a good result on the day. There would be no shame in calling it a day, right?

But then I remembered an important maxim of the breakaway artist: If it’s so hard that you want to drop out, go on the attack. Tim Krabbe puts it best: “Shift, when you’re really, truly at the end of your rope, to a higher gear.” It works nearly every time.

It would work this time.

I attacked on the climb. A rider came with. We stayed off for more than a lap, but the field caught us on the homestretch, letting me dangle.

Then I saw three riders counterattack. The field was still letting me dangle by myself on the other side of the road, so I went off in pursuit. I was able to catch, and off we went. This was the move.

We lost one of the riders, but with 11 laps to go, the remaining three of us had a good 15- to 20-second gap.

Soon we were told that there was a chase group 8 seconds behind. We kept plugging away and the gap held steady, but this group caught us with three to go. I countered immediately, hoping to shed anyone on the brink, but it yielded nothing. We were now a group of 10.

On the final climb I attacked one final time, but this time I couldn’t get the drop on anyone, and I merely ended up leading out the sprint. At the final turn, everyone zoomed by like I was standing still.

10th. Back to last in the break, but at least I made the break, my first in a P/1/2 race. That’s something to be happy about. Now to work on getting the break smaller.

A little tight.

By Bill Barnes | Jun 19, 2010

Race name: Cobb Park Criterium
Race date: Saturday, Jun 19, 2010

Bright and early this morning, Dan Andrews picked me up for the hour drive down to Kankakee to do my final race as a category 5. 

I had 10 races as of last week at Sherman Park, but I’ve enjoyed racing with and getting to know the group of cat 5’s so much, and already pre-registered for this race, so I decided to give it one more go with them.

When I changed and put on my shoes, I realized I’d made a grave mistake.  I have two pair of matching shoes, almost identical, with the exception of one pair being mountain shoes and the other my road shoes.  I was looking down at one of each.  With home an hour away, and 40 minutes to my race, I thought I was doomed.  I told Emanuelle about it and he rushed to help me out and loaned me his shoes which were a size too small for me.  They also had Look pedal cleats on them, and I ride speedplays, so we swapped my pedals out and rushed to pin on my jersey and take a few warmup laps.  I am incredibly greatful Emanuelle loaned me his shoes for the race, but sadly, they were too small.  My feet were KILLING me by the end of the race.  I also looked like a complete noob trying to clip into funky pedals at the start of a race when I’ve been on speedplays for a year.  But anyway.. the race…

The course is a fun, small circuit along side a river, with a few scary corners into less wide roads, but overall, not too difficult.  I’d hear rumors of an uphill section, but it really wasn’t much more than a tiny spot where the road curved up at turn 1.  SRAM Nuetral support was sitting there with an army of Zipp 404 wheels and I saw more than one racer looking over there like they wanted to flat, but as nice as Zipp wheels are, My HED/Rubino Pro combo has served me well, and I was glad to have it today big time.

Normally in cat 5 criteriums I am not seeing much in the way of breaks or splits other than a few riders getting shelled out the back, but today was a nasty one.  Lap 4, a prime lap for a box of clif bars, I was riding about 5th wheel, and I heard a crash behind us.  I believe it was about halfway through the pack, of course at that tight turn 3 mentioned above.  Glad to be in front of it, I kept on going, and realized that lap we had probably a 20 man split in the field.  Well, at least I’m in the front half of that, so I’m in good shape.  As we get to the line for the prime sprint, I decide I don’t have it in me on this course to sprint and then be able to finish well.  I see a group of six or so open up between the rider ahead of me, and he looks back and asks me if we should pursue.  Foolishly, I say no, assuming it’s just a go for the prime, but they never slow down.  This group of six would wittle down to 4 in the end, and your winner would be in there.  Once we realize this, we chase.  We chase hard.  For the rest of the race.  We end up in a small group of 4, Ken Roy, myself, a Vision Quest rider and a wheelfast guy.  So, I’ve actually raced with all these guys before and we’re a pretty good group for cat 5’s, so we work together pretty well. 

We realize with 8 to go that the lead group has half a lap on us, but, we’ve also got half a lap on the rest of the field, so we keep powering on.  This is the second most I’ve worked in a single race (the TT last week was the most) and it was hard work.  I was glad to have the HED aero wheels today, which, in big groups may not do as much for you, but I really felt the difference in the small chase group.  At the last lap, the VQ rider turned to me and asked if I was gonna go for it or roll through, and I said, “Uh, you’re kidding right?” At this point we’d lapped a ton of riders and we had no idea how many were still up front, so we could well have been racing for third or second for all we knew, so I jumped and fought the wheelfast guy almost to the line.  He screamed and I knew he wanted it way more than I did, so he took it.  What it turned out he took was 5th place, I rolled in 6th, and the VQ rider and Ken took 7/8.  Feet on fire, I finally told my chase companions about the shoes and got lots of laughs.  Couldn’t give that away during the race you know A good time and made some new friends in that chase group.  What more can you ask for out of a local Criterium.

A great venue, and big thanks to the officials for straightening out the finish so quickly.  It had to be hard to keep track of that race with all the splits and lapped riders.

How Much Is In The Tank?

By Jared Rogers | Jun 13, 2010

Race name: Sherman Park
Race date: Saturday, Jun 12, 2010

Last week I raced out at Wonder Lake and while my results were decent, they left me with a bad taste in my mouth.  The reasons for this were ultimately because I felt that I didn’t race how I “should” have AND I didn’t leave 100% of my soul on that road.  Instead, I raced what the other riders dealt me and because of that, I didn’t get the result I had planned on.

So what was I going to do about it?  I resolved that from here on out, I was going to race each race how I set out to. I would no longer react to the sprint, I would try to initiate it. I would no longer respond to the attack, I would lead it.  And I would no longer delay my moves because I want to seek shelter in the pack, I would put my nose in the wind when needed.  All in all, I refused to race anyone’s race but my own.  But how much is in my tank?  Do I REALLY know the answer to that?  Do any of us?  Today was one day I’d try to find out.

Cat 4
As Sherman Park is our race, there is the added responsibility of doing your part.  Long story short, I stayed a little too long helping out at registration and got about a 3 minute warm up before my race.  Oh well, I guess this would be a good reason to attack early right?  So as we lined up with about 60+ racers, I tried to put myself on the front line so I could get to work from the get go.  Unfortunately, I think some of the other teams wanted to either shell riders or make xXx do some chase work so they lit it up before we could.  The first two laps all I saw was 30 mph on my computer; so much for moving up at the moment.  After a few laps, things settled down and my teammate Adam went up the left to attack and I immediately moved up so I could grab his wheel.  When he peeled off, I kept on going until I felt the fuse burning out and then I let someone else do the work.  I then moved towards the back so I could recover.  Fast forward to about 10 minutes in and a crash happens on the back stretch.  I heard it before I rolled up into it, but it was “localized” so most of us were able to get around it with no problem.  After settling back in, I kept monitoring the front as our boys kept the attacks coming and the pack working.

Somewhere around 20 minutes in, I had moved up the outside to about 15th wheel when I saw Nick about 30 meters off the front.  I looked at the HR monitor and saw that I was “okay” so I decided now would be a good time to go to work again.  I rolled off the front and yelled at Nick to come with me as I came up behind him.  Unfortunately, I didn’t know he had been out there for a while so he was due to head back and recover.  Oh well, I guess I have to keep going?  I looked back and no one was chasing.  I thought to myself “okay, I need to go harder, maybe me being off the front doesn’t look threatening enough.” I look back and still no one.  Hey, I know there are 20 minutes left, but are you all really just going to let me dangle?  Well, not being the one to just sit up, I decided I would see just how far I could push it.  I rolled around for about a half a lap around 28 mph but all the time 188 bpm was flashing in my face.  Another rider tried to bridge up to me but it looked like he got caught in no man’s land.  Eventually after about a lap, I just about exploded but was finally caught by both the bridging rider and the pack. 

So for the next 10 minutes I just entered la-la land and tried to get myself back in order.  Six to go came up a lot quicker than I expected and for the next three laps, I couldn’t find a lane to the front to save my life.  Adam wound up next to me and I yelled out “ I need a lane somewhere.” From there on out it was Adam and I shouting back and forth to each other/other xXx riders and we slowly moved through the pack.  With 1 to go I found myself on the inside and everything looked to be moving good.  I was somewhere around 15th wheel when between turn 3 and 4 the entire left side ran out of gas.  Thankfully the right side picked up at the exact same moment and a wide split formed as they pulled out further on the right to clear themselves for the sprint.  I gunned it into the split and then wound up way on the right sprinting with all I had left.  In the end, I, Nick and Adam would go 7th, 8th and 9th respectively.  The rest of the crew did well also with Ian landing on the podium in 2nd.

Masters 4/5
Field was a little bit smaller (only 50+ riders) but full of many of the same riders from the 4’s.  We were all set up on the line about to go and bam – Mother Nature unleashed the heavens on us.  So I rode my bike into the field house (literally) as we were told to wait it out.  Well, we eventually were called back out, but not before I dialed the psi down on my tires to about 100.  As we got going, I could tell that the pace wasn’t going to be as hot as the 4s (which averaged about 26.7 mph) but it was largely due to all of us wanting to stay upright.  Another thing I could immediately tell was that I would not be doing a whole lot of work as my legs were a little tight.

I moved around the pack a little and monitored what was going on up at the front.  Our guys did a pretty good job of controlling the pace and not too much looked as if it was going to get away.  Much of the race was a blur to me but I do remember eating a ton of mud from the rooster tails and that at 20 minutes in we came past the start/finish line and I heard that we had 6 to go.  I remained at the back until we got to 5 to go and Bob came up besides me. I took a look behind me and told him that I didn’t like where we were at.  I gave it a little more time to open up, but I was getting antsy and wanted up to the front now.  So between 4 and three to go I and Bob moved up the left until it shut down.  Bob yelled that he was going over to the right and I decided to keep working the left.  Everything was going good until I lost the downshifting on the rear derailleur for about a half a lap.  I think it must have gotten jammed up with all the crud we were picking up in the rain.  But when it came back, I just jammed it down into the 14 and left it there.  There was no way I was going to win a sprint spinning at 150 rpm!

As we were finishing up two to go, I was somewhere in the front when John K came up on my left side.  I started to shake my head and smile as I knew in my head that this was the tow truck I was looking for.  As we got the bell, John was sitting second wheel and I was a little bit off sitting in third.  The guy with John accelerated and I was caught off guard so I got gapped.  For about the next half a lap, I just drove as hard as I could to try and get back into draft, but it was proving to be a challenge with all the work I did the race before.  The pack started to come over the top of me between 3 and 4 and I was shuffled to about 20th wheel when I eventually started sprinting, but it was more so just mechanical as I had no real energy left.  Oh well, 23rd would have to do.  Blah…

After the race, Jeff from our shop (Get A Grip) took a look at my bike and said that my shifting was fine but that I needed a new chain and cog (which I had in the trunk of my car because I knew I needed them).  So a big thanks to him for making the changes and getting me all set up.

So how much was in the tank?  Enough.  While I might not have the solo power of some, or the long fuse of others, I feel that I have a slow rolling diesel that doesn’t let up.  It may not smack you in the face like a V12, but when it hits you, you’ll know it’s there.

So now it’s on to my next conquest, which is the 9 day Tour of America’s Dairyland Series.  The races are long and fast and I’m sure I’ll be tested to my limits.  But no matter what, I’m going to push it as hard as I can and see where that point of no return really is.  You’ll never know if you don’t try and I want to know!

Here’s mud in your eye

By Luke Seemann | Jun 13, 2010

Race name: Sherman Park Criterium
Race date: Saturday, Jun 12, 2010

Masters 30+
If we had our druthers, a hundred riders would have entered the 30+ race at Sherman Park and XXX Racing-AthletiCo would have been a small part of the field like everyone else. Instead, the field had but 19, with eight of us on the home team. What this would mean is that a break would be a certainty, and in order to improve on our numbers we would need to be at least half of it.

From the start Tom Kamacinski set a good tempo, Davy Jones was active marking moves, and Chris Kinonen and Randy were particularly aggressive in trying to get away.

Each attack was followed by a counter, and then another, then another. After about 15 minutes, a Start2Finish made a strong move in the start/finish. I covered Marc Zionts of Alberto’s as he jumped in tandem. I had to bury myself to keep up, but once all three of us were together, we had a good gap. “Let’s keep rolling,” I said, as if these experienced riders needed me to tell them.

We took short pulls, but after a few rotations, the Start2Finish rider who’d started it pulled off. I was surprised, because he was looking strong and smooth. We surely could have benefited from his presence and the blocking of his teammates, but we kept rolling.

Soon marshals were telling us we had a gap of 7 seconds. Then 12. Then 15. Having friendlies stationed every 50 meters was like having our own private CyclingNews ticker feeding us information. Very helpful.

Marc and I have been in this situation at Sherman Park before. Two years ago we were in a break with two others. So I knew that he was someone who would work hard and long. And he know that I was someone who couldn’t sprint.

It was great being off the front and knowing I had so many teammates behind me. I knew that if we were caught, one of them would be fresh and could counter or sprint for the win. And I understand that Davy was especially instrumental, spending many laps at the front setting the perfect tempo: Slow enough so that we could stay away, but fast enough to discourage attacks.

With Davy’s help, our gap held steady. Finally we started hearing gaps of 30 seconds and more. Now it was time to think about how to win.

With one and a half laps to go, I put in my first attack. Opening hostilities in a break always entails heartbreak. You’ve been best friends with this person for the past 30 minutes ... but now you must betray them. That’s racin’.

It didn’t take long before Marc was back on my wheel. ”That was early,” he said. I shrugged sheepishly.

For most of the final lap Marc sat on my wheel like a wily match sprinter. I put in more attacks, trying to model them like the tabata workouts my coach has me do: 20 second-sprint, 10 seconds rest, repeat four times. A few times I feinted out of the saddle, hoping to fool him into coming around, but Marc is too smart for that. Finally as we approached the final corner he launched an attack of his own, and it was no match for me. I rolled in 2nd, and Randy was able to take 3rd. (He actually finished 4th after successfully marking the field’s best sprinter—a sprinter who, unbeknownst to Randy, had been relegated for missing the first lap with a flat.)

It’s a shame I couldn’t get the W for all the team’s work. Maybe I should have tried attacking earlier? Maybe I should have sat up and counted on Randy to win the sprint?

Maybe I should just ask Marc how I can beat him? Hopefully he can give me an answer before we are in a break again, which I hope is soon.

P/1/2/3
Given the luck I’d had the week prior, it was appropriate that I was given E1 for a race number. As everyone knows, when you are given E1 it is very important to pin it right-side up. It’s unlucky to pin it upside down.

This field was larger, about 35 strong, despite a light rain, but again we had good numbers. I was happy to see teammates attacking even before I had clipped in. Not sure who it was, but it was an honorable way to kick things off, like a baseball team sprinting to their positions at the top of the first inning.

A break in this race is inevitable, so the first 30 minutes were very fast as everyone vied to be in the move. I put in a few efforts, but mostly to give the guys with fresh legs something they could counter.

Finally a break got off. I wasn’t sure how many, but it looked like around seven. I was told we had JT in it. (Turns out it was 12, and we had both JT and Peter. Excellent representation, but obviously I need to pay better attention.)

At that point we joined ReCycling in controlling the race, and the speed finally settled down. I enjoyed being able to have conversations with some riders I hadn’t seen in awhile.

After about 20 minutes we started to hear the pace car behind us. And here’s where we made some boneheaded moves. I’m not sure why we did it, but several of us started launching solo attacks. I got caught up in it myself. I figured maybe we had decided to start the race for (break + 1)th place, and I have to admit it was kind of fun coming after 20 minutes of boring riding. None of it was successful, however, as a Geargrinder at the front kept up a pretty good tempo that reeled in each of our dalliances. I hadn’t noticed him earlier, but I figured that he was just frustrated with the way the race was going and wanted to get a good workout in.

It turns out that this Geargrinder rider, one Ben Damhoff, had in fact been in the break, and he was the only one who had been able to lap us. Our attacks, then, were counterproductive. We should have just sat in a little bit longer and kept the peloton as physically long as possible, the better to facillitate JT’s and Peter’s catch. And besides, at this level, we should never race for (break+1)th place. We should race for 1st.

Chastened, I sat in. And I soon noticed that the pace was much faster than earlier. In fact, it was incredibly fast. Soon a big gob of snot dribbled out of my nose, joining all the grit from that had sprayed up into my face. I couldn’t wipe it off, however, as I was clutching the handlebars for dear life.

This kept up for another 30 minutes. It was incredible. I’ve never seen a single rider tow a field around like that for so long. I was running out of gas just sitting in the draft. We kept waiting for the rest of the break to catch so maybe it would let up, but they never did.

It turns out that the break had gotten to within 10 seconds of the catch but proceeded to break into two. In fact, we caught the second half on the final lap. Only JT and five others were able to stay off the front, meaning the field was racing for 8th. There were many of us in the field, but we never quite organized a leadout for the sprint. I tried to free up the others by putting in a hard effort between Turns 3 and 4, but we had to settle for 10th, 11th, 12 and 13th.

So, not the greatest of results, but a very memorable race, and I’m glad to have shared it with so many teammates.

30+ and 40+ not

By Thomas Kabacinski | Jun 13, 2010

Race name: Sherman Park
Race date: Saturday, Jun 12, 2010

Hi all,
Hoped to have a good few races on Saturday in Sherman Park as it was my first team race event. I also never was in Sherman Park before. The rain came and went but left a wet course for my race of 30+.

We had about 5 or 6 xXx’s in the field and the pace was hot for the first few laps. After, another team came back to the pack I took a flyer to make sure xXx was represented well. After being picked up I just worked to make sure I could hang in and make sure xXx was represented. There was a break of 4 up the road and I sat on the front two who were trying to bring back the group. The 4 was every team and no doubled team mates. xXx was represented well.

The guys I were sitting on had another team mate come up after 3 laps and blow off. A number of other riders took off and I tried to get on as there wasn’t a xXx’er in that split. I gave it all I had but could not bridge up. After about half the course I was in no mans land and figured to wait for the pack. Well they came blowing by and I slipped right through to the back.

I ended up finishing the race solo for a long while and picking up another guy on the 2nd to last lap. The two of us were lapped at the finish. Did I give it enough to try and get to the attack? I looked at my race numbers after wards and I was at my upper limits. I can’t help but wonder if I could have gone 30 seconds more. Or pushed harder to get close. Any ideas out there for how to figure that? My heart rate and wattage was pretty high for me but not max. I was a bit spent though.

Well as I was recovering for the 40+ race right after I took off my hat and some how it ended up in my rear derailer at some point. Well the damage was done, 7 blown spokes on the Zipp wheel, derailer mangled beyond recognition and of course my broken derailer hanger. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be for me this year in Sherman park. Nice race though. I marshalled after wards and was very impressed with the whole team turn out for the race. Great job xXx’ers!
Tom

Seven of Nine

By Tamara Fraser | Jun 7, 2010

Race name: O'Fallon Grand Prix Road Race
Race date: Saturday, Jun 5, 2010

I decided to race the Women’s Open at the O’Fallon Grand Prix because it was two laps, 45 miles, as opposed to the Women’s 3/4’s single 22.5 mile lap. I do better in longer races. And 5 hours is a LONG drive for 22 miles.

I lined up with eight other women. The women’s fields have been robust this season, so this was a disappointing throwback. Five of us were Illinois residents, competing for the State Championship jersey.

I figured a small field like this would stay together for the first lap, and we did. I was obviously the slowest on the hills—little digs saw me gapped several times—but I was able to catch back on without too much difficulty. There were prime sprints each time through the start/finish, which I knew would be challenging to a non-sprinter like myself, so I clung to the group up the final hill and when the jump came, I was ready—I was solidly on the wheel in front of me. Then the racer in front of her popped and we were gapped. We chased hard, but someone attacked in the feed zone and that was it.

There was a woman chasing ahead of me and one behind. I knew they could both outclimb me, so I didn’t wait. I TTed the entire second lap, putting enough time on the woman behind me that I could no longer see her, even when the course turned back on itself. I had tantalizing glimpses of the yellow kit of the racer ahead, and finally at 2500 meters from the finish, I caught her. I expected her to grab my wheel, but she had nothing, so I rode right by and into 7th place.

My training was derailed a bit when I was injured in a crash a month ago. It’s good to see my long-term endurance hasn’t been affected. Explosive power is another story—I’ll be training hard for that.

Failure and Consolation

By Ian Murray | Jun 7, 2010

Race name: O'Fallon Grand Prix
Race date: Saturday, Jun 5, 2010

I really wanted to win the IL jersey in Cat 4, so I had been diligently peaking for the race this past Saturday.  I was fortunate to come to the line with Adam, John, Nick, and Emanuele, who were proved to be decisive in keeping the field together for my sprint.  In addition to chasing down several hard attacks, John sat on the front for the last two miles, keeping me in perfect position coming into the final climb.  This, of course, would have been too easy.  So, a flurry of riders attacked over the yellow line into oncoming traffic on the climb.  The officials DQ’d a few of the people that they could see, but the damage was already done.  By the time we made the turn I was somehow 15th wheel, so I hopped up as many as I could, eventually closing up to 3rd overall and 2nd among the IL finishers.  Ultimately, I knew I was the strongest on the day, but that’s bike racing. 

Still very angry about my result Saturday, I was out for blood in the crit on Sunday.  I got a call up as the leader of the IL cup and announced to everyone that they should follow my moves.  I only left the top 3 wheels once the entire race when I was forced into the grass for a bit of CX practice.  The race got a bit interesting when a dogfish rider attacked with 5 to go and I had to ally with a few strong riders to pull it back.  With 2.5 to go we were back together and I drilled the tempo.  Two wildcard riders set up a leadout to my left and I slotted in.  I knew that I needed to come to the final corner first or second wheel and second it was.  The sprint was into a bit of a headwind and I powered to a relieving win.

You lose some, you lose some

By Luke Seemann | Jun 6, 2010

Race name: O'Fallon Grand Prix, Spring Prairie Road Race
Race date: Saturday, Jun 5, 2010

Two state championships, two very frustrating races, for very different reasons.

Saturday
Only 22 men lined up for the P/1/2 state championships in O’Fallon, and six or seven were from the Dogfish team of St. Louis. XXX Racing-AthletiCo had me and Dave Moyer, and a hodge-podge of other teams were represented by one, two or three riders.

The first of four 22-mile laps was extremely pokey. A Nuvo rider went off solo after about 10 miles. The peloton shrugged. “80 miles in the blazing sun? Ha!” (He would stay away and finish 3rd, a gutsy effort.)

Midway through the second lap, three more riders got away, two of them Dogfish. There was no cohesive chase. Dogfish obviously did not want to contribute to the chase, but nor did any of the teams with only one or two riders. None of it was improper or unwise, but it yielded a rather negative race.

I tried to take hard pulls whenever I could, especially whenever I saw Dave up there with his nose in the wind. My hope was that he could eventually launch a small chase group—ideally with Will Nowak from Verizon u25, who has been flying lately—that could bridge to the leaders. He was very aggressive in trying to get off, but the right combination never came together.

Finally I was in front riding tempo as we hit a good kicker at the end of the second lap. Some riders attacked—including our friend Seth of Recycling, who had even told me to expect an attack—and I proceeded to make a series of miscalculations.

I figured the climb was short enough and the pack big enough that I could “sag climb,” continuing at my tempo and still be on terms at the top. I misjudged.

I figured I could hammer over the top and get back on terms by the start/finish. I could not.

I figured the pack would slow down at the feed zone. It did not. It sped up.

And with that, my race was done. As the remaining field drifted away, I turned around, headed to the start/finish and found some water to hand up to Dave on the next lap. At least I could still be useful somehow.

Sunday
Today was the Spring Prairie Road Race, Wisconsin’s state championships. I’ve often done well here, although the finishing climb isn’t well-suited to a Cadel-esque climber like myself. It’s short and steep, up to 18 percent, and it depends on a 30-second explosion of power on the final trip. I don’t do explosions. Rather than 18 percent that goes 50 meters, I’d much rather have 8 percent that goes to the moon.

But you go to war with the hills you have, not the hills you wish you had. I did the 30+ race, which had about 35 riders. No team had more than three riders, so being alone wouldn’t be much of a disadvantage.

About six riders got away on the second of seven 6-mile laps. I wasn’t too worried. We hadn’t worked very hard at that point, and they weren’t extending their gap. I was certain we’d catch them. While others panicked and chased, I sat in, making sure I didn’t fall too far back but also keeping my nose out of the wind.

This set me up perfectly as we hit the climb. Hitting the corner in 3rd, I went full gas. A few riders came with, and we caught the break at the top. They had paused to collect their breath, so I rode straight through, attacking so that we could maximize any gap I’d created. It worked: When I finally drifted back to check the damage, the race had been reduced to 12, and only Comma-Van Wagner had multiple teammates.

The next lap, we were 11.

Then 10.

Then 9.

With two laps and 12 miles to go, it started to rain. After cresting the hill, I attacked. I was soon caught.

I attacked again. One rider came with, but he fell off. I had a good gap so I kept going.

It started to rain harder. Thunder crackled in the distance. I was wearing my Flanders socks, so a bubble of Euro cool wicked all the water away, but it made for an unnerving descent: I couldn’t see a thing, but fortunately the road was smooth and straight, so I just stayed in a tuck and hoped for the best. I wasn’t going as fast as I might have under dry conditions, however, and the pack caught me at the corner.

We turned. I attacked again. This one didn’t last long, and at this point we were in the strong tailwind section. Attacking with a tailwind is like trying to jump up out of an airplane, so I tucked into the group and conserved for the upcoming climb.

One lap to go. And a very slow lap it was. Everyone was chatting and resting for the final assault of the hill. There is not much sense in attacking guys who are chatting and resting. You want to attack guys who are listing their heads and drooling. My hope was that someone would attack and put us in a spot of bother—then I could counterattack.

But nobody ever did. It was a reminder of an important lesson: Sometimes, in the absence of difficult terrain or fast riding, you have to create the bother yourself. I’m reminded of a tale Randy tells from the old Proctor road race, in which he attacked and counterattacked himself and then counterattacked himself yet again ... until everyone finally got sick of covering his attacks and let him go.

Instead, I moseyed into the final climb with everyone else.

In a previous sprint here, I made the mistake of being at the front. That left me blind to the other riders, and they got the jump on me. This time I tried to sit at the back, keeping my eye on a few of the stronger riders. But I took a bad line into the turn—I went inside; outside is where you want to be—had to scrub some speed, missed the jump and by the time the legs were firing, five guys were down the road and out of reach. You don’t need to crest in first here, but if you don’t crest with the leaders, you may as well have crested last. I ended up 6th.

In retrospect, I wish I’d attacked a few more times. Who knows if the next one would have been the one to snap the elastic. Worst case scenario: I get dropped and finish 8th loser—not much worse a fate than 5th loser.

The most frustrating part was driving home and not feeling the usual zombie legs. There is shame in getting dropped, but at least it indicates you left everything out on the road. Greater is the shame of doing well but going home feeling like you could still ride another hundred miles. Never again!

Success in Ixtapa, Mexico

By Heidi Sarna | Jun 2, 2010

Race name: ITU Ixtapa Continental Cup
Race date: Saturday, May 22, 2010

I went to Ixtapa, Mexico for an ITU Continental Pro Triathlon race on May 22nd.  Meeting my goal of finishing within the top 8% of time for points, I finished in 8th place and was the 2nd American finisher of the day.

I arrived in Mexico on Thursday for the Saturday race.  Much of the two days before were spent in preparation and practice.  Staying hydrated was a full-time concern since the air temperature could get up to 98 degrees and it was super humid. 

The beach area of Ixtapa was flooded with triathletes.  One of my favorite things about traveling out of the country to race is realizing that the sport exists everywhere, that other people live and train just like I do, all over the world.  They have the same wheels, same understanding, same focus, but I bet they don’t deal with snow and ice storms…

I went to a swim orientation meeting on Friday morning.  The surf was so high!  The waves could get up to about 10 feet.  Most of the athletes went to the meeting, but skipped going in the water.  I decided to practice some body surfing to get over my nerves (I am not very good at this, but hey, where the heck would I practice?!)

There was really just one huge wave to break through, and then you were pretty much safe in the deep water.  To get through a wave, it’s best to swim under if possible.  That way, the current takes you under the wave into the deep water.  If you try to go over the wave, it will swallow you into a washing machine.  Getting out to the deep water was exhausting.  It took a few tries to break the wave, but I was able to get through.  Coming back was another story.  I am just not big and strong enough to body surf a 10 foot wave!  It swallowed me up and I was hanging out under the ocean, not knowing which way is up or down, relaxing like a rag doll until it spit me back up into the deep water.  How scary!  I learned the hard way that it’s best to let the wave pass, and then swim as hard as you can with the hope that the next one won’t get you.  That swim practice had my nerves on end for the next day’s race.

The day before an ITU race, all the pro athletes have to report to a meeting.  If you are even a minute late they could disqualify you from competition.  I headed over there quite early!  At the meeting, race officials go over rules, the course, and any questions that come up.  The course was set for two laps of swimming, meaning we would have to run out of the water and back in again—two times through the entry and exit of the colossal wave—oh no!! 

The morning of the race, the surf was still crazy.  And…the buoys weren’t out to mark the course.  Either they would cancel the swim or put them out there at the last minute.  I went to check in at the transition area, and they announced that they would make a final decision about the pro swim course 30 minutes before the race.  I went about normal warm-up routines and race prep.  Baby powder in the shoes since it’s so hot and we don’t wear socks, numbers on, cycling shoes clipped into the bike to make transition faster, shoes and hat set out for the run, sign in and take a photo at the desk, ready.  Then the announcement:  swim cancelled.  We would run 3K instead, bike 40K (draft-legal), run 10K.  Excellent.

The race started at a very narrow start line, and I was numbered towards the back.  It was a little hard to move around, but once we got going I was able to pick off a few positions and run in the top 15.  The first kilometer stayed pretty close, until we got to a big hill.  The uphill separated things a little, but interestingly, the downhill really set the front pack apart.  It takes a lot of quad and core strength to go downhill fast without jarring your knees and joints too much. 

Transition was so fast and exciting.  Every second matters when you’re trying to get into a pack in a draft-legal race.  I threw on my Rudy Project helmet and shades, ran barefoot to the line, and hopped on my bike mid-pack.  There was one girl who ran herself into a 15 second lead, but was caught by the pack within the first kilometer.  I went to get in my shoes, and hit a pothole that tossed one of my bottles right out of the cage.  This was not a good thing on a hot day.  I would have to get one of the plastic bag hand-ups, something I don’t think I had ever practiced.  I took a Clif Shot and tried to recover from the intensity of the first run. 

Races south of the states have a few things figured out.  First, there are excellent places to recover after the race:  the beach, pool, restaurants, fun and sun everywhere.  Coming in close second is the energy of the fans and Reggaeton music.  Third, they hand up water in plastic bags on the bike and run course—that’s so much easier to drink!  On lap two of the bike course I went for one of the bags and got it!  Whew!  That made up for a lost water bottle and some of the dizziness from the heat that started to set in.

In the final 2K of the bike course, there were a couple of hard attacks, but nothing stayed away.  We came into transition as a group of about 15, and again, every second mattered.  I racked my bike next to another athlete at the same time.  Her bike fell onto my shoes.  I yelled for her to pick it up, but she took off running instead.  It probably seemed faster to her, until she was disqualified!  I dug out my shoes, put them on (we use elastic laces so we don’t even have to tie our shoes), and took off. 

I went through eight water bottles on that run, two per lap, drinking a little and then tossing the rest over my head to try and keep my core body temperature down in the heat.  I wish I had not been so conservative on the first of the four laps, but it allowed me to increase my pace and pass five runners on the course.  Most exciting was passing one of the Mexican athletes in the finishing stretch, a total upset! 

I crossed the line, went over to medical, got draped in ice towels, and smiled on a good day in the sun.

2nd MTB race

By Thomas Kabacinski | Jun 1, 2010

Race name: Crystal Lake Big Ring Classis WORS
Race date: Sunday, May 30, 2010

Well my second race was a tough one. Don’t let the name of this race fool you. The Sport class had some wicked inclines that my smallest chain ring was afraid of.

There were plenty of fire road with space to pass for about 3 miles of it. The rest was all single track with rocks bigger than small children. Technical isn’t the word for this course.

I had fun with it and would like to kick it in the butt next year. But this year I have to settle for 14th. I had to dismount way too many times. I kept passing the same guys on the flats and inclines only to have them pass me on the single track.

I did hug a tree nicely during the race. Now it is time for crit season. Time to get my sprinting legs bolted on. More MTB in the fall.

It All Came Together

By Ryan Fay | Jun 1, 2010

Race name: Snake Alley Critureium
Race date: Saturday, May 29, 2010

Since last year’s encouraging first showing, I had been counting the days before I got another chance at Snake Alley.  Before the race last year, I printed a large map of the course and taped it to the side of my monitor at work.  That map was never taken down and eventually I had nearly every detail of the course ingrained into memory.  I did a good amount of racing in my first season and there was no other race that had been nearly as challenging, fun, and well attended as Snake Alley.  I determined that it was a race that I would have to one day win in order to feel a sense of accomplishment as an amateur cyclist.

Going into the race, everything was feeling just right for training.  I had a strong finish at Fox River Grove two weeks earlier which features a criterium course similar in vertical profile to Snake Alley.  My motivation for this race was off the charts.  I knew Snake Alley was mine going in and didn’t fail to mention that to just about anyone who would listen.  Anything less than a win would have been a major letdown.

After a solid warm up effort and plenty of hydration, it was time to line up.  Butterflies had been fluttering since about Thursday.  The moment I had been waiting for all year finally arrived.  The race went off and the sprint was on for that exclusive positioning for first dibs at the Snake Alley climb.  Starting in the 3rd row at the line, I got caught up in more traffic than I would have liked but there was plenty of time to make up spaces as I knew many of the riders in front of me were going to fall off pace.  I just had to be sure to get around those riders quickly and avoid anyone who were struggling like the plague.  Knowing that the front group is where it’s at for this race, I pick up spots on the downhill and then a more on the next uphill while narrowly avoiding a couple of riders who got tangled at the hill’s base.  By the time we are about 3-4 laps deep, the inevitable small fragments of riders are off the front and everyone else is desperately chasing to get back up, on their way to bio-mechanical meltdown, or both.  I found myself on the upside of that situation and took the race lead for a little over a lap. I was off by myself, but not by a big margin.  I decided to let up just a bit and keep myself from blowing up as the race was not even half over.  A small group arrives at my side near the line and I fall back to last spot in this group up the hill.

After two laps in about 4th or 5th position, I decided it was time to make a move.  Jay Gorsh of Atlas Cycling had slipped off the front on the descent and it looked like nobody in the group had the gas in the tank to bring the gap down.  I went into pursuit mode.  I’m not sure what the time gap was, but my estimation would have placed it at about 10-12 seconds with about 4-5 laps to go.  This part of the race is a blur of cowbell, teammates screaming from all points on the hill, plenty of heckling from the crowd, and nearly 190 bpm.  I smashed the increasingly difficult hill and smoked the descent.  I was getting closer but there was still a gap with 2 to go.  I pushed even harder while trying to save just enough to finish.

Shortly after the bell was rang indicating the final lap, I made first contact.  I followed up the climb and marked the pace.  Jay was very good on the hill and maintained an excellent line on his descent.  I was actually gapped off just a bit on the downhill.  I hustled and glued myself to his wheel after the 3rd turn of the descent and it was there that I knew I had won the race.  I could tell he was running on fumes and the sprint would be mine for the taking.  I got my sprint going shortly after the final turn onto Jefferson which has a slightly uphill pitch.  The tactic paid off perfectly and I crossed the line with a gap of about one bike length for the win.

Upon crossing the line I bellowed something - it was likely gibberish.  The feeling of relief was overwhelming.  Everything finally came together for a win and it couldn’t have happened at a better time and place.  This is the finest race I think I’ll have the honor of competing in and to get the win here means the world to me.  Finally, the first-win-monkey is off my back.

xXx had only 3 riders in the field but we all had a very strong showing.  William Pankonin came in at 4th and John Wolters finished 10th.  Great riding by both of those guys - wearing the red, white, and black proud.

As always, much love to the city of Burlington for being such fantastic hosts and Bike Burlington Inc. for doing a great job of organization.  Thanks to everyone who gave encouragement in the time leading up to the race to teammates who gave everything that they had cheering me on while on the snake.  I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be back next year looking for another win.

Snake Alley

By Chris Kinonen | May 31, 2010

Race name: Snake Alley Criterium
Race date: Saturday, May 29, 2010

I originally registered for both the 30+ and 3’s events with full intention of racing both.  Then I did Fox River Grove.  After completing the 30+ event there, I had nothing left for the 3’s and was a DNF after 2 laps.  So, I decided that I needed to commit to one event and give it everything.  After 2 weeks of internal debating and some helpful advice from teammates, I decided on the 30+ event.  It was mostly gut instinct, but also the fact that I got a 1st row start position versus 3rd row for the 3’s.

This was a target race for me, and I was nervous.  I knew the competition would be tough, but I firmly believed that I could get a top 5 in this event, maybe top 3.  Plus, I had my wife as a good luck charm.  In the last year, she has not had a chance to attend many races, but whenever she has come, I have never finished lower than 5th.

This was my first time at Snake Alley so of course I read the always helpful race preview at CBR very carefully.  Starts have never been my strength.  For some reason, despite 20+ years of clipping into pedals, I frequently botch this.  So, for the last several weeks, I basically treated every stop light like the Snake Alley start line.  My clip-in’s were quick and smooth. 

Race time.  “Riders ready…” then the start.  Attempt one at the clip in…miss.  Attempt two…miss.  Attempt three…miss again.  Attempt four…finally, success.  I sprinted to the base of the climb and was positioned around 10th-12th. Not horrible, but my goal had been to be in the top 3.  Already, not the way I had planned.  Then I started climbing.  It was clear from the outset that my legs weren’t going to take me to the success I had imagined.  I don’t know if it was fatigue, the heat, dehydration, maybe just an off day, or maybe I didn’t have the form I thought.  In any case, I started losing ground on the first trip up the Snake. 

It was pretty amazing, as I crested the climb, the lead riders were already rounding the next corner on the downhill.  I hadn’t pre-ridden the descent at full speed and I was a little hesitant on the corners, which only served to further extend the significant gap which was now developing between me and the front.

Well, I paced myself as best I could, but really struggled through the rest of the race.  With a steady rhythm, I picked off a couple of guys, and managed 11th.  This is a respectable result, but given my pre-race objective, was pretty disappointing.

As I had already planned on racing only 1 event, I was fully ready to pack up my bike and head home.  A post-race talk with Randy and some helpful peer pressure from Liam convinced me to at least start the 3’s race.  Randy had also doubled up and said he actually felt better in his second race.  The words that came out of Liam’s mouth were something like, “You’re gonna at least start right?” The message that came from his eyes was more like, “Man-up and get your ass to the start line.”

So, I lined up with Liam, Koster, and Morrissey.  Unfortunately, Morrissey’s rear tire was going flat at the start.  No pit and no free lap at Snake Alley can make for an early exit. 

“Riders ready…” then the start.  Attempt one at the clip in … success.  Hey, wow, where was that little nugget of hope about an hour ago?  I guess that’s what happens when you relax and just go race.  This was a moderately sized field and with my 3rd row start position, I quickly learned why the start is so critical.  I got bogged down in a hoard of riders competing for position up the twisty brick road.  As I crested the top, the lead riders were well around the first corner.  Even if I felt great, that is basically and unclosable gap in such a short race (at least for me).

I thought, well, maybe I’ll do 3 or 4 laps then call it a day.  Once I reached the halfway point, I knew I would stick it out.  (Just like Randy said, I actually felt a little better, although still not great).  At this point, however, between the two races I had made 20 trips up Snake Alley and was starting to feel it.  I stopped looking at the lap counter and just rode.  The last 2 times up were agony.  With two laps two go, I was lapped by the 14 year old (not a typo, FOURTEEN) who was soloing away for the win.  Liam came close to lapping me for his very solid 6th place.  I finished 23rd. 

To be honest, this was an extremely gratifying race.  It wasn’t the result, but rather the journey.  I had no motivation, low morale and every pedal stroke was a struggle.  Nevertheless, I stuck it out and finished the race and drove home with a sense of pride and accomplishment that I certainly would not have had without the second race.

26 times up Snake Alley.  I thought back to more of what Randy said between races.  He said that during the years when he performed best at Snake Alley, he had nothing left at the end of the race, that he could not have ridden that climb even once more. He had given everything.  On other days, when he was not as good, he could double up and compete in a second race.  When I think back to my best races, the same has probably been true for me.  At the end of a great result, I felt like I could barely turn the pedals.  On this day, despite a seemingly immense struggle through one race, I was still able to ride a second, maybe even a little better.  Clearly I had more to give.  How does one consistently find that magical zone that is a perfect combination of fitness, rest, and motivation that allows you to push yourself to the very edge and little beyond?

Congratulations to Ryan Fay on his victory and William Pankonin on his 4th.  I look forward to racing with you both very soon in the 3’s.

Tour de Champaign/Urbana

By Adam Herndon | May 25, 2010

Race name: Tour de Champaign and Urbana
Race date: Saturday, May 22, 2010

Meg and I had planned a fun weekend away to go race the Tour de C/U. From the looks of it it seemed like it was going to be a pretty nice weekend when it was all done. The weekend though started at the Lab Rabbit first anniversary party on Friday night, a good pre-race weekend. The next morning we picked up a car I-Go gave us to use for the weekend and made are way down to Champaign. We got to the course with a lot of time to spare, which allowed us to have a relaxing lunch and stay pretty calm before the race.

I prerode the course a few times and thought that this would be a pretty fun race. Overall it was rectangle, with a small hill exiting the 2nd and 3rd turns. The turns were nice enough that you could pedal though them and they had a lot of lines. Unfortuntly this would soon be forgotten by a lot of racers. The course was less technical then the 8 turner we thought we were going to have the next day, but it would still suit a cooperative break away.

After the kids did a lap it was time for the 5/4’s race. The race had 50 starters with only four xXxer’s. We started the race hot, since in the past few weeks a race with the cat 4’s seemed to resemble a demolition derby more then race. Sadly this became true very quickly. Riders started taken the turns stupidly if there a person on each side. People in the middle of the pack would try to dive bomb the corner, cutting into other rider’s lines to save an imaginary fraction of a second. I tried to stay at the front so as to stay out of the mess, but was still being unnecessarily bumped and cut into. The race had at least two crashes in it, one resulting in the ambulance taking a rider off. I got 14th, but had a very bad taste in my mouth that I was going to be racing tomorrow on 8 corners with a group that could barely manage 4.

Meg raced next in what has to be the most unfair race style, womens open. This race can be pretty disheartening to new racers as they are tossed into a race with Cat 1/pro women. You don’t see any Cat 5 men racing against the Cat 1’s do you? Meg was one of only a handful of Cat 4’s and and few more races then the newest racer in the bunch. On the third lap Meg was dropped by the pack which was driven by some cat 1’s. She did get her moment in the sun as she felt the race was going to slow and she set pace for the 2nd lap.

Right after Meg’s race came the Cat 3/4’s race. I had signed up for the race as a sort of watermark, I wanted to see how a faired with a higher cat racers. I haven’t really been training(for a few reasons) so this was going to be a pretty hard test. Compared to the 4/5’s race 45 minutes before it was like night and day. All the turns were clean. All lines held, pedaling through. It was like a completely different course. I tried to stay mostly to the front and middle. During one lap I thought I was near the middle of the pack and when I looked there was no one else. A good sign I thought as we had kicked a lot of people of the pack. I then went about moving back up. Ultimitly the race came down to a sprint, which I haven’t been training, but with that said I got a good line out of the turn and held my momentum as I am accustomed to go at speed over bumps, which lined the finish. I got 28th out of 52(and 11th for cat 4’s). This race and the free massage afterwards made up for the sour taste that was left in my mouth by the 4/5’s.  Sadly Sunday’s race would trade the sour taste for a bitter one.

After the races ended, we headed to our lovely hotel, which sorta resembled Norman Bates’ residency. Not wanting to stay in side, we quickly headed out, grabbed some ice cream and tried to scout out the course for tomorrow. It was going to be a technical 8 turn figure eight, is a small downhill on a rough-for-this-area street and then an immediate uphill. Preriding the course I fell in love with it. nice technical turns that the front could drive though, and then a iffy little downhill that wasn’t as bad as some streets in Chicago. If only it was going to be raining, this would be perfect for me. Sadly it was not to be.

We got there sunday bright and early as we wanted to see the fives and juniors handle course before Meg’s race. After we registered and said hi to the officials and talked about the previous days crash fest(more on this later) we learned that there was a major course change. Instead of being a figure 8, the officials cut out the downhill becaus eof how bad the road was cut up. Instead we would make a right turn head down a 5 lane street and then do a 180 around an orange cone before racing to the finish. Ugh, we were glad we got there early. It was possible to ride the inner most line on every corner and pedal through, except for the 180 where you had to be sure to not to take it to fast and risk sliding out or running into a curb.  The fives were the first to tackle with and I met up with Paymon and John from the team. The best plan for this was stay at the front and if a break forms go with it. John agreed and was gunning to do just that. Meg and I positioned ourselves at turn four, were the racers would ride by us twice and we could see the 180 turn.  John patrolled the front and when the first prime came he and one other rider went for it and got 5 plus seconds on the field, which had already been reduced in numbers. When John came around by himself, I yelled at him to keep going. From that point on it was his race. Each lap he would increase the time gap, to the point that instead of them chasing him he was 20 seconds from lapping the field. John looked to be wanting to take the last lap as more of a parade, but I conveyed the point to stay down and not risk anything with that turn as that was the only way he would lose. That was advice I should have also used.

My race was pretty eventful but I’m only going to give bullets points

It started hot, and I lead the first few laps and got a gap in my small chainring. I was then caught as I was putting my chain back on while riding.

People turned better in this race then the previous day’s.

There was some people going down as tires blow out.

It was hot. Some people likely dropped because of that. It was so hot the parking deck’s fire alarm went off.

I fell off the lead group but got a second wind and hooked up with Joseph Berenyi of PSEMIT racing for the last two and half laps.

Now the last lap was the dumbest lap of racing I have done. Joseph and I headed in to the first turn with me in front. Upon exiting the turn, we immediately encountered a random person biking haphazardly the opposite way on the course.  I scream more louder then possible and made sudden moments so as not to run head first into a person at 25+mph. For some reason the marshals just thought yelling at this guy would stop him from getting on and riding the course in reverse. And that it was enough to announce it over the intercom that couldn’t be heard between the 4 radio station booths playing one of Lady Gaga’s songs and the fire alarm going off.  Did no one think I should grab him? That it was safer to just let him keep going and hope the racers move out of the quick enough?

I then went into the final turn to hot and slid out. I got back up as fast as possible, only to have my chain drop. I put it back on again while riding and kept 13 place.
After the race, I informed the officials and the head organizer of what happened on the final lap. While the whole weekend was really nice, well put together and I will likely come back to race again, I was left with a bitter taste. The riders safety should be the biggest concern. The biker going the wrong way didn’t just appear in the middle of the street. The marshals should have been more proactive in getting the guy of the course or flagging down the racers.

Norge Ski Hill, edition 3

By Ed Amstutz | May 18, 2010

Race name: Fox River Grove
Race date: Sunday, May 16, 2010

While Monsters of the Midway is usually a barometer of my off-season preparation, Fox River Grove has been a mid-season measure of how well I’m prepared for Masters Nationals.

But this year, FRG is a month earlier, and Masters Natz is a month later, so my fitness isn’t aligned closely at all, which had me worried.

See, FRG has been a highlight for me the past couple years, and something that keeps me interested in 4hr trainer Saturdays in January. 

2 years ago, I won the Masters and was 2nd in the P1/2.  Last year, I was 2nd in the Masters and won the P1/2.  That was my first P1/2 win, and the first for XXX on the road since the Reid Mumford era.  I wanted to do well again, and being forced for schedule to skip the 1/2s, I needed to give in the Masters.

Lining up in the 40s, I knew I’d have my hands full.  ‘Druber moved to Chicago this winter, Wayne Simon is full-out in pursuit of another national championship, and Chris Mosora is flying, coming off Tour of Gila and the day before’s Monsters win.  Plus, some of the other recent “geezer inductees,” like Scott Pearson, were in attendance.

The race started hot, with local mountain goat Wayne Simon (he lives a mile from the course, and weighs no more than 140 lbs) setting a blistering pace up the climb the first time.  I tried to sit in, but gaps were forming and I found I had to bridge the first time down the hill.

Amazingly, that was the break, in the first lap.  It took a lap more to fully establish, but 4 minutes into the race, we were away.

‘Druber was exceptionally committed, attacking hard to try to get away solo.  We had to claw him back a couple of times, each time leaning harder and harder into the neighborhood turns to try to conserve precious downhill speed.  Crit practice, for sure.

In the past, there’s been a lull and I was able to catch my breath.  This year, no lull.  I’m not sure if it was my legs whining from the Monsters double-duty the day before, or these guys were drilling me, but many fans on the hill saw me grimace every trip behind the ski jump.

As the laps crept towards the bell, I started to consider finishing scenarios.  I’d been in a break with Wayne here 2 yrs ago.  He jumped early, I followed and was able to get around him.  He wouldn’t do the same this year, which meant that I couldn’t either.

‘Druber is a very real threat, with lots weapons, the main being the ability to ride faster than most folks.  I had to surprise him, or overpower him.  The former seemed more possible.

Ricardo is known to sprint well, but had already proven wily in the break, so I thought a surprise would be better with him too.

I chose to attack near the base of the hill.  Most folks ride the inside (left) line on the first corner, then switch leads to the inside (right) on the second corner.  Check the photos from almost all races and you’ll see what I mean.  It’s steeper on the insides of both turns, and I noticed I’m able to better maintain momentum on the shallower (but longer way around) parts of the turn.

So, that’s what I did, I swung out, went full gas and tried to get away from my break-mates.

It worked.  I was 50 yards clear near the crest of the hill, and lowered me head and pushed as hard as I could down the backside.  When I looked, I couldn’t see anyone behind me, but breathing was nearly impossible, so I assumed vision was compromised too.

I gathered myself enough by the finish to zip up, and for the first time in my career, get both hands up in the air for what I hoped was a less lame post-up than my previous efforts.  Photos say I have work to do, as I’m still nothing like some of the 2-fisted beauty we’ve seen from Briney, JT, Liam or Luke.

Once again, the folks of Fox River put on a great race, supported it nicely, allowed us to close their roads and monopolize their space.  All for a little Sunday fun.

Monsters, Round 4

By Ed Amstutz | May 18, 2010

Race name: Monsters of the Midway
Race date: Saturday, May 15, 2010

Amazing, I looked at my past race reports and realize that Monsters was the last report I’d written.  Sorry for that.

This was the 4th year I’ve lined up at Monsters, and while it’s still an “early season” race in many respects, it’s a good gauge of fitness.  A bonus, this year was fun.

I lined up in both the 30s and 40s, but sadly had to miss the 1/2s.  That race sounded like fun, and I’ve enjoyed a couple years of Top 10s at Monsters, so I was bummed to not be out with the boys in the afternoon.

In the 40s you expect a breakaway, with Verizon (’Druber, Dave Stone, Chris Mosora), MobSquad and Marc Zionts all liking to be off the front.  After many, many tries, and as many chases, nothing was sticking until Stone and Zionts, with one MobSquad, slid off the front with 3 laps to go.  One last attempt.

I know Stone and Zionts to give their all, so, in the spirit of fun and risk, I bridged forward and pulled through with them.  We worked hard and stayed away until 150 meters before the line, oh so close.  Nearly enough for the podium, but that 10th place was a lot of fun, more fun than I would have had in yet another bunch sprint.

In the 30s, I immediately noticed the difference in tactics and experience.  The 40s will put everything behind the right chance.  The 30s didn’t attack as hard, and chase much more readily, not wanting anything to get away.  That made the average speed higher in the 30s, and the intensity of the surges much less.

With about 5 laps to go, after a few futile attempts to join a break, I found myself restless again.  So, I took a flyer off the front, attacked up the backstretch, thinking someone, anyone, would come with.  Nope.  Just me, alone for 2 laps of TV Time?  Cable, maybe?  YouTube?

I got caught with 3 or so to go, and settled back in to start looking for the right wheels.  I know Patrick Fasse to be an excellent closer, and we’d have a touch of a headwind finish, so I planned to be within a wheel or so of him and 4-5 wheels deep out of the last corner.

There was a bit of expected ruckus in the last lap with guys re-adjusting position, but Mike Seguin pulled around the field on the backstretch, put his nose in the wind and lined it out nice and safe, taking us through the final two turns single-file. 

I was in fair position through the final turn, swung wide with the line and started to hop wheels forward.  Fasse moved up the far right side, but there was only room for one by the curb and I had to go inside.  I swung left, got by enough of the group to slide across the line in second place.

It was a nice day for racing, and Monsters again provided a solid venue, well organized and a good time to race in front of friends and family.

The Double Down

By Ian Murray | May 18, 2010

Race name: Monsters of the Midway and Fox River Grove Cycling Challenge
Race date: Saturday, May 15, 2010

I didn’t have high hopes going into the races this past weekend.  I’d had a tough week; taking 46th at collegiate nationals and battling for 3rd in the omnium at Northbrook on Thursday.  Monsters was a good course for me.  Flat and exposed to the wind, I was able to exploit my racing experience to position myself well and save a lot of energy.  xXx had a good showing in the field and we worked well letting people off the front and blocking.  In the 4 race, I came into the last turn behind two guys from Recycling.  I had assumed that one was positioning to lead out the other, but they pulled a switcharoo on me and let out a huge gap between the turns.  By the time we got onto the finishing straight, I had to close 30m for the win.  There was a slight head to cross from the left, so I was coming up a foot or two to the right of the leader.  In a smart move, he drifted right to the gutter and forced me into the wind for the pass.  Ultimately, I tried to throw him on the line and lost by 2 inches.

Fortunately, I was signed up for the 4/5 race immediately following the 4 race.  This being the second time that I’d closed all the way to the line only to come up short, I resolved to go as early as possible and challenge everyone else to come around me.  The 4/5 race was slower and I mostly just sat in the top 10 wheels directing traffic.  As we hit 2 to go, I locked onto the wheel of the Recycling guy and fought people off until the final corner.  I intentionally swing wide and opened up the sprint from 300m out.  The entire time I couldn’t look back.  I was Cavendish, not Haussler; so I kept my head down and drove through the line.  When the dust settled, I had a pretty good gap on the line.  I looked down at my computer and saw 38.5mph, not bad given the wind conditions. 

After winning at Monsters, I thought ‘now I’m really not going to do well at Fox River’.  Hills are not my thing, but I wanted to do FRG to get a sense of my climbing form in advance of Snake Alley.  I rolled out with a bunch of Northwestern teammates at 7:30am, set up the xXx tent, and kicked back while the 5’s raced.  On the practice lap I felt okay and got a spot on the front line.  I knew that it would be a struggle to stay attached on the first few laps, but that I would tire more slowly than the guys pushing the pace.  Ultimately, I followed the same formula on every lap: get to the front on the start/finish, drop through the field on the climb, reattach on the descent, repeat.  I figured that this would work until the last lap, when the pace would be juiced by attacks FTW.  Remarkably, I found myself 8th wheel cresting the hill on the last lap.  I was in the 3rd distinct grouping, with 2 in front and two groups of three chasing.  My group of 3 was not closing fast enough, so I cooked the downhill corner to jump up to 6th wheel.  This group contained William and some other people, but I had my eyes fixed on the two leaders.  I knew one of the guys from collegiate and was confident that I had the best sprint.  When I scouted the course with Tom, David, and Rudy the Wednesday before, I saw that the place to go was the little rise before the last corner.  So, as we were bending around onto the rise, I looked at William and swung out wide.  Hammering to bridge 20m to the leaders with a teammate on my wheel, I thought for a moment about slotting in behind them, but I fought the pain and stuck to the plan.  I saw the fear in the leader’s eyes as I shot past on the inside.  I leaned into the turn moto GP style and barely stayed on the pavement, then gave it everything to the line.  Will Nowak was on the side telling me to post up, but I couldn’t understand a word over my ragged breathing.  So, I’ve got the winning down, but definitely need to work on my celebrations.

The best part of FRG was doing the podiums.  After the skit put on by Brian and Liam at the last team meeting, I had the interview down pat.  I stole a helmet, gloves, and sunglasses and gave the best string of clichés I could think of.  Thanking my teammates and sponsors, holding a Clif bar, and giving props to RDS cycling and Fox River for putting on a great race.  xXx has made the difference for me, so thanks everyone and I hope I can continue to get results in the higher categories.

A Weekend of 4 races

By Adam Herndon | May 18, 2010

Race name: Monster of the midway, Fox River Grove, and a BBQ
Race date: Saturday, May 15, 2010

My birthday weekend was filled with three races and a 4th to a bbq. It started with the fairly straight forward Monsters of the Midway. I had done this twice previously. The first time to see if my knee felt like holding up and the second to see if my body felt like holding up. I guess it turns into a good barometer of where I am*. Saturday was a touch chilly of a day for May, requiring arm and knee warmers. I arrived after the 3’s race to find out that the crashes that are normally in the turns had decided to move to the straights this year. Luckily this wouldn’t Change my plan to much, stay near the front and be ready for the bunch sprint. As I was warming up for the race, Meg arrived to provide support and cupcakes.

The race started fast and stayed that way pretty much through out, a style that I like. Only a few times did it slow and bunch. This though would provide the problem. On the third of fourth lap to go the pack bunched up on the back side by the dip(think upside-down speed bump) and somehow the rider next to me’s bike went out from underneath him. I imagine that the bump caused his weight to get off the saddle and someone touched his rear wheel. This then spread though out the group, ultimately taking out half of the racers. With everyone in the front turning to look back at the crash while going fast in to the turn, I kept my head forward and yelled at people to do the same. It was easy to tell the riders still up were now a touch shaky and had stopped with the unnecessary tapping and rubbings. Soon enough we were on the bell lap and it was fast. I found myself a touch further back then I wanted coming into the final turns. That left me sprinting for 11th.  So as barometer goes, I was planning for top half and got top 1/6.

The next race was a 4/5’s and proceeded to be my dumb mistake. It started the same as the 4’s race, fast to shred as many 5’s. The team did a good job keeping the pace high. Coming into the finally turn on the 7th lap to go, I was pushed into the gutter(there was a lot of gutter ball going on in this race). This caused me to think I had flatted, so I went straight instead of turning in order not to sharply turn on a flat wheel. As I got back to the line to get a spare and free lap I find out that I was not flat. Thus began 6 laps of chasing, I lapped a ton of riders, and slowly caught some people of the back. but ultimately I finished way down.

The last race was a new one for me, Fox River Grove Crit of Hill Repeats. This wasn’t my race. I went in knowing that I was going to be just surviving not winning. I was ready to drop prior to the start. But going up the hill each time and having four different groups(Tati’s, CCC, and xXx, and Grayson) cheering me on meant a lot and caused me not to quit. In the end I finished and got 35th. Higher then I expected and almost within my overall goals.

The final race was from FRG to Berwyn for a BBQ at Pete’s. It only took the metra, a bike ride, the CTA, and another ride but we got there and had a great time. It was a great way to cap a nice weekend.

*Those two previous times the answers were yes.

Something Good To Talk About

By Ryan Fay | May 17, 2010

Race name: Fox River Grove Cycling Challenge
Race date: Sunday, May 16, 2010

During the off season, I worked and worked and worked to get myself into race ready condition, with Hillsboro being my first race.  Along the way, I’ve had a lot of equipment issues that have attempted to derail my training.  I have broken two frames, which has been the most insanely frustrating I’ve had to deal with in a long time.

Races so far have been far from great.  I flatted out of Hillsboro 15 miles in.  That’s fun and makes the long travel totally worth it.  At Vernon Hills, I had an untimely mental lapse on the last turn of the last lap costing me an almost certain podium position and landing me in 21st.  That’s stupid.  I did well at both of those races last year as a 5, so that was a major early let down and a lost first month of the season.  The only thing for me to hang my hat on was my perceived level of fitness which I felt was much higher than it was a year previous.

All those issues aside, I was ready to rock and roll for Fox River Grove.  My 2nd frame still in transit / replacement, I borrowed a Max Lelli Tiburzi (2009 team issue bike) from Erik Didriksen.  Much thanks to Erik.  I owe you one.  I had little time to ride it, but I wasn’t about to let that be another excuse for failure.

I love steep hill climbs.  They’re hard and tend to separate fields quickly.  In my limited racing experience, I have found myself able to hang with the best on a variety of climbs.  Fox River Grove has the second hardest hill I’ve had a chance to race, with Snake Alley taking honors as the hardest of the hard.  I don’t have a typical climber’s physique at 6’4” and 190 lbs but that doesn’t stop me from trying to be good at it.

Warming up, I felt OK but not great.  The hill felt a lot harder than I remembered it.  However, once the race started all was going according to plan.  I wanted to remain in the front group for the duration of the race.  I knew riders would be falling off the pace on the climb after every lap and the final selection would be made with a lap or two to go.  At about 3 laps in, a crash took me out, with much of the field behind me also going down or coming to a complete stop.  The rider to my left stalled out and fell on me on the steepest part of the hill.  I fought hard to get back on the bike and not fall over myself.  Starting from a stop on a steep hill is really hard.  I don’t recommend trying it.  The race was actually neutralized for the guy who fell.  After a 5 minute wait at the start line the race was back on.  The group quickly splintered again and I found myself not only in the front of the lead group, but pushing the pace up the hill.  I felt fantastic and I suspected that the pace was probably putting a hurt on riders further back making the lead group more select with every turn of the pedals.

Going up was great; going down not so hot.  I found that my technical bike handling skills on the descent left a lot to be desired.  The road down is quite wide and we were using every inch of it to take the turns at maximum speed.  I was a bit timid here and let a small gap open up on the downhill sections.  Even though I would fight back, this timidity would prove to be costly.

On the last lap, the lead group had about 8-10 riders hitting the hill.  I fell back to about sixth wheel and let the leaders push while keeping close contact.  xXx had two others in this group: Ian Murray and William Pankonin.  I was liking our odds for something special.  Again, the downhill was difficult.  The front was slowly moving up; I was slowly moving back.  I wanted to push hard, but the last thing I wanted to do was take an unnecessary risk and jeopardize not only myself but the rest of the race.  I stayed back at about 8th wheel through the final turn.  After the turn, I hit the jets for the sprint finish.  I was too far back to win but did manage to cruise by a couple of other riders to finish fifth.  Ian took the win and William took second.  Team success.

That was my best result as a Cat 4.  Of course, I wanted to be higher, but given the inconsistency in training due to equipment issues and poor results in prior races, this result felt GREAT.  Congratulations to Ian and William - you guys killed it and made the team look good on the podium.  Much love goes out to RDS Cycling for putting together a great race.  This is easily my favorite criterium in the Chicagoland area.  I’ll certainly be coming back for more next year.

The Americans Are Coming

By Greta Neimanas | May 13, 2010

Race name: Urt International Paracycling Challenge
Race date: Sunday, May 9, 2010

The final half of Team USA’s “Spance” trip marked my second time to France. This trip was much better than the previous time, despite the weather not cooperating with my mental image of “Europe in Spring” (It’s 75° and sunny, which is my mental image for nearly every place I go.)

The format for the Urt International Paracycling Challenge was similar to the Bira in the fact that they’re both cripple races, and stage format. The Urt race started with a hilly road race followed by a mostly downhill time trial, a crit then a circuit race. Like the Bira, men and women started together for the road race, but we were split in half- Men’s C5-4 in one group and the women’s C5-1 and MC3-1 started together.

The road race was on a distinctly un-paralympic course- there were hills! Now, I’ve never thought of myself as a climber, and none of my past results exposed a hidden climber within. I was nervous, which is uncharacteristic of me, and I mean really nervous, more so than any race I can remember actually. Going in to France, my goal was to race with the men, as that’s how I’m going to get faster, and better race experience. After seeing the course, self-doubt started creeping in- what if I get dropped? What if I totally embarrass myself as a bike racer? Well, I told myself to “Nut up, or shut up and race your damn bike!” It’s just a bike race after all. It’s not something foreign. Once the race was underway, I made sure to have good positioning on the climbs and it paid off on the second lap- the group split and there I was in the front group. Woah, not expecting that. The 5 other guys in the group did double takes when I pulled through, apparently they weren’t expecting a girl. We stayed away, and the day was a huge confidence boost. While I’m not riding away from them, I can definitely hold my own.

The next morning’s time trial was definitely a course for me- 8.6k, slightly downhill, a few bumps mixed in, all ending on a little kick into a tiny town. It’s becoming a trend, but the Americans slayed the TT. To borrow a line from Clark, “Time trials and football- that’s what America does!” Of our six bikes, we won five categories which put all five of us in the GC leader’s jersey for the next stage. Once again, the other athletes on the podium were counting the American jerseys standing beside them. I have to admit, that’s pretty cool to see.

That afternoon, after getting lost in the French countryside looking for the next race, we finally made it to the circuit race. The course was rad- shaped like a bow-tie, it would definitely be a challenge. Luckily for us, we were in Europe where “cornering” hasn’t yet been discovered, we’re all crippled, and we would race in the worst rain we’ve ever ridden bicycles in.

To be fair, it was sunny when we started and the rain didn’t start until probably the 10th minute of a 50 minute race, so it wasn’t all in the rain. Once it started however, it was on. I kept my foggy glasses on because there was so much rain, I would’ve had to close my eyes. The uphill sections of the course were like rivers, with water cascading down the gutters and ruts in the road. The flat road had 3” of standing water which made it exciting riding through the rough roads. It was like a game of Memory trying to remember where the potholes are. And then the front wheel fell into a hole and you found it. In it’s always good timing, nature turned off the fire hoses and the sun came out as soon as we were finished. After peeling off soaking kits, we threw them all in a trash bag to be sorted and washed later. We just wanted to get warm, and get back to the hotel.

The next and final stage was another 50 minute, plus 2 lap race. Of all the races I’ve done, this is one that I’m most proud of.  You don’t often get the opportunity to race as a team in paralympic racing, so when it comes around, you remember it.

I have the greatest teammates in the world, and I would do anything for them. When I came around a corner and saw Sam picking himself up after a crash, my brain kicked in to action mode. He only had an eight second lead on GC, and this crash could cost him the win. TAJ was there too, and after making sure Sam wasn’t hurt, we were like fighter pilots going into formation. The team time trial intervals we did at camp would really pay off now. My race was wrapped up, but Sam’s was in jeopardy. Come hell or high water, the gap was going to be closed. We rolled like a freight train to close the gap opened up after the crash. TAJ’s powertap said we rolled close to 30mph, and closed about a 2 minute gap in under a lap. After a final shove back into the pack, Sam was back in the group and my job was done. It was especially satisfying because he was able to take the stage win, and held onto his overall.

The awards ceremony provided us with the most unique prize we’d ever received- a ham! Each winner got a 25lb salt cured ham and French berets to go with the Spanish txapellas. It was definitely a great experience to go to Europe to race for two weeks. The team was absolutely amazing! Our winnings included 100lbs of ham, nearly 60 bottles of wine, and a bike box full of trophies. I learned that I can race with the men, the training we’ve all been doing is definitely paying off, and 2010 promises to be a stellar season for everyone. The world better be ready because the Americans are coming.

The Joe Martin Roller Coast Ride

By Chris Kinonen | May 10, 2010

Race name: Joe Martin Stage Race
Race date: Saturday, May 8, 2010

I can’t begin this race report without first extending my gratitude to our extraordinary Fayetteville hosts, Kevin and Pam.  You two are simply amazing.  You took in 8 cyclists, all but one as complete strangers, then you housed us, fed us, pampered us, and cheered us (including riling up an entire local bar to yell for xXx at the crit).  I have never been treated to such first rate hospitality.  Thank you.

The trip itself was phenomenal.  Six of us (Seegs, Briney, Liam, Tamara, Koster, and myself) caravanned down to meet up with Dave Moyer, John Tomlinson, and David Jones.  It was a weekend of fun and of course bike racing.

Overall, the team was amazing.  In the 3’s, Briney got a stage victory and for GC, we had two in the top 10 and three in the top 15.  In the 4’s, Chris Koster got a 2nd and 4th in stages, and 9th in the GC and David Jones got a top 10 in the road race.  Tamara was very solid in the women’s races and lest we not forget the performances of Moyer and JT in the very tough Men’s 1,2 event.  For GC, Moyer was 18th and JT was 21st.  In addition, both made a very select lead group in Friday’s 110 mile road race and JT was top ten (I think 6th) in Saturday’s road race.

Individually, the race was an emotional roller coaster for a few of us with tremendous highs and lows (I guess that’s bike racing and life itself for that matter).  If you want my probably overly verbose account of the details of the 3’s races and my own GC debacle, read on.

Saturday morning: TT

It was about a 10 minute, mostly uphill effort.  I really didn’t know what to expect from myself at this race.  I knew I was behind on my training and my form would not be what I had envisioned when I put this race on my calendar in December.  Nevertheless, I’m a respectable time trialist and a respectable climber, so with the two combined, I was hoping for something good.

My warm-up went well and as I’m heading to the start line, I hear of the first, and perhaps biggest low of the trip – Liam missed his start time.  This story is for him to tell (if he writes it up in a report, it might be the last time he ever wants to discuss it, so maybe read about it and let it go), but the short of it is that if he hadn’t missed it, he would have easily won the TT and the GC.  Alas, I guess that’s bike racing and life.

So upon hearing this, I panic thinking I may too miss my start and scurry to the line, fortunately with about 3 min to spare.  I relax and let my heart rate drop about 50 beats.  I get my count down and bury myself for the next 10 minutes.  It was a maximal effort, I felt great, and I could not have pushed myself harder, so regardless of my result, I had to be happy with the effort.  As it turns out, I was 8th and only about 2.5 seconds from 5th.  This exceeded my expectations and I was thrilled.  Things were set up for me to take home a top 10 in a big stage race.

So I was on a high and Liam was on an extreme low (although still finishing 11th after missing his start time by 1 min and a couple of seconds – you can look at the results and do the math to see how far ahead he would have been). Briney was also a bit disappointed (although he also had strong ride, he just had very high expectations for himself) and Seegs was happy.

Saturday afternoon: Road Race

This was my big concern with Joe Martin.  When you are on a very time limited training schedule (6-8 hrs/week) the two primary things I believe you sacrifice are endurance and recovery.  For me, 69 miles was a long race and I wanted to make sure I survived.  45 min crits are no problem.  Road races and back to back race days are tough.

The course was beautiful, mostly rolling roads with 1 notable climb that we did twice.  Liam rode with fury, attacking numerous times in attempt to steal back his GC crown.  Nothin was doing from this field though (well, except the two that slipped off about ¾ of the way through, one of whom would bump me down to 9th on GC).  Seegs attacked multiple times also and rode very strong.  Briney and I rode conservatively, stuck with the field and tried to save our energy.  I was actually quite pleased with the race. I never really struggled, and easily stayed at the front on the climbs.  I gave it one big dig towards the end to try to get away and move up on GC, but it wasn’t happening.

So, we basically came in with the field, a little over 1 min back from the 2 man break, and day 1 of racing was concluded.

Sunday afternoon: Criterium

This was a 12 corner, technical course with fast corners and a false flat leading up to a punchy climb to the finish. 

Rewind a few hours to course preview time.  Me: “Hey Seegs, you want to go check out that corner down there? I hear it’s already seen a few crashes.” Seegs: “Yea sure, that’s a good idea”.  As we approach, a group of riders are coming through and sure enough, right away, riders go down.  Hmm, I think to myself, the corner really looks benign, I wonder what happened. Well, let’s just watch a few more groups go through.  Next group is up. They seem to be going pretty slow, probably won’t see much here.  Next thing you know, wham, a rider hits the deck. He yells “Damn it, that’s the second time in the same spot.” Me: “What the #*$%?  How the hell did he go down?  He really was going pretty slow.” Seegs notices a slight off camber depression in the pavement.  The divot of destruction on what will henceforth be known as the corner of destruction.  It is a really subtle depression in the road, but deadly for skinny wheeled bikes.  We concluded that a tight inside line would avoid this little pit of calamity, but nevertheless, it was troubling to see the ease at which riders bit the dust.

Before the Men’s 1,2 race, we jumped on the bikes and rode the corners at speed.  I’m a little nervous with my first approach to the corner of destruction, but really it seems fine.  I loop back around and take it one more time, this time at full speed.  However, right in front of me, wham, Chris Padfield hits the divot and subsequently the pavement during warm up, which I think ended his 1,2 race.  Well, that corner is clearly a disaster and with that race time was upon us.

We were the second to last race of the day and we had seen this challenging course obliterate every field before us into numerous small groups.  This would not be a typical crit and time gaps could be significant.  So what to do?  STAY AT THE FRONT AND OUT OF TROUBLE!

Liam again wanted to try to attack and gain time which was a good and possibly successful strategy on this course.  Briney felt this course was practically tailor made for him and could salvage his weekend with a win.  I wanted to ride conservative again and maintain position.  Seegs would selflessly aid any of us however he could. 

I tried aggressively to stay near the front.  First time through the corner of destruction and no problems.  My nerves began to ease and by the 3rd or so time through that corner, I had washed its evil from my mind.  As with prior races, the field splintered quick.  Within just a few laps, we had a much smaller group and I felt like we had probably reached the select group that would represent the lead group.  I just needed to maintain my position, see if I can block a little for Liam during his inevitable attacks, and if it comes down to a sprint, try to help setup Tom.  I drifted toward the rear of the group (big mistake) as we approach the corner of destruction.  Sure enough, 5 riders ahead of me, wham, the divot claims its next victims.  I avoid the crash, but almost come to a complete stop in doing so.  The resulting gap would be fatal for me and my GC aspirations.  I essentially rode the rest of the race alone, futilely trying to unsuccessfully catch back on. 

I finished frustrated and angry at what I had let occur.  There was no reason to be lackadaisical and in such poor position when I was in GC contention.  Had I finished with the main group, I may have even moved up some.  As it was, I finished about 1 minute 30 seconds back and dropped from 9th to 15th.  My previous high dropped to rock bottom low.

I learned, however, that Tom won the race.  This brought him from low to extreme high and somewhat soothed the bitter taste in my mouth.  With that he also moved into 8th place on GC.  This was a hard race and a victory to really be proud of.  My congratulations to you, Tom Briney, on a very impressive win.

On personal levels, I think Liam and I left trying to avoid the could’ve/should’ve/would’ve game, and lament our missed opportunities.  If I take a step back and look at the big picture, however, this weekend was a tremendous success.  As I stated above, the team was phenomenal and had great results.  I think we promoted xXx well, and people from across the country took note of us.  I will just have to take my frustration and anger out on a few races in the coming weeks.

Thanks again to Kevin and Pam for your amazing support of xXx.  Job well done to everyone who competed.

Team Tactics Equals Complete and Utter Domination

By William Pankonin | May 10, 2010

Race name: Matt Wittig Memorial Crit - Masters 4/5
Race date: Saturday, May 8, 2010

Once again, Hampshire Cycle Club and Rainbow Jersey Cycles organized a terrific race in Muskego Park, Wisconsin. The perfect course in a beautiful park. The route offers quite a few features for racers to test their skills, executing different solo or team tactics: a nice light hill, a bump for good measure, two or three inclines, descents, wind, one hard corner, and gradual turns.

Bryce H., John W. and I lined up for the Masters 4/5 forty minute plus three lap criterium. Real easy on the first four laps or so. I grew a little impatient and decided it was time to execute my plan. After we had begun the climb, I attacked. One racer covered me, but I kept going because I wasn’t sure what the field was doing. After a lap, we were caught. Precisely at this moment, John attacked like a rabid dog with only one rider covering. Perfect. Bryce went to the front directly and took charge. Twice he motioned and told me where to ride so that we would disrupt everyone’s business of catching John. We rode slow on the front, blocked lanes, and generally caused confusion and made the peloton quite sloppy. One rider seemed determined to catch John as he pulled hard on the front, but he soon fizzled out after I would not come through for a pull. He shook his head back and forth in disgust and took a seat in the back. John drilled it for six laps, and no teams could organize anything to make the catch. No one rider was strong enough for the wind and hill to catch him solo. With three to go, the rider I mentioned previously re-appeared and hit the front again. We followed him and John was caught. When he was, I attacked. Part of me didn’t feel very confident about this move because it wasn’t the hardest part of the course. If you’re familiar with the course, this happened on the little descent, just before the park entrance and sharp corner (maybe about 300 meters from the corner). I put a gap on the field and cut the corner as hot as I could with my HEDs. I moved onto the front of my saddle, got as small as possible, and put my heart rate at ninty-one percent into the wind. I climbed the big hill, the little hill, grabbed a big gear, and put my head down. Two to go. At the corner, I took a glance. No one. Keep going. No relief. This was looking good because the group could not take that corner as fast as I, one rider. Also, they were quite tired, I’m sure, from chasing a xXxer. Plus, Bryce was being a pain back in the front of the peloton.

After the climb, the bell rang for last lap. There was no doubt in my mind, that John and Bryce were back there making a mess of things -all for me. A little smile as I glanced back again at the corner, and saw no one. I climbed the hill again. Towards the top, I turned back one last time. The peloton swept around the corner, clawing and fighting. I crested and posted up as I took the victory. It was my first win; I hope I’m smiling in the photo.

I could not have pulled this off without Bryce and John, who were exceptionally strong and strategic racers. To top off the day, John took third in the group sprint. For most of the race, the group was either chasing John or me, or their plans were being thwarted by General Bryce.

Strong work fellas. Aggressive and smart racing. Here’s a shout-out to my coach and xXx, who have all made this win possible for me. A team victory for xXx racing-Athletico.

A Cyclists Nightmare!

By Dan Andrews | May 9, 2010

Race name: Matt Wittig Memorial Crit
Race date: Saturday, May 8, 2010

let’s contemplate for a minute some of the terrible things that could happen to you in a race. mmmmm??? well...you could crash and hurt yourself or your bike. You could get pipped on the line in a bunch sprint for the finish. You could get dropped...the list is endless.

However this particular scenario i would have never thought of in a million years...but it happened and because of it my whole race was ruined. here’s what happened.

So it’s turning out to be a beautiful day in muskego. a little cold and the odd spat of rain but for the most part a nice day. I go out for a warm up prior to the race. check over my bike...everything is in working order. check.

I arrived early at the start line as you should do and as a result i gained myself a front line starting position..nice (i thought to myself).

well everything was in place, bike in order, i am feeling good, good position to start...then it begins. (haha i am laughing and kicking myself at the same time while writing this.)

We get the all clear to start, i push forward on the bike, move my right foot to clip in and my pedal flips upside down my foot proceeds to slip off the pedal and somehow i managed to whack my chain with my foot as it slipped and my chain comes off!!!

unbelievable!!! what a crap day this was going to be. anyways i try to push off again not realizing my chain had come off until all the riders flying past me shout “dropped chain” bollocks!!! is basically what i said and was thinking at this moment in time.

i was in such a state of panic that it took me a few seconds to realize and comprehend what had just happened. so i proceeded to try and put my chain back on in a state of frenzy. A guy runs over to help me i get back on...he pushes me off and i am away.

well your probably thinking two things. 1, you’re an idiot...how does anyone make such a mistake. 2, thats unlucky surely nothing else could happen to you.

well as i started to ride i felt a lot of resistance. i look back and my rear brake somehow was rubbing on my rear wheel. so once again i stop get off and rearrange my brake caliper.

finally i am away but by this point the pack is way ahead. i burst into a time trial state to try and bring them back but it wasn’t to be. i realized after a couple of laps that i couldn’t maintain this pace if i wanted to finish this thing.

also a random guy was running on the side of the road and he told me they were about half a lap ahead which proceeded to 3 quarters.

as you can imagine, a lot of things were running through my mind...you should just quit you have no chance. you will never catch them. this burning in my legs sucks i want to stop!!!

but somehow in the so common battle of the mind that we all go through as cyclists in tough times. i managed to fight the urge to quit.

there’s no way i am quitting this darn race no matter how far back or how much this hurts. i paid for this thing...i am going to finish.

so that is what i did, and to my amazement i managed to catch about 4 guys and achieve what i swore to never do in a race...finish last.

I have always said no matter what happens i am here representing xxx and i will not finish last. plus i wanted the race to count to my 10 for the season. plus i just paid $27 for this thing.

so i fought the urges to give up and finished completely exhausted and disappointed at the fateful events that occurred on this day in muskego. but there is always positives and negatives to take away. i was glad that i managed to continue and catch some guys. plus as a whole my body felt strong on the hills so there were some plus points to this nightmare scenario.

hopefully this never happens to any of you coz believe me...it sucks!!

First time in the pain cave.

By Bill Barnes | May 8, 2010

Race name: Verizon Wireless Two man TTT
Race date: Saturday, May 8, 2010

Just took a one hour nap for 5 hours.  I guess I didn’t hold anything back today.  I went out to Garden Prarie to do a 2 man TT this morning, having never met my TT partner before.  Arrived to a cold, windy start, and met up with David Heckelsmiller only to realize I didn’t have any full fingered gloves, and after a quick warm up, realized this was gonna be a problem.

So, I did the only pro thing I could think of and started asking random people if anyone had a spare set of gloves I could borrow.  Yeah, real pro.  Anyway, it turned out a guy nearby happened to have a pair of rubber gardening gloves he could loan me, so I took him up on it and prepared to ride 40K in rubber gloves with my team issue gloves on top of them.

I felt great this morning, other than the cold, and after David and I did a little warm up and tested ourselves out against each other, realized I was probably slightly faster or maybe feeling slightly more motivated this morning.  I’ve wanted to do a 40k TT without the hassle of swimming or running for a long time.  David and I agreed to just go with it, stick to our verbal cues we’d decided on over emails, and if it turned out one of us did more work, that was going to put us as a team in the best place so no hurt feelings were allowed.

We are both CAT 5’s with less than 5 road races each, riding road bikes, against a field of mostly (if not all) CAT 4’s, some of whom had full on TT setups.  However, the wind seemed to be everyone’s enemy today, with a WNW wind at 20-25 mph going the entire race.  I don’t know if aero setups really would have helped either of us unless we had ridden them a lot and were super comfortable on them.  The only piece of aero equipment between the two of us was my HED Jet 6’s.

At the start, we had discussed the idea of trying to take it easy in the beginning, knowing we’d be facing a nasty headwind on the return trip.  About a minute in, David and I decided that we were probably only going to gain any time with the tailwind, so we went all out and did about 29mph for the first 6-8 miles.  After the fourth turn when we came into the headwind, I was sure we were going to get pounded.  I constantly looked at my computer and tried to keep us above the 20mph mark against the wind.  TT’s are such a mental battle that you just have to not give into the fact that basically, it sucks, and you’re in pain.  David and I continually lied to each other and assured the other that he was looking good, had good form, and plenty left.  Truth is as we made the last two turns first into a crosswind, then into a straight headwind, we were starting to fade.  The last 6 miles was pretty much a pure headwind and I told David I wanted to try to keep the pace at over 20mph and finish strong. 

I think with the wind as strong as it was, David and I on normal road bikes we’re used to and comfortable on was probably a good thing, and our time reflected that.  We broke an hour by a few seconds and took home silver medals as a result.  After the race I had to get to the grass and stretch as soon as possible because I was literally dry-heaving and my muscles were tightening up in a bad way.  I thought we’d definitely given it everything we had, but didn’t realize how well we’d done until they announced results.  In a field of 15 Cat 4/5 entries, we took home second as a pair of green 5’s with almost no aero gear.  Not too frikkin bad, I say. 

I am sore, my nose is still dripping snot, and if I’d gone any harder I wouldn’t have stayed upright.  Proper f’d as Greta would say.  And I can’t wait to do it again.

Wind Tunnel Testing

By Jared Rogers | May 8, 2010

Race name: Verizon Wireless Two Man TTT
Race date: Saturday, May 8, 2010

So I woke up at 4:30AM today and knew that my day had come.  The day that I had been waiting for since the beginning of the year.  The day that I was going to take my TT bike up to Garden Prairie for aerodynamic testing in the wind tunnel.  The only thing to note is that this is not a traditional wind tunnel.  Oh no, this is a 40K no holds barred wind tunnel.  The kind where spirits are broken, dogs chase you down the side of the road and if you don’t pay attention, the wind will blow you into a ditch and leave you for dead.  Hey Leonard, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore!

I rode this course last year with another teammate who wanted to do a Team Time Trial.  It was windy then and I wasn’t too happy with our time.  But hey, this is a TEAM event.  Unlike the usual TT where you are responsible for your own destiny, this is an event where you work TOGETHER to ride a fast time.  We all know it feels good to drop another rider, but in a TTT the stronger rider HELPS their TEAMMATE.  This could be taking longer pulls, leading into the wind, sitting up to give more of a draft profile or screaming loud enough in the last 200 meters so that your partner can’t hear the pain of their lungs bursting and muscles tearing down.  Remember, the finish time is taken when the 2nd rider’s front wheel crosses the finish line.  So guess what?  I figured I’d give it another go this year to see if I could improve.

When we hit the start line, it was apparent that we were in for a battle.  The wind was coming out of the West which meant that we would not have a “true” tailwind for any significant amount of time.  Instead, we would be battling cross and headwinds for most of the run.  We were off at 9:28AM.  Don’t get caught and stay on the hunt.  That was about the only goal I really had.  Leonard and I shook hands as the clock clicked down to 15 seconds.  I took a few deep breaths and got my mind in warpath mode.  The starter gave us the go and we were off.

The first 5 miles we rode at a decent clip as we judged where the wind was coming from.  Since I had ridden the course before and knew that Leonard had a pretty big engine, we agreed that I would set the pace so that I wouldn’t blow up.  But once we had the wind figured out and got our rotation/positioning in synch, we began to push with the tailwind and tried to keep the hammer down in the crosswinds.  We were making good time and hitting our splits.  We even caught some riders as we made a turn onto a long section with high crosswinds.  But then things became harder and the work began.

Leonard was running a normal set up (i.e. Eddy Merckx) whereas I was in full blown TT mode.  I had been watching my numbers and I was a ways below threshold so I knew I had more to give.  Leonard on the other hand had to work harder than me and mentioned that he was feeling it in his legs.  So what do you do?  I took the lead, monitored our numbers and tried to get us back home on time.  My teammate did his part by running on the rivet and doing his best to stay in the draft and echelon when needed.

Our time was still pretty good when we motored over the I-90 overpass headed to the turnaround.  But when we started back in the other direction, I began to realize why everyone we saw on our way out looked as if they were in the death march.  The wind on the way back was a massive 20-30MPH cross/headwind that caused my helmet to whistle like a tea pot!  Our speed took a 7-10MPH hit and I subsequently watched our average tick down from 25.2 to 21 even.  At one point I thought I saw Lucifer standing by the side of the road laughing and pointing at us as we rode bye.  I think he and Mother Nature were in cahoots today just to make me mad, and that they did!

I tried to stay focused on pedaling and keeping us as close to my threshold as possible.  Then we got caught about 7 miles out (this was the first and only catch of us on our run) by our six minute men and I took it personally.  From that point on all I remember was a lot of snot, drool and foaming at the mouth.  Too bad there was no dog to be found!

As we hit the last rise and crested, we could see the officials truck parked at the finish line about ¼ of a mile out.  This is when I began yelling at Leonard like a possessed drill sergeant to hold my wheel and push like no other. As we crossed the line I yelled our number and resigned that we had done the best that we could.  While our time wasn’t what I hoped for, it was almost a full minute faster than the run a year before, despite the wind being harder and not of much benefit.

As we rolled back to the car, I told Leonard that he should be proud of his effort.  It’s one thing to run a TT with no aero gear at all, but it’s another to do it in gail force winds and still manage to finish.  But I can bet you a million dollars that if we do a TTT again, Leonard won’t ride it guerilla!

So for giving it his all, I say thanks to my teammate.  My second TT of the year is now in the books and the last one I will que up will be the four man towards the end of the season.  Here’s to riding in the pain cave and boy I can’t wait to do it again…well actually I can!

More good news than bad news

By Jonathan Dugas | May 7, 2010

Race name: Vernon Hills 30+
Race date: Saturday, May 1, 2010

Bad news:
1. Got separated momentarily after halfway after pulling for two laps.

Good news:
1. Maintained my position with more ease.
2. Was able to make up places instead of clinging to the back (a la Hillsboro).
3. Got back on after being separated (see “Bad news” above).
4. Was on track for a mid-bunch finish before being cut off with 500 m to go
5. Avoided the crash in the final sprint, probably because I was cut off (see “Good news,” #4).
6. Cycled home after the race for a high-quality day in the saddle.

More good news, more bad news

By Jonathan Dugas | May 7, 2010

Race name: Leland Kermesse
Race date: Saturday, Apr 17, 2010

Bad news:
Shelled out the back after five min in the 1/2/3 race.

Good news:
1.Still lots of racing this season.
2.Finished three laps before retiring.
3. Riding in the wind makes you stronger.

Good news, bad news

By Jonathan Dugas | May 7, 2010

Race name: Hillsboro-Roubaix 3s
Race date: Saturday, Apr 10, 2010

Bad news:
Went backwards on the last hill, finished in front of only one rider.

Good news:
It was only 10 April and there is are plenty of races still this season.

First MTB Race

By Thomas Kabacinski | May 3, 2010

Race name: Iola Bump and Jump
Race date: Sunday, May 2, 2010

My first MTB bike race turned out to be a great day with no major expectations but let me tell you it was fun. I didn’t realize how Road riding makes you so strong compared to normal riders. I didn’t know what to expect with the field and was rather bummed when I had a great start spot on the line only to lose about 20 spots in my field to people who had registered for the series instead of me who registered for the race. Any way I forgot about it and just concentrated on riding my race and pass who I could. Within the first lap I kept passing people. I found my strength was the climbs and developed my confidence in my handling as it went on. I had a 29er which made the handling a little tough but nothing I couldn’t handle. On the second lap I passed one guy in my field after the last big climb only to have him pass me later when I was tied up behind a few slower riders. Well there went my first place except I didn’t know it. I missed him by 30 seconds. I came in 15th for the whole field of 150 and could have made top 10 with a little more training and effort. Hey I loved the podium and the medal alone! I even remebered to put my hat and jersey on for the podium .

The Art of War

By Jared Rogers | May 3, 2010

Race name: Vernon HIlls Grand Prix
Race date: Sunday, May 2, 2010

Military minds often think in terms of strategy and tactics.  Competitors, or at least the really good ones, are almost no different.

Strategy is immutable; it is a Big Picture look at a problem that focuses upon the entire forest and not individual trees. Military concepts such as offensive, mass, maneuver, and surprise represent the timeless principles of strategy. Why do you think Sun Tzu’s The Art of War has been a best seller for thousands of years and translated into every imaginable language? Because it teaches strategy and the lessons of strategy are timeless. They are bound to our very nature as humans.

Tactics vary with circumstances and, especially, technology. If I were to teach you how to be a soldier during the American Revolution, you would learn how to form and maneuver in lines, perform the 27 steps in loading and firing a musket, and how to ride and tend to a horse. Naturally, yesterday’s tactics won’t win today’s wars – but yesterday’s strategies still win today’s wars… and will win them tomorrow and into the future.

So, tactics present a Small Picture perspective where individual trees are in focus but the Big Picture of the forest is not. Just as your eyes have to look up from this page to refocus on the larger room you’re reading it in, so strategy and tactics require a different focus.

So what’s up with this overly long diatribe about warfare, strategy and tatcis?  Trust me, it’ll all make sense in the end.

Vernon Hills has a prominent place in my cycling history.  Back in ’07 it was my first crit, which followed my first bike race of all time the day before – Baraboo.  Needless to say, back then I wondered why I chose racing as a past time because my first two days in the sport could be summed up as arduous at best .  Fast forward to my fourth season and things are a LOT different.

This is a course I KNOW hands down so I was planning on having a good race.  That crazy turn two with the median that juts up at you, that misleading turn three that narrows down on you and always causes a crash and that wide open landscape that makes even a 5 MPH wind something that people don’t want to fight.  I knew what sprinters would be in the field.  I knew that we had a strong squad of guys going out.  I knew what our strategy was. I knew where the move was supposed to happen.  I knew, I knew, I knew…

But just cause you know the strategy doesn’t mean that all the tactics being employed by everyone in a race will play into your strategy.  Case in point, Bryce and I were sitting in the grass when they told everyone to take a lap.  Almost all of our riders just sat there because we 1) had spent about 30 minutes warming up and 2) most of us knew the course.  Under normal circumstances this is a good tactic.  But then the officials told us that if we didn’t take a lap we would be put at the back of the field.  Okay this was a first?  So I immediately take off so I don’t get put at the back.  Where did I wind up?  At the back!  I should have just stayed put had I been thinking and not wasted my energy.  Tactics vs. strategy…

So I toe the line WAY at the back of a 64 person field and I am not too thrilled.  Bryce rolls over to my side and slots in behind Ryan and Emanuele slots in right in front of me.  I mean, I’m so far back I can’t even hear Fowkes tell us when the wheel pit closes (not that I’m hoping to use it but hey, it’s good info to have).  So I tell Emanuele to give me some room ‘cause I know what the strategy is and being at the back isn’t going to play out too well.  Whistle goes off, I go blasting up the left side (I swear I hear crashing on the line in the middle of the pack) and the war is officially on. 

The front of the pack is getting up to speed as we hit turn one and I see Ian and Adam up towards the front.  Ian had mentioned that early season races are like gun battles and he was brining and RPG.  All I had to do was wait - and I didn’t have to wait long.  He takes off, another rider grabs his wheel and I’m just hanging out.  Why not help out, are you just hear to ride around in circles all day?  Not really - so as we come through the start finish area I give it a little go and no one follows me.  I make the bridge and get up to Ian who is waiving me through, but I can tell by the way the other rider keeps looking back that the pack must not have liked there being three off the front, two of which were from the same team.  Oh well, all back together for now.

A few laps later Adam would go off the front in turn three and make the group work.  I slowly drifted back into the sprinters lounge and just kept my eye on how many were up the road.  As the laps ticked by I would see Ian, Adam, Bryce, Ryan and Hudson all doing work trying to keep things in order.  At the same time, I was doing my part by noting how much time had passed and remembering that with 4 to go I was to move back up to the front so as to not miss the final volley of attacks.  And this is just what I did.  At four to go the lights and sirens went off and it was time to leave the lounge.  With three to go I was about 20th wheel and by the time we hit two to go I had a nice lane on the left to take me up to the front.  As I passed Ryan on the left in turn one, I called his name, slapped my hip, threw up the deuce and told him lets go.  Unfortunately, I would later find out that he didn’t know that the deuce was for two to go, not peace out homie!

So going into turn two I was about 8th wheel and Ian was off the front with three others.  Good, looks like he was going to be in position just about where the move should go.  I started my march towards the front knowing that I only have about 30-50 seconds to get to Ian before there will be a headwind and I’ll have to burn a lot of matches if I am going to help out.  As we’re motoring down the back stretch (we have a tail wind mind you) I am closing really fast on the only rider between me and the four off the front as well as that infamous turn three.  So as I’m coming up to his wheel I yelled “go” to let him know not to slow down.  He replied “sorry, one of my guys is up there.” I really don’t know what I said, but I don’t think it was positive (sorry).  So I sail turn three and push hard knowing I’ve only got seconds before I hit a headwind.

I make contact in the nick of time so now I am fifth wheel as we get the bell.  Oh Yeah, next stop top 5 or even better the podium!  There are only two problems with this.  First, because I had to close 20 meters so close to the finish (I was redlined and very close to empty) I had very little time to recover.  Had the four in front of me kept motoring, I probably would have been able to hold the wheel in front of me, but I don’ t think I had much more.  Second, because of the first problem, despite me seeing it unfold, I wasn’t able to react to a mistake that always happened to me during my second season (Check this report where towards the end I talk about always getting boxed in on the last lap).  Needless to say, the combo of being gassed and boxed didn’t play out well and I lost a ton of spots coming out of turn two.  My mind cracked hard on the back stretch with less than a half a lap to go despite me pleading with it and my body to just go hard for another minute.

So sadly I watched (what I thought was) everyone ride past me and my 5th place finish turned into me rolling across the line about two seconds off the back of the pack in 33rd position.  I rolled around for a minute and then made my way to the sidelines to talk to our team.  To everyone who I spoke to directly after the race, please know that I was not in the best of moods and I apologize for my demeanor.  But what that mood was displaying was my sincere disappointment in myself for not being able to close this race the way I knew it should have went.

Many who have ridden with me over the years know the rider I was when I first started racing.  That rider would get ejected from the peloton two laps in, mentally cracked at the slightest amount of suffering and couldn’t envision race strategy if you tattooed it on his arm.  But the beginning of this season has me convinced that that rider is long dead and gone and I pray he never comes back.  The new rider has the fitness and mental wherewithal to get it done come race time.  On top of that, when I am in a race now, I can “see” things unfold and I have an instinctive feel for if it will work given that particular point in a race.  Thus the talk about strategy vs. tactics.  I can honestly say that in the four seasons of racing I’ve done, this year my mental clarity (i.e. strategic thinking) is 1000 times better.  In the fours you are lucky if you can get teams to enact tactics correctly.  It’s a whole different ball game to get them to employ the overarching strategy.

Case in point – what happened to me as I came up towards turn three.  When I came up to the rider in front of me he mentioned that he had a man in the group.  Tactic = blocking right?  Here is why I kept going past him despite our team having a rider in the same group (one that carries an RPG I might add).

Have you ever seen a break get established within the last two laps of a Cat 4 or 5 crit and it sticks?  Answer is no.  Why?  The last lap of any crit is the most ballistic of any pace wise.  If you slow down even a faction of a MPH, you will get swarmed, overrun or boxed in because the peloton has one thing on their mind at this point – outrun the people behind them to the line.  Thus, blocking or slowing down isn’t a good tactic given the greater strategy.  Coincidently, when I was gassed on the last lap I noticed that several riders went down on the previous lap in that turn – they were towards the back of the pack.  Luckily no one was hurt too badly and everyone looks like they will be back to riding soon.

So despite my poor finish, I think I rode one of my best races in a long time.  Ian managed to get 4th, Bryce cracked the top ten and everyone else was able to bring it in before I did.  We all rode well and I can say that I look forward to riding with this group of fours this season (although I know some of us won’t be fours for long).  Hats off also to the promoter and the people of Vernon Hills – as always, it was a good time.

The Rain in Spain

By Greta Neimanas | May 2, 2010

Race name: Paracycling Bizkaiko Bira
Race date: Sunday, May 2, 2010

The Paracycling Bizkaiko Bira is a two day, three stage race in the Basque region of Spain. As the name indicates, it’s a race for the cripples (It’s ok, I CAN say that) so I was racing in a USA jersey, rather than a xXx one. The first two stages were short time trials- 11k and 13.6k respectively- followed by a short road race- 42k. Like most of my American teammates, I specialize in the time trial. We got up Saturday to a steady rain, and soaked roads. Luckily we all brought rain jackets as our trainers were broken in transit, so it was a road warm up for us. The course was pretty neat- the start was in the middle of a short, punchy climb, a brief false flat then a screaming descent, a U turn in the road, and back up the climb. All in the rain, under heavy tree cover, so basically in the dark. Unlike my usual style of cooking the descent (ask the people in Peachy Canyon in SLO ’09 about that) After catching my 30 sec girl in the first 5 minutes, I played it safe on the descent and probably gave up a few seconds rather than a minute or more picking myself out of the ditch. Made the turn, and rolled it uphill as best as I could. It was over before I knew it, and was soon back in the parking lot huddled with my teammates for warmth.

Back to the hotel for lunch and quick recovery before heading out to the afternoon’s time trial course which was supposed to be “a traditional paralympic cycling course” which translates to “flat.” Well, we got there and rode what we thought was the course. It wasn’t very flat either, but after riding for nearly 40 minutes, we realized we’d gone more than the 13k that the supposed course was. It took nearly an hour to find our way back to town to make our start times for the second race, on a course that none of us really knew… at all. But at least it wasn’t raining! If you’ve never raced a TT blind (And I don’t mean on the back of a tandem (which is fun too)) I highly recommend trying it. What’s the worst that can happen? I feel that it’s a true-er test of your bike racing abilities. The parts that we didn’t ride were the bigger climbing bits, which made it tough to gage the effort, but really, what’s the difference between 350W for 2k or 3k? Exactly, not a whole lot.
The afternoon was, on the whole, much better for the team, with almost all of us winning our respective categories (Think weight classes in wrestling).

Sunday brought the road race and more rain. All the bikes started together- men and women of all categories- which made a nice big pack to start. It split up pretty quickly with the higher classes (less crippled) in the front, and the lower (more crippled) classes in the back. My goal for the day was to just race with the men. I’d established a comfortable lead after the two TT’s and the road race was the time to really whip out and measure. My teammate was sitting 2nd on GC in his class, so I was working to help him in any way possible. The Spanish had a huge presence in the race, obviously, as this doubled as the Basque Country’s National Championships. My race was 4 laps. It was pissing rain again. After the first lap, we rolled through the start/finish and about 3 seconds later, I found myself on the ground, sliding across the fine, granite-like stone they paved the intersection with. An ice rink would have had more traction. I got up immediately and back on my bike to find a bent derailer hanger. No biggie. With the help of the guy that caused the crash, we chased back on pretty quickly without incident. The Brit put in a few probing attacks, and then one that finally got him off the front (the winning move for his class). The pace was reasonably high, but not high enough to weed out all the… less than stellar bike handlers. Halfway through the third lap one of these people decided he wasn’t satisfied with his spot four bikes from into the pack from the left and took a hard turn into someone’s wheel. Domino effect ensued and I was on the ground. Again. This time my luck wasn’t as good. Something was bleeding, my front wheel was pointing one way and my bars the other, and my bar end shifter (for my front derailer) was hanging on my a thread. It was stuck between the big and little rings but I was able to put it in the little ring, straighten everything out, and get back on the horse so to speak. Luckily, it was still raining.

The last lap I rode in my little ring (I did the previous three in the big ring) and found my way into a chase group. At this point, the pack was long gone, I’d guess 3 minutes easy, so it was just a matter of minimizing lost time, and rolling in to the finish mostly intact. The rain stopped for the finish which was very considerate.

It was a somewhat frustrating day for me because I had great legs, had no problem staying in with the men, and had a teammate to help. That said, I was happy I wasn’t hurt, and the damage to my bike was minimal.

My GC placing was all wrapped up, so it was off to awards ceremonies. It was absolutely awesome to see the podium dominated my Americans in the time trials. From our team of nine, seven people won their category. The other countries on the podium counted the American contingent and I’m sure, felt sad and intimidated by our complete dominance of the race of truth. With a new jersey to take home, came a traditional Basque hat- the txapella (See Horner’s victory photo from Tour of the Basque Country)- and a champagne shower. Leave it to the guy that races the trike to completely drench me. The sun came out just long enough to dry the champagne in my hair and ears. Then it started raining again.

For everyone that races 4/5…

By Ian Murray | May 2, 2010

Race name: Circuit of Sauk
Race date: Saturday, May 1, 2010

4/5 racing may be the lowest category at most road races, but that by no means makes it easy.  Going into the Circuit of Sauk, I’d been racing collegiate for 2 months and seen my form develop as I ascended from Cat C (4) to B (3/4) and finally the last four race weekends where I raced in the A category (1/2/3).  I was one of only 2 Cat 4 riders in the A field, but managed to finish 18th-40th in fields of about 60.  During the races I was able to mark attacks and get in breakaways and never felt in danger of being dropped.  Naturally, mixing it up with the caliber of riders in the A fields gave me a tremendous amount of confidence going into my first USAC race of the season today. 

xXx had a good contingent on the start line with Matt, Patrick and William, but we didn’t really talk about a team strategy for the day (it’s hard when you’re not sure how strong everyone is).  Ultimately, the Circuit of Sauk is fairly straightforward.  Don’t get dropped on the climb and protect yourself well in the crosswinds.  You have to stay as far to the front as possible not to get caught behind fading riders.  Just my luck, I see a neon jersey roll up right before the start.  It’s Tony Damhoff, the other Cat 4 in collegiate A, and he’s stronger than I am on the hills (F!).  We banter a bit before the neutral roll out and I introduce the field to his collegiate nickname, the swamp monster (he crashed into a mud pit and rode the remainder of the race covered in mud). 

The race official explained that we’d be neutral until the first corner before the climb, but Tony apparently didn’t hear that and attacked the roll out.  There was a lot of head scratching in the field and for some reason the pace car driver sped up to 35.  I tried to yell at Tony, but he was too far away by that point, so I let the field know that I’d bridge and tell him to come back.  I got within shouting distance a few hundred meters from the corner, so that was a nice waste of energy before the climb. 

With the field together, I hit the first ascent second wheel but was quickly swarmed by Tony and a few remarkably strong riders.  I battled to maintain contact over the top and thought to myself, “what is going on?!?”.  Climbing isn’t really my thing, but I figured that I had most of the field out-gunned.  At this point, I had to adjust my plan and opt for a more conservative race of marking wheels and staying out of the wind instead of attacking the second, smaller climb as I had planned (boring).  As it turns out, there were some really good descenders in that field as well, so I bet on a bunch sprint at the end regardless.

True to form, about 1/3 of the original field came to the line together.  I got boxed in for the start of the sprint by some questionable yellow line riding, but at 200m to go the road opened up and I started picking off riders.  Damhoff led a train of people up the right side, but neither of his two followers could come around his sprint.  I was closing hard on them, but ran out of space before I could throw the 3rd place guy on the line.  If the swamp monster had stayed home, I think I might have taken the sprint, but that’s bike racing.

4th place netted me my entry fee and it came with a big helping of knowledge.  4/5 racing is not much slower than 3 racing, which is not much slower than 1/2 racing.  I’d been racing with 1’s and 2’s for a month, but still could not control the race.  It’s never a good idea to roll up to a start thinking that you’re a sure thing because there will always be other sandbaggers out to eat your lunch.  It’s unfortunate that it works like this because it creates a sizable barrier to overcome for newcomers to the sport.  I’d imagine that almost every person in that field was seriously training 4-5 days/week.  It might be worth making a cat 6 with races that are prize-less and cheaper to enter so that people don’t get discouraged by being destroyed in races like the one yesterday (you could also have a one-and-done, win=upgrade to 5 policy to ensure that everyone has a shot).  I’m moving up to 3 after Snake Alley later this month, but hopefully I’ll be able to get a win for xXx before that happens (I got the team listed on my license changed today).  See ya’ll at Vernon Hills this afternoon!

Thrillas in the mist

By Luke Seemann | Apr 25, 2010

Race name: Whitnall Park Spring Classic
Race date: Saturday, Apr 24, 2010

I love this course. With three successive climbs and gentle, sweeping descents, it’s perfectly suited to maximize my strengths and conceal my liabilities. I certainly wasn’t going to let dire forecasts of thunderstorms spoil my fun.

It had been six months since I last had occasion to use my Hed race wheels. I’d forgotten how splendid they are. How they carve corners like an electric knife on a Christmas ham. How their freewheel purrs like an idling engine. How they make you feel like you have an extra 200 watts with every jump.

My first race was the masters 1/2/3. A small field, but I recognized the Wisconsin aces. It had started to mist just before the race, and the rooster tails drove me crazy. It was hard to follow someone’s wheel, and I was nervous riding in a crowd with such poor visibility.

So I looked for an early escape.

On the second lap, an IS Corp rider was about 10 seconds up the road. The pack had split, one of those early-race dramas that never amount to much, and I was pulling the second half up to the lead group. When we made contact, the leaders were slowing on the third hill, but I still had a lot of momentum, so I rode up the right side. Over on the left, I spotted a Wheel & Sprocket rider getting out of his saddle. Thus I continued up the hill and met him at the top. We traded a few pulls and caught the ISCorp rider—and we were already out of sight. That’s what I love about this course. It doesn’t take much to get away.

And that was pretty much the race. Like any break with a hope for surviving, we were instant BFF’s. We traded pulls evenly. Indeed, a three-person break was perfect for this course, with each of us taking responsibility for one of the three stairstep climbs. When a prime for some Clif product was called, it was a no-brainer to agree split it evenly and roll through smoothly.

We received lots of helpful time gaps from the sidelines, and we eventually hit more than a minute. Even with a minute gap and less than a few laps to race, I still feel insecure about any break, so I tend to drive it harder than I need to. Such was the case here, but after having twice finished last in the break here, I was determined not to repeat.

With four to go, I started putting in attacks at various spots on the course, hoping to shed at least one of my two new best friends. Nothing doing. As in past years here, I think it may have been because our gap was *too* big: In between attacks, everyone could afford to rest a little. As a result, we all had fresh legs to cover any cat-and-mouse action.

So it would come to a sprint. I entered the final stretch in second wheel. At the base of the second climb, ISCorp attacked from behind. Since it was early, I let Wheel & Sprocket cover it. Cover it he did, but it was all I could do to hold his wheel, and I didn’t have enough gas to overtake him. Nonetheless, he was able to tow me past ISCorp, so I did not finish last in the break. Progress!

As soon as I stopped riding, I started trembling with cold. I was soaked, and my feet felt like bricks. Quickly I headed to the car and cranked up the heat. Ordinarily I would have gone home in that condition, but I knew Dave was coming up for the P/1/2/3 race, and it would have been poor form to abandon him.

The mist had receded but it was still cold and damp. Nonetheless it was an active race from the beginning. Team Wisconsin, ISCorps and Trocadero all had good numbers and were determined to get off the front, and of course everyone had their eye on Cole House of BMC’s u23 team, fresh from Europe.

Dave and I took turns trying to get into moves or bridge to moves. About halfway through the race, a threesome was charging off the front, and since Dave had just had a move reeled in, it was my turn. I launched from my favorite attack point and got away clear ... but I just didn’t have the legs to get across. A chase group was coming up behind me, however, and I was able to latch on to them. We worked well enough—except for the ISCorp rider, who rightly sat in, since he had a teammate up the road—but didn’t make much progress. The break was soon out of sight.

That’s about when we were joined by House, who put in a huge pull for more than a lap. If he was going to put in many more pulls like that, I knew I’d have trouble sticking on.

I must say, it was pretty cool to be holding a BMC wheel. I haven’t ridden against such a prestigious kit since my days in the 5’s racing against U.S. Postal and Pink Floyd.

Since the first rule of Break Club is “Don’t get dropped from the break,” I started skipping pulls and sitting in at the back. ISCorp noted this, however, and didn’t like it, so he cleverly let a gap open ahead of him, daring me to close. I tried but couldn’t, and he was able to leapfrog around me, leaving me behind in no-man’s land with six laps to go.

Oh, the shame.

It wouldn’t last long: After two laps by myself, Dave was bounding up to me, having broken free of the pack. As soon as he caught up to me I put in one hard pull to give him brief relief and then bid him on his way.

Five laps later, I would roll in midpack. Dave, on the other hand, was able to salvage our race and stay away and even pass some of the chasers for 6th.

Just one out of the money for Dave, but a profitable day all things considered, and it left me really looking forward to a great season of racing with everyone.

This game we play

By Dan Andrews | Apr 18, 2010

Race name: Leland Kermesse
Race date: Saturday, Apr 17, 2010

So...I rode leland with owen on recon a week before the race. Conditions....70 degrees with probably 18mph winds sunny. Not too bad i thought to myself even though the winds were strong.

I show up on race day, conditions.....45 degrees probably gusts of up to 25mph winds.  suck!!!

I wasn’t entirely sure what i could pull off in this race but i knew there was a frame up for grabs so i was going for it!!

waiting to start it was really cold, i tried to keep moving to stop my body from shivering uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop it so i tried talking to some fellow teammates while we waited. This managed to temporarily take my mind away from the fact that i was freakin cold!

Things started pretty steady..me and jacques rode together just behind the front to keep an eye on any early breaks as i was guessing this fierce crosswind was going to wreak havoc....i wasn’t disappointed. My hopes were to start an echelon early and push the pace a little to get rid of the back of the pack, however with the narrowness of the roads it was hard to get any good echelon going as the center line rule was in effect. there goes plan A.

Plan B. try stay near the front and get on the front for the gravel (i didn’t want any wheels in front of me in risk that they might go down.) then sit back again when we hit the asphalt, do this until the last lap and then think about an attack.

Well this plan was going nicely until that stupid little urge inside me decided to start pulling on the front of the group far tooo early. Here my race inexperience came into full bloom. I finally realized what i was doing and tried to merge back into the pack out of the wind.

Just before the first gravel section i got into second place feeling pretty good about that and then it began. I took the right line knowing this worked in recon. I thought to myself just stay behind this guy and you will be fine. it wasn;t to be. one by one riders started moving up attacking from all angles. What the heck? already are you serious? turns out they were. i tried to hit the pedals hard and stay with a group of about 10 riders who passed me but i couldn’t keep up. my legs were giving in on me already. why? darn you legs. we’ve barely even started the race… what’s going on? my legs chose not to answer those questions they just continued to burn in agony!!

plan c. salvage what i could and try and recover my legs from their annoyingly early downfall. then fight back as best i could.

i am guessing by the end of the gravel into the wind i was sitting middle pack but i was completely isolated. guys behind me...guys in front. i had no idea what position i was in. anyway i got into a rhythm and slowly but surely the heart rate went down and the legs began to gain some life. I decided to start pushing hard while i had the wind behind me. i managed to catch a small group and rode with them for a while.

for the next lap and a half it was a blur of working with guys, things falling apart and then finding other guys and blah blah blah. but then....third and final lap the gravel sections start..there’s a group of maybe 8 of us. i am driving the pace with one other guy, we take turns on the front. this continues until he drops off… i guess he was tired of the others not doing anything. I reluctantly came through and continued to pull and much to my disbelief a small gap had emerged. I thought...they will be back on my wheel in a minute don;t worry about it. but it wasn’t to be. the gap got bigger...huh. this is the moment when i began to think of all those times people say races have luck involved and breaks are no exception to that.

so i turned up the pace a little just to test them to see if they really were dropping off...turns out they were. the gap got bigger, substantial now to where we were approaching the end of the gravel going north. i said to myself...this is it i am hitting it hard. i hit the asphalt and i layed the smackdown, out of the saddle 100%, no looking back just go. low and behold it worked, i got rid of the group of 8 and decided to bolt it from here to the finish cancellara style (haha i wish).

well i did my own cat 5 version of cancellara and rode tt pace for the rest of the course in fear that the group would catch me back. they didn’t, and it turns out i caught another 4 riders and passed them on my way to the finish. My lungs were burning, legs cramping, but i fought the mental battle and managed to push quite an impressive pace (for me) all the way to the finish line. the result 23rd.

not bad. there was no way i was going to catch the front group back after they left me so promptly in the early stages of the race, but i still had some xxx pride and did the best i could with the situation i found myself in. There was definitely no DNF for me...forget that. i was here to race and finish this bloody thing is what i did. There’s a lot to learn in this game of bike racing but i am enjoying the journey.

My First Podium Finish

By Dana Maglaris | Apr 18, 2010

Race name: Flatlandia Kermese
Race date: Saturday, Apr 17, 2010

Thanks to the Flatlandia team who did a great job organizing this extremely rural race. Many support vehicles around. Plenty of people directing us in the corners.

I got third in the Women’s Cat 4 race!!!

Here is MY summery of the Leland course:

1. Head/Cross wind (BRUTAL)
2. Headwind (surprisingly not as brutal)
3. Headwind + gravel (hard and long)
4. Short stretch of tailwind
5. Tailwind + gravel (my favorite)
6. Short stretch of tailwind
7. Tailwind + gravel (my favorite)
Repeat 3 times

All women started together. The 1/2/3’s took 4 laps and the 4’s took 3 laps. We were all together until the last couple miles of the first lap. That’s when the field blew up. I gave it a huge effort to stay with the 1/2/3’s who were attacking like crazy. However, just as I clung to a few girls’ wheels, we hit the beginning of the second lap, a smooth road but with BRUTAL head/cross winds. This was by far my worst and weakest part of the race. I got dropped/ passed by all the women I was around. And all of a sudden it was just me and the cornfields. Not another woman in sight for the rest of the race. I kept up a good effort and even jockeyed back and forth with a group of cat 4 men. They would blow by me in the smooth windy sections, but I would pass them in the gravelly sections. This kept up my morale, as I could at least see other riders around me and could work to pass them, or not have them drop from my eyesight. I really liked the gravelly sections- I got used to the shimmying and fishtailing and tried to take those sections as aggressively as if I were on smooth road. The factors slowing me down were wind and rolling resistance.

The two girls who got 1st and 2nd worked together, but there were no other cat 4 racers between them and me, so I took third. This was a great race! I’ve never made the podium before. I’ve never won cash before. I don’t think I’ve ever earned points before either. I have come away from this race with a list of things I’d like to improve upon (as always). But I also feel incredibly satisfied with my result! (And Tamara really thinks I need to do cross, since I liked the gravelly sections so much.)

Thanks to MAXXIS Detonators which kept all the air inside my tires!!! Thanks to HED KERMESE wheels which were appropriate for this Flatlandia KERMESE race. They were smooth, strong and comfortable!

Broom Wagon? No way.

By William Pankonin | Apr 17, 2010

Race name: Leland Kermesse
Race date: Saturday, Apr 17, 2010

The April wind was whippin across the plains and farm fields this morning as we rolled in into Leland, IL under a cloudless blue sky. Temps in the 40s with a windchill and all that business. Thanks to Flatlandia for putting this together for a second year in a row, and to the town of Leland for opening up their home to packs of bike racers and bike-racer-fans!

Our race went off right on time as a I settled in at second wheel next to a teammate. We were two by two six or so deep until the eschelons began. If you didn’t know how these worked before, I’m sure you do now. I wasn’t too worried about being too close to the front, because at any moment, I expected attacks to begin in order to get into the gravel “sectors” first. (Yes, I am going to call them sectors.) As soon as we turned left, a rider hit the gas, we fell into one long ribbon of color and carbon.  I was fourth or fifth wheel, and we were racing. Here we go.

Shortly before the first sector, a teammate attacked with the wind pushing us from our left sides. Great idea, but the race was early, we were approaching a gravel road, and it simply wasn’t quite time yet for this type of thing -for me at least. I will say, however, that my teammate raced really well, and took third place about three hours later.  Great job!

The gravel was thick like a bowel of cold oatmeal. There were no lines AT ALL as I began making some precarious moves on loose rock. My front wheel was all over the place, and I crashed directly. I lasted 1 minute on this stuff, and we had 4 laps with miles of rock to go. The guy behind me went down as well. The whole thing had a type of cross feel to it, so we got back up, dodged a line of dusty racers and hit it again. I now had horrible position. Horrible. I settled and waited for a good time to jump over to the other side of the road. The thought of crossing all that soft rock made my move hesitant to say the least, but I flicked the bars and made the hop. Then I drilled it until I got within top 15, and until the whole right side came over and joined me. Fine. New race.

I guess I was pretty nervous now, and to make matters worse, my left brake hood was almost sideways to the outside. The brake still worked though; sure looked goofey. Didn’t feel too good either. Oh well. Back on the pavement now, as I tried to gobble up a few more positions. In moments, I would make one of my worst racing moves to date. I tried to squeeze through on the right side, on the right side of a Tati racer. (I know who you are, and I am so sorry, dude. So glad you did not crash with me!) My outward hood move inside his bars, I panicked and instead of holding straight and slowing, and crashed onto the shoulder, and finally into the fresh spring ditch.

I popped up, and right in front of me, there it was, looming, the Broom Wagon. I could jump right in and call it day. Get some coffee. The driver even tapped the breaks, slowed, as if to say, come on man, your day is done. I looked down at the chain; it was off. Riders went by me screaming. I looked around. Back at the chain, wheels, and bars.  Hey, my hood was straight again! I had to use my hand to get the chain on, and when I had it set, I got back on my machine and began pedalling, the front left break pad rubbing the rim. Oh boy.

Body seemed okay.  Max’s bike proved to be tough and hard as nails.  (I would find later this evening only a broken water cage and bent derailleur hanger.) Knee was banged up again. (Don’t how much more it can take of that.  Watch for me to wear something on it from here on out.) But all-in-all, all systems were green again. I began methodically pedalling tempo. I now was able to see what was happening throughout the whole field. I couldn’t have been very far from the last few riders of the whole cat 4 race. Everything became mellow, as I wrapped my mind around what had just happened to my chances of doing well, and I thought about how I would feel after the race -after making such a dumb-ass move.

I exchanged a few words with fellow racers, and turned right onto more gravel, with a nice tailwind. My tempo increased and I found I was almost able to time trial this road. Here goes nothin. I chose the side with fewest riders and hammered. Made up some ground, hit the pavement, settled into the drops, and tapped out a hot, solo rhythm.

From the back, you could tell which riders were shelled. Broken legs swerved all over the road. I passed a group of ghost riders and eyed up the next group just up the road. Head down, pedal pedal. We turned into the head wind. If I did not catch them soon (like now), I would pop. With three bike lengths to go, me rocking the Lelli back and forth on the rocks, wind killin my face, dirt in my teeth, I closed the gap. I was done. I rode the back and didn’t take a single pull for quite a while. Somewhere around here, I had met up with the Iron Cycles guy who went down with me the first time. (Dude, sorry about that.) As I recovered, I began to feel good. I had a teammate in this group and didn’t know about our guy in the lead group, but we were so far back, so I thought, I didn’t care if we worked together and moved up. No way we would see top three anyway.  With both Iron Cycles and me ready to catch the next group, we packed up and pulled out.  This dude has a huge motor and did some awesome work. We still had two and a half laps to go.

We picked up riders here and there, worked with them for a while, and would eventually drop them. The two of us continued to work during lap three. Once, I could see a lead group around a corner. I counted the little groups going backwards until I got to us. We were in the fourth group. Eventually, on this third lap, we would catch them all, go by them without chase, until we found ourselves in the group behind the three leaders. Wow.  I could race for 4th or 5th place.

Throughout the fourth lap, we kept it steady, and minded our own Ps and Qs.  My fat, HED wheels were staight and steady over the gravel.  Everyone ate, drank, stretched backs, shook legs, rubbed calves, blew out chunks of snot and dirt (snirt) and we just sort of collected ourselves. We only wanted to make it through the rocks safe and sound, and perhaps beat the hell out of each other in the last two miles. We made the turn onto the tailwind gravel, and a huge single attack went off down the rode. No one covered. No one wanted to risk traversing the heaps of soft dirt and rock in the center of the road. I maintained excellent position. Second wheel for both stretches of dare I say, “good gravel?”. Guys weren’t afraid to pull and make huge efforts, and I sucked those wheels in wait. Within 500 meters, Tati was drillin in. I kept a close eye over my shoulder, and eventually, here they came. But only two could throw down. I jumped their wheels and prepared to sprint, got out of the saddle, hit it, and.......... that was it. Couldn’t go around. Finished with a big bike throw, a primal yell, and 8th place. Success. Up next.... rest.

Racing Naked

By Peter Allen | Apr 16, 2010

Race name: John Fraser Memorial TT
Race date: Sunday, Apr 11, 2010

John Fraser Memorial TT
April 11, 2010 – 9.3 miles – Maple Park, IL
Masters 30+– 4th – 22:10 - 25.2 MPH
Cat 3 – 2nd – 22:23 - 24.9 MPH

Well, it was either that or entitle this race report, “Dang, those old guys fast.” Something tells me that the latter wouldn’t have gotten the attention as much as the above title. Well, I’m sorry to say that this race report has nothing to do with clothes (or lack thereof). In fact, I’m convinced my new Pactimo skinsuit, actually helped me today....

Photo by Bill Cassidy.

With a breezy, 15-20 MPH ENE wind, getting aero and being as aero as possible was a big advantage. While you might think this is as simple as having “aero gear”, it’s not. Take your hands off the bars to scratch your nose for a second and you’ve pretty much erased any advantage those shoe covers were so supposed to give you. That’s why being “aero” is really about being “aero” mentally. In time trials, not only do you have to keep yourself mentally engaged to keep hammering, but you have to pay attention to the road and your body position (which is WAY harder than you might think).

That’s probably one of the reason some of the best TT guys tend to be older. Ironically, the 3 guys who beat me today in the Masters 30+ division are all over 40 years old. Not only do they have great fitness, they’ve got the experience and discipline needed to take it to the limit. Watch one of these guys race and about the only thing that will move is their legs. While it can get frustrating getting beaten by guys older than you (and in a totally different age group), it’s motivating to think that you still have room for improvement.

That was my general attitude going into the race today. I knew the wind conditions would be tough and this would be my first TT EVER without a power meter. Huh!? That’s right, that’s the “naked” part. I didn’t realize this until race day. Four years of TTs and I always had some sort of power meter. Weird. Anyway, if I couldn’t race a TT by “feel” after all of these years, I might as well give up and move onto to a sport like curling or badminton.

So, where was my PowerTap? Off on spring break at Hed in Minnesota. That’s right, it was getting converted from a Stinger 9 to a Stinger disc. I haven’t gotten any postcards from it, but I can only imagine how excited it is to be “vacationing” where all of the magic happens.  I bet it’s hearing lots of great stories from other wheels (like those from pro teams). In the meantime, I still had my Hed front wheels and was able to borrow a disc from a friend made by some company that begins with a “Z”.

Well, there was nothing ZZZZZZZZzzzzzz about racing today. At the first outdoor TT of the year, everyone is anxious to get going. Registration went smoothly and folks were already checking times thanks to the Verizon Wireless live results link. “Live” results?! The officials at the finish had their computer hooked up to the Verizon network, so you could get your finishing time minutes after you crossed the line.  Considering that we often have to wait a few hours (or days) for our “official” finishing time, this was very cool.

I checked the computer at the registration area just to see what others were hitting. ABD hadn’t been able to use this 10 mile course in a few years (they use shortened versions), so I had no real comparison. In fact, I totally forgot to start my timer during my first race. I was confident because I had a good warm-up and knew that the headwind would be a challenge on the way out. I got good intel from other riders about potholes on the course. Not quite Paris-Roubaix, but the additional turnaround this year had us riding completely on the left side of the road as if we were Brits (to avoid potholes on the right). This really didn’t matter since about the only traffic was us riders.  The wind also didn’t seem too bad on the way out, but I found myself leaning into the crosswind to stay upright. Just like last year, I made the mistake of going with the Stinger 9 instead of the H3C. Mainly because you forgot how little wind protection there is this time of year without corn.

Photo by Bill Cassidy.

Having a headwind always seems to make TTs go easier. The trip back was a lot of fun. I was averaging about 30-35 MPH the entire way back and was using my rarely used 54-11 combo. (I hate to think what speeds guys like Bryce Mead and Jeff Otto were hitting).  I had no clue what my finish time was and quickly had to get some water and get back to the start. My second race seemed to take forever and was sure that I’d have a slower time. Thankfully, I had started my timer, so I knew what my time would be. I had wanted to break 22 minutes, but was concerned that I might not even break 24 minutes. Well, I was happy to see my time was 22 minutes and change, so I knew that my first one was faster.

While the first outdoor race of the year is often a benchmark for fitness, it also provides you with areas for improvement. My turnarounds were just horrible and I had slower rides ahead of me at both turnarounds in the second race. I know that it sounds goofy thinking of practicing for TTs, but not executing the proper turnaround can easily cost you 10-20 seconds. Factor in two turnarounds, and that could be 30 seconds for just being rusty. Don’t get me wrong about my race. Overall, I was happy with my mental focus (having done TTs for a few years probably helps me there). I also now understand why the older guys do well at TTs...so much of it is a mental game, not just physical.

To wrap this report up, I would say that this is a great race and ABD puts on a good show every year. Ten miles seems to be just the right distance, especially for folks who don’t race TTs very often and are likely just doing this as a training race. One thing that I loved this was having the live results at the finish. This might be overkill if you have only 50 riders, but a good idea when you have 200+. So, if you want an early season TT to check your fitness or get ready for a tri, check out the John Fraser Memorial TT next year.

Power is optional, clothes aren’t.

The Other Side of Agony

By Tom Briney | Apr 13, 2010

Race name: Hueston Woods Road Race
Race date: Sunday, Apr 11, 2010

Short Version: Liam rides off the front for 60 miles, by himself for a little while, with six guys for a little while, with just one guy for a little while and alone again – as he crosses the finish line in first place…and I don’t know any of this.  I just have faith. 

Longer Version:
During our pseudo warm up, Liam is angry.  Hillsboro didn’t go as well as he had hoped, and he wasn’t going to let that happen again.  The most important part of the day is going on right now… “My legs feel SOO good” he tells me.  And I believe him.

Four minutes later, we are lined up at the back of the field.  Instructions are given, and we can’t hear a thing.  I caught “7 laps” and “neutral until we get to the top of the hill.” Good enough for me.  How hard could this be? 

Anyone who has raced with me knows I hate being at the back.  It’s no fun.  You can’t see anything, you can’t watch what’s going on up the road, and you are bombarded with advertising on other men’s butts.  No thanks – time to move up and push this pace a bit.  Plus Moyer and Ed weren’t here to stop me…

Tangent – Two things I learned about Ohio riders in this race:
1) They don’t like to ride closely to other riders.  They give you A TON of space all the time, and if you get too close to them, they freak out.
2) Whoever is on the front is going to be hugging the yellow line.  I don’t know if I missed a memo, but nearly every time I was at the front, the guy pulling was right ON the yellow line.  Moving up was easy – stay to the right.

We are just barely one mile into this race and I slide up the right side so I can put the hurt down a little bit, and finish my warmup.  I see five guys up the road and they look like they are working together, so I take a dig, HARD.  Quick peek - no one followed me. Deep in the drops, I put my head down and keep mashing.  Less than a minute later, I am nearly on the break.  I start yelling as I pass them and sit on the front and string them out.  I wag my arm for the guy behind me to pull.  As I pull off, I see Liam next to me.  How did this happen??  I look back we are caught – glance back at Liam and he has a look – if you have raced with him, you know it.  He shrugs his shoulders and gives a counter – as any good teammate would do.  That’s the last time I would see him for the next 60 miles, and I knew it.

Alright Briney, time to get to work.  How is this going to play out?  Can Liam hang solo for 60 miles?  Could he actually LAP the field?  No, 60 miles is a long time to be alone in a car – Liam is on a bike.  He needs help. 

Matt (Team Type 1) was moving to the front and putting in decent digs, but no real serious attempts to bridge.  I sit on his wheel but never pull though – he is strong.  We have a conversation that goes something like this:
Matt: Dude, there’s a guy up the road
Me:  I know, he is my guy.  I am not going to let you pull him back.  But if you are going to try to bridge, I will let you go.
Matt: OK.  Sounds good
Me: Give me a minute

Matt slides on to my wheel and lets me do some more recon.  Next mission, befriend someone who is heavily represented.  Team Dayton and Ghisallo both have six plus riders – let’s get one of them.
Me: Hey
Ghisallo: Hey man, were you driving a green VW Golf though Indianapolis last night?
Me: Yeah, were you in that red car? (we had to keep passing because you could hold a constant speed? This part was internal monolog)
Ghisallo: Yeah
Me: I’m Tom, What’s your name?
Ghisallo: Jason, nice to meet you.  (Insert fist bump here)
Me: If you want to win today, you are going to need to be with that guy up the road – he’s not coming back.
Jason: Awesome, you want to come with me?
Me:  I would love to, but I am a marked man, no way this field going to let me up there with him.
Jason: They will let you go; they don’t know it is your guy up there.

I was not going to be sold that easily.  Eventually, we agreed to attack at the top of the next climb, which just so happened to be the Start/ Finish.  Liam has been off for 10 miles at this point, enough messing around.

End of lap 1, quick check with Jason – “I am going to kill it, you sure you are ready?” He nods slowly, with his eyes wide open – good enough for me.  I drop the hammer with everything I have.  Small gap, Jason is on my wheel; Matt is on his wheel and 3 more in tow.  Dig deep, really really deep.  My legs start to burn, my lungs are on fire.  A quick glance back and we have 50 meters, but as expected, the peloton is having none of this.  I yell to Jason “I’m a marked man!!  Keep these boys working!” and I pull off the front and sit up.  They slowly pull away and I get eaten by the peloton.  They sit up and the chase pulls away at a snail’s pace.  “GO!!  WORK TOGETHER!” I yell to my self in my head.  That’s the last time I would see Jason and Matt, and I knew it.

School is in session – Ghisallo just doesn’t know it yet.  They have two boys sitting at the front trying to block, but they are both pretty new at this game, and it’s obvious.  No problem, I have 45 more miles to teach them everything they ever wanted to know, and more.

The next two hours of my life where some of the hardest hours on the bike I have ever experienced.  Chase any attempt to bridge with more than two guys and sit.  Jump and sit.  Jump and sit.  Jump and sit.  Pain – literal and figurative – set in very quickly.

Four laps to go.  Good news: Liam is still off the front, out of sight and he has some help.  Bad news, my legs are cramping again and we still have 36 miles to go.  Self doubt starts to creep in… Can Liam hang without my help?  Can I just drop out of this race?  I am never going to make it at this rate, we are barely half way!  I should just quit.  This is such a stupid bike race, who cares?  I snap out of it – we just drove five and a half hours to be here after a hard day at Hillsboro, and I have a teammate and friend slaying himself in the break – there is no way I am going to chose to quit.  My body will have to shut itself down before I leave Liam alone off the front.

“Sixty seconds!  Work together boys!” a spectator yells from the side of the road.  I slide off the front, and sit mid pack to recover.  Eat, drink, repeat.

“Thirty Seconds! You’re gaining on them!” shouts another spectator a few miles later.  Break time is over, time to get back to work.  The attacks keep coming, but they are fewer and further between, and there is less conviction from the riders.  Frustration is starting to set in amongst the peloton.  Perfect.

Three riders from Team Dayton swarm to the front like hounds commanded to find the fox.  Their handlers, yelling from behind me, order a pace line.  They are the only major team not represented in the break, my fear was coming to life.  A well oiled machine is moving up to take over this race, and all my work was going to be in vain.

Two laps left.  Eighteen miles, that’s all that stands between Liam and a win.  All I have to do is interrupt Team Dayton, I can do that.  I fight my way into the pace line, and for the next two laps I make them come around me.  I don’t pull off until two have come by me, then I hop right back on.  With each hill, my quads scream in agony, and try to seize, but I yell at them in my head, and plea with them to just hold on a little bit longer.  Just let me finish.

Riders from the break start to float back to the peloton like leaves falling off trees on a cool autumn afternoon.  As each rider comes into view, I hold my breath to see if one of them is Liam – they aren’t him.

Six miles left.  Liam is going to stay away, I know it, and so do most of the people remaining in the field.  Attacks are subsiding, but the pace is picking up.  “Sprinters” have moved to the back to save their legs for the 300 meter uphill finish.  I stay at the front, just in case.  We approach the long downhill before the final climb, and sure enough one more goes – I go with him.  He sees me behind him, and I see the peloton behind me.  Not today, sorry fella.

Uphill – 400 meters and that’s it for me.  Liam is done, but I have no idea where he placed.  If he didn’t place well, we would be going back empty handed.  I didn’t drive to Ohio and suffer through 40 miles of cramps to go home with nothing.  I need to sprint – I won’t go back empty handed. 200 meters – everyone is ramped up, I have a wheel.  I have been here before; I know how to do this.  I can come around anyone… 150 meters, I stand up and try to break my pedals off the cranks.  PAIN!!!  This is it, this is what I said had to happen 36 miles ago in order for me to quit.  My body was shutting me down, and only 150 metes to go.  I was like a drunk when the bar was closing.  There was nothing in the world I wanted more than “just one more drink.” But it was not to be, the bouncer threw me out of the bar on my face, and I landed hard.  I sat back down in the saddle and spun in my 39x23 as at least 10 guys went flying by me.  There was nothing I could do, I had absolutely nothing left.

Where’s Liam?  How did he do?  I look up and see him at the finish line with a grin on is face, and both hands raised over head with index fingers extended towards the heavens.  That was it… that’s what I was fighting for, what I pushed through cramps and pain and agony for.  That’s what I turned myself inside out to see.  I lost it.  Unconscious streams of though came pouring out of my mouth much louder than I had expected, and there was no attempt to control volume.  I didn’t care.  I had never been so happy to finish with the pack in my life. 

Later, I saw Matt and Jason again.  They both said I was right; Liam was the guy they wanted to be with in that break, or any other break.  “I know,” I said, “He’s a beast.”

One Mistake

By Jared Rogers | Apr 13, 2010

Race name: Hillsboro - Roubaix
Race date: Saturday, Apr 10, 2010

When it comes to road races, I have no delusions of grandeur.  I mean, road races involve climbs, and climbs involve gravity clutching your seat post like a 800 pound gorilla right?  Well, if you’re me that’s how climbs typically play out, but they don’t seem to bother those 150 pound Billy Goats I was in the race with.  Oh well, guess I need to continue on my weight loss crusade right?

On Friday Will, Newt and I all headed down to the lovely town of Hillsboro for what would turn out to be a gorgeous Saturday of racing.  I mean, the course was challenging and those bricks will turn your iron horse into a hyper charged bronco in seconds. But hey, when it’s 70 degrees out and you can get a tan in April; who cares right? 

Unfortunately, due to our late arrival the night before, we didn’t get to pre-drive the course so I didn’t know how bad it was (this was my first attempt at Hillsboro) or how it unfolded.  But luckily I did have teammates who knew what to expect (Seegs, Matt, Nikki) and pointed out where things would get difficult.

The plan for this race was simple.  We had about 18 guys in the Cat 4s, of which a good 5/6 were probably on good enough form to crack the podium.  Me, I was there to survive (this would be only my 5th road race ever) for as long as I could and help out on the front when opportunities presented themselves.  Other than that, I just didn’t want to wind up with a DNF or in last place.  So when we lined up following the Masters field, I made sure I was towards the front – too bad it was like 4th row.  We had a lot of guys on the first row so I was content to just stay put and work my way up when the opportunity presented itself.

We rolled “neutral” out of town and the pace remained relatively gentlemanly for the first 2 miles or so thereafter.  After that there was a little bit of surging/blocking, but things slowed down when we hit the rollers, which allowed me to recover and start to settle into a groove.  At some point we made a right turn onto a hilly section that had the wind at our backs and that’s when things started to pick up.  I quickly found myself shuffled back to about 40th place and for several miles, it was an absolute struggle to find a lane to move up.  Well that is if you were on the right, because there were plenty of jokers on the left who were venturing up centerline ally with out a license or care in the world.  I could see our boys on the front with Cuttin’ Crew so I wasn’t worried that too much was going to happen up there, I just wanted to be in mix too. 

Eventually the corners/wind did their job and opened up some lanes for me, at which time I marched up to the front to do my work.  Our boys were still up there so I was happy to see Davey, Will and Patrick all in the vicinity.  Patrick and a lot of others did a lot of work up at the front to keep things in order and for the most part, nothing that attempted to get away did, or it was quickly brought back as people tired from flailing out in the crosswinds.  The only time I personally got worried was when I slid back to about 15th after being up front for a while and I see the Wild Card train go steaming up the left.  Luckily, they were just going to the front to do a little work and not attempting to put a blockade on the field. 

On our way back towards town I came screaming down a descent that links up to the main road.  Between my weight and the massive tailwind, I quickly found myself shooting up a clear right side as everyone was echeloning to the left.  As I motored in the wind, I told myself that I needed to find some protection so that I could recover as both the feed zone and main hills would be upon us shortly.  Well, I managed to recover, but it was at the feed zone that I made my only mistake of the race, and it would prove to be a fatal one.

The feed zone was “supposed” to be neutral, but that’s not how it shaked out.  All of the riders who wanted bottles pulled over to the right and all of the riders who wanted nothing to do with it kept rolling on the left.  Guess where I was?  By the time I got out of traffic I was shuffled to about 60th wheel and we were about to head into the climb.  My climbing strategy is always the same these days, roll up towards the front, climb my own pace and when you get to the top, hopefully you are still in contact with the back of the pack.  Being 60th wheel doesn’t lend itself to this strategy now does it?  So as I climbed the hill, the pack rode away, as I bombed the descent the pack didn’t get closer and as we left town, they turned right just as I was entering the finishing straight.  Race over? Far from it – like 27 miles far from it.

The hill had done a lot of damage and for what looked like miles ahead of me, all you saw was a highway of carnage – little groups of riders trying to get their bearings.  I quickly found myself in a group of five and I wasn’t ready to give up just yet and neither were they.  Fortunately this group included Zens from Spidermonkey and we were able to get a rotating pace line going after a little organization.  SIDENOTE:  When we were out at camp in CA, Dave Moyer helped our group see how a “proper” pace line should work.  You think you know how to do a rotating pace line, but then when you see it in action you are like, okay I get how this works.  So thanks to Dave, Zens and a host of other riders, we were able to go on a collecting spree.

I don’t remember how many riders we picked up, but at one point I think we had a group of 20 people with us.  I was so focused on getting back into town that a lot of this part of the race escapes me.  What I do remember is spotty at best, like seeing many riders with mechanicals, including Patrick and John (who I called Chris as I went bye).  And coming up on a field that appeared to be headed out for a third lap and wondering what they were doing – oh wait that must have been the Pros right?

As we came back towards town for what would thankfully be the last time, I would have a brief moment of disaster about seven miles out.  Within about 5 seconds of one another, BOTH of my quads started pulsating uncontrollably as they attempted to fully seize in “death grip” cramps.  But by punching my legs into submission (literally) I was able to get it to stop and focus on just staying with our group.  At about 4 miles out we caught up to Nick and another lone rider (who both joined our group) and at about 3 miles the pace line was starting to disintegrate and people were starting to skip on pulls.  At two miles out Zens ask the group if anyone can climb and I sarcastically reply “If I could climb I wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place!”

Shortly thereafter we hit the feed zone climb and people start to go up the road.  I then motor up the main climb and then shoot into the cobbles, which are now laden with about 90 bottles and their fallen comrades that could not survive the vibrations.  As we hit the last stretch of brick a rider catches up to me and then as he shifts, drops his chain.  Hey, it’s only fitting that after you race this demon of a course, when you try to give it your last ounce of blood, sweat and tears, it “cobbles” it all up and says, hey who’s next?

As I hit the sprint lane I heard Seegs tell me to go.  Hey don’t think I didn’t hear you, my legs were just boycotting at the time.  I mean, when Sandra told me to go at 100 meters out and I attempted to get out of the saddle, my quads promptly told me to sit my behind down less I want to face plant myself into the road.  So unhappily I obliged and rolled across the line spent.  I then shortly hooked up with Zens and told him thanks for all the work in the pace line.  We then found our way over to the results and I was surprised to learn that we had come across the line 44th and 49th respectively.  I guess all that collecting did some good huh?  I was also surprised to learn that only 30 riders were in the lead group and that our group was “only” 11 minutes behind them.  Go figure…

So for a guy who doesn’t specialize in road racing, I can’t say that it was a bad day at the office.  We had two riders crack the top 20 and three finish with the pack.  We had a host of other riders come across the line and a team that in general, worked hard and rode well together.  I can’t say that you’ll see me out on the road for the rest of 2010.  But I will say that I’ll probably be back down South in 2011 – hopefully this time with a pack finish!

Making Tommeke Happy

By Liam Donoghue | Apr 13, 2010

Race name: Hueston Woods Road Race
Race date: Sunday, Apr 11, 2010

Short version: I ride for 60 miles off the front, by myself for a little while, with six guys for a little while, with just one guy for a little while, and then by myself again as I cross the finish line in first place.

Long version:
Tom and I get a late start, don’t really warm up, and then proceed to be at the very back for the neutral roll out up one of the three major hills on the course. Very quickly, about a half-mile in to the race, Tom tires of this position at the rear, so I follow him up to the front along the shrinking pavement on the right edge of the road. By the time he gets to the front, there are a couple people up the road, and he has a dig. I’m stuck maybe 15 back, looking for any possible opening so I can jump. With the two of us in there, and a couple guys with teammates in the main group, who knows? Early break could be fun. So I finally find an opening, jump, bridge, but a guy several bike lengths behind me also attempted to bridge and brought the pack up with him. Within seconds of me bridging, he gets there, and we’re swallowed up. Being an unmarked man and needing a warmup, I decided to throw another dig in, but no one was biting.

So there I was, off the front, lonely and alone.

I sing songs to myself (not aloud, silly), sure to keep my watts at a decent level, not too hot that I’m actually hurting out here, but not easy enough that I get swallowed up right away. I pretend I am Tom for the moment, visualizing what he might be doing at that very moment, employing reverse psychology back in the main field: “Don’t worry about him, he does this every race, he’ll be back here in a couple minutes.” Random songs come and go in my head. Reel 2 Real’s “I Like to Move It Move It” syncs up with my right leg’s downstroke. It’s soon replaced by 60s doo-wop or some pretty vocal arrangement that can’t be sped up to some multiple of my 100 cadence, and it doesn’t leave my head. I try to stomp it out, taking out my aggression and disappointment in my sub- and un-conscious on the pedals, but still the muzak persists.

I think of girls. I think of defining conversations and momentous, albeit too-brief, encounters with the good ones. I daydream that one is at the top of the start/finish climb, urging me on. “I’ll kiss you if you win, Liam,” she silently mouths to me over the din of the roaring fans. I giggle a bit to myself, realize perhaps I should have stopped thinking about her two years ago, and continue on. I think of college: Miami. Damn, it was nearly four years since I graduated. I’m old. I’m a different man riding a different bike in a different time, but at that same old place. The same loop I did maybe a hundred times, slowly (sloooooowwwwwwly) chiseling down my then-177-pound frame to a much-more-manageable, ehhh, 175. I don’t have term papers hanging over my head. I don’t have senior projects to contend with. The student newspaper I was an integral part of for nearly three years doesn’t even exist anymore. Right now it’s simply me and my bike. I’m back on a training ride at school. Hueston Woods right x7 is how this would go down in that original 2004 Excel spreadsheet ride log.. Easy as that. Try to set a personal record. 21.1mph average will do it (boy, have things changed).

“Hey Triple-X!”

Fifty-one minutes off the front by myself and I’m jolted out of my reverie to what my mind assumes is the peloton. Ah yes, this whole bike race thing. “Jump on, we got a gap,” he instructs me. I get excited at the prospect of an actual break and something other than daydreaming happening. Six guys pass me right before the second big hill on the course and I jump on the train. I glance back and realize their “gap” is all of eight seconds. Not quite the two minutes I probably had at one point, so let’s hustle. We kill it up the climb, regroup on the long downhill and begin a paceline.

The next 40 miles are done in a mostly rotating paceline fashion. I surveyed my competition, and mostly wondered about the old guy having trouble pulling through. “That guy’s with you, right?” I ask a guy who reminds me of Tomasz Boba, and who, solely because of a face-shape-underneath-helmet resemblance to a local Chicago racer, takes the Man to Watch in the Break award from me. Yes, he says. “Is he saving for the sprint, or is he just slow?”

“Naw, I think it’s just that he’s 50 years old,” he apologizes. I ceremonially place the Don’t Worry About Him medal around the old man’s neck.

With every lap we do, it becomes more and more apparent who the strongest man is, and his name is Adam, and he climbs real fast. Up every climb he speeds a little ahead of the pack, and then slows to let it all come back together. I take a mental note that I’m not going to be beating the man up any hills today, but also realize he’s the guy I’ll want with me when we whittle this break down to three or four.

Couple things slowed us down: first was when Matt, a solo rider from Team Type 1 Development, dropped his chain on a hill. “Big ring! Big ring!” three or four of us yelled in unison. No use. He was slowing to a stop as we kept on riding past him. I didn’t like the thought of losing this guy, as I pegged him for the rung just below Adam, but I knew that there’s no reason to slow down, because he’s strong and will want to be back up here ASAP. The match he undoubtedly burned in order to bridge back up to us would prove decisive later in the race. The other thing slowing us down was the occasional automobile. The road isn’t closed, and with the number of fields all riding concurrently around the 9-mile loop, there’s bound to be some unwanted interference. We encountered a few who didn’t feel like pulling over or stopping, but did feel like slowing down. We’d weave around them, careful not to go too far out over the yellow line. Far cry from Hillsboro yesterday. Other than that, the paceline was smooth, and I kept rotating through, sure that Tommy was back in the main field turning himself inside out to make sure no funny business was going on.

With about 25 miles to go, I almost lose the chance for whittling, as we get within sight of the peloton on the climb. Everyone in our break slows up, I dawdle off the back and assume it’s coming back together. I’m ready to regroup, not banking on these six guys picking the pace back up. But, this break was focused and determined, and had a couple very strong riders in it. Lots of talking went on, encouraging and whipping everyone into shape and making everyone realize how imperative it is we keep the pace up. Indeed the pace was kept. Bravo, gentlemen.

A few miles later, after we’ve all turned up the juice, I drop into the rear of the paceline, look back, and don’t see anyone. Out of sight, out of mind, I tell the others. This break is going to stick.

At this point there’s maybe 20 miles left, and several of my break-mates are looking tired. Too tired that surely they’ll slow us down. I attack on a flat section, and no one is interested in joining me, though it at least does enough to make them all pick the pace up. Short while later, I come to the front of the paceline on a climb, and keep the pace up. I even say something about keeping the pace up to egg everyone on. But upon looking back, I see a bunch of tired faces and slow-moving legs, and know I have to make another move and pray that Adam and Matt and maybe bizarro-Tomasz follow, and the four of us regroup and ramp it up until the finish. I don’t attack so much as I start riding hard off the front on the climb, turn back near the top, and it’s just me and climbing sensation Adam. No one else really put in an effort, as the five remaining guys slowly crept up the climb together. We have a gap, but we’re 1.5 laps, or 13 miles out from the finish. I turn to him. “You and me, you want to do this?” He says yes. Off we go. Our lead keeps increasing, and we mutually agree to 30-second pulls. I take a quick look back every time Adam pulls through. Eventually I look back and see nothing. That’s when I stop looking back.

We cross the start-finish line as the bell rings, indicating one lap to go, and I know the two of us are going to come to the line in 8.5 miles together with no one else in sight. And he can climb. And it’s a fairly grueling uphill. Hmm. Chew on it, Liam, you’ve got time.

I spend the next eight miles trying to figure out where I’ll attack him. I know that if we hit the base of the final climb to the finish at the same time, that he will surely go up it faster. And part of me thinks he’s the stronger rider, and I set myself up for acceptance of 2nd place, just like in Fayetteville, AR, the year previous. Man, I’ll bet Tom is back there just hating his life.

I know my strengths, and I assume Adam’s weaknesses as well as I can, having only ridden with the guy for 40 miles, during most of which my tongue was hanging out and I was busy trying to mash my pedals and not get caught by the main field. We pass the first climb of the lap, where we had gotten off the front the last go-round, and he does his non-attack attack again, and I simply can’t match his acceleration. There’s some car traffic at the top of the hill, and he swerves and makes his way around it. He’s got about five seconds on me. I don’t dig into the red, but just bring the pace up enough that I’m gaining ground instead of losing it. We’ve still got five miles to go, so I have plenty of time to get back up to him. On the flat I close the gap easily, and he says something about needing to work together so that we finish ahead of the group.

“Well if you keep riding me off your wheel, we won’t be able to,” I say laughing, at this point almost resigning myself to second place. He acknowledges, and holsters his weapons. We go up the second hill together, keeping the cadence high, ensuring the chase group doesn’t get back to us. At this point, I figure it’s the peloton who we have to worry about, as it surely would have swallowed the chase group by now? Regardless, we must go fast. Thirty-second pulls. Getting closer to the finish. How do you win, Liam? The layout of the Hueston Woods loop plays over and over again in my head. Adam has the legs, but I have the smarts.

About 1.5 km from the finish, there’s a massive downhill where one reaches speeds in excess of 40mph no problem, then there’s maybe 300 meters of flat, quick jump over a little bridge, and into a steep 100 meter left turn kicker, which slowly false-flattens out for maybe 300 meters before the final, steepest section that runs 300 meters up to the finish line.

2k to go. I shorten my pull as we approach the big downhill, so that he has to go in front down it. He doesn’t buy it, and we go downhill side-by-side, me ducking as low as possible while straddling the top tube, he just tucked in the drops still spinning. My way is a bit faster, and I watch him slip out of my view to my right as he slows behind me. We hit 40 mph at the bottom of the descent, and Adam comes out ahead of me. As he goes by me, I see he has slipped forwards off his seat, leaning to eek out maximum aerodynamic efficiency. I jump in his slipstream and hammer it, full gas, around him.

1km to go. I either just won this race spectacularly or failed miserably.

I pedal as hard as I can, knowing it’s Fabian Cancellara distance from the finish line. I glance back, and I have a sizable gap. I know I’ll need something bigger, because the guy can climb, so I dig deep. My legs, which due to cramps had prevented me from finishing with the group the day before at Hillsboro, clench. Strange pains on the inside of my legs threaten to cripple me off of the bicycle. Both calves fire off vengeful volleys of cramp. I am in complete agony, and can only assume Adam is right behind me. I stand up on the bike, 100 meters until it’s over, and throw one last glance back. I have a gap.

I zip up, and groan something fierce as I cross the finish line first.

Adam comes in just behind me.

Approximately three minutes later the remnants of the original break come in, followed just seconds back by the rest of our field. By this time I’d turned around and come back to the finish line to watch and do what I could to support my teammate, i.e. yell the word “Dig!” really loudly. Tom’s a top five in any field sprint, as sure as you’re born, so I assume he’ll come in around 10th place. Did Briney suffer at all? What was his race like? How badly did he have to work to make those 60 miles happen? Ha ha, he is going to be happy, regardless!

Maybe 20th place I see the familiar xXx jersey coming up the hill, gassed and making no concerted effort to try for 19th. I feel a strange anticipation as I wait for him to cast his glance over to me. Ten feet before he crosses the finish line, he sees me. I’m on the side of the road, leaned up against my bike, arms in the air in triumph.

Those who were at Burnham Spring Super Crit last year know of the roar that Tom belched when he crossed the finish line that day, winning the 4/5 race. Even the still photo just screams. Well imagine that, only four times as loud, and 10 times as long, and you’ll understand the yawp he unleashed as he probably cut some guys off to give me all kinds of praise and high fives.

“YEEEEESSSSSSSS!” That single word, as pronounced by Thomas Briney with the most power he could muster, situated at the top of a quiet wooded hill in Ohio, resonated in my veins. Up until then I was cringing, still in an obscene amount of pain after, you know, being off the front of a bike race for 60 miles. But upon hearing that, and the subsequent “THERE’S YOUR EIGHT UPGRADE POINTS, BABY!” “YEAH!” “OHIO’SGOTNOTHINGHOWDOYOULIKETHATHELLYESYEAAAAAHHHH” “YESSSSSSSS!” yells, my mouth turned up, and I smiled for the remainder of the day.

Tom didn’t have to say a word to tell me how his race went (though hopefully we’ll read about it or at least hear about it at the next meeting). His demeanor, his excitement, his pure elation told me louder than any yell or intricate detailing of each lap could do – which is that he completely and utterly destroyed himself, if not as much perhaps more so, than I did, to ensure victory.

Just two Chicago boys going down to rural Ohio and cleaning up.

I’m extremely proud to have been able to come through after all that hard work you put in back there making sure no bridgers got up to us, and making sure the group that did get up to me in the first place was a good one. So thank you, Tommeke. Job well done.

Hillsboro Individual Time Trial

By Natalie Evans | Apr 11, 2010

Race name: Hillsboro-Roubaix
Race date: Saturday, Apr 10, 2010

Hillsboro-Roubaix was not a target race for me, so my goals going in were to have fun, to be safe, and to work as hard as I could to help my teammates.

For the first time ever, the cat 4 women’s field filled, and 11 xXx-ers took the line. I rushed to readjust my headset at the last second and got a bad spot, in the third row. A couple of my teammates encouraged me squeeze on up to the front and get in between them, but I thought that would be a little unfair to the others, so I stayed put, figuring I’d move up once the race started.

The whistle sounded and I clipped in, but my leisurely start found me about 10 wheels back. For the first few miles I merely concentrated on staying upright. There were a lot of inexperienced riders in the race, and I found myself braking frequently because someone ahead was skittish on the gravel. Several times riders swerved because the girl in front grabbed her brakes, and I found myself yelling a lot.

Nine miles in, the crash I’d been envisioning happened. A squirrelly rider inexplicably swerved, hooking my teammate Jeanette’s bars. Jeanette is a good bike handler, but no amount of evasive riding could get her out of this crash, and she went down with a horrendous noise. I slowed and chose my line carefully as she cartwheeled across the pavement, and I got around her by inches. As a physician and a friend, I knew I had to stop, so I laid my bike on the side of the road and ran back.

Jeanette was dazed and I was pretty scared. I’m an internist, so I’m kind of a crummy first responder. But she didn’t appear to have head or neck trauma, so after much insisting on her part, I helped get her off the road. She picked up her left arm, which had been lying limp at her side, and pulled it onto her body, and I hoisted her to the grass. The wheel truck driver checked on us and then summoned another follow vehicle.

By this time Jeanette was shaking off the shock and cursing liberally, rider code of conduct be damned, and I realized that there wasn’t a lot more I could do. When the follow vehicle arrived, I said my goodbyes, hopped on my bike, and started up the road.

I don’t know how many girls had passed me by the time I started pedaling, but I figured I was dead last (this would prove not to be true). I had been stopped maybe 10 minutes, maybe more, maybe less. I saw an unattached rider on the horizon, so I dug in. I caught her pretty quickly—she was suffering in the brisk headwind. I invited her to draft me, but she didn’t think she could hang on, so I soloed up to the next group.

This group had been dropped for a reason, so I didn’t even slow for a breather. I did this several times, bridging to a couple of groups of three, four, five riders, sometimes taking a rest before I moved on to the next group.

By mid-race I didn’t see anyone ahead to catch, and that’s when the race got really lonely. The headwind was stronger. I kept thinking I could see a lone girl up ahead, but sometimes I thought it was a mirage. And when would the course finally turn back toward town and out of this miserable wind?

About five miles from the finish I realized that the lone figure ahead was in fact real, and I pushed a little harder to catch her. By the time I did, I had finally turned out of the wind, so she didn’t have much advantage to offer. It was a Project 5 girl I know, so we chatted a bit and worked together to catch a Half Acre girl who was a few hundred yards ahead.

The two of them each pulled for a turn, but when I wagged my elbow to drift back, neither of them wanted to move ahead. So I kept pulling, and within a couple of minutes I had ridden away from them. I rounded the turn onto the hill I’d not pre-ridden, and then I suffered. The crowd lining the hill was silent, but when I waved at them they started cheering, which helped me more than they could know. I caught another Half Acre girl and rode past her.

The second hill nearly beat me, but I crested it and zipped down the final descent, glancing down at my computer as the numbers ticked into the high 30s. I tell you, I’ve never been so happy to see cobbles, knowing I was almost finished suffering.

As the cat 5 men bore down on me, I moved right and let them have their sprint, then crossed the line, 9 minutes behind the winning women in 29th place.

The race didn’t turn out exactly as planned, but looking back, I met my goals. I stayed safe—and despite the horrific crash, fortunately Jeanette walked away with just bruises, a few stitches, and bad road rash—I worked really hard, I helped a teammate, and I even had a little fun.

Worth the sunburm

By Bill Barnes | Apr 10, 2010

Race name: Hillsboro-Roubaix
Race date: Saturday, Apr 10, 2010

So, this was my first road race.  During the 4.5 hour drive from the city, I started to feel a little more of the soreness in my throat that I’d started to feel the night before.  Awesome.  I had a sneaking suspicion I’d wake up with a full blown cold in the morning, and was not disappointed.

I got up at 6 for my 10:50 race, partly excited about the race, and partly knowing in the back of my head I was really coming down with something.  No matter, I didn’t spend 6 weeks waiting and that long of a drive to call of a race like this for something as minor as a cold.

I warmed up by going up the final climb and the cobbles a few times, which I thought to myself was far easier than people kept talking about, and starting to think I had a real chance at placing well. 

So, the race starts neutralized, and I have a good starting position.  10th/11th or so, sheltered, not working hard.  Exactly where I wanted to be.  Going around the true starting point, I am expecting a mass acceleration, and am completely wrong.  The first few miles are easy, less than 20 miles an hour, and people in front of me are grabbing brakes every few seconds.  I can only imagine what it’s like in the back of the field, where I hear shouts of “slowing” every couple of seconds.  I know that I’m where I need to be for now, and I’m feeling good. 

Mile 5 or 6, the Wild Card rider ahead of me has an audible blow out in his front tire.  He seems to be drifting to the side as I would expect, and someone near him suddenly screams an obscenity, and this causes him to panic.  I see him jerk his bars to the left suddenly in panic, and he goes over the handlebars.  (I later hear there could be a broken collarbone, but I never did verify that) Anyway, I have no choice but to pull right to avoid joining him in over the bars land, and slip on the gravel into a nice, soft ditch.  The pack flies by, I check my calf for bruising and see I’m pretty much fine but for a little grease on my leg.  Having avoiding anything too serious, get back on my bike, and decide I’m not going out this early.  I rode as hard as I could (though later I realized I probably didn’t need to ride so hard since the pack would rubber band a bit around the next few corners) and caught up to the pack.  At this point I was somewhat worried I was too far back, especially as we came around corners and I saw the front of the field far too far ahead of me. 

So, I did the only thing I could think of, and started moving up in position.  I didn’t want to be at the back, as I knew first hand from the gaper’s block crits what can happen there, so I started taking every chance I had to move up, and eventually got back in the top 10 positions.  I had expended a bit too much energy in doing so, but I was starting to feel pretty good.  I’d conquered my first nasty happening in my first race, and was feeling pretty good.  A few more miles of being up near the front but not too near the front and I was still feeling good - so good I started to think I might be able to attack if I found the right spot.  I even had a spot in mind.  The night before we’d driven the course and seen a spot with a nasty downhill into a >90 degree turn into an uphill, and I can get up hills pretty good, so I was going to try my move there since I knew there were some nice downhills after that to regain my strength before the finish. 

Well, that actually didn’t work at all.  Around that turn, I got in my drops, shifted, got ready to make my move on the outside, and bam, another wild card rider slips on gravel, gets squirrelly, slams brakes, and I have nowhere to go but stop. He goes off course, but I stay on, but now I’ve lost my position.  I power it up the hill from a near stop, but by the time I get to the top, that cold I keep pretending I don’t have starts to kick in.  I hang on another 2 miles or so and start to cough uncontrollably.  Awesome.  I decide to pull off to the right and remove my cycling cap because the coughing is making me overheat a bit, and in doing so, finally get dropped. 

Realizing this, the mind beats the body and I give up for about 15 seconds.  I look at my computer and we’re 22 miles in, and change my mind.  I can hang on for another 7 miles, I decide.  I get my willpower back and go as hard as I can for as long as I can, and start to pass riders from my group, as well as some of the women’s 4 that we overtook.  I’m feeling good, but I just can’t catch them.  I run into Jim Patti and convince him we should chase to get back on.  We do this until we hit the last two hills, and then realize why these climbs are hard.  After the rest of the race, they are brutal.  I manage to get up them pretty well, but by this point the damage had been done - and I unintentionally lose my teammate in the process.  I finished 25th, and exhausted.  Jim finished behind me at 26th, about a minute back from me.

All in all, I was happy with my placing, all things considered.  One thing I did learn from this is that I still need to work on my cornering.  Good cornering can save energy.  Any corner you can take and not have to stand up to close a gap is energy others may have to burn that you don’t.  Also, I learned to choose my wheel in front of me well.  At least in the fives, watching body language of riders in front of you can give you a much better understanding of their own abilities and save you having to slam on your brakes when they lose confidence.

I wish we’d had more opportunities to work as a team.  I’d only met one of my fellow racers briefly during Gaper’s block, and the other only on one long training ride.  Had we had a little more time riding together, who knows what might have happened.  Oh, and try not to crash.

Luke and Mike’s Belgian expedition

By Luke Seemann | Apr 6, 2010

Race name: Ronde van Vlaanderen
Race date: Saturday, Apr 3, 2010

At the risk of overstatement, I’m willing to say that Belgium is perfect in every way. Beautiful landscapes. Delicious, inventive cuisine. Rich, well-preserved history and architecture.  Friendly, generous people. Proper beer.

I would love this country even if it weren’t for the cycling. But, oh, the cycling.

Belgium is like a parallel universe where the bicycle is on equal if not superior footing with the automobile. Who among us have not dreamed of such a world? Safe, well-marked bike lanes run along every major road. Parallel to the country’s many rivers and canals run wide, paved paths for pedestrians and cyclists, making it possible to ride from Holland to France, at speed and in a group, without interruption or hazard. Drivers expect cyclists at every turn and yield accordingly. Not once this week were we honked at, even on a few occasions where we were in the wrong.

Perfection? Well, there is the matter of the weather. The elements forced us into booties and multiple layers most days. Winds were severe, rains frequent. Truly, this is a hard country. As it should be. If Belgium were easy, then anyone could be Belgian.

The target of this trip was the Ronde van Vlaanderen, Easter Sunday’s historic Tour of Flanders. “High mass,” it was called by our host, Ludwig Ombregt, father of our dear friend Pieter.

The day before the big race, we would join tens of thousands of cyclists to ride the course ourselves, like a game of two-hand touch in the Superdome the day before the Super Bowl.

We had five riding days leading up to the Ronde. Each was exquisite in its own way, but two stand out.

The first great ride was on our second day in the country.

Ludwig collected us in the early afternoon and led us south along a canal to his “playground,” the hills in the Ardennes that over the next two weeks would be not a playground but a battleground for Tom, Fabian and the others.

He took us over some flat sections of cobbles, and I must be frank: Nothing in Hillsboro or along Sheridan Road could prepare us for Belgian cobbles. They are larger than bricks, and the crevices between each stone is deep and wide. The result is a bike that bucks like a bronco, threatening to send its rider headlong into an irrigation ditch. Any give in the chain bounces off the chainstay, and it seems impossible that one’s fork won’t snap in two. Extra violence meets the poor rider with a climber’s physique.  Oddly enough, I found my ears feeling it most, as if I had a bucket over my head and someone was attacking it with a jackhammer.

And that’s just the flat sectors.

Ludwig then led us up the historic Oude Kwaremont, a long, stairstep climb. The climbs are even harder, of course, in part because you cannot get out of the saddle, lest your rear wheel bounce away from you. Imagine the climb of Snake Alley, but not nearly as smooth and five times as long.

The path was lined with fans awaiting the E3 Prijs race taking place at that very moment. Indeed, just as I hit the top, I heard the beeping of a police motorcycle behind me. We dismounted and staked our positions on a grassy overlook. Helicopters presaged the coming drama. It would be another 15 minutes before the first riders came, but come with fury they did.

Boonen, Cancellara, Flecha. Up the Kwaremont they tore, perhaps twice as fast as we had come. The crowd, two and three deep for a kilometer, roared with approval. Many held beers from a nearby viewing party. Some had laptops on which they were able to watch the coverage.

Seconds later, Pozzatto sped by in his futile chase, and then the remnants of the peloton. The knowledgeable crowd shouted each rider’s name as he struggled forward.

No time to waste. Ludwig led us down a narrow road to another climb that the riders would soon be navigating. Minutes later they came. This hill was asphalt, so the riders ascended even faster this time. Boonen was pushing the pace, and Cancellara seemed comfortable in his wake. And indeed, when we stopped at a cafe an hour later for coffee and panenkoeken—tasty crepes topped with butter and powdered sugar—the big-screen TV showed the Swissman winning, having caught Boonen off-guard a kilometer from the finish.

Best ride ever?

It would get better.

Tuesday, Kirby and I again headed south toward the Ardennes. Our destination was Roubaix, France. Looking at the map and using my index finger as a makeshift compass, I figured it would be about 70 miles roundtrip. Maybe 80. 90? Surely no more than 90. Surely.

A light drizzle started the ride. If we were home, this would have sent us back indoors for a few hours on the trainer. But this was Belgium, so we donned our rain capes and bushwhacked our way into a terrific headwind. We alternated pulls, sitting in front and eating the wind or sitting second and eating that famous mix of dirt, water and road grime known as Belgian toothpaste.

It tasted of caviar.

After spending a lot of time considering the muddy rooster tail that now soiled Kirby’s previously white bibs, I wondered whether anyone had ever dubbed it “Belgian hemorrhoid creme.”

Wet and cold, we stopped in Oudenarde for warmth, snacks and coffee. Workers were setting up for that day’s stage of Three Days of De Panne. We swung into the Tour of Flanders museum for a quick dose of history.

Rolling again, we got a little lost heading into Roubaix, but finally found the velodrome and did a few laps under the watchful eyes of workers preparing the stadium for the upcoming Paris-Roubaix. Our odometers read 52 miles.

Thankful for a tailwind, we returned north, got lost again and eventually found ourselves going 30 mph under negligible effort as we approached Oudenarde. Indeed, this tailwind was suspiciously strong. Turning to the right, we saw a dark, ominous sky pulling itself over farmland. Drops soon started to fall, so just in time we ducked into an Oudenard waffle shop as the sky opened.

It was still raining when we finished, but with daylight running out we couldn’t afford to wait it out. Off we went, 20 more miles in the cold, rain and growing darkness. As we approached the farmhouse that is our bed and breakfast, the clouds receded and, 105 miles and 9 hours after we’d departed, a sunset was our final reward on this very, very rewarding day.

Best ride ever?

It would get better.

Saturday Ludwig picked us up at 6 a.m. and we drove to Bruges, where Kirby and I would walk across the same stage that the professional riders would walk across the next day, and our adventure began: 255 kilometers, a nearly meter-for-meter, cobble-for-cobble simulation of the great monument.

Funny thing about the Tour of Flanders. Until preparing for this trip, the race’s length had never registered. That’s because television never shows the first 100 miles, the length of which takes riders north and west from Bruges, then down the coast until breaking east into the Ardennes and Ludwig’s playground. And the reason this 100 miles is not broadcast is because, well, it’s sort of boring. For us, it was not unlike a typical American century. We sought groups of fast riders with whom we could paceline, and every 35 miles or so we stopped for water, bananas and waffles.

Oh, and it was very cold. And rainy. And windy. And we wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Happily it was dry when we hit the stretches of cobbles and the Den Ast, the first of 15 named hills—the hellingen. (Surely the “hell” in hellingen is no accident.) But this one wasn’t so bad. It was a picturesque approach, so with my left hand I had taken out my camera to take pictures. Only when Kirby pointed it out later did I realize that this had prevented me from shifting into my small ring. How ‘bout that.

The Kluisberg was next. I liked this one. We had attached ourselves to a fast train of six, three of whom appeared to be skilled riders from the same amateur team. At first they were wary of us rotating through their echelon, but eventually they stopped sniffing at our presence. And it was with satisfaction, then, that I dropped them on the climb, a windy, paved kicker that wound through a town filled with spectators.

At this point there were not many groups to attach ourselves to. People slowed, either to save themselves for each subsequent climb or to enjoy the majestic scenery.

Funny thing about the climbs and stretches of cobbles. They are not unlike rollercoasters. When you are on one, you want nothing more than for the ride to stop. Your head rings, your fingers palsy from clenching the bars in terror and your body screams for mercy. And then once it is over, you wish you could go back and do it all over again.

A few other climbs stand out.

Oude Kwaremont. This may go down as my favorite, perhaps because it had been my initiation the week before with Ludwig. I could not resist the temptation to attack, nor would I on any of the climbs: As soon as the road pitched up, I clicked down a few cogs and charged ahead. Most riders smartly took the center of the road, the smoothest line, so to pass I had to go on the ouside, where the cobbles were extra choppy and frequently splattered with mud from the adjoining farmland. After I caught one rider by surprise, I heard him mutter, “Oh-la-la, Tom Boonen!” I took that as a compliment.

Paterburg. This one doesn’t start so bad, but then you round a bend and the steepest portion comes into view, and on it one sees dozens of people struggling up, if not dismounting to walk. For me, this is like a lion rounding a bend and seeing a wounded antelope. My eyes got big and I pounced. At the top, I dismounted myself and filled a pocket with stones, souvenirs for myself and gifts for others. It reminded me of the scene in “Saving Private Ryan” where upon another successful landing the staff sergeant scoops a can of Norman dirt to add to his collection of conquests.

Koppenberg. Ludwig had encouraged us to ride this earlier in the week, as it is nearly impossible to ride with the traffic of the Ronde, but we hadn’t found an opportunity. Too bad. I’d have been curious to know if I could have made it up its 22 percent grade. As it was, mud from a recent shower had turned the cobbles to ice, and halfway up fallen riders created an impenetrable wall. Not that walking was any easier, given the slippery slope. A method I found to work was to hook my cleat on the top of each jutting cobble and pull myself up, like an alpinist hooking a pick into the glacier.

Mollenberg. This, too, was a slippery slop, probably the messiest of the day. To make matters worse, the spaces between the cobbles were deeply rutted in the direction parallel to one’s wheels, each one a bear trap waiting to sink its teeth into your front wheel and send you flying over the handlbars. A day later, this is where Cancellara would make his first decisive move to get away with Boonen.

Muur-Kapelmuur. The granddaddy of them all. Just when you think it can’t get any steeper, it does. And just when you think it can’t go on any longer, the road turns and you see you’re still far from the church at the pinnacle. I tried to stay in my second-to-lowest gear, to keep one shot of morphine in reserve. Is that not what Tim Krabbe tells us shifting is? A painkiller? Seconds later, the road pitched up one last time, I killed the pain with a shift into the 26 and let out a roar as I crested.

Happily, it was downhill from there. Ten hours of ride time after we started, we cruised into Ninove, soaked and chilled to our core. We did a mock sprint for the line—can’t give you a result; we’re still waiting for the photo finish—and found Ludwig and his family, who took us to their home in Kanegem, where Pieter’s mother, Vera, and his girlfriend, Jen, who had come from England to ride and visit the Ombregts, had waiting for us an impressive spread of soup, fresh bread and dried meats.

And of course Ludwig treated us to two of his finest trappist beers from his cellar, and Kirby and I raised our chalices to a job well done. To us, to the Ronde, to Belgium—and to Pieter.

Best ride ever? Perhaps. But we’ll have to see what next year brings.

xXx Gunslinging

By Liam Donoghue | Mar 29, 2010

Race name: Burnham Spring Super Crit
Race date: Saturday, Mar 27, 2010

The goal for me was to expend as little energy as possible until the last 3 laps. Like, honestly, match no attacks, mark no riders, take zero pulls, simply figure out where the best position out of the wind was for each straight, and then get there. Oh, and then find the biggest guy to duck behind. So that was my race for the first 45 minutes. Mostly staring at the arses of Newt Cole, this big dude from South Chicago Wheelmen, and sundry other tall boys. Because this crit course is atypical, there’s not as huge of a disadvantage to being at or near the back. I could see the front of the group at all times, and accelerate early when a surge was about to happen. The accordion effect is negated by the lack of actual turns, so I didn’t have to sprint out of anything just to catch the wheel of the guy in front of me. The only disadvantage is that generally the less fit or less decent-at-bike-handling guys congregate in the rear of pelotons. So I did have to dodge some sketchy riders here and there. But by and large, for the way the race was playing out and considering the course and winds, I was perfectly content to be near the back for the majority of the race.

The peloton was a gunslinger from the Wild West, discharging bullets left and right from its dual revolvers. I stayed put in the back, paying just enough attention to make sure of the golden rule regarding a break: if Burnham, then xXx. Yep, Kinonen’s in that one, good. Reeled back in. OK, Morrissey’s going up there, we’re fine. Reeled back. Tommeke Briney, way to be. It was thus for about 40 minutes, until a two-man group stayed off the front. Looks suspiciously like a Burnham (it was Tim), and the other guy could be a xXx – wait, nope, the other guy is Ben LaForce sporting some random black Ace Hardware jersey. Hmm.

Just when I thought we were screwed and I’d need to come to the front to help reel these two back in, I notice Kyle is off the front with another guy in his own two-man break, trying to chase down the leaders farther up the road. So again, license to sit in the back and shield myself for the win. I mean, from the wind. No I don’t.

My memory’s hazy, but I just remember Kyle coming back after what seemed like 50 laps, another attack going off, and then Morrissey charging hard at the front of the peloton, leading us back to the second group. Ben and Tim were still way up the road. With 1.5 laps to go, the main group all came back together on a head-wind section, and I had moved up enough that I jumped from mid-pack along the right-side of the course. I turned the cranks a few times, actually stopped pedaling for a second or two as the entire peloton-whip snapped toward me and nearly pushed me off the course, and then saw the opening I needed and attacked full force.

They say, “Timing is everything.” In bike races, this is often true. And the timing for this was nearly perfect. The group coming back together is what dictated my attack, but I knew that from that point it was roughly a minute-and-a-half to the start/finish and then four minutes for the final lap. Truthfully, this was my self-prescribed attack-point, and it just so happened that the group was ripe for attack when I’d wanted it. Five-minute pursuit, nothing to it. It’d be a little different from a straight-effort interval, since my main goal was to bridge first, rest for 30 seconds or a minute, and then attack and (hopefully) solo to victory. I bridged quickly, on the home stretch as we came toward the sound of the bell signaling just one more lap would decide this bike race. In line going across the start/finish it was Tim, me, and then Ben. [Side note: I didn’t know Tim before this, but I definitely knew Ben, going to a camp in Georgia with him in February and traveling to Traverse City last September with him for a weekend of racing. So I was hoping to go one-two with him. Me taking first, obviously.] Bell ringing, my wits just finally starting to come back to me after a hard bridge attempt, I notice Tim pulls off the paceline and stops pedaling. Not soft-pedaling, but completely stops pedaling, and pulls off to the side of the road. My plan had been to sit in for maybe 1/4 lap, catch my breath, take a quick sip of water, and then go for broke. Tim pulling out changed everything, and I realized it was now or never. So I attacked, held it, looked back, got confused upon finally realizing Tim actually pulled out of the race, slowed down for a sec thinking Ben and I should now work together, just the two of us, and then reconsidered, turned my head back around. I stood on the pedals and hammered it. It was then just a matter of pedaling my bicycle really hard. Really, really hard for four minutes. That’s a minute less than your power test last Friday, Liam! As I went around that final lap I saw Ben going backwards toward the group, and then somewhere on the backstretch that little thing hit me. It’s an indescribable feeling that suddenly dawns and then won’t go away: “I can win this bike race.” Up until that point I hadn’t been too sure. This thought actually flushed over me at the same right-hand turn where I had started my attack just a lap earlier.

This winter I told myself if I ever win another bike race, I’d force my brain to really enjoy that last lap. Enjoy it through the pain. Enjoy everything that happens, the adrenaline, the hurt, the happy floating feeling, the it’s-only-a-bike-race-I-should-just-quit-so-I-don’t-die-right-now feeling, the rush of chemicals traveling from legs to stomach to brain to head to headache. The inability to think about anything other than winning a bicycle race BEFORE the actual finish of the race.

Objects in my rearview mirror appear closer than they are, so I stand on the pedals and sprint from 400 meters out. The group, however, is too far behind me to catch. I sit down. 300 meters. I can’t hear anything. I don’t feel anything. I’m not thinking anything. 200 meters. I am a silly Cat 3 on a strange contraption that, by my legs going in circles, propels me forward at 31.2 miles per hour. 100 meters.

I put my hands up in triumph as I come across the finish line alone, in first place, and quickly cup my head in exasperation, knowing somehow I’d failed: all I could think about for those previous four minutes, for that dire final lap, was how much my legs hurt, and how I needed to pedal harder, and how I wanted it to stop.

C.O.U.G.A.R.

By Dave Moyer | Mar 29, 2010

Race name: SCW at the Autobahn Crit
Race date: Sunday, Mar 28, 2010

P/1/2/3
75 minutes
31 riders
2nd place

This was another race held on a closed auto-track, which meant 1.5 miles of sweeping turns and smooth pavement. It was pretty cold and definitely windy, but the sun was out and it was dry.

We just rolled around the first lap.  There were a few probing attacks, but nothing too crazy. On the second lap it got a little more serious, and four guys got a couple of hundred yards on the field, and I decided to bridge to them.  I could see they weren’t organized or committed yet so my bridge attempt became an attack as I went right by them, hoping they would join me in a more serious effort.  They didn’t, the field caught them, and I sat out front alone about 5-10 seconds in front of the field.

It was pretty windy, so I’d either made a dumb move, or I was going to ensure I was in the break.  Pretty soon Alex Bowden, from the development squad of Team Type 1 bridged up and we started working.  After about a lap a group of four bridged, and ultimately two more made it up, making it eight, including local powerhouses Bryan McVey and Ryan Freund.  Eventually we got working together, and built a solid gap.

About 45 minutes later it became time to race as we’d spent the whole day in the wind putting some solid time into the field, and with about 7 laps to go (3-4 minute laps), the attacks started coming from Freund and McVey.  It still seemed like we were pretty far out, and it was windy, so I sat in and let everyone else cover the attacks. Then Andrew Lister from Dogfish Racing rolled away with about three laps left.  At this point we were playing extreme cat and mouse--rolling at 10 mph and then covering attacks at 25 mph, and when Lister rolled off no one seemed inclined to chase.

He built a 10 second gap that didn’t seem too scary and might be difficult to hold in the wind.  Nonetheless we didn’t seem to want to chase and he slowly put distance into us.  On the last lap I realized he would stay away unless we chased together, but I didn’t want to be the one to pull him back for everyone else’s benefit.  As we were rolling along waiting for the final attacks to come I looked over my shoulder and saw that I had about 20 meters on the others.  It was completely unintentional, as they’d been positioning themselves to watch each other, but my inattention got me a little gap and I decided to go with it.  I dug hard into the wind hoping they’d face the same collective action problem, and they did.  I gained a lot of ground on Lister in front of me, but ultimately finished 100m behind him.  I rolled across alone for second, happy to avoid the bunch sprint.

Good day on a great course.

Stick with what you’ve got

By Brian Morrissey | Mar 28, 2010

Race name: Super Spring Criterium
Race date: Saturday, Mar 27, 2010

The Category 3 race of the Spring Super Criterium was stacked by my own XXX and Burnham Racing, of course, as the host team. Each had at least six riders. Tom Briney, Newt Cole, and Liam Donoghue had all declared designs on the victory, while (speaking for myself, at least) others only wanted match attacks, guard breaks, and lay waste on the final lap in support. The early laps played as though this script had been typed on paper.

Briney, Newt, and Liam waited a patient game while Chris Kinnonen guarded the front and Kyle Wiberg and I made sure there was red and black in each of the flurry of early attacks. Seemingly every couple of laps I was in a different iteration of the break, almost always with Recycling’s Ben Laforce and Burnham’s Jason Mindemann or Eric Goodwin. Don’t hold me to that as memory in those situations is always a little fuzzy.

The breaks would always start with a solo attack by one of a few solo riders, and then would build numbers on late bridges by guys with support in the pack; that’s definitely how I found myself in so many different groups off the front.

The last one I was in definitely had potential. Moving up the leeward left-hand side in the finishing straight midway through the race, I saw Kinnonen pulling the group with no support, then noticed a new break of three or four moving away, with no XXX representation. That was not good at all, so at the first turn I broke hard off the front. With someone in tow, I bridged into Ben Laforce’s draft at the tail of a now sizable threat. I think we had a good gap for at least a couple of laps but were eventually reeled in. The shifting winds and March fitness disrupted the rhythm of a truly committed break; at one point wagged my left elbow and the dude pulled through on the windward side to my right.

As the laps ticked down, I saw more and more of Briney, Newt, and Liam who were holding to prime position. With 3 or 4 to go, Kyle was in a break of three, including Laforce, once again. As we passed turn one after seeing two to go, Kyle was drifting back to the group, with the other two riding away. I couldn’t wait until the last lap like I’d planned. With the rest of the team behind me, now was the time to light the last match.

As we passed Kyle I dug hard into the wind without breaking off and closed the gap smaller and smaller. By the end of the backstretch curve (and me pedaling boxes) they were now easily within striking distance. As if he’d read my mind, Liam took off like an F-14 from an aircraft carrier. The move was so committed you couldn’t not believe in it 100% and I whooped ecstatically after him, “Yeah, LIAM!!!” He caught the other two quickly and blazed away alone in the tailwind.

I sat up, got on the end to hang on by a thread with depleted legs, and watched Briney and Newt do their thing, which was fight for wheels like tenacious pit bulls. I could not have been more pleased as I coasted in across the line, dead last from the group, hearing Alan Treuthart shout, “he did it!” and then see Liam sprawled out on the grass, an arm raised in the air. Briney and Newt had made it into the top five as well.

A perfect ending to a perfect race. And later I found out I’d also won a prime, a SRAM chain with a powerlink, while pulling through on one of my early breaks.

Incidentally, I did all of that on a half-flat rear tire. Half way through, I began to feel squirrelly back there through the high-speed last and first turns on either side of the start-finish. I debated getting a wheel, but rationalized it was the wind playing with my deep Stinger 60s (but knew better). I didn’t want to miss out on any of the fun I was having and it’s a good thing I stayed with the wheel I had. I broke a spoke on my back up wheel somewhere between 25 or 30 minutes into the the Pro/1/2/3 race an hour later. Speaking of which:

After realizing my race wheel wouldn’t hold air and putting on the back-up, my training wheel w/PowerTap hub, the 75 minute Pro/1/2/3 race rolled out with another XXX-heavy field. Included was everyone from the Cat 3 race except Chris, plus Ed Amstutz, John Tomlinson, Peter Strittmatter, Dave Moyer, and Scott Herring. The first lap and half were quite leisurely, and at the beginning of lap two when the pace was really lagging, I easily moved to the front in order not to get pinched in the turns by the widespread group.

Seconds after I found myself chasing the first of a violent barrage of early attacks, and even in a stillborn break for the rest of the lap or so. After that there wasn’t much more I could do besides hang on to the tail of the dragon as the pace would often surge to 30mph-plus during the early attacks.

Finally about 25 minutes in it looked to be settled, with two separate groups off which would eventually form a group of nine. This included Moyer, whom I didn’t see break away, and JT who I watched turn himself inside out into the headwind on a solo bridge to the second group.

Shortly after, people began asking me if I’d broken a spoke. “Naw,” I casually responded. It was just my valve extender slapping on the deep carbon of the wheel. The joke of the Cat 3 race as well. With my calf-tattoos, I’m Cat 5 style forever, baby! Actually, not a joke all, I found after Nate Iden of Burnham rolled up behind me: “dude, your wheel is gonna fall apart!” Sure enough, I looked between my legs to see the rim “whupwhupwhupping” against the brakes. I really had broken a spoke. Rolling in, I realized my race wheel was unridable too, and there was no neutral support. So I called it a day.

I watched from the sidelines as the front group gelled cohesively and grew their gap to over a minute. With two to go they dropped to eight, and in the end, Tomasz Boba of WDT won the day, with XXX placing Moyer in 4th, JT in 8th, and Peter in 10th.

A really good day for the team, to state it politely. XXX Racing is now in the lead for the Illinois Cup overall team competition, not to mention the Cat 3 and 40+ divisions.

The Barry Roubaix

By Brian Parker | Mar 28, 2010

Race name: Barry Roubaix
Race date: Saturday, Mar 27, 2010

Beautiful conditions greeted the racers for what was set to be one of the great Midwestern dirt races of the year. Dubbed “the Killer Gravel Road Race’, it is an 80% gravel road race. These roads are littered with short steep climbs to numerous to count, and seemingly no flat ground. It is a killer and it was a flippin’ awesome day on the bike. With around 300 riders last year, this year it more than doubled with well almost 700. I hyped this race up all year long, to anyone who would listen. xXx toed the line with 10 riders in the various categories, both male and female. Most of the crew lodged at the Parker House about 20 minutes from the course, my parents were so excited to host the team that they posted an article from the Grand Rapids Press about the race on the front door. They also brought their camping trailer along so we had the PRO setup that day. A place to get warm, dressed, and fed is a huge help in the race prep. The day was gorgeous, mostly sunny and high of almost 60.

The start was lead out by the local Sheriff’s Posse. It was well over 600 riders, most of which seemed unaccustomed to riding in a large group, rolling out in one gigantic peleton that stretched for what must have been half a mile. When we hit the first stretch of dirt road the dust became a smoke screen thick as a west coast fog. It carnage, the pace was immediately lifted to something that can only be described as self-immolation. The high pace was due to the Elite riders on the front, and the need to cull the field for the approach to Sager Road. Sager Road is a much dreaded two track littered with rocks and unimproved by the county. It is the ‘Forest of Arenberg’ for this race. The race is not won there, but a bad line through the sand or a rider going down in front of you can effectively end your shot a getting to the front and being factor in the race. The race was detonated in spectacular fashion when we made the treacherous transition to the sand, rocks and an immediate steep pitch that had riders scrambling for a line through the madness. The terrain and hills took their toll immediately. The field strung out and the elite riders drifted away while the experts were left to fight and claw their way past each other. After Sager, the course and the racers relaxed for a short spell, enough to just catch your breath for a brief spell. Then small groups of 10 and 20, 6 and 3 began to form and work together trying to advance themselves back to the front. With the race starting with so many different categories at once it was impossible to know who you were riding with, Expert, or Elite. It was cloudy as to where the front of the race was, were we it, or was it two minutes in front of us. So we all raced like the winners were in front of us. Working desperately for almost two hours to reel in the leaders. The whole team was boosted by my family as they traveled the course and rang the Bonebell as we raced by, in multiple locations atop some of the toughest hills. Seegs and I grouped together and worked with a group of about 10 that swelled to 20. The second hardest hill of the day reeked havoc on our group, and we fell off the pace. This left us working desperately to get back onto the group for about five miles. My fellow dirtbags are great bike riders, but in they in general do not know how to work together in a dedicated group. For Seegs and I, it was like herding cats, constant unwarranted accelerations, gaps growing to separations, rotations not rotating. The group in front, which contained a couple of local Chicago friends of ours, including Nevada Dave, dangled in front of us for what felt like hours at just 20 seconds. We knew we had the horsepower to catch, but the group would not, could not cooperate to make the bridge. Finally the bridge was crossed with a final monster pull that I made, only for me to be dropped by the first acceleration the group made. I was crushed, I gave up for a second and was able to open the suitcase and pull out just enough courage to continue. Fortunately, my bridge got Seegs back onto the group and that gave me minor consolation. The group drifted away from me and I began to loose hope, they put what must have been minutes on me in only a few minutes. As I traveled on another group caught my solo attempts to maintain a respectable pace. This lifted my spirits as I now had another cause to pedal for, and our guy Michael Young was in the group too. It was on and I was able to race again. Rejuvenated by a teammate who was obviously strong and almost bullying the group of 15 the two of us put serious wheel to road and worked together trying to shred the riders we were with. The group that I had lost earlier had fallen apart and we began to pickup other riders as we went along and our group grew and grew. We caught a solo Seegs as we neared the longest climb of the day, a 1.5 mile slog up a thankfully paved road. Michael Young went to the front and lifted the pace to all the way not fun. He was heartbroken at the top when very few of the riders had dropped off the pace, as was I.
Seegs, Young, and I now had numbers in the group, we were the largest team in the group and we put the draught horses in the yokes on front and drove the pace all the way to cookoo town. It got to be so much work that I was worried for the three of us and our chance in the finale, about 2 miles away. With about a mile away, Michael Young jumped as we reentered the State Park where the race finished. His jump, which can only be described as Marty and the Delorean traveling through time, was followed almost instantly by me a fraction of a second later. The two of us lit the fuse and the field was shattered for the sprint. The result was a group of seven, including three xXx’ers. Great odds. As we neared the finish line Seegs initiated a jump just to my right and I immediately heard the awful skidding sound of a front tire washing out on pavement. As I looked over to him, time slowed down and it seemed to take ten seconds for him to go down, even though it was over in an instant. He took down another rider in our group. As soon as I saw what had happened I jumped with everything that I had, the finish line was about just under a ¼ mile away and I came through the final chicane as two other riders passed me to win the sprint in our small group. I felt awful, my main thought as I charged to the line was honoring my fallen teammate, and I had come up short. He rolled across the line under his own power very shortly afterwards, and I felt a much better, knowing that he was not seriously hurt. The results were up immediately and my third place sprint was a victory in my age group, followed closely by Michael Young for second place. That put me on the top step and a teammate on second, a great feeling in a race that I have targeted since this time last year. There was some fantastic work done by the three of us in the final 5 miles. I could not have made it to the front without them, thanks guys. We rocked.

Race 1: Reality Check. Race 2: Team Success.

By Chris Kinonen | Mar 28, 2010

Race name: Spring Super Criterium
Race date: Saturday, Mar 27, 2010

Race 1: Masters 30+.
You never know exactly what the first race of the season is going to bring.  I find that these early season races are generally more tame and laid back than the mid season crit’s, which is fine by me.  The wild card is the fitness level.  Last year at this race, I was a bit better than expected, this year a bit worse.

Overall, the pace wasn’t bad but when I matched some accelerations at the front, I could tell the fitness could be better.  Not much happened overall.  With about 1.5 laps to go, the pace slowed a bit and I launched a solo attack that got me a little bit bigger gap than expected.  For a few brief moments, I actually thought I might survive, but with ¾ of a lap to go, as I turned into the headwind and headed down the back stretch, things began to seem glum (I’m not Liam after all (see below)).  By half a lap to go, I was watching 40 riders pass me like I’m standing still and I held onto the back for a field finish.

Definitely not disappointed at the attempted break, I like to race a race, and you never know what will happen.  A little bit more strength and it might have stuck.  Alas, the reality is that my fitness has room for improvement, giving me a bit more training motivation over the coming weeks as the heart of the season approaches.

Race 2: Cat 3.
I thought this was a glorious race for the team, as a team.  The lineup was Liam, Newt, Briney, Wiberg, Morrissey, and myself.  We knew that Liam, Newt, and Briney wanted to save themselves for the end so me, Morrissey and Wiberg covered many of the early breaks, and I think Briney and Newt tried some attacks toward mid race (there were always XXX jerseys up front and I couldn’t always tell who was off the front).  I tried to do as much as I could at the beginning, because I was struggling a bit after race 1, and wasn’t able to contribute much to the second half of the race.  Morrissey seemed to go with nearly every break and I thought Wiberg was going to make more than 1 attack stick, especially at the end.  It seemed, however, that the race was going to come down to a field sprint.  Newt, Briney and Liam were amassing toward the front in the closing laps, as two riders were dangling off the front.  Then, with a little over 1 lap to go, like a rocket, Liam accelerates off the front and closes the gap on the two in the break, fast.  I could see him just fly by both of them.  It was a hard, definitive attack that you just knew was going to stick.  I had a huge smile on my face as I forced my cramping legs through to the finish to see an ecstatic Liam lying on the grass, hands above his head.  Briney ended up 4th and Newt 5th.  A victory and 3 of the top 5 spots was a fine beginning to the season.  It was a great race to be part of, everyone contributed and we cleaned up in the results.  Team Success.

Burnham Racing

By Thomas Kabacinski | Mar 27, 2010

Race name: 40+ and Cat 4
Race date: Saturday, Mar 27, 2010

Raced the 40+ field with Ed who looked strong. I tried to work with him and another person who I don’t recall his name. I tried to help bring back a few people. However, I am not sure how much I helped. There were 55 in the field with only 3 of xXx folks. On the last lap I gave it all I had but Ed was on the correct side of the attack and came in 2nd.

In the CAT 4 field I tried to work with others to help out. I pushed the front of the field till I flatted. Then got a tube swap and jumped back in. Attacked off the front a few times and last but not least was mixed up in the crash on the last lap. Too bad for Eric’s frame. I was ok....

Haiku Season Opener

By Jared Rogers | Mar 27, 2010

Race name: Gapers Block & Spring Super Crit
Race date: Saturday, Mar 27, 2010

Every Since Bro. Boyle switched teams; there has been a lack of his often funny, inspirational and straight to the point race reports.  So consider this 2010 Haiku opener a summary of my first four races of 2010 and a tribute to our good friend:

Popped At Gapers Block
Redeemed Myself At Blackhawk
This Season Will Rock!

Not a bad day at the office

By Dan Andrews | Mar 27, 2010

Race name: Burnham spring crit
Race date: Saturday, Mar 27, 2010

Well this was my first crit ever! (being from england i am used to road races) and i loved it. they are much faster from the get go which i am defintely not used to.

I highly recommend the course out at blackhawk farms, its really smooth and easy corners...perfect for any first timers or even those more seasoned athletes.

Today was a test for me just to see where the legs were at compared to some of the others. I started out strong (perhaps too strong) and rode with the front of the group for the first few laps but then some in the group turned it up a notch for the primes and that just about finished me off. take into account the strong winds and i had no chance of making back to the front group.

however, i managed to find a group behind me and work together with them till the finish where i out sprinted about 7 riders at the end which was nice to know i still had something to give at the end of the race. That ultimately put me in 27th out of 40 riders. i am happy just to finish after getting dropped.

on a side note… patrick lemanowicz ended up winning the cat 5 race so we got another win for the team. that’s what counts.

all in all a good day for the the cat 5’s.

NYC races

By Thomas Kabacinski | Mar 23, 2010

Race name: Brooklyn Prospect Park Series
Race date: Sunday, Mar 21, 2010

Hi all,
I was visiting family in NYC this weekend and tried to squeeze in a race at Prospect Park. I went out in the Master 35+ field. There were 50 riders in the field. It was 12 laps.

If you ever get a chance to ride there it is a 3.5 mile loop with about a 1/2 mile climb and a nice 1/2 mile descent. The race series is always in prospect on almost every weekend. It tends to be dangerous as well with flaky riders messing around.

The gun went off and the pace was reasonable till the first break went off. It was very early and not one I wanted to get in as they usually don’t stay away that long. Sure enough with 5 laps done the heat started up and the attacks went. I was able to stay with the leaders for the first lap of this. The second lap of it I didn’t see a group go off but later found out that 8 riders made it away.

There was a small chase for a few laps but the big teams weren’t working to bring it back. Another break started a few laps later… I tried to get in it and after about 3/4 of a mile of chasing and not gaining enough ground and the pack behind me I decided it wouldn’t last. Well 2 laps later it didn’t.

The pack finsihed together since there were only prices for the top 5 and the 8 in the break away ate that up. I hope it is good warm up for the Burnham races this weekend. See you all then..or at least some of you.
Tom

First Race, check. Large chainring, oops!

By Jim Patti | Mar 23, 2010

Race name: Gapers' Block Criterium
Race date: Tuesday, Mar 23, 2010

DAY 1: Honey, where’s my wallet? It has the license. Ok, let’s see - heart rate monitor, check; full water bottle, check; glasses, kit, helmet - check, check, check. Nothing is going to go wrong at my first race!

Here we go. Hey, wait - shelled so quickly? Not even the first turn - even going 29 mph? Whoa, cadence is over 110 - quick, turn a higher gear. Why is the gear not shifting? Come on! Crud, great time for the bike to break!

Should I feel good for finishing even though I was almost lapped twice? Well, perhaps tomorrow will be better.

DAY 2: #*!& - the small chainring was on for the whole race yesterday? Dumb, dumb, dumb!

POSTSCRIPT: Kept with the peloton the first 19 minutes and then got shelled (and lapped), but remembering to use the right chainring sure helped!

Tucson Bicycle Classic

By Greta Neimanas | Mar 17, 2010

Race name: Tucson Bicycle Classic
Race date: Sunday, Mar 14, 2010

This was my third year racing TBC, and first year in the P/1/2 field. It was also the first race on a new TT bike, and first race back from a gnarly crash in a master’s race. (Avoid falling on your head. It’s not good.) Luckily, I don’t remember anything from said crash, which is probably a good thing. It did however make me a little anxious to sit on wheels, and be boxed in sitting in the pack.

The TT was short- 3 miles- and started with a downhill, then finished with a climb. My time was sort of disappointing and put me 29 seconds behind the leader. The next day, going into the road race, I wanted to get comfortable in the pack again, and not lose any time. The first 50 miles were SO boring! Nobody wanted to do anything, so nothing happened. Thankfully, we raced the last 10 miles. The lead up to the finish was a bunch of punchy little hills, then a downhill left hand turn into the finish. The road got narrow, and sandy through this section, so I moved up to the front to avoid a potential crash. One of the old Paralympic tandem pilots (Cari) was also racing. She jumped with 1k to go, and I followed. She opened a gap that I decided to close, then I kept rolling. Rebecca was on my wheel and I knew I couldn’t hold it from 600m to go. I figured, Why not just try to lead Rebecca out? Pursuit mode kicked in, and drilled it as best I could to the finish. Second for Rebecca, and 12th for me. No time lost, so it was fine by me.

The circuit race on Sunday was 7 laps of a 5-ish mile loop with some hills, and a quick descent after a tight right hand turn. After the boring road race, Cari and I decided to do something, to make the race more interesting. We took turns attacking, spent some time off the front, got brought back and did it over again. On the last lap, with about 3k to go, I tried to get away but got caught before the last rise into the finish line. At this point, the group split in two with most of the top 10 in the front group. Through plain stubbornness, I got in for 6th on the stage, and bumped me up a spot on GC. Rebecca took the stage, which was enough to take the overall. It was a great day of racing, and a fun way to end a stage race.

One thing I learned that I need to improve for the future is my (finishing) sprint. It’s an awful habit, but I find myself with my head down. What happens to animals with their heads down? They get eaten. So, to avoid being eaten, keep your head up! (And go to Randy’s sprint clinic.)

See you at the races!

Here we go again

By Luke Seemann | Mar 16, 2010

Race name: Kenosha Velosport Training Criterium
Race date: Sunday, Mar 14, 2010

The Kenosha spring races used to be a much bigger deal. Now we have a lot more spring races to look forward to and the Kenosha turnout seems down. That’s too bad. It’s still a good series, only about an hour from the city, and the course is a good, safe one for beginners. For more experienced racers, it’s a good chance to get reacquainted with all the rituals and processes—the packing, the warm-up, the tactics, the mechanics of sprinting—that will be as natural as breathing by July.

There are always new faces and teams this time of year, and not everyone has the uniforms to reflect their transfers. When I registered, I took note of the two riders ahead of me who appeared to be buddies but who were wearing generic kits. Better keep an eye on them.

I also took note of Tim from Trocadero. He’s always been a strong, aggressive rider. Sure enough, he attacked on Lap 2 and I jumped with him. Unfortunately I was a split-second too slow and lost his draft. By the time I caught him a lap later, the pack was on us—and here the two buddies from the registation table counterattacked together.

“I think those two guys are teammates,” I announced. Afer all, there were only 13 of us in the race and all of us were riding solo. Having a teammate—especially incognito—could make or break the race.

Tim and Chris from ReCycling soon set off to chase. The remnants of the field rotated well enough, but I could tell that only a few people were invested in the chase. With four people already up the road, we’d never have a chance, so I attacked the next time we approached the tailwind.

(The trick to attacking with a strong wind is to attack near the end of the headwind section or in the crosswind. Attack directly in the headwind and you’ll get no gap; attack with a tailwind and the herd will easily jump with you. Find the spot that is close enough to the headwind that people are thinking “Blargh, bike racing is hard!” but close enough to the tailwind so that when you hit it you can hammer and get an exaggerated gap ... but save enough so that you can keep it up for a lap. That’s important. If you can maintain or grow your gap for one entire cycle of headwind/tailwind, the pack may lose hope and you’ll be gone for good.)

A Geargrinder rider came with me and it wasn’t long before we caught Tim and Chris. For the next 30 minutes we rode around in circles. Even though we worked well together and eventually lapped what was left of the field, we never came within sight of the original breakaway.

With one to go I put in an attack, but I didn’t commit and got no more than a feeble gap. Then it was time to sprint, an eventuality I totally forgot to prepare for. As such I was overgeared and poorly positioned. Naturally I came in last in our break, 6th overall.

Nonetheless, a fun start to the season.

Tour de Ground hog

By Thomas Kabacinski | Feb 28, 2010

Race name: Tour de Ground hog
Race date: Sunday, Feb 21, 2010

I went to the cx race in Springfield which ended up not being there but in Lincoln, IL. The course has 1/4 of road and lot’s of snow, rain, and mud. There was a pretty big uphill that you could not ride up. The MTB folks with their bikes were able to get up but I couldn’t on my cx bike. The fields were small but there were many. I entered 2 races with 15 riders in each. I DNF’ed on the second one due to mechanical, hard to ride with your derailer in the spokes. The first race I finished abotu 10th.

Tucson, AZ racing

By Thomas Kabacinski | Feb 28, 2010

Race name: Tucson Weekly Crit Series
Race date: Wednesday, Feb 17, 2010

Hi I was in Tucson for a week of riding and was able to sign up for a crit series. I did event number one. All the races are on a go cart track with over 20 turns. It was a nice course that the lights came out as it got dark. Check out the web page.

http://www.toleroracing.com/

I came in 27th in the 3,4,5 Field which was so so but glad to get the first race of the season in. Turns are something to practice and not much of that lately in snow or on the trainer.

There are 2 other fields Cat4 5 and Cat 1,2,3. The price is right at $10 per race. Check it out if you are there.

The Epicest

By Liam Donoghue | Feb 24, 2010

Race name: Georgia Training Camp Day 1
Race date: Friday, Feb 12, 2010

8am. We leave in the cold. Preparing for more cold. Possible snow. Ride starts with what Dave was calling “the commute” – a 20-mile ride west along 76 to the main mountain loops we’d be doing for the next four days. Or at least what we’d thought we’d be doing the next four days. Mama Nature had other plans for us, that conniving devil. The commute was excellent. 1000 feet of climbing right there, just up and down and up and down, low traffic, beautiful woods filled with dead trees (hey, it is February). I spent most of the time thinking about the coming climbs and how those would go with nine other guys all wanting to show their stuff.

Brasstown Bald – we get to the right-hand turn-off, and the road is blocked by a gate. Closed. Screw that. I was quite adamant about going up, at least a little bit, so we collectively decided to go around the barrier and head up until the ice got too bad. The climb was nasty the whole way up, and we didn’t even do the hard part. Can’t imagine racing up this bad boy. Powertap’s dead, so I don’t know what I’m doing. “Does this ride even happen without the numbers?“ I ask jokingly. If only I had known how surreal it was about to become. The descent sucked, real sketchy with the ice, the sand, loose gravel. Descending would end up being the least-fun thing of the day. No rip-roaring on these hills, kids.

We stop at a general store, which was really quaint, quite neat. Huge bags of peanuts, lots of jams and preserves. And water. Always a plus.

Hogpen Gap – Brian is the first to test his mettle. He took off and was maybe 400+ meters in front of me the whole time. Normally that’s nothing, but on a mountain this consistently steep it’s a good 20 seconds. Dave was maybe five seconds behind him, and Tom was another five seconds behind me. More than halfway up, I encounter a random glove, knowing it’s either Dave’s or Brian’s, and attempt to pick it up while riding, a la Randy’s water bottle pick-up drill. Not so much. The effort would have been comical to witness. So I stopped, grabbed the glove and threw it into the front of my jacket, and got back onto the bike, facing downward so as to be able to actually clip in without falling flat on my face. Tom passes me. Grrrrr. Ego time. Randy is right there, asks if I’m OK, and I immediately sprint back up to Tom, catch him, and continue right past him. Got to the top behind a couple of beasts Brian and Dave. Snow abounded, we ate some quick food, and began the most fun descent of the day. The only one we could actually attain some speed on. Scorched down, got around Ed and Morrissey, to bridge up to Newt, Tom, Dave and Brian. The five of us were pulling through, doing a wickedly fast ride down Hogpen Gap. So fun to be going 45 down a hill. Infinitely better than Chicago. I love to eat my words.

Unicoi Gap – A bit before Unicoi, it started to snow. Nooner, just like the meteorologists predicted. At first it was just a light dusting, a miniature sprinkle, something more to add to the beauty of the coniferous surroundings than something that scared us off our bikes or caused legitimate concern. But that would obviously change. We all took it slow, Brian and I rode together up front, doing a chatting pace, the rest were 10 or so seconds behind. We all get to the top, eventually, and it’s snowing. Not the earlier waterfalls on the side of the road are freezing kind of snow. Not the man this is so beautiful kind of dusting. Full-on, road-covering snow. The watershed of the day’s ride happened right there at the top of Unicoi Gap: all the events and all the weather that happened on one side flowed into the Awesome Ocean, and the weather and legs and everything else on the other side flowed into the Ocean of Raging Despair. The snow is maybe a half-inch thick, covering the road in frightening white. Brian Hill goes all Brian Hill on us and does an “OK, I’m Brian Hill, I’m going, see y’all later,“ and takes off down the slippery slopes while we discuss, urinate and regroup.

We descend, through snow, and sleet, and freezing rain, depending on how far down the mountain you are and whether the water hitting you is from the sky or being kicked up from the road. Seth had been having trouble all day, and by this time it’s sub-30 degrees, we were descending and freezing our asses off. We’re coasting the whole time, rubbing the brakes every so often to rid the rims of any loose water or ice build-up, and praying to any deity that’s listening to deliver us in one piece, or maybe two pieces, assuming they can be sewn back together again. It feels as if someone is throwing porcupine needles at my forehead as I’m shooting down the mountain, literally carving a line through thick snowflakes draping the road. My beard gradually gains weight in the form of ice and snow ; I am an Iditarod musher, the Trek my pack of huskies.

After what seems like countless hours in my head, but was mere minutes in reality, everyone regroups at the bottom of the descent. Seth uses that graduate school noggin of his and decides to go knock on a door and wait while we all go on to the house. This guy’s won races, folks, his tactics are sound. We soldier on, all split up, visibility near zero, and Ed has hit the end of his rope. “I just don’t feel safe on the road,“ he tells Dave, and turns around to join Seth in random old people‘s house (guy‘s also won himself some races). The rest of us, now eight-weak, I mean, eight-strong, trudge on in various states of cold and insanity. The ride quickly goes from a simple group ride through the mountains to something of a fight for survival. The tone morphs from Hey, this is insane, totally ‘epic‘, dude, awesome! to a much more serious, We need to get together, fight this cold, and get back to the van so we can pick these people up. Frowns win the fight for space on our faces, and we simultaneously flick our survival switches. Bare legs on a day like this was obviously not the best option, and thus Brian Hill drops out. He sees a fire rescue building, turns off. I yell at him through the fog of snow that we’ll be back to pick him up. “Find shelter, get warm,“ I remember saying, only it came out much more garbled, as my mouth had gone a bit numb by this point. Only cold part on me, really. I sprint up to Dave and Ben to tell them, in case something happens to me, where Brian will be waiting.

We’re then riding the commute back toward the house through dark, cloudy rainy sleety snow, getting soaked, and pelted with cold, wet, hard water, in whatever form. Tom is hurting. We don’t want to know whether there’s 20 miles to go or only 10 (there were 20). The 88-mile ride was slowly becoming worthy of being called epic. I’m literally laughing at how stupid it all was; since I was usually the last to depart after the meet-ups, I’d be riding down a mountain, completely alone, no other human in sight, laughing maniacally to no one in particular. That was a large chunk of my ride. Ben would occasionally pass by me on a small hill descent. Ah yes, humanity does exist. Descents turned into an exercise in applying maximal pressure to the brake levers, as it was icy brake pads rubbing against icy rims that served as friction to slow us down. Descents were also an exercise in forgetfulness. Sure that a tire was bound to slip out, we had to put aside any memory we had of physics and rubber and ice and two in-line wheels and centers of gravity and anything else that would prevent us from actually getting down the mountain. Ascending the hills on the commute was an exercise in putting as much weight on the rear wheel as possible, so as to not spin out completely. At one point, Dave, Ben, Tom and I stopped to eat something and de-ice our bikes. Not only had the ice prevented us from being able to shift, but so much had gathered in the brakes that the wheels were in a constant rub. Eighteen-pound bikes were now weighing in around 25 or so. Re-starting on the bike was near impossible. Dave, somewhat stupefied, says, half-joking, half-dead-serious, “How do you start?“ as we both fight the slippery conditions and try to remount our bikes going uphill, making more like a child on the Crocodile Mile than grown men on bicycles. We were fighting the climb, we were fighting the ice-braking, we were fighting the inability to shift gears, and we were fighting the freezing cold. And we were losing. One by one we were losing. At one point Randy told us there were eight miles to go. Until then, we were operating under the assumption that we were two, maybe three miles out. Just when we couldn’t take it physically, Randy found a way to demoralize us even more. My brain hesitates to recall what took place for these last eight miles, as my body had by this point shut off and decided it was best not to remember such things. I do recall ambulances: two of them, with a couple fire trucks. Loud, frightening sirens. Like babies wailing, only there‘s snow everywhere. So much snow. Where are the baby-wailers driving to? An accident. Nearby? We all say meaningless phrases to each other in icy attempts at encouragement. Is the group all here? Another ambulance. We’re dead. It’s over. This is heaven. This is hell?

Supposedly hell is hot: high flames, fire, brimstone, the stench of death. That depiction is wrong. Hell is cold. Icy, cold descents, snow like a tiger claw swiping at your face, looking down at a cycle computer and seeing 30mph and snow kicking up from your tires as you brake frantically. A Friday in hell.

“I just wanted to get warm,” Andy Hampsten once said of his now-legendary stage over the Gavia Pass in the 1988 Giro d‘Italia. “I was really concerned for my health. I’ve never been in a place like that. Psychologically, no one can explain how tough it was - 25 kilometers of descending in freezing snow and sleet. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Everyone who crossed the finish line that day had to dig incredibly deep to get there. When I talk to the other riders today, it’s never, ‘So and so did this,’ or, ‘Yeah, Breukink won.’ It’s, ‘Wow, you were on the Gavia in ‘88.’”

Wow. We were on the Unicoi in 2010.

We all made it out alive. The front door of the cabin is actually a doorway to delirium, and I enter unknowingly. We all disrobe as quickly as possible. I look at Tom. He’s huddled on the floor with a blanket and towel, shivering with a mild case of frostbite. In my head I see Brian Hill, curled up on the side of the road somewhere, possibly in a fire rescue station, if it’s open. Seth and Ed are still shivering somewhere, in someone’s house, next to their fireplace, sipping hot chocolate as they relay the idiocy of our ride to an old couple who won’t understand but will nod understandingly. I leave the house Seth and Ed are staying at, and fly through the air, over all the trees, flying back to our cabin, back to the warmth. I glance down mid-flight and notice the shape of Lake Burton, a killer octopus with deadly tentacles reaching out for me. Lake Burton is trying to get me. Georgia is trying to get me.

I’m back in the cabin, two pounds of snow in my beard, Dave is taking care of Tom, Newt is already cleaned up in street clothes and preparing to hop in the van to pick up the pieces. Where’s a camera? “Morrissey, where’s your camera?”

I need a photograph of my beard. Somehow a picture—however blurry, however inappropriate at the time—of a beard full of ice, on a face mired in vacuity, in a February Georgia with four inches of snow on the ground, will rectify the situation, will un-foul-up the SNAFU, will transcend any suffering we endured and are still enduring. I need this to document our stupidity. To document the epicness, to document the 80-mile event that began as a simple team ride and ended in a bizarre two-wheeled fight for our lives. Brian snaps the photo, and I remain in a state of delirium. I sit on a nearby chair. My beard melts, drip by drip, onto the rug below. I want to do this again.

Valley of the Sun

By Greta Neimanas | Feb 19, 2010

Race name: Valley of the Sun
Race date: Friday, Feb 12, 2010

Valley of the Sun was the first real race on the schedule this year. The previous weekend was the Fiesta Island TT in San Diego (Peter Allen also raced it) which did not go as well as I’d wanted. VOS is a stage race and consists of a time trial, road race and crit over three days in Phoenix. All I really cared about was the TT, and posting a good result, then going from there. Well, the VOS TT definitely provided some redemption after Fiesta Island. I felt great, caught a bunch of people, didn’t get caught by anyone, and threw up in my mouth a little bit- second to yacking all over the place, it’s the sure sign of a good time trial. Jens was running through my head the whole time. The ride was good enough for 7th overall, and provided a good set up for the rest of the weekend.

Think of me as you whish, but when I race, I want people to remember who I am, and not just because my red/orange fake arm stands out. I want to be a good wheel, be smooth in the pack, aggressive, take pulls (What would Jens do?) and be a good representative of xXx. The road race was only mediocre in my book, and a lack of aggression played the biggest part in that. Rather than making something happen, I just sat in and waited for someone else to make a move. I got caught up in the standings, and was afraid to do something, get caught and pop then get dropped and lose time. The GC hardly changed after the race, although I did lose 3 seconds because of time bonuses.

After the road race and my lack of initiative, I decided to make some changes for the crit. It’s better to try and fail, than not to try at all right? It was a 40 min crit on a figure 8 course with nice big turns, good pavement except for a few avoidable traffic reflectors, and a good crowd. I made sure to say in the front 10 the whole time, took turns on the front to keep the pace high, but didn’t waste any excess energy by sitting in the wind. With two to go I took a gamble that only lasted a little over a lap, as the pack really kicked it up. The true sprinters came around me at the end but I held on for a mid pack finish. No time lost.

After the race riders came up and said they recognized the distinctive xXx kit from last season’s races. Some people were amazed that despite my “awful situation” I was even able to ride a bike at all! Such an inspiration. Most people were complementary for other reasons which is what I’d rather hear after riding my legs into pulp. All in all it was a great kick off to the season, and hope to keep the momentum rolling.

See you at the races!

TTs in February? It’s Fiesta Time!

By Peter Allen | Feb 7, 2010

Race name: Fiesta Island TT #1
Race date: Sunday, Feb 7, 2010

Fiesta Island TT Series #1
February 7, 2010 – San Diego, CA
Masters 30-39 – 10th – 32:18

Time trials for us Chicagoans in February usually mean riding a Computrainer like a hamster in the Winfield Middle School. While it may not be “fun”, it helps break up the winter training doldrums. Those folks who are lucky enough to live in “warm” climates like SoCal, Arizona, etc. actually have a winter racing season. Well, I didn’t want to miss out on their fun, so I took the opportunity to get in an early season OUTDOOR TT in San Diego today.

The main TT course in San Diego is Fiesta Island. It’s a completely flat “sand dune” next to Seaworld. The San Diego Bicycle Club (SDBC) sponsors a season long TT series on the island that runs from February to October. It’s a 4 mile loop with sweeping turns and nary a hill. Three loops for 20K. The course is completely closed to traffic. The only downside is that races are EARLY. Riders need to register between 6 AM or 6:45 AM or they forgo their time slot.

I got there at 6:15 AM and it was still dark. The parking lot was full and I was cursing that I didn’t have a flashlight. This was apparent when I showed up to the registration table with my license and race flyer rather than my signed waiver (which was still in my trunk). Plus, I got tons of odd looks because I was wearing shorts and it was “only” in the mid 50s. Oh, well. I had plenty of time to warm-up and was happy to have brought my Knog Frogs since the sun was just creeping up. I prerode the course and soon had a bike covered with sand ( from the 2” of rain the day before). I also ended up getting a flat tire on my way back to the car with about 10 minutes before my start. Thankfully, I brought a spare tube.

I had decided to race “Eddy Merckx” style (aka, non aero) since shipping my TT bike was pretty expensive for just one race. I was actually happy I did this, since I had never raced a TT without aero equipment. Plus, it was early season and I didn’t want to throw off my expectations. Most of the other riders were on TT rigs, so I was knew I would get passed. However, passing someone else would feel really good.

There was a pretty strong 15-20 MPH headwind on the first part of the course, but made for a fun tailwind on the home stretch. I was amazed at how quickly this course went. I’m not sure if it was the short laps or curvy nature of the course. It was definitely the not the usual cornfield bores that we have in the Midwest. I paced myself fairly well throughout the race and felt much better than my legs were feeling. Biking 65 miles the day before didn’t help my legs. Ugh. I’m glad it’s only February…

I ended up finishing in 32:18 for 10th in the Masters 30-39 with an average speed of 23.1 MPH. For this time of year and my “old school” bike setup, I was very happy with my result. My power was about where I was at the peak of 2009. Another cool part of this race was not being the only XXXer! Greta Neimanas was in the area for early season training and showed up for the race. She posted the 2nd fastest women’s time and won her age group. Wow...1800 miles from Chicago and we had more XXXers in a TT than we normally do within 50 miles of Chicago (HINT, HINT to the rest of the team).

I’m planning on coming back to San Diego in March for some more “spring training” and hope to get another TT in if I can. For anyone visiting the San Diego area, be sure to check out the Fiesta Island TT series. The SDBC puts on a first class operation. And, it’s a guaranteed Fiesta!

I almost forgot to mention that this is an ABR race! Not only do they sanction the MATTS series in the Chicago area, but also the Fiesta Island TT series.

Jingle Cross

By Michael Young | Nov 30, 2009

Race name: 2009 Jingle Cross Rock
Race date: Sunday, Nov 29, 2009

College kids were out of town so the Cross kids took over the park.  The course was awesome and different every day and is what really makes this event special.  Mud, rocks (or were they marbles?), and a hill best known as Mt. Krumpit destroyed parts and legs rapidly and relentlessly.  One of the mechanics said their count was at 30 derailleurs and the same amount of hangers mid way through the second day.  That’s only the folks that came to him as some just grabbed their spare bike or went to the other shop that was there in support.

I raced the 2/3 each day.  Friday started off with a bang, well...more of a crunch as my derailleur took a vacation in Wheelsville.  A day and forever later I find the hanger for my Felt as they aren’t a popular brand.  Bike was fixed two hours before my race the second day.  In time for me to enjoy the muddiest day of playing (racing in this instance) on my bike since bombing down the quarries on the 20” when I was 17.  Finished 35th-ish.  For Sundays race I decided I was going to hang it all out and try to push impossibly hard right from the start.  I had to start in the second to last row due to my late registration and it was proving to be really tough to make up all that ground with how slow the pace was when climbing up through the pack.  Hammer it for a lap and nearly blow myself up, “nearly” being the key word there.  The run up is searing my legs like meaty shish kabobs in Iran.  Peak out of the pain locker for a moment and bing bong, Im in 10th and have passed about 50 guys since the start.  I find my tempo and the guys faster then me slowly come by over the rest of the race.  Cale Wenthur (Team Pegasus) and I finished off the race going back and forth a bit.  On the final decent I went over the bars in a knarly little crash and Cale got by me but I was able to get around him to finish 19th.  I felt like that was the best race Ive ever had.  I left it all on the course.  My bike handling and risk taking made up for the power I lacked.

To date no-one has anything on the heckle hounds of the Chi Cross Cup.  We should be crazy prowd of the series we have.

Note to racers that plan on doing Jingle Cross: register as early as you can.

Big thanks to everyone that cheered and helped.  Brian Morrissey, Courtney O’Neill
and Nkki Cyp proved to be great rommies and CX partners.

Jingle Cross Rock #1

By Brian Morrissey | Nov 27, 2009

Race name: Jingle Cross Rock #1
Race date: Friday, Nov 27, 2009

First day of Jingle Cross Rock in Iowa City, IA. 

Madness.

Twilight race through mud, gravel, steep hills, and in and out of horse stables and barns at the Iowa State Fairgounds.  Higher categories racing parts of the course in pitch black.  The first five riders at the top of Mt. Krumpit botch the turn and plow through the fence.

Sitting in top 10 with the lead group in my race I try to ride through a thick mud section just before start finish and bog down like a German half-track in the Russian spring.  The front wheel is glued to a stop.  I have to get off and actually remove the wheel to clear all the slop and mulch off, losing many places.

On the back stretch of the last lap I hear the winner being announced, and catch one or two more for a decent 20th, noting the circumstances.

Expecting a muddy slog tomorrow, with the full length of the course added for the 4s, and I get to try my hand at Mt. Krumpit.

Indian Lakes Cyclocross

By Erik Didriksen | Nov 15, 2009

Race name: Indian Lakes Cyclocross
Race date: Saturday, Nov 14, 2009

Since South Chicago Wheelmen decided to deviate from the ChiCrossCup formula and host the Indian Lakes race on a Saturday, I was able to sleep in and generally have a lazy Saturday morning - something that hasn’t happened in several years. It was great! Pancakes, Awful TV, Newspaper, Coffee. Yes.

It was already 62F outside when I packed up the car to head out to Bloomingdale, and once there it was indeed a perfect day. I forgot the camera so no pictures, sorry. After pre-riding the course a couple of times and watching the 3’s, Juniors/Women, and 1/2/3’s race, I’d decided that heckling was far too much fun to miss the hecklespectacle of the 4b’s race and went to registration to up my category to 4a.

Right off the bat, I was in a bad spot - 4th row before callups. Ugh. As we scooted forward from the holding pen to the start line, I was able to gain a row, but that wasn’t of much comfort. This course didn’t have much of a hole shot unfortunately, the first 100m or so were just a straight on sprint into a quick and technical 90 degree right, 180, 90 degree right section, followed by another fast 100m before a barrier and the run-up. With the tape staying wide throughout all of this, the first few minutes of the race were a battle to keep your wheels away from others while staying upright and making sure you weren’t behind a bad wheel.

I ran the hill the first time because there just wasn’t enough space to remount the bike… probably should have run it every lap. After descending and a quick loop around to the back side, there was another barrier and another trip up the hill, albeit the steeper side. The race was a little more strung out at this point so I found my rhythm and settled in. The first sand pit was rideable on the first lap, but I couldn’t ride the last meter or so on subsequent laps - I ran the second sand pit every time. On the third(I think) lap, I got to my fateful last meter of the first sand pit, stalled, and attempted to dismount. In my haste, I felt my shoe make contact with something hard - helmet, perhaps? I looked back and saw there had been a guy on my wheel, and I’d just kicked him in the head. After a winded, brief exchange and apology we were off once again.

Pacing is difficult for me in Cyclocross because it requires a pretty immense effort for me to just make the bike move, but I was able to make some progress in this race. With 2 laps to go, I backed off just enough to only let 2 people pass me - this let me get some recovery time in for the last lap, where I drilled it as hard as I could. Coming in on the back stretch, there was a fairly long grass/pavement section where I dialed it up to about 30mph and passed 5 or 6 riders. I wasn’t entirely sure that my brakes would slow me down in time for the 180 around the tree that followed, but I was able to bleed enough speed to negotiate that turn without problem.

In picking those guys up, I finished 48th out of about 70 starters. Not in the points or cash, but respectable enough for me.

In all - a great race hosted by the South Chicago Wheelmen. I’m hoping the ChiCrossCup can return here next year, especially since the amenities at this race were the best out of the entire series (Hot Tubs and a Heated Locker Room!).

Oh yeah, and I didn’t break a thing, despite numerous heckles encouraging me to “destroy that bike!”

Worlds Part 2

By Greta Neimanas | Nov 13, 2009

Race name: Para-Cycling World Track Championships
Race date: Saturday, Nov 7, 2009

Now that I’m recovered from a marathon of travel, I can sit down and write about track worlds- Worlds Part 2.

Let me start at the very beginning. As per usual, we loaded the bus and left for the airport at 0’dark thirty in the morning for the drive up to Denver. (We have so much stuff we have to fly from Denver because the little planes in Colorado Springs can’t carry it all). It’s not one of my serious goals in life, but I’d like to see as many airports around the world as I can. Luckily when we travel as a team, we get to check a lot off the list. Denver-Detroit-Frankfurt-Manchester. Four in one go! We collected our baggage in Manchester where a small miracle occurred- only one bag was lost. Unfortunately, it was my bike case with both bikes in it. Oh, and my bag came out busted open and tied together with a rope. It sounds like a bummer, but really, it was ok. The bikes were delivered to the hotel and my bag was just unzipped (I guess zippers are hard for TSA agents to figure out.)

This marked my fourth time in Manchester for a cycling event, but for most of the team it was their first. In the world of cycling, the Manchester velodrome is the closest thing we have to a Mecca. Honestly I don’t know how it came to be so revered but it sure is fast. The Brits train there and they’re all fast, so maybe we’re hoping for some type of osmosis to happen and magically become faster. So seeing the excitement on everyone’s face when we walked in for training was pretty darn cool; like kids at Festivus.

Enough about this osmosis business, you want to hear about the racing. OK. I traveled 5000 miles to race 14 laps around the Mecca track. Was it worth it? Definitely. First up was the individual pursuit- 3000 meters (12 laps) in the pain cave doing everything you can to catch your opponent. The 3k was my main focus of the year. The past ten months of training came down to the four minutes of this race. (In this event, two people are on the track at the same time, on opposite sides and try to catch each other. In the first round, the fastest 4 riders go on to finals, and in finals, if you catch your opponent the ride is over and you win.) My race is against Sarah the Brit, who happens to be the world record holder, world and Paralympic champion. We all know I’m going to get caught, it’s just a matter of time, I’m ready for that, and in fact it’s good for me because then I have someone I can see and chase. The gun goes off and we’re racing. Law and order are on it; Mecca track is bowing down to me. I settle in and after what feels like 6 laps later- I’m well into the cave at this point- I look at the lap counter and see 9. I’m not even 1/3 of the way through this hellish event and my vision is starting to go, my legs feel like battery acid is flowing through them. Terrific. I don’t remember the rest very clearly, but before we left, a friend told me he wanted just 3 more rpm and I did everything I could to get it out. My time is about 4.5 seconds faster than my previous best, and I’m ecstatic. Forget getting passed and Sarah taking 2 more seconds off the insanely fast world record. I had a great ride and I don’t care about anything else.

The next day was the 500- two laps and it’s over. This is an event that I train for, but don’t focus on at all if that makes any sense. I do it well, because Craig tells me to, but because you have no chance at a medal if you’re not entered. That’s why I do it.

The best part of this trip wasn’t any personal success I had, but seeing the success of the team. Every rider surpassed expectations and we brought back double the projected number of medals. The team basically lived together for two straight months in prep for this event. We were with each other for the highs of success and the lows of bad days and deathly camp workouts. It was way better to finish a race and be greeted by smiling faces, hi-fives and hugs than to get a shiny coin on a ribbon.

Class is Pain 101. Your instructor’s Casey Jones

By Liam Donoghue | Nov 2, 2009

Race name: St. Charles / Campton Cyclocross
Race date: Sunday, Nov 1, 2009

” >

No turtle-hiding-in-turtle-shell timidity at the gun. Rock-steady through the mud bog. No splinters in the woods. Didn’t follow the foot clan on the uphill rocky section. Shredded the mud crossings on the back side. Forgot my brain at the end, though. Sixth instead of fifth.

>

40’s to 20’s to ?

By Greg Heck | Oct 26, 2009

Race name: USGP Cyclocross-Derby City Cup
Race date: Saturday, Oct 24, 2009

This was my 3rd year racing the USGP of Cyclocross event in Louisville, KY.  The first year I raced the event it was my first big national level race, and looking back I was completely overwhelmed.  The race field was two or three times bigger than the Chicago Cross Cup, the course was more technical, and the competition stiffer.  That year I finished in the 40’s both days of the Cat. 2/3 event, equating to a midpack finish.  Last year I was more prepared heading into the race, and finished both days in the 20’s.  This year I was hoping for another jump in my results, however the field this year was larger than in years past, with over 100 riders at the line.  I knew I would have my work cut out for me. 
Saturday I lined up second row, as the announcer set the scene for the start of the race.  With lots of rain during the week we would be heading out into a muddy mess of slick rooted turns, sandpits and deep muddy bogs.  This was going to be fun.  The official then said the race can start anytime in the next 30 seconds, the whistle blew, and we were off.  Down the long asphalt straight to the first turns, brakes squealing and everyone fighting for position.  The first section of the course had a couple of tight turns and slick mudpits.  This then lead to a straight right through the expo area towards the only set of barriers. Through this section I was sitting Top 15, and started picking off riders, and was feeling really good.  By the end of the first lap I was with the group of riders fighting for 4-9th place, and for the next 40 minutes we would battle it out.  Riders would attack, get brought back.  We each had a place where we were fast.  I was terrible on the green monster fly-over, but was faster through some of the turns and straights.  With two laps to go two guys got away, and on the last lap, I was able to take advantage of one rider’s bobbled remount, and put in an attack.  There was only one last mud section before the finishing straight, probably the deepest and slowest slog on the course. I could feel the two chasers breathing down my neck, but was able to hit the asphalt with a gap, and rolled in for 7th, completely spent.  I was super happy with my result, and looking forward to doing it again on Sunday.
Sundays course was very similar with addition of an additional stair run-up, along with a faster start, followed by a muddy, tight technical section leading into the straight through the expo area.  I was really nervous about this section due to a really slick mud crossing into a right hand turn.  With no tight turns before this it was going to be a mad dash to get through first.  Once again the whistle blew and we all fought to be towards the front.  Into the mud, my rear wheel slips out and I am down.  I get run into by a couple of guys, but jump back on the bike, and try to get through the turns onto the straight.  I am sure it was comical to watch us get through this section, with riders hitting the deck left and right.  Onto the straight I was probably sitting top 25, and knew I had to put in a big effort to get by as many riders as possible and as fast as possible to have a good result.  So for the next two laps I buried myself and made contact with the group of 5-10th place.  At this point I felt good, but needed to sit on for awhile to get recover from the effort.  Through the tight mud section again and I was fine, but through the next off-camber 180 degree turn I lost it and hit the dirt.  The rider behind me ran into my bike, and his rig landed right on top of mine.  We spent a few seconds getting the bikes apart.  I made sure my chain was still on jumped back on.  I thought for sure something was going to be wrong with the bike, but everything seemed OK.  While this was going on a couple of guys got past us.  I tried to get back on the gas, but for some reason it just wasn’t there.  I spent the next two laps riding the course like a rookie, getting passed be several riders.  With two to go, I started feeling better, and put my mind to passing as many competitors as possible, and was able to make my way up to 14th place by the finish.  This was still a great result for me, but after Saturdays race I was a little disappointed.  All in all it the weekends racing was a success, and was topped off by getting to watch Tim Johnson ride to victory in an unbelievable show of power and technique during Sunday’s pro race.

Yo Adrian!

By Brian Morrissey | Oct 26, 2009

Race name: Bartlett/Sunrise Park - Chicago Cross Cup
Race date: Sunday, Oct 25, 2009

It was tough to get out of bed this morning.  Tougher still go through my race-day regimen and pack the messenger bag.  I wanted to do nothing else than sleep in until 9, drink coffee until I got the shakes, and listen to NPR and watch football.  Looking out the window sucked the motivation out of me; the thinning leaves – now dull and robbed of their once fiery color – were stark on their skeletal branches against the slate grey sky.

I felt fat and stiff.  It is getting late in the year.  Fitness is waning, darkness is coming earlier, and Halloween candy and cookies are taunting me at every turn.  Only four races remain before training completely goes off the rails in a head-on collision with the month-long holiday party of December.  What harm could it do?

But Jack needs the exercise and socialization (so do I), he’s always dead tired after a day pulling on the leash, peeing on bikes, and snarling at little kids.  The day was soon sunny and glorious mere minutes after arriving in Bartlett, and the Bears ended up laying an egg, as well, losing 45-10 to Cincy.  Upon returning home with William – and Jack passed out cold in the back seat - I was really glad I had gone and done two races.

The 30+ was a flat out joke, flat on my back.  I had the wrong tires and the wrong fork for this race.  I am clueless when it comes to road gear, so with a loaner cross bike, I just show up and ride no matter what.

“Dude, why are you using file treads?”

In the muddy turns, the shallow tread filled up with mud quickly, and I rode as though I were in a Three Stooges short. I also got my first road rash of the entire year, losing my back wheel coming back out onto the pavement before the hill at the end of the lap.  I was up quickly and the skinsuit was fine, but that was going to be a big strawberry on my ass; added injury to the insult of being covered in mud.

The fork clearance above the tire is less than a centimeter, and I’d pick up about half the forest floor each time to and from the back section through the trees.  The rider in front of me would hear a loud buzz/whir from the woodchips, leaves, mud colleting behind my tire, and then I’d fade out, slowing to grab handfuls of gunk adding handfuls of watts to my race effort.

I was mercifully euthanized by the two lead riders Tom Burke (Lathrop/Giant) and Scott McLaughlin (SRAM) passing me at the end of my fourth lap, their bell lap, and I pulled over to find I was riding on a flattening tire and broken spoke.  Thankfully, someone – I didn’t get his name – from Rhythm Racing loaned me a wheel, even changing out my 8-speed cassette so I could ride later in the 4Bs race.  The tire on the back was also much better suited for the course conditions.  Huge thanks to you.

I got through the first two turns sitting top 6th or 7th and stayed top ten for 2.9 laps out of three.  Race winner Jake Teitelbaum (Spider Monkey) blew past halfway through the first to catch the leaders 100 meters in front of me to drop them all on his way to a solo win.  I was never alone however, a few other riders right on wheel, including teammate Dave Hudson.  They all passed me on a catastrophically bad uphill remount after the last barrier early-on in the last lap.  Both muddy shoes zinged off the muddy pedals and I nearly crashed the bike.  I had slow down for a second to get it together, consciously clipping in.  Then I was hanging on to 10th.

(photo by Liz Farina Markel, Tipping Point Photo)

In the backside, heading back to the trees for the last third of the lap, I hear behind me, “I’m coming for you, Morrissey!” It’s Adrian Redd, my old mechanic from Boulevard Bikes, racing for Pegasus and closing fast.  I am already on the edge of redline and vomit, and I try mightily to add watts and increase the gap.  But as we approach the hill, he is on my wheel.  A tight u-turn, and then you are looking straight up.

On any other day of the week, this place would be an inconsequential bump in the terrain of a boring, suburban park.

Sunday, it was as big as Alp d’Huez.  Slick and treacherous, a deafening echo-chamber, a gauntlet of screaming mouths, hunched bodies extending clenched fists carrying hideously contorted faces; megaphone sirens; all of it willed into pure energy – quashing the doubts of lost momentum and thrown down to the pedals to wrench yourself to the top.  At the crest, the roar rose to absolute cacophony.

(Photo by Newt Cole)

I could see a wheel in my right periphery as Luke scrambled out of the way, camera in hand (I hope it’s a good one!) and then Adrian passed me.  Three turns to go his gap seemed to grow and I stamped down the sense of futility as I took the corners as fast as I dared.  Through the last turn I was closing.  The finishing straight opened up, closing.  The catch, the pass, the throw.  10th place.

How unbelievably fun to finish this race in a two-up sprint, let alone against a friend of mine?  I pulled over on the grass to dry heave three times in front of five or six complete strangers – thanks for the water! – as Adrian rolled back, hacking up chunks of lung.  We chatted and relived the last half-lap.  Cross Cup director Jason Knauff may be joking as he calls us to the line, but the 4Bs really are the main event and such a carnival because everyone who raced earlier makes it so.  That’s the kind of enthusiasm and spirit that makes cyclocross so much fun, and makes the curmudgeonly whiner I was back in July totally unrecognizable.  It’s the reason I am now a confirmed cross maniac for as long as I breathe, no matter how laughably bad I race.

Because cross-racers know that it’s good to be alive:

(Photo by Luke Seemann)

Chubby Spud

By Brian Morrissey | Oct 19, 2009

Race name: Carpentersville Oktobercross
Race date: Sunday, Oct 18, 2009

(Photos by Ed White and Sandra Samman)

Race #4 in the Chicago Cross Cup series brought the bike party out to Carpentersville, Ill, northwest of the city.  The course took up the entire park, save for the northeast corner where the Oktoberfest party was.

Easily the most technical race of the series so far, the race was full of switchbacks and off-camber turns and creative barriers, both manmade and natural.  A small creek ran through the park and the course crossed it at least twice; North Branch Cycling also included a set of “pumpers” - speed bumps, essentially - which require you to pump your bike while taking them at speed.  If you keep your weight back and body relaxed, you go over them with ease.  If not it’s not pretty...here’s me barely making it through the first lap of the 4B race after coming in way to hot and out of control:

Here’s how to do it right:

The first race for me was the Master’s 30+...probably the most broad range of experience and talent of the day.  The leaders of the 1/2/3 field were in this race, as well as dudes who’ve never raced in their lives - which probably the best thing about Cyclocross, and what keeps everyone’s sense of humor at the front the entire day.

It was five or six laps, I can’t remember which.  I lost track after three. But it was all of them. I narrowly avoided being lapped by the leaders.  I watched them come up behind me and I was not going to let it happen, securing myself the moral victory of getting do the final lap, while people warmed up behind me.  And I finished 30th out of about 60.  Which meant over half the field did get lapped, and they finished with the leaders in front of them.  Lucky me.

In between races, I thought I’d give the food vendors a visit, and came away with this, the “chubby spud”:

A potato pancake, swiss cheese, ham, bratwurst, with kraut and spicy mustard.  A gut bomb if ever was one.  I inhaled it.  Thank God it was four hours til my next race.

The last race of the day, the 4Bs, the “beginner’s” race (it’s not sandbagging until you win it, I tell myself - besides, until I can stay with the leaders, I don’t need to move up), it is truly the main event.  The spectators make sure of that.  All the day’s racers are now here, and they relish every second to urge us on, heckle us, and tempt us:

After the hole shot, I hear Luke yelling at me that I’m the last of the lead group of riders.  My technical skills are sorely lacking and through each of the tight switchback turns the gap between us grew.  By the first barrier and my poor - to put it nicely - remount, all hope was lost.  It was then two laps with a Project 5 rider glued to my wheel.

I didn’t dare turn around, just listening to his breathing and whiring chain, he didn’t pass me until about a half-lap to go.  I left him go around me after the tricky barrier, but he slowed down.  He must’ve just been hanging on, and I became worried as the riders behind us were gaining.  Some where between the sand pit - “Come on, Morrissey!  He’s on a mountain bike!"…

and the hill…

...I repassed him.  At this point, the expression on my face is in reaction to a) Jeff Holland screaming at me that I am in 8th place, and b) knowing that the chubby spud is definitely on its way back to freedom at some point in the very near future.

I completely buried myself and kept the gap open, nearly losing it crossing the creek.  I saw I wasn’t going to get caught, and drilled it to the end back on pavement, crossing the finish line 8th.  I sat up, blinked, and thought to myself, “yep, here it comes...” and my stomach lurched and tossed up a mouthful of lunch onto the pavement.  I had to pull off on the grass and grab my knees for a second and let the moment pass.

The “bucket award” as Coach Randy says.  First time I’ve puked.  I think I can check a Rite of Passage off my list.

The best part is, I got 26 points and moved into 10th place in the series, which means I get a call-up this Sunday in Bartlett.

Bring the bucket.

How to Lose and then Win at Cyclocross

By Liam Donoghue | Oct 5, 2009

Race name: Dekalb - Hopkins Park
Race date: Sunday, Oct 4, 2009

Long before the whistle blew, it was mayhem, it was carnage, it was cowbell, it was fall. Crisp, cool, autumn air, the sun, the beer, the cowbell.

Then the whistle blew for my first cyclocross race e-v-e-r. I started in the second row, thought that’d be OK. Nope! Not a chance. Pink Pegasus dude shot in front of me, cut me off, then got cut off himself (thus causing us both to come to a near-standstill). First turn I was probably 20 back, not good, not good. As I move up over roots and between tall trees, I see man-with-target-on-back John taking the first switchback turn. That puts him approximately 15 seconds ahead of me, and we’re maybe 40 seconds into the race. Awesome. I weave, brake, pick some spots, move ahead of guys, hit the big off-camber hill where the Cuttin’ Crew was perched, and at the top of the hill, I come around Newt, who was sitting pretty in 3rd. “About time,” he says. Too tired to tell him what a horrendous start I had and how I had had to fight my way through 20 people to get to him. Now that I think about it, maybe this whole thing happened on the 2nd lap. Geez, it’s all a vague blur of cowbell and pain. Unfortunately, by the time I got to Newt, Brandon (Johnny Sprockets) and aforementioned John (Cycle Smithy) are together, and have a sizable lead.

I love that in cyclocross you can always look up the “road” and see exactly where your competitors are, because of the twisty, switchback-filled, snake-coiled-back-in-on-itself nature of the course. So I was able to see John’s lead, which is always bigger than it appears, and tried to slowly cut into it. I remember taking the first barrier on lap 2 of 3, thinking I had a solid lap and a half to catch up to him. So I time-trialed away, making up time on the asphalt straightaway and the back stretch of cambered turns near the tennis court, losing time on the barriers/muck in the woods, all the while knowing that their lead was dwindling. At some point, Brandon had a mechanical, and I was in 2nd place, chasing one guy out in front of me. I remember hearing the bell lap. I knew what had to be done, and I knew I had the better engine. It was just a matter of racing smart.

Every time you take a new lap you’re able to go that much faster, as you remember certain dips in the dirt, certain lines to take, certain speeds that worked/didn’t work. So I was cooking it, slowly creeping up on him. I chased him into the hill section, and knew I was maybe 5 seconds behind him. He powered up the hill as I snaked my way up and down, up, down, and then up the hill toward the mud pit. Oh, sweet, sweet mud pit. The race organizers liked what they saw in a huge, wet, muddy puddle of goop, and obviously made us ride through it. So heading toward it, all I could think was, “Please fall in the mud, John. Please fall in the mud, John.” I approached the turn and see John’s bike fall out from underneath him. Bingo! John effectively lost the race at this point, if only I could be sure to race smart for the remainder. I didn’t shoot through the mud fast enough to pass him, but was glued to his wheel for the next half-kilometer. I begin to make my move on a false flat run in to the woods/barrier section. I pass him, and am first to the barrier. This is where I decided the present he had given me in the mud pit was worthy of regifting. I stupidly ran the entire distance between the two barriers, rather than doing what I’d done every other time I came to this section, and when I jumped over the second barrier, my legs gave way. John and I jumped on the bikes simultaneously, but my legs stopped functioning. My body almost came to a standstill. You just lost the race, Liam. Fool.

I lose probably eight seconds (I honestly almost fell over, it was embarrassing), regain composure, and try to reclaim the lost time on the backstretch, but to no avail. This was the second race this year that I had to watch someone post up with a victory salute, as I coasted in several seconds back in 2nd place. The first time, though, at Joe Martin, it was what should have happened, the guy was much stronger than I. This time, however, it was all because I made an egregious error in thinking, and lost the race.

The anger at myself and frustration from all the “Hey, good job, man, you got second!"s when I was so upset at having essentially lost, helped fuel my fire for the next immediate race, the 4b’s. Sixth into the whole shot + no stupid lapses in judgment = 1st place on the race. Almost-redemption.

Up, Down and All Around: USGP Planet Bike Cup

By Julia Daher | Sep 29, 2009

Race name: USGP Planet Bike Cup
Race date: Saturday, Sep 26, 2009

Coming into the Planet Bike Cup I wasn’t sure what to expect.  Fresh off of Jackson Park (my first cross race) I was feeling pretty good and got a solid week of training in before making the trek to Madison Friday night.  Greg, Paolo and I decided to arrive early on Saturday to pick up our numbers and pre-ride the course.  After a restless night and a quick coffee stop we arrived at the Angell Park Speedway.  Walking into registration Greg made a comment about his favorite midget auto racer.  I thought he was kidding, but no!  We were in the National Midget Racing Hall of Fame.  The plaques on the wall were a momentary distraction, and I quickly focused back in on the task at hand.

We got pinned up and hit the course.  Everything felt magnified compared to Jackson Park:  bigger park, bigger course, more people out and about.  Rain in the days prior to the race and the cool temperatures made for a wet and muddy morning.  The first half of the course consisted of lots of straight-aways into 180 degree turns, barriers and some off camber riding.  The second half wrapped around a big hill and playground.  Some flowing twists and turns into a sharp turn and up a big, steep hill with three rail road tie stairs at the bottom.  Hello, run up!  A bit more off camber followed by a stretch of pavement wraps the course around to the finish line. 

As the start approached my nerves kicked in a bit; how would I do in the combined 3/4 field?  It was time to find out.  My start was less than stellar.  Our field was combined with the master’s women and I got stuck behind some slow sprinters in the beginning.  I went wide around the field and got situated five or six riders from the front of the pack.  I hung here for the first half of the race, making sure to keep the leaders in range.  I was a little slow through some of the muddy off camber sections in the first half of the course, but was able to make up ground and pass other riders running up the big hill on the second half.  By the second to last lap riders in front of me were fading, and I made my move on the hill.  I sprinted past the first place rider, hopped on my bike and didn’t look back.  Hard sprints on the straight-aways and careful handling on more technical sections helped me extend my lead and take the win.  Success!! 

The rest of Saturday was a blast, clanging the bone bell, cheering on my fellow riders and watching the pros (who knew they were so fast?!).  Saturday night my nerves started settling in again.  Paolo’s last words to me before turning in didn’t help, either: “You know you have a big target on your back for tomorrow, right?” Sunday morning was a lot like Saturday, arrive early to pre-ride and see the changes in the course from the previous day.  The course was a bit dryer and the new twists and turns made for a faster first half.  Coming around the second half of the course I was shocked to see that the organizers had managed to make the big hill even harder-up, across, back down to the very bottom, 180 degree turn and back up the steepest part.  Yikes!  Warming up I was able to ride this section, but not without a significant effort on the second climb.  There was enough mud at the bottom to make the 180 degree turn tricky, and I decided it would be faster to run the second half of this section (thanks to Paolo’s suggestion). 

My start for this race was much faster.  I made sure I was not behind the slower master’s rider and took the lead coming into the first lap.  I was passed by several riders by the time we reached the barriers, but decided to sit tight and wait to make my move.  Coming to the big hill section on the first lap my dismount at the bottom is not smooth and I hear a rider behind me yelling to get out of her way because she is going to ride up.  “Well, I guess I better move,” I think to myself.  I finish my dismount, sprint up the hill and never see the rider again.  I was able to catch the leaders earlier than yesterday and open a gap on the hill run up.  I hold my lead for 3 laps and finish in 1st again.  A repeat victory!  The rest of the day is a blast, hanging out with friends and teammates and marveling at the elite racers.  My jaw practically dropped every time I saw them chew up and spit out that big hill on their bikes.  Maybe someday I’ll be powering up hills like that, too…

Worlds Part 1

By Greta Neimanas | Sep 26, 2009

Race name: Para-Cycling World Road Championships
Race date: Friday, Sep 11, 2009

You all probably know (because I’m slow when it comes to things like this) that Worlds went very well for me. This was my third World Championships, so going in to it, I knew what to expect for the most part. This was the first year that the road and track disciplines were separated into two completely different events. Worlds part 1, and Part 2 as I like to think of them. This blog is about Worlds Part 1 which took place in Bogogno, Italy just outside Milan.

First up was the time trial. For some reason, Americans are good at this event- Paralympic and Olympic. The TT is an individual race against the clock. We ride those funny looking bikes with the stick-out handle bars, and the helmets that look like shark fins. All in the name of speed right? Now, World Championships is a pretty big deal. Actually it’s the biggest deal of the year. Some athletes are (in my mind) cursed with nervousness at events like that. However, I am not. (That probably sounds extremely cocky, but I don’t mean it that way.) I’m more rational- this is what I do best, this is why I’m here, it’s just another bike race (it really is) so just do what you know how to do- all the while keeping that this is the biggest race of the year, and the reason I live at the training center in the back of my head. While racing, being nervous just takes away from the energy you need to go fast, and I need all the energy I can get.

I don’t want to say I had the ride of my life in the TT- because hopefully I’ll get faster than I am now- but to this point in my career it was my best ride. That’s how it should be right? Anyway, I started 1 min ahead of Sarah the Brit and Paralympic Champion, and going in I knew the likelihood of getting caught was pretty high. Just hold her off as long as possible. My coach guessed she’d catch me around the beginning of the second lap, so when I didn’t see her at all for the first 16k (in a 19k race), I had a good idea I was rolling pretty well. She caught me with 1k to go, right at the top of the final hill, and we rode in basically together (as much “together” you can have in a TT) across the finish line. 28:03 to her 27:02 and good enough to be the bridesmaid. This is the first time I can think of I’m satisfied with 2nd.

Next up was the road race which went pretty much exactly as I thought it would, just sooner. Sarah attacked on lap 2 of 6 and I tried to go with her, but didn’t have the legs to match the attack. Claire (the Aussie) and I chased for the remainder of the race but were unable to catch her. With 2k to go, I got a little gap and rolled in for 2nd… again. Another bridesmaid position, but a satisfying finish nonetheless. It’s hard for us to road race because our fields are so small. It seemed that this year everyone had much smaller teams, and some countries didn’t come at all, making for much smaller fields. Hopefully the track (Worlds Part 2) will have more competitors, and next year’s Worlds (They’ll be road and track together again) will have bigger fields. That said, it was still good racing, and the athletes that showed up brought their best which is all you can ask for.

The team as a whole did extremely well this year- better than expected. We brought home 11 total medals, 5 jerseys/golds (World Champions are awarded a Rainbow Jersey that they are allowed to wear for the following year, in the event that they are champion), 5 silvers and 1 bronze. Every rider finished both their races in the top 10, and rode to personal bests. Hopefully we can carry this momentum through the track to keep the tally going. Just wait a few more weeks for a Worlds Part 2 update.

5 steps toward cyclocross mediocrity

By Chris Kinonen | Sep 26, 2009

Race name: U.S. Gran Prix of Cyclocross
Race date: Saturday, Sep 26, 2009

Step 1- minimize your training. If you can train no more than 5 days in the 3 weeks prior to your race, this is an ideal first step toward mediocrity, maybe worse.

Step 2 – make sure you don’t touch or even look at your cyclocross bike for at least 10 months. Then, one hour before the race, put your wheels on, make sure it works, and make sure you still know how to dismount and mount.

Step 3 – this is a big race, lots of people are going to show up, so register early so you get a good starting spot.  Be sure though, that you ruin this good opportunity by taking an excessively long time to clip in after the start so that at least half the field passes you.

Step 4 – if your technical off road riding skills suck, like mine, don’t just ignore your cross bike, also ignore your mountain bike. This way, you can watch even more people pass you in the technical portions of the course.

Step 5 – as part of your effort to minimize training, go to a 48 hour bachelor party/drinking binge with your best friends from college.  This will take care of 2 days while you are there, plus 2 more days after to recover, all completely off the bike.

Alternatively, if you want to do better, train appropriately, and practice your cross skills. I bet my poor remounting/clip in skills cost me at least a minute. Along the same lines, the start is arguably the most important part of cross, practice getting clipped in quickly. If your off road riding skills are weak, spend some time on the trails.  You should still go to the bachelor party though. After all, how often do best friends get married?

Despite my poor preparation, I was excited for this race.  As I approach the course, hear the cowbells and see the mud flying, my excitement grows.  Cyclocross is without a doubt, the funnest racing of the season.

Fortunately, despite 10 months of neglect, my bike worked fine and because of my early registration I started in the second row, pretty good.  Up front with me in a large field of 80+ 2/3’s, are Greg and Paolo, so XXX should be well represented at the front.  So far, so good.  As the gun went off however, the problems began.  I just could not get clipped in, it was pathetic.  Riders were flying past me.  In the midst of my frustration, I hear the sound no one wants to hear, that characteristic noise from metal crunching, breaks screeching, and people yelling.  We all know what that means, crash.  Unfortunately, the person I see skidding toward me on their back was Greg (he turned out to be fine, his bike did not, and he was out of the race).  Narrowly avoiding imprinting my tire treads across his body, I finally get clipped in and am off. 

Discouragingly however, the leaders are way ahead, and I probably haven’t gone 100 yards.  Paolo had an outstanding start and is amongst the leaders.  All I can do is put the hammer down and try to make up time.  Unfortunately there are so many people in front of me, I can’t get around them and the technical portions of the course create huge bottle necks that bring me to a stop.  The leaders meanwhile continue to surge ahead unencumbered.  Alas, this is the price you pay for a bad start, and it was basically race over, at least in terms of a good placing.  To make matters worse, the first 8 or 10 minutes were probably some of the most dangerous and chaotic of my season.  People rode aggressively and poorly.  I saw 2 or 3 people blindly run into stake posts and go down.  Some just fell over going too slow, others slid out in the mud.  I rubbed elbows, bumped shoulders, and knocked handlebars too many times.

Finally things thin out and I get settled into the cyclocross racing I know and love.  The course is great, there’s a crowd to cheer you, and of course there are plenty of cowbells.  As I tackle a difficult run up toward the end of the race, my legs fading, lungs searing, and upper body aching, I can’t help but smile as a rowdy crowd of people I don’t even know cheer me on, their voices slightly drowned out by a dozen clanging cowbells.  What an amazing cyclocross environment.  I think someone even had a bugle.

I finish somewhere in the middle of the field, maybe 40ish, completely exhausted.  I made up some ground, but not a lot.  I am happy to see Greg is up and ok.  I’d look for him to be a force tomorrow.

Despite not having a large number of riders, XXX put together a typical strong showing as Julia won her division and Chris S. finished 3rd.

Even with a mediocre performance and crazy start, I left quite happy.  Cyclocross is a great time and this race is extremely well done.  I highly recommend people make the trip North next year. Even though work and weddings will keep me out of racing for the next 4 weeks, I can’t wait for my next event.  My preparation will definitely be better.

Dropping a deuce on Ronald Reagan

By Luke Seemann | Sep 21, 2009

Race name: Ronald Reagan Criteirum
Race date: Saturday, Sep 19, 2009

People really missed out by skipping the Ronald Reagan Criterium. Great course, great organization, perfect weather. I hope it returns next year.

This would be my first race as a Cat 2. Even though my races were 1/2/3, it felt like a mini coming-out party. And with Bryce Mead from Jelly Belly there, I believe this was my first race against an actual pro. Neat.

First race was the masters 1/2/3. Small field with only 14. I laid low and paid close attention to a few known horses, including Chris Mosora and Scott Pearson, whom I knew would be good candidates to break away with.

The first few laps were pretty slow, and I was eager to get things started. After a Proctor rider went off the front, I set off to bridge, mostly just to break the tedium. I didn’t expect anything to stick, but hopefully it could set up a series of attacks and I could stay on the good side of them.

I was almost across when a Mack rider made his way up to me and the two of us worked together to finish the bridge. Thanks no doubt to some Proctor blocking in the pack, the three of us worked well together and slowly built our lead. 20 seconds. 30 seconds. 40 seconds. The figure-eight course was fantastic for gauging our progress. Each time through the center nexus we could see the chase on the other side, and this helped us know whether our gap was growing or not. When we could finally see them no more we know we were off for good.

With five to guy I went into win-this-race mode. Started grunting and massaging my calves to make the others think I was cramping and weakening. I put in a few attacks, especially after Proctor came off pulls, because I felt he was the strongest, but I couldn’t shake either of them.

Starting the final lap, Proctor let Mack get a gap. I declined to come around, and he continued to slow. I knew he was just playing, hoping to get me to pull the rest of the way, so I waited until he was blowing a snot rocket and jumped around the other side.

I gapped him and made my way up to Mack—which is where I made my first big mistake. In a situation like this, you always want to ride right through the person. Catch them by surprise and fly right by. Instead, I sat on his wheel for just a bit. When I attacked him in Turn 6, he was able to get on me. Down the long straightaway, we engaged in cat-and-mouse. I tried to shake-and-brake but I could not get behind him.

Meanwhile, Proctor took advantage and zipped past both of us. And that’s where I made my second mistake, getting so focused on Mack that I didn’t pick a good line in Turn 7. I had to brake, which let Mack get ahead, and although I gained on him in the final straight, I ran out of road. 10 more meters and I would have had him, but instead I had to settle for my classic last in the break.

An hour later was the P/1/2/3. A break went off on the second lap and I missed it. I tried to get some chase groups going, but I wasn’t able to get clear. I was cooking myself pretty good in the effort and starting to think about the next day’s cyclocross. After about 30 minutes I pulled the plug, lest I be totally fried for Jackson Park. Instantly I regretted it, because soon thereafter the break lapped the field, and I wish I’d stayed in to see how I’d fare in the race’s “second race.”

Oh well. A profitable day, a fun race, and a successful 2 debut.

Action Jackson

By Brian Morrissey | Sep 20, 2009

Race name: Jackson Park Cyclocross - Chicago Cross Cup
Race date: Sunday, Sep 20, 2009

First cross race ever today.

I can’t believe I waited this long.  Today was the most fun I’ve ever had on a bicycle.  It was as though I had died and woken up in Brussels.

I arrived at Jackson Park around 11 am, after hemming and hawing over whether to subject Jack to 15 miles in the Pet Ego trailer, and let him out with tail wagging to take in the scene:  the men’s 3s and women’s 1/2/3 races had just started, cowbell was everywhere, floating on the early fall breeze, along with the scent of Bill’s pancakes on the griddle, and the bass of Sean’s Euro-dance party from his DJ perch.

Greg’s course was pure inspiration.  Once the opening sprint had decided the leaders, the sand of the softball infield punished any too slow to be up front.  From my perch at the third set of barriers in an earlier race, it looked like a distant cavalry charge from an old western movie, or perhaps CNN footage of a tank procession from the first Gulf War.  A huge plume of dust arose, through which you could barely see legs, arms, and wheels flailing everywhere as racers lost their footing.

From there it was into the brush and trees of the far stretch, snaking and winding, dodging whipping branches from the shoulder in front of you, where riders must have felt like Alice chasing the rabbit into the forest and down into the hole.  Then the real technical fireworks started.

A barrier just past a hard u-turn, followed by another sandy one-eighty, and then it was through the gauntlet - four or five team tents (Pegasus, Cuttin’ Crew, Tati, Courage) - sweaty and screaming among the metallic scent of beer foam and clanging cowbells, they egged you on until you fell over the event horizon…

...the carousel was a work of genius.  I wish I could’ve seen it from above - it must’ve looked like a ballet.  The course swirled in upon itself, seemingly to infinity, before doubling back out.  Surrounded by fans and racers, a sense of vertigo overcame as you passed the riders coming in or out on the other side of the tape.  It was almost hypnotic as you coasted in, trying to hold your line in the tightening spiral.

Your reverie was then cracked wide open as the pitch kicked up and a series of tight turns - over soft dark sand from old charcoals and around trees - led to the next set of barriers.  The jump back on the bike while pushing uphill was too much for many riders.  Huge gaps opened up and poor technique was taken advantage of, as next was two stretches on which to really get some speed, interrupted by another miniature vortex of swirling tape.

Some easily rode and hopped over the three uphill log barriers after the long sweeping turn, others not so easily.  Others ran it, and made up a place or two each time.  Then a final hammer swing down the straight and open stretch to the line, if you still had the legs.

I’d made it the whole road season without going down once, today I crashed three times on the first lap.  Perfect planning.  Passed the sandy infield, I closed the small gap to the leaders while on a brief stretch of pavement, before going down hard on a left turn back on the grass.  The shifter was banged inward and the bars crooked, and I’d instantly lost about 20 places.  But everything thankfully still worked so I just got back on and rode as hard as I could.

There were other crashes at seemingly every corner, and finally, one epic bottleneck just before the second set of barriers at a u-turn.  I just pushed my way through the tangled mass of legs and wheels and continued to try and make up ground.  I ran up the log barriers each time, and picked off a rider each time as well.

On the second lap I got a licorice hand up from Seegs, but on the next one I declined his offer of the $5 bill wedged in his plumber’s crack.  As well, by then things had stretched out considerably and I was able to take all the turns at speed and my comfort level, passing a lot of other riders anytime it straightened out.

I can’t imagine doing this for an hour as the Pro/1/2 fields do, for closing in on thirty minutes at the end of the fourth and final lap, I was about to lose the bratwurst I’d eaten two hours earlier.  I had a piece of licorice caught in my throat, dirt in my eyes, blood on my shin, and snot stretched across my cheek and huge grin as I crossed the line 17th.

All around me it was evident these people had been waiting nine long months for this day.  There was laughter and screaming, smiles and hugs, cowbell and bass.  A first-class event to kick off the 2009 Chicago Cross Cup and cyclocross season in pure style.

And my team had pulled it off with barely a hitch.  I’ve never been so proud to wear the white, black, and red of XXX Racing than today.

Strictly Presidential

By Jared Rogers | Sep 20, 2009

Race name: Ronald Reagan Criterium
Race date: Saturday, Sep 19, 2009

So Saturday I found myself in a motorcade headed down to Dixon IL to have some late season fun at the Ronald Reagan Criterium.  Dave Thomas and Dave Hudson were also in for the ride and we would later hook up with Curtis E, John W, Matt S, Chris K, and Ryan F.  I had sporadically been on the bike over the past month, but based on my performance at Willow Springs (up until my mechanical) I knew I still had some fitness left.  So in general, I was looking for it to be a fun day.

Hats off to Hicks Insurance and all the other sponsors of the race.  The course was a mirror image of Downers Grove (but ran in a reverse order) and had minimal imperfections, good course marshaling and was definitely challenging.  The fact that we had a downhill run into the finish also got me excited.

Masters 30+ 4/5

Field is about 16 riders deep and xXx has four riders in.  Things were a little slow for the first few laps as people were trying to get their bearings on the course and figure out just how hard to take the climb between 4 and 5.  xXx spent most of our time between 2nd and 5th wheel waiting for the inevitable surge that could splinter a field this small as many of us didn’t want to be on the receiving end.  And then it happened, they called for a prime and everyone shot out of the gate.  I maintained positioning for the entire lap and was about 8th wheel when it was all over.  But heading into the stretch just before the climb I got a slight gap and that’s exactly where the field broke in two.  So there are 7 riders up the road (Dave H and Curtis E are both in the break) and the last money spot is 6th.  But they say to never stop riding ‘cause you never know what will happen right?

Well, a few laps later I see Dave H on the side of the road and it looks like he is messing with his cassette.  I would later find out that he had problems with the skewer and that his wheel had essentially came off.  He would get back in a few laps later so all is good right?  Well, there are six riders up the road and I have no idea who else was there.  Needless to say, we come up on a rider and I don’t know if he’s been dropped from the lead group or if he was shelled off the back of our group.  So how many are up the road – 5 or 6?

When we hit the line with 1 to go, we got caught by the lead group.  I was second wheel behind a SCW when we headed up the hill for the last time.  Right at the top of hill as we are turning to begin the descent, he goes down for what appears to be no reason and I swear that there was only 6” of clearance between his bike sliding left and he sliding right that I somehow managed to get through (I later found out that he hit his peddle in the turn). 

So now I am 1st wheel but the leaders are mixed in our group.  So, not wanting to cause mass confusion with the results, I pulled over so they could come through and 5 riders went by me and then a second later another rider and Dave H pull past me.  Between 7 and 8 I see Dave H start to launch his sprint so I go with him.  As the finish was downhill we were quickly gaining on the rider who was in front of us.  Dave goes left and I go right, but between my weight and having shifted down back at the top of the hill, I’ve got the speed advantage.  I take the field sprint for what I thought was 6th, but would later find out it was for 7th.  Oh well, I’ll count better next time.

4/5

I’m shelled from the first race as that hill wore me out.  We’ve got a 31 rider field and 8 xXxers are in the mix, four of which have fresh legs.  My goal was to rest and just stay towards the front.  That worked for about 8 minutes, even after Matt S took off from the gun and they threw out that first prime, both of which took up the pace.  But on one lap just as we were running between 8 and 1, I was behind John W as he unclipped his right peddle and then his left.  Then I saw that his chain was off the big ring so I yelled “it’s your chain.” As he was slowing down to get out of the way I couldn’t get around him in time to get back into the draft.  So a cooked engine and no draft meant that my race was over - especially when there is a hill involved.  So be it – train harder in the off season so it’s not a problem next year.

In general our guys raced very well and we had some impressive results.  If they run this race next year I will definitely make the trip again.  Now it’s on to spending time with our new daughter, hitting the gym and taking up swimming for a couple of months.  Hey, 2010 is right around the corner right?

The fog of war

By Brian Morrissey | Sep 14, 2009

Race name: ABR 4 Person Team Time Trial National Championships
Race date: Monday, Sep 14, 2009

Our goal was teamwork, winning was “out-of-scope” as they say.  Jeff had only been back outdoors on the bike since the beginning of August after suffering a broken collarbone and a stubborn rib back in May at the track.  While the amount of fitness he’d gained back over the short amount of time was admirable, his redline was still far below ours. Keeping the four of us together – with everyone still getting what they wanted out of the race, leaving everything out there in the cornfields of Utica – would be a battle in itself.

A heavy fog blanketed the area, and the start was pushed back 30 minutes, and then an hour, before it finally began to burn off.  Our start went from 10:11 to 11:11 and we waited around, drying off the condensation from the bikes, and eating extra food to account for the delay. 

As the clock counted down for us, the fog was gone and sunlight shined brilliantly, with a brisk wind in our faces.  I was nervous, as I always am before TTs, especially team events.  The first time I did this race in 2007 it was traumatic and wonderful and as defining to me as a person than anything I’ve ever experienced.  So much of your outcome depends on how you pace yourself at the beginning, you are wracked trying to make sure you start perfectly, and keep your adrenaline in check, but not holstered. 

Trying to strike this balance while accounting for Jeff’s fitness proved our undoing as a group of four.  We had a good pace going out, doing about 25 mph into the wind, and we made sure he was taking shorter pulls.  But into the cross winds, the echelon was trickier, and the work was taking its toll on him.  Between turns 2 and 6 we alternated from cross- to tailwind and adrenaline kept pushing us other three at an unsustainable pace for him.  Around mile 9 Jeff was gapping in the draft and even pulling through was too much. 

As we were trying to reset the rotation so he could sit on the back, at bit of chaos ensued as our 2 minute men caught us and we came apart.  Jeff was fatally gapped and at mile 11, he cut himself loose and three of us where on our own for the remaining 26 miles.  It was tough seeing him go.  Last year he drove the group like a beast on the shortened 50K course; we finished together and averaged over 27 mph.

The speed picked up and back into the wind my pulls shortened considerably; I was feeling yesterday’s efforts.  I’d pull through strongly, only to start pedaling boxes 20 seconds in, glutes and calves giving into pain before my heart rate redlined. I didn’t have speed on the bike (no powertap hub on the race wheels) so I was going on feel alone.  William was taking equally or slightly longer pulls than I and I imagined the road race yesterday was hitting him hard, too.

Chris on the other hand, pulled forever: up hills and through turns, only to regain the pace immediately after.  His pulls seemed 5 minutes long, and our pace never dropped.  He was definitely on form having hit the podium in both individual TT events the two previous weekends, and had fresh legs from sitting out the road race.

He was definitely in the driver’s seat from the final two turns.

We never dropped below 30 mph back on the homestretch and I could taste vomit in my throat.  Mashing the bottom cogs for as long as I could, I’d pull back and barely make it on.  I could hear William screaming to stay in the draft behind me, and there is nothing so interminable as the time from when you first catch a glimpse of the start tent until you finally cross the line.

An hour twenty-five.  Ish.  Around 26 something miles an hour average speed.

I retched a bit and dropped to the small ring, and took a 10 minute cool down to the far stop sign past the parking lot and back.  Back at the car, my glass-bottle-real-sugar Coke had warmed in my bag, so I asked the organizers if they’d mind it in their cooler for a few minutes.

I changed, absent-mindedly picked the salt out of my chin whiskers, and chatted up the other teammates.  Randy, Peter, Ed, and Jacques had put in a stellar time of 1.20.ish, despite Randy’s crash at turn 4, from brand-new pavement to a chip-n-seal, almost loose-gravel surface.  He was covered in gauze and netting, Charlotte’s handiwork, and his brand-new custom skin suit was covered in blood stains.  Jacques reported that immediately after getting up and being asked, “are you ok?!” he replied, “we’ll see when I get back on the bike.”

They won the Elite division with the 5th fastest time overall.  Four more stars and stripes pelts to the stash.

This is without a doubt my favorite event of the season, and I hope to do it with these guys again next year.  Jeff will be back, and William and I will bring fresher legs, along with the never say die ethos we always have.  Chris and his never-ending motor will certainly be welcome.

I walked back to the cooler to retrieve my Coke.

It tasted incredible.

Of bikes and men

By Brian Morrissey | Sep 14, 2009

Race name: Tour of Willow Springs - Illinois State Road Race
Race date: Saturday, Sep 12, 2009

The weather was perfect.  The course was pristine.  The hill was intimidating.

We’d all done our homework, reconnoitered the route, and knew full well that Luke was targeting this race before he upgraded to Category 2.  We were set to patrol the front, chase down anything threatening, and wait for Luke to try and get off.  The uphill finish played well to his established strengths, and in the event of a group finish, my race ended at the foot of the hill, after stringing it out to prevent the late attacks and swarms.

It was a promising course and at the whistle the field seemed itching for knockdown, drag-out battle.  The neutral rollout up the long, snaking, 3-tiered climb to the line was anything but, with riders going off the front as others yelled for them to cool it.  I couldn’t believe my ears as I actually heard carbon and metal hitting pavement behind me.

Once at the top and the race live, Liam was immediately off on his now trademarked flyer and I waited for fireworks to begin.  And waited.  And waited.

I sat second wheel for the next two laps as half-chases and his own fatigue reeled Liam in.  Up the hill and again no selections were made.  On the 2nd and 3rd laps there were a couple of fairly vicious attacks I chased – one of which was strong enough to give me an “oh s***” moment that we might actually get off (I’d promised my 4-man TTT partners I’d save my legs, and I owed them that) – but the effort was over soon enough and the pack was back.

Then things really settled down.  Oncoming traffic was heavy and the roads were narrow.  The yellow-line rule was zero-tolerance and it was being taken seriously by the pack.  There just wasn’t really much room for anyone to get clear, and with large field size and despite the hill, the race just wasn’t that hard enough.

On the final lap in the backstretch I sat midpack chatting with Shane about cyclocross for a while, when he casually asked for some room so he could move up on the widening shoulder as Turn 2 approached.  I jumped on his wheel, and with Kirby on mine, I was back, just off the front, where I needed to be for the upcoming group finish.

Burnham increased the pace and was driving it a bit, then the elbow wagged, and when nobody pulled through I took the front and drove it harder.  It was a lot earlier than I’d marked it, but I didn’t want to be late for the jump. 

Kirby pulled through as we went by the cemetery, when two riders went off, and it looked fairly threatening.  Kirby screamed “reel it in!  Give me everything you got!” I floored it for about 200 meters and just before the hill I died.  The move was back, the pack accelerated, and I was done.

It was all just motions and ritual however.  The truth is I could’ve been going 17 mph instead of 27, and nobody would’ve jumped until the hill, meaning the group at least.  The climb itself would neutralize anything that went 100% from the bottom. 

I missed it all as I came in behind Kirby in my small ring, lazily winding my way to the line at the top, past another crash.  The strategy had fallen apart, perhaps doomed from the start, and no one was near the top-10.  A Bloomington rider took the jersey I believe. 

Sometimes, things just don’t work out as you’d planned.  That’s racing - the big lesson I’d learned this year. That, and no matter the outcome, you need to smile and count your blessings: that bike racing isn’t your job, and nothing makes a beer taste better than when it’s enjoyed after riding your bike as hard as you can on a beautiful afternoon such as this.

Failure to launch

By Luke Seemann | Sep 14, 2009

Race name: State road race championship
Race date: Saturday, Sep 12, 2009

The state road race has excited me for more than a month. It became the focus of the second half of my season, and I was really looking forward to tackling its climb. I did several recon trips and I thought I had it figured out. I came into Saturday confident and strong.

And I also came into it with seven teammates who knew how important the race was to me. When it looked like we’d be making about 20 percent of the field, I sent out marching orders.

But some late registrations put the field at more than 60, and it turns out that racing against 60 is much different than training with 20. Who knew!?

Nonetheless we stuck to the plan. Liam spent some quality time off the front, but unfortunately he couldn’t lure anyone to go with him. For the most part, the field was a congested mess on the narrow road, which made breaking away difficult. We clogged the road, and whenever anyone could squirt free, there’d be a dozen fresh riders near the front chasing them down. Occasionally we’d be single-file, but it would be short-lived.

Nobody wanted to go for broke off the front (myself included, I suppose, but as per my plan I made some efforts at the start of Lap 4), and nobody wanted to let anyone get out of sight. It was a defensive, negative race and looked certain to come down to the final sprint up 104th.

I wanted to be on Newt’s wheel coming up the hill, and he slotted in front of me on Archer. We hugged the yellow line about 10 wheels from the front. I was surprised by how often I heard polite requests of “On your left,” as if I were the aisle seat at the theater and should move to let someone pass. I held my ground, fixed to Newt like stink on monkey.

Things got sluggish in the last few miles, but just as I’d asked him to, Morrissey was there to string it out in the final stretch of Archer. Hoping to prevent people from setting up, I’d asked him to make the final corner his finish line, and he’d come through.

But at the corner, everything fell apart. I got stuck on a tight inside line and bumped bars with Bryan from Team MS. That dropped me from 10th to 15th, and most fatally I lost Newt’s wheel.

The rest is a blank. I got swarmed, I found a lane, I got swarmed again. I saw Seegs and Newt put in heroic digs to set me up, but I wasn’t where I needed to be to take advantage. When we got to the final hill, I was too far back and got too bolloxed by the traffic—some of which was covering more distance left-to-right than forward progress—to unleash the final dig I’d been visualizing for the past month.

So, pretty disappointing. It’d be easy to blame the race for not being hard enough, but sometimes it’s up to you to make it hard, and I didn’t. I’m happy with the way we rode, though, and I’m grateful and humbled to have had so many guys put out for me.

Let’s get ‘em next year.

Pro/Cat 1 Illinois State Road Race Champion!

By Seth Meyer | Sep 13, 2009

Race name: IL State Road Race Championship / Tour of Willow Springs
Race date: Saturday, Sep 12, 2009

If you want the short version, here it is: Sniffed out the right breakaway, which ended up being six, suffered through last-lap attacks, did the longest sprint ever up the climb, was third in the race and first IL rider for the jersey.

Now, if you dare, bear with me for the long version:

A nicely paved, 10-mile loop with a 1-mile, 3-stair-step climb to the finish was the venue for this year’s state road race championship. You know there aren’t many road races in Illinois, but I like the longer distances (even though only 60 miles is a bit short for a P/1/2 road race—I suppose it was already Sept 12th), and I like uphill finishes even more. So I wanted to make today count, especially after having a bit of a tough year. That is, up until yesterday!

I was already nervous just looking at the competition in the parking lot. Many riders to be feared came out for the event, including Chad Hartley and Rob White (Geargrinder), Dewey Dickey and a teammate (Mercy-Specialized), Chris Uberti (Panther/RGF, who just won the Tour di Via Italia), Ryan Freund and new Chicagoan John Meyers (ABD), and John Puffer and one of his Texas Roadhouse teammates too, to name just a few. But if you don’t try, you’ll never succeed. And, if you look at the others too much, you’ll psyche yourself out. So I tried to remind myself just to stay focused on my race.

Here’s how it went: Lap 1 was fairly quiet. We went neutral up the climb, and there were some frivolous attacks the next five miles no one worried about. Then Puffer and three others got away, though they weren’t given much of a leash. Second time up the climb, I got a gap bridging up to that move, but, once it all got sorted out over the downhill, the field was back together again. There were a few more attacks that lap, but nothing too frightening. Third time up the climb, we really just rolled over it. Hard, but comfortable-hard.

Lap 3 on the backside was where the break formed. John Meyers had just been brought back, and Dewey, Hartley, and White started attack/counterattacking. I got a bit more attentive then, though I needed to be careful not to try to follow everything on the flats, as I only had one teammate, Eric Wiecek, to help me, and as my small frame can tire out quickly going with too many moves on level ground (like when I got dropped from two ISCorp breaks back in May, having to cover six guys as a solo rider, but then having nothing left after the fact). So, after about 10 moves, I found the right wheel—Rob White’s—and we didn’t even really attack, but just sort of rolled off (isn’t that how the break always seems to happen?). Gap.

Two others came up to us: Chris Padfield (Team Get A Grip Cycles) and a Bicycle Heaven rider. We four rolled along all right together, did a steady pace up the climb, and we started Lap 4 committed to the move. Halfway through this lap, we welcomed three bridgers: Ryan Freund (ABD), Mercy-Specialized, and Texas Roadhouse. Unfortunately, at this moment, Padfield also got a mechanical and had to drop back to get a wheel (a strangely parallel situation to Cadel Evans in the Vuelta the same day?), but the break couldn’t wait for the long-ish change. What a pity! So it was down to the six of us, and we rolled through all right the rest of the lap.

Lap 5: This was a scary lap. We were only averaging about 25mph. Granted, we had been out for a while, there was a headwind on a good part of the course after the downhill, and everyone must have had teammates blocking well, but, still, I had to ask Freund at one point, “Are we going fast enough?” to which he simply agreed with the skeptical query, “We can’t be.” Everyone wanted to save it for the last lap, though, so we just sort of crossed our fingers and hoped the situation didn’t get too precarious. (After the race, I learned our advantage indeed was quite precarious here, but a big shout out to everyone’s teammates for doing their jobs behind and keeping bridge attempts in check.)

Lap 6: I have never cramped in a race to the point I could not even turn the pedals over. I take great pride in being aware of my body and taking care of it in this way. But no feeding on this course (one of my few criticisms of Tower Racing—otherwise, super organization, guys!) meant I was running low, and the penultimate time up the climb, I felt a bad cramp coming on. Thankfully, it disappeared after a few seconds, but this was a very nervous moment.

Even more nervous moments followed, when Freund said he could see a bridger in the distance after the climb. He hardly finished this sentence, and someone smartly attacked! It came back together. Then Roadhouse went, White went, Bike Heaven went, Mercy went, Freund went. Then they all started taking turns. I was already running low, and I was, by far, the smallest guy—hardly a rolleur!—in the move. So, at this point, I made a new rule: Whoever attacks me, I will no longer cooperate with. Otherwise, I’m just going to ride myself into a hole, get dropped before the climb, and caught and passed by the field.

The funny thing is—everyone attacked! And my rule could have just as well been a de facto rule, as all I could really do was hang with the accelerations in the draft. So that was that. I was just following wheels, hoping our inconsistency didn’t see our gap diminish. With about three miles to go, Freund put in the hardest attack of the day and got ten seconds fast. The other guys got organized well and pacelined really hard to reel him in. At this point, I knew we were going to stay away, doing 30 into a headwind and all. So I just tried to conserve. The gap was very scary for a minute when it just stayed locked in at around 10 ticks. I thought I might be seeing the jersey riding away. But, as we got to the bottom of the climb, it started to decline.

Last time up the hill, 1 mile to go: Roadhouse goes at the bottom. Hard. We catch Freund. It is hard. The pace stayed hard over the middle pitch. We near the bottom of the third one. Life is hard. I hope Freund is gassed. I hope the Roadhouse guy went too early. I don’t care much about White and Mercy. I just pray, as I white-knuckle the handlebars, that I can out-sprint this Bike Heaven guy for the jersey. Roadhouse starts to lead out the sprint. White goes early, from the bottom of the last pitch, and I try to follow. I can’t, but nobody can. So I stay with Roadhouse. This is about the point where I’m thinking, “This is the longest sprint ever!” Mercy starts to come around on Roadhouse’s left. I go on the right. Mercy looks like he’s going to take me, but I could still get third, and the jersey. It has already been a 30-second sprint. I can’t even believe this is happening. (You can sprint up this climb as much as you want on the Sunday ride, but it is so different after 35 miles in the breakaway.) I am essentially just trying to stay out of the saddle and hope it all works out.

Somehow, it does. I crest in third with Luke Seemann screaming, “State champion!” at me—at that moment, the two most beautiful words in the English language.

I have to thank Luke for all of his support, helping me onto this squad last year after an early 2008 that really took its toll on me mentally. He has been true-blue since then as well, even if I haven’t always performed to the potential I once showed. Apropos, true-blue, I am endlessly grateful that my mate Eric Wiecek was with me at the race today. Even back to our Cat 3 days, he and my buddy on the mend, Steve Vandeven, were responsible for helping me secure so many results, and their support has not at all changed over time. Finally, I’ve got to thank Dave Moyer for outsprinting me in training last Monday—yes, I still owe you lunch!—and reminding me, no matter what, to stay out of the saddle…even if that final punch seems eternal. I recalled those words at the end of the race, and they helped greatly.

It’s not always easy to get in the break (or stay in the break!), as I struggled with this May. It’s not easy to make it stick either; I remember the heartbreak of being caught at Sherman Park after so many laps out front. Sometimes you lose motivation, especially during Superweek if you’re like I am! Today, though, it all finally came together: I sniffed out the right move even though I didn’t have too much help covering the many attacks, and I conserved enough to save it for that eternal sprint. Finally, a result worth a report!

So I’m pretty tired after all that. Needless to say, you won’t see me riding Sunday. But you will see me in the Pro/1/2 IL road champion’s jersey in Hillsboro in 2010!

Thanks for reading! Glad I could deliver another championship jersey to xXx Racing-AthletiCo!

Tailwinds,
Seth

P.S. I love my Hed wheels!

» Back to home page

2010 sponsors