The Suitcase of Courage

First Masters Road Race - CHECK!

Newport Bridge from the Start/Finish

Let me first dispense with a recitation of facts which are typical of the casual bike racer this time of year:

• I haven't raced since August;
• (Before this past Sunday) I hadn't ridden my bike at all in over 2 weeks;
• It's been a long season (I've been racing since March) and I'm not very motivated to race.

With these facts playing on my mind, I went ahead and pre-registered for the Jamestown Road Race anyway.  Why?

• It is probably the most beautiful road race course in the region;
• With few substantial climbs, it is particularly suited to first-time road racers/crit racers;
• Despite its late position on the calendar (Columbus Day), the weather is usually good and it provides a nice punctuation mark to the end of the season;
• This would my first time racing with a new group of guys;
• Mrs. Suitcase loves this little taste of summer in the middle of October (full of sun, ocean, and bike racing).

And I couldn't disappoint Mrs. Suitcase now, could I?

I have to admit though, it was very tough to stay motivated to race this late in the year.  It didn't help that - Autumn being my favorite season - we spent most of Columbus Day Weekend listening to '40s music and roadtripping through the Berkshires looking at the foliage, drinking apple cider, and lusting after pumpkin pie.  These things do not mix well with bike racing.  Unless, of course, you race cyclocross (which I don't).

In fact, the only reason I got on my bike at all before yesterday's race was that I had just changed my chain and didn't think it advisable to race on an untested chain.  Good thing.  During my ride Sunday morning (pics to post tomorrow), I discovered that - while my chain hummed along nicely - I'd screwed up my rear mech adjustment.  Miraculously, I was able to dial it in perfectly for the race - my first time adjusting it so well.

So the bike was ready to go - I just didn't know whether *I* was.  On the way home from our trip Sunday night, I dusted off the "pre race" playlist and tried not to notice the strange juxtaposition of hard rock summer music and Autumn landscape.  It helped though.  By Monday morning I was ready to race - and had the pre-race jitters to prove it.

But this race was easier than most to enjoy rather than stress about.  It's so late that there aren't really any expectations.  It would be my first road race with the Masters group (includes Cat 1s and 2s), and only my second road race ever.  I figured finishing would be fine and if nothing else, it would be a nice - though hard - group ride around a beautiful island.

With such low expectations, I couldn't help but do better than expected.

 

The course is gently rolling with the biggest challenges being the wind, "cobbles" at the north end, and the "big" climb up Hamilton St. toward the end (it's that straight horizontal line 2/3 down the map).  The "cobbles" haven't changed since I raced here in 2006 - the road is still just as broken up and you have to watch for flying bottles.  This is where we got closest to crashing - somebody to the right over corrected and pushed a lot of us left.  But we all stayed upright.  The race had no crashes that I heard of.

Right after Hamilton (actually, a "left" since it's a left turn north at the top of the climb), you start heading downhill to the finish.  There's a long, sweeping S curve toward the bottom of the descent and at 200 meters to go, you get the entire road - no yellow line rule (lots of guys forget this).  The finish line itself is deceptively a long way off after the last turn, but it's always a fast finish - especially with a tail wind.

 

There were 66 starters in my race - but tons of people given all the races, all the racers and their families.  It's a big event in the area.

Here I am sporting my "stealth kit" of plain red jersey - distinguished only by the long-sleeve blue underlayer.  I'm raising my hand there in the middle of the pack (as always, you can click on the image to "imbiggin").

It was a chilly start, but I'd chosen the right amount of clothing (actually a little too warm by the end) and we warmed up fast.  The pace ramped up more slowly than in the typical crit, but with the yellow-line rule it was more difficult to move up.  By the time I got to the front, about 3/4 through the first lap, a 5 man break had gone up the road.  They got as much as 30 seconds away at one point.

Here's a photo of the break.

Unfortunately, there aren't a lot of photos.  Unlike a crit, where you have at least 20 - 30 chances to shoot as the racers go by, here you only have two chances.  There are only two laps around the island.  But if you're from the area and know where to position yourself, you can double your chances.  Fortunately friends Sarah and Jeff came to watch and - being from the area - stationed themselves right at the point where the course goes down to the lighthouse and then comes back up the major climb.

Lighthouse?  Yes - in quintessential New England fashion, this race goes around the "Beavertail" Lighthouse at the southwestern corner of the island.  You can see from the map where the lighthouse gets its name.  Unfortunately, none of us got pics yesterday of this highlight of the course, but click here for some from a ride we did a couple years ago.

Since I'd never done a Masters road race before, I didn't know how to gauge my effort.  I didn't want to blow up and get dropped, so once I'd learned there was a break up the road, I stayed sheltered hoping the other teams would bring it back.  Unfortunately, most of the others must have been thinking the same thing since the break ended up staying away.

But not for lack of trying by some of the teams - my teammates included.  There were five of us working together: Me, Esteban, TJ, David and Tom.  David, Esteban and TJ had good enough legs and tried to go with a few bridge attempts - David even closed one significant gap solo, and another with me assisting.  We all mostly leapfrogged each other in the pack and tried to make a race of it.  We got the break down to 20 seconds by the end, but it wasn't enough.

A few notable things during the course of the race:

• Maybe it was the course, the late season, or just luck, but it seems that road races - especially Masters road races - are very safe.  This was the safest I felt in any race this year, despite it being so long since I last raced.
• Deep-dish aero wheels are not that big an advantage when you have a strong cross wind.  In fact, racing across the causeway, I had to fight my front end a little.
• This was my longest race of the year.
• Consequently, this was the first time I needed to eat during a race.  It was probably not a good idea to try and get a GU out of my jersey pocket while wearing thick, full-fingered gloves (and riding handlebar-to-handlebar at 30mph).

While the pace had varied during most of the race, it predictably went into overdrive as we came down the last descent before the final climb.  We hit Hamilton fast and I went up quicker than I'd ever gone up it before, "pulled" by the pace of the other riders.  The guys that had been going so fast on the causeway just before the climb blew up and the biggest challenge - other than the climb itself, was threading through the blown up riders.

We hit the top and the 90 degree left turn and from that point on, nobody passed me.  I found a good wheel and followed him to about 200 meters to go, then realized he was holding me up - I could go faster.  So I came around him and - with the downhill and a slight tailwind - didn't bother to shelther behind anyone else.  I was going faster than them anyway.

Despite how impressive that all may sound, I'd obviously not worked hard enough early enough.  I started too far back and was the 24th guy over the line (but 19th after the 5 man break - ha!).  It was a fairly fast race though - 25.4 mph avg over 38 miles.

You can see the full results here and all the details from my Garmin (detailed route map, elevation profile, etc) here.

Not only was this my first Masters Road Race, it'll be my first attempt at "produced" video!  Yes, Mrs. Suitcase shot the raw video as she usually does but in addition to the usual finish line footage, she shot the start as well.  I tried putting them together.  I hope you like the result (hopefuly I'll get better at it).

There are a lot of things about the Jamestown Classic that make it a great race.  It's very well-organized and everything goes very smoothly.  They focus on Juniors and beginner racers, offering a number of different races for all levels (except, notably, Cat 1, 2, 3) - they even have a "fun" race that's not competitve.  Of course, as you can see from the pics, it's an absolutely stunning venue.

You also get to see friends, other racers you recognize from other races, and past and present teammates, one last time before the off season.  Like Mrs. Suitcase says, it's one last taste of summer right here in the middle of fall.  That's the best part of Jamestown for me.  Try it out for yourself and see if you don't agree.

One final view of the Newport Bridge.  For MANY more pics of the race, be sure to check out Sarah's blog here.  If you raced, you'll probably find a pic of yourself there...

Why I Like Crits(Despite the Crashes)

I have to agree with some who claim that road racing is the "purest" form of bike racing.  Of course, there are other disciplines.  Perhaps the "truest" form of bike racing is the time trial.  Track, cyclocross, mountain-biking all have their place as well, but road racing is what most folks think of (read: Tour de France).

But me?  I like criterium racing, or "crits" (recent event notwithstanding).  Why?

They're fast.

I love cornering.

I hate hills.

And as much as I love bombing down screaming descents, I don't relish doing so with 80 of my best friends packed wheel-to-wheel and handlebar-to-handlebar.  And a great descent almost always involves a painful ascent.

I think crits are more sociable and family-friendly: You don't use up a whole day and can do fun and/or responsible things afterwards.

A whole race's worth of tactics are compressed into an hour.

They're spectator friendly and don't (usually) involve a long road trip.

And since I upgraded to Cat3, the races are (generally) much safer.  What's not to like then?

But road racing still maintains some attraction, (despite the hills).

If When I get dropped, it's just another group ride in the country.  Provided there are enough "drop-ees" to form a grupetto.

Road racing is a more historic form of bike racing.  More Mercxx, less NASCAR.

One of the most beautiful sights from the saddle is that of a smooth, packed peloton snaking its way around the bends on a long country road.  Doing that along a shoreline (as in the Jamestown Classic road race), is a bonus.

I haven't done many any road races yet this season - I ended up not doing the Three Village Tour this weekend due to the weather - but I'm thinking pretty seriously about doing the Jamestown Classic again.  It's on Columbus Day (as always) and is not only a great way to dip a toe in to road racing, but it's a great way to extend the season as well.

And whatever your preference, crit or road race (or for you real masochists, cyclocross) there's really nothing better than an upcoming race on your calendar to keep your motivation high.

Signs of the Season:Final Race at the Rent

The signs are out there already - signs that the summer of 2009 is drawing to a close.  There are many harbingers of the season's end - Back to School sales, school buses on the roads, vacation spots becoming just a little less busy.  While last week the heat & humidity was oppressive - as it has been all month - yesterday and this morning dawned clear and cool.  Almost crisp compared to recent days.  And last night's group ride was illuminated by just a touch of that distinctive Autumn light, all clear blue sky and orange sun.

But for local bike racers, one of the first of those signs is the last Rentschler Field crit which I raced this past Tuesday.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, this weekly event is a summertime staple and, despite a nasty crash there a couple of weeks ago, it's one of the safest, most fun races around.  I've been fond of this race ever since it was my first race ever, "way back" in May of 2006.

So the last Rent' race of the season always has a strange mix of anticipation and sadness.  You're excited about racing - even if only one more time - but you know that the end of the road racing season is near.

Unfortunately, my first year racing in the same category with friend SDC ended with that nasty crash and I started this last race without him joining me at the line.  It was my first time racing the Rent' since then, and I wanted to do well.  Especially since Mr. & Mrs. SDC came out to watch and I wanted to be sure I had some exploits to discuss over dinner afterwards.

Unlike previous weeks, I got to the track after the "B" race had already started.  After a cursory (for me) warmup, and the "B" race finished, we lined up.  While waiting for the start, we noticed a "walking wounded" lineup off to the side: Teammate Max, who broke his leg in the Hartford Crit back in May was there on his crutches, and SDC was there in his wheelchair.  Not a great advertisement for the safety of bike racing!  I guess I'll have to add another sign of the season's end: the growing number of casualties.

So we start off, my main goal - especially after racing my weaknesses - being to stay sheltered in the pack and see what I had for the end.  But I think I've finally learned that the "A" races seldom come down to a field sprint.  If you want to have any chance at placing, you need to be in the break.  And there is almost always a break.

I resisted the temptation to go with any early moves, but did what I could to cover attacks whenever a teammate was up the road.  But about halfway through the race, I noticed there was a four man break and none of our guys were in it.  My other teammates had all given it a go, being included in earlier attempts, so I figured it was my turn to try.

Shortly after corner 3, I attacked and sprinted for all I was worth to try and bridge.  I flew through the start/finish and finally caught the break on the back side of the track.  That effort took a LOT out of me, but I didn't miss any pulls and tried to do my share of the work.

Considering the company I was in, I should have sat in a little.  It was a very hard break, the pace being so high.  But it was the break that stuck.  Working together, we built up over a 1/2 lap lead on the rest of the pack.

But I was fading.  Each turn at the front was more difficult and each time I peeled off, I had a hard time catching back on.  I had no idea what my heartrate was, since my Garmin had died before the race.  I had no data, but I knew I was hurting.  And my CatEye told me how many minutes I had left before the lap cards would give me a sign that my suffering would soon end.  I just tried to hang on as long as I could.

"As long as I could" however, came soon enough.  The rest of the guys had probably noticed that my pulls were getting shorter.  And once another CCNS guy bridged up and joined us (a remarkable feat in its own right), the pace went up again.  That alone wouldn't have been so bad, but for some reason the guy in front of me took a monster pull right after that, dragging the rest of us around for almost a full lap(?!!).  I thought he was just trying to ride us off his wheel, he was that strong and I had a hard time holding his wheel.  When he pulled off, I gave it about 10 strokes before the rest of the guys started going by me.  I though "great, they're giving me a break by pulling through early."  Not.  By the time the last guy in the line was past me, the pace was just too high.  I couldn't catch back on.

Game over.

I languished in no man's land for a couple of laps, looking heroic (to me) or foolish (to the experienced racers watching), but I finally got the bright idea to just sit up and let the pack catch me.

Once back in the pack, I struggled for a couple of laps to not get dropped again.  But fortunately, I recovered enough to at least sit in until the end.  The break I was in had almost lapped the field by that point.  All the placings were in it, so there was nothing left for the peleton to contest.

But I sprinted anyway, just because I had just enough left to - and because I wanted the last crit to end with a bang rather than a wimper.

It was just too bad that the "bang" was more from my total explosion earlier, rather than a winning sprint.

No matter.  There was one last Tuesday night tradition to perform that I was already looking forward to, the race quickly fading into memory: Dinner afterwards.  As the 2009 racing season winds down, I sometimes wonder which I'll miss more during the off-season - the races, or the after-race get togethers. 

Fortunately, racing or not, we'll still be able to get together.  The conversation will just evolve from discussing the race we just did, to planning the races we're going to do next year.  Or we may not talk about racing at all.  The friends you make when racing often become friends off the track too and it's nice to explore other interests during the off-season.

But all this talk of the off-season is - fortunately - a little premature.  The signs of the season may be starting to pop up here and there, but there's still racing to do and wonderful Autumn rides to look forward to.  The Three Village Tour is tomorrow and I'm planning on racing the Masters 35+ race - but not if a hurricane tropical storm hits us as predicted.  I already have two strikes against me: "Masters" and "Road Race."  The bad weather is strike three.  So we'll see.

And of course there's the Jamestown Classic to look forward to on Columbus Day.  I've only done that race once before, at the end of my first year racing.  I'm really looking forward to doing it again - and the inevitable stretching of the season that a Columbus Day road race requires.

Other than that, there are fun rides coming up in September.  Remember fun rides?  In the midst of all the focused training and racing, it's easy to forget how wonderful it can be to just ride your bike through the countryside on a clear-blue-sky day.  You don't have to worry about heart rate monitors or power meters.  And your only thought about proper hydration is more about drinking in the scenery, rather than downing bottles of Gatorade.

So whatever your plans over the next weeks & months, let the signs of the season motivate you to try a few more of the many ways you can enjoy your bike.  Hopefully you too will discover, as I have, that you can stretch the season as long as you want and those signs don't indicate an ending, but an invitation.

Racing My Weaknesses:Fall River Crit 2009

There's an old adage: "Race Your Strengths; Train Your Weaknesses."  Well, last Sunday at the Blount Seafoods Fall River Criterium I raced my weaknesses.

Unlike last year, there were two downsides to this year's race.  Firstly, instead of starting early in the morning - when it's relatively cool - this year's race started at 11:45 and was hotter than heck - somewhere in the upper 90s.

Secondly, while last year I raced alone as a Cat4, this year I raced alone as a Cat3.  Why's that different?  Breaks are more likely to stick in Cat3 races.

These facts together influenced my race strategy. In the lower categories I could usually count on either a break not going at all, or a break not sticking.  Cat4/5s are notorious for not working together.  Consequently, racing alone wasn't all that bad - just stay sheltered and wait for the field sprint.  While that strategy didn't always get me on the podium, it did at this race last year.

This year, I figured a break would go and stick.  And I figured that to have a chance of getting on the podium, I'd have to be in that break.  Despite my relative success at practicing that during our Tuesday Night races, I discovered very quickly that there's a world of difference between the Tuesday Night Worlds and a "real" race - one where there's prize money involved.

So I lined up with those thoughts going through my mind, burning in the hot sun, nervous that I wouldn't know which break would stick and/or wouldn't have enough matches left to get in it after chasing the aborted attempts.

The course is a standard, four corner, industrial park crit.  It's main distinctions are 1) there's a good-sized grade (.3 mile at +/- 5%) on the third leg, 2) the final corner is about 400 meters from the finish line (makes for an interesting final sprint), and 3) it's long - over 1 mile.  Of course, the uphill means that there's a downhill - and the one here is on the 2nd leg.  The race is timed (45 minutes), so the timing of the first few laps determines how many laps you get.  For more details about the track, check out last year's report.

When the whistle blew, I clicked in and was able to stay near the front, slotting in about 8-10 guys back in the 26 man field.   A four-man break went off the front a few laps in, but I figured it was too early to worry about.  I was right.  This time anyway.

After that break was caught, there were a couple of attacks, but nobody seemed especially frisky given the hot temps.

Then another surge, and a break of 2 guys went off.  It still seemed a bit early, but as I was mulling it over, another guy bridged up.  And that third guy was from the biggest team in the race (4 guys, but still more than anyone else).  Then I looked at the lap cards.  Given the length of the track and timing of the race, there weren't as many laps left as I expected.

Uh oh.

Based on my Tuesday Night efforts, and figuring - accurately as it turned out - that this break would stick, I decided to try and bridge.

I quickly discovered that it wasn't nearly as easy to do as on Tuesdays (not that I'd actually call those efforts "easy").  Unlike the Rent', Fall River ain't flat and there's money on the line.  And the teammates of one of the guys in the break took blocking/covering very seriously (and did a great job of that, I might add).

So I was covered, if not immediately, then pretty quickly.  All I was succeeding at was pulling the whole pack, bringing the break back alone rather than bridging to it.  I motioned to have the next guy pull through, he said "I can't" and when I looked back and saw it was Big Team's teammate and he wouldn't help, I immediately attacked as hard as I could.

Off I went.  Instead of staying sheltered in the pack, waiting for another team to chase, I was racing my weakness - time trialing in a do-or-die effort to catch onto the break.  I've never tried that in a "real" race before.

Pic by Sarah

And for good reason.  The pack, lead by Big Team, eventually caught me.  I'd led for a lap, including up the hill (so out of character for me), but now I was cooked.

And thus added another new race experience to the ones I was racking up.  By the next time we went up the hill, I was OTB.  I saw what I thought was most of the pack going up the road, and when I turned around to see how many guys were behind me, uh, there were none.  ALL of the pack was going up the road.

Mrs. Suitcase got this shot shortly after I caught back on.  My funny line is likely the result of lack of oxygen and heat exhaustion (and just regular plain ol' exhaustion).

Despite my aborted effort, one of the things I've discovered racing the Rent' that held true that day was my recovery.  Based on my recent training races, I knew that no matter how bad I felt and how out of it I thought I was, I was pretty confident I could recover if I could just stay sheltered and race smart.

True enough, after a few laps, I was able to make my way towards the front again.  Unfortunately, by this point, the break had 20 seconds on us and the Big Team was still able to cover moves.  The rest of us were going to find it very difficult to get anywhere.

Nevertheless, there was another big surge late in the race as another guy attacked and 8 more chased, causing a split.  I was about 5 guys behind the split and it looked like the remaining group was content to let the split go.  It's one thing to miss the winning break, but it's something else altogether to miss the split and get stuck with the "B" group in the pack.  Problem was, given the conditions, it was likely we were ALL feeling like "B" riders.

Having written off a good placing, I decided to treat this race as training.  I had recovered a bit, so, again, I chased.  Fortunately, Sarah caught my effort as we were coming through the start/finish (pic above - I'm head-down, leading the second group).

I closed the gap, proud of my effort ("efforts," as I'm sure you've gathered, are on my list of weaknesses), but cooked again.  Fortunately, everyone else seemed pretty fried too.  There were no other big surges or splits.

And the break stayed away.

It was a race of attrition at this point, as we raced for 4th - one step off the podium.  But at 3 laps to go, things got interesting again.  The announcer announced that the prize list would pay to FIVE places, not just three.  So, with a couple chances left at a taste of glory - and only a few laps left - the pace went up again.  Fortunately, I was ready for it and was able to stay near the front - even through the last lap and up the hill.

That last time up the hill hurt a LOT and must have taken even more out of me than I thought because even though I was still near the front at the final corner, when guys started opening up their sprints for the line, I couldn't even get out of the saddle.  Bikes started passing me and it was all I could do to try and hang on and limit my damages.

My bike was the 12th across the line, but the rider was already finished.

While I came in mid-pack, I was 9th among those not in the break.  And since the field was relatively small, there wasn't much shelter for recovery during the entire race.  So, all in all, I did pretty well  (credit SDC for those pointing out those two consolations).

But I could have done a few things a bit better.  In some sense, EVERY race at the amateur level is a training race.  Even when there's money involved, it's a pittance considering how much we spend.  What we get in return for our race fee may not be a great placing, a podium finish, or a trophy.  But you never go home empty handed because no matter what the outcome, every race is an opportunity to learn something new: about yourself, about race tactics, about a new locale.  And the more you try new things and push yourself, the greater your reward.

So here's what I learned:

Don't always think that YOU should be the one to chase.  If you wait a little bit, someone else is bound to try and close the gap.  Of course, if you wait too long, and the gap doesn't get closed, you could be stuck with a group of slower riders as the rest of the race happens without you.

Pay close attention to the time in a timed race - lap cards aren't as critical until near the end.

Don't do any hard/fast rides the day before.  A light/moderate leg opener is a better idea.

Get plenty of rest the night before, going to bed extra early if needed.  I stayed up pretty late the previous night.  Because we were with friends, I'd much rather spend time with them and take my chances on the rest.

Some stats:

18 miles, 45 minutes

Avg Speed: 24.3 mph, Max Speed: 36.8 mph

Avg HR: 166, Max HR: 178 (my LTHR is supposedly 162)

Tuesday Night at the Rent':Really Fun, Then Not

I knew last night's racing was going to be hot - as in, it was still near 90 degrees within an hour of start time.  As I was kitting up, I knew the racing was going to be hot for another reason - many of the big guns were showing up to play.  I knew it was going to be a tough night, but I couldn't have guessed how it would end up.

One of the main reasons I enjoy racing the Tuesday Night Training Series at Rentschler Field is that it is a training race.  The only thing at stake is a little glory and short-lived bragging rights.  If you're lucky, you may get a  bottle of water for winning a prime.  Consequently, the vibe is pretty friendly and you can try things you'd never dream of trying in a "real" race - take a flyer, attack for no reason just to practice your jump, etc.  Best of all, training races as a rule tend to be very safe.  We all have to get up and go to work the next day, so we don't kill ourselves too much - and we do our best not to take anyone else out either, giving each other room when needed.

Up to the last half lap, last night's race followed a pattern typical of the past couple of weeks.  Pretty fast from the start, attacks, counterattacks, splits, chases, catches, counters.  A break of about 6-8? finally stuck and I wasn't in it, but was content to stay in the pack.  One of my teammates was in the break so I could jump on the wheels of anyone bridging.  Once the break got way up the road, those of us left behind had our own fun race where the attacks/counters continued.  I was pretty happy with how I was able to do very hard efforts (for me) and recover.

I was having a blast, and even won a prime, which was pretty funny.  The winning break was about 1/2 a lap ahead at that point and there was a chasing group of about 3-4 guys about 1/4 lap ahead.  The bell rang announcing a "pack prime" and I took off to try and bridge to the chasing group.  With nobody on my wheel, I came around the final corner and - while the 3-4 guys were looking at each other, apparently to see who'd sprint first for the prime - I came screaming up their left side and took it by a 1/2 bike length.

But such was the dynamic of the race - it was becoming weirder by the lap.

Once the laps started counting down, the racing got more aggressive and even faster.  That's typical and expected at that point in the race.  If you're already racing for next to nothing, when a break is up the road and you're not in it, then you're racing for less than nothing.  So I was a little surprised that the pace hotted up as much as it did, but I figured at least we were all gonna get some sprint training, even if we were sprinting for 9th place.

Bell Lap and we're doing almost 30 mph.  I'm mid-pack and moving up on the left.  We negotiate corner 1 safely, and the speed goes up even further.  It looks like everyone's going a little too fast for corner 2 because everyone swings wide, their momentum carrying them to the outside.  This leaves a LOT of real estate at the apex, which I dove for as tight and fast as I could while giving plenty of room on my right side in case anybody moved in there.

Still moving up the left on the backside of the course when I hear a yell and through my peripheral vision on my right side I see a funny movement, then a guy goes airborne and about 8 guys go down HARD, making that distinctive bike-crash sound of metal-on-pavement.

Being safe on the left side, I was able to get on the last wheel of the few guys that had made it off the front.  We made for the line, but - at least for me - it was for nothing.  Literally.  The winning break had already won.

So I rolled through the finish, looking across the track at the gathering group of folks, hoping everyone was at least up and walking around.  As I came around corner 2, I noticed there was one guy still lying in the road, not moving.

Imagine my shock when I saw it was my friend SDC!  He was being attended to by Rebecca, a strong Kenda rider who - as it turns out - is an ER resident at a local hospital (I had no idea) and Doug, a local EMT.  Fortunately for SDC, there was no shortage of medically-trained folks in our race!

There were a number of "walking wounded" but SDC took the brunt of it being transported by ambulance to a local hospital.  Fortunately, his xrays showed no broken bones.  I don't want to steal his thunder, so be sure to tune into his blog where you should be able to get more detail.  If a crash can't be good blog fodder, what can?

Since I just saw the crash in my peripheral vision, I'll leave it to others to flesh out what exactly happened and how.  But from what I've heard, it was avoidable.  As bike racers, we all assume a certain level of risk - often saying "that's just racing" - but none of us should have to assume the risk that somebody's going to do something to put other racers in danger, especially in the higher-category races.

In any bike crash, there's  the cost of broken equipment and medical expenses.  The fact that there was literally less than nothing at stake last night just makes it all the more difficult to accept.

I hope everyone that was a victim last night heals quickly and is able to get back on their bike soon.  And, as important, I hope everyone that races any more this season - whether at the Rent' or elsewhere - takes a little extra care.  We're all vulnerable and next time the guy on the pavement could be you.

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Quick  Stats:

Distance - 25 miles

Avg. speed - 25.8

Time in Zone 5 - 42:11 (out of 58 min total)

Other details here.

Tough Race

Training races are good for training (natch) and trying things you wouldn't normally try.  Case in point: This past Tuesday's Race at the Rent'.  Since I've been doing better than expected in the "A" races lately, I decided to see how I'd do after riding 85 miles on Monday.

Well, let's just say that I didn't quite get my clock cleaned.  I wasn't dropped.  But any illusions I had that I'd "arrived" already as a Cat3 were a little less clear, fading into the fog of my hypoxia.

Reviewing the ledger of the night's events:

LIABILITIES

• A Cyclonaut and I attacked from the gun.  I never attack from the gun, and for good reason.  When we were caught after a couple laps (because I knew it was not a matter of "whether" but "when"), I was cooked.
• Because I was cooked for a few laps, I couldn't respond to any other attacks - and consequently missed the winning break.
• Not only did I miss the winning break, but my fatigued state kept me on the wrong side of many subsequent splits in the field - which I then had to try to bridge to.  Or find a willing tow truck.
• I couldn't solo for more than a lap or so at a time before getting caught.
• The break eventually lapped us so while I finished with the remainder of the pack, I finished a lap down.

ASSETS

• I was pleasantly surprised that I could continue to chase, attack and counter-attack after only brief recoveries, and despite legs being pretty spent from the previous day's miles.
• I obviously felt good enough (or was it plain stupidity?) to go with an attack from the start.  I learned that, for the time being anyway, I have a good 1 to 1.5 laps of solo effort in me - a huge improvement over last season - and not bad for a "sprinter."
• Despite being marked pretty thoroughly, I was able to attack and get away more times than I expected to (note that I didn't add "and stay away").  So my jump is pretty good.
• I was especially proud of my last attack, which gapped the field immediately and would have "won" (among the lapped field), if I hadn't launched a lap too early.  When there's conflicting information between a ringing bell and a megaphoned official, which controls?  The official.

So all in all, while it was certainly a tough race, I learned a lot.  And learning is what training races are all about.

Surfin' to a Bridge at the Rent' Just Misses Podium

 

While I'm not a fan of really hot temps, the combination of good weather, fast racing, great friends and delicious food last night made for a perfect summer evening.  There are only four more Rentschler Field Crits left this season, so these nights become even more precious as they draw to a close.

I lined up for the "A" race after helping some of the "B"s in their race earlier (great warmup too).  My stomach was giving me trouble, but thankfully more likely due to the Starbucks smoothie I'd just downed rather than pre-race nerves.  Consequently, I started with low expectations and was content to just sit in and see what I might have at the end.  When Tim Unkert asked, I assured him I was in no shape for a break that night.

 

Despite my warmup, the start and pace of the first few laps was a shock.  But thankfully, I recovered by surfing wheels until I got into a nice state of dull - but sustainable - pain.

 

I'd been warned beforehand that the hurt would be put to us - and the number of guys that lined up was already some indication of what was in store.  There aren't many crits left and, with the rare dry weather, everyone was out in force.

 

And feeling frisky too, apparently.  Even SDC got into the act in a bold move at the front early on.

While previous A races this year have followed a general pattern of fast-attack-chase-catch-slow-attack-break-Game Over, last night's race was distinguished by the much larger number of attacks and counterattacks.  The pack kept reshuffling the deck over and over and it took a very long time to establish a break that would stick.

 

This pic above is of one of the more successful efforts, with one of our guys (Pete?) followed by Aidan, Tim and Jeff.  Like the others, this one was taken seriously - especially with Aidan and Tim included - and the pack chased it down, despite efforts by CVC and the Cyclonauts to control the front.

 

One of the more interesting things about racing at this new, higher level that I've noticed is that it's sometimes hard to distinguish between an attack, a break and a split in the field.  If you're feeling good and it's approprate tactically, you can try to cover an attack and/or bridge to a break.  But splits can be dangerous.  On a flat track where sheer speed is the main weapon, they are usually ignited by an attack - especially if a couple guys cover it immediately - and in that split second when everybody is trying to evaluate the move and whether to cover/chase, the field can break in two (or more) pieces.  On a very windy night like last night, the most effective attacks happen into the headwind.

And woe to the guys that are on the wrong (back) side of the split.

Given my relative lack of experience at this level, I decided to race conservatively - which is to say, in this case anyway, agressively.  I wasn't going to risk being on behind any splits in the field, so despite my wish to just "sit in" I was putting in a lot of hard efforts just to try and stay near the front of the race.

Finally, thankfully, a break of two (CCNS Ron & CVC (Pete?)) got off the front and the pack calmed down slightly - which is to say, it slowed to mid 20s rather than near 30mph.  But then a split happened and, wouldn't you know, I was on the wrong side of it, being boxed in about 6 guys back.

Only about 8 - 10 guys went up the road, but in our dwindling peleton (a lot of guys had already been shelled and/or otherwise lapped) that qualified as more of a split than a break.  I started to rotate toward the front of the remaining pack and got to there just in time to hit the wind - ugh!  Teammates Rish, Paul, Drew and JT as well as the rest of our group had been taking pretty equal pulls and I didn't want to slough off, so I put my head down and tried to keep pace.

When I looked over my shoulder as we entered the back stretch, I saw I had a 2-3 bike length gap.  I considered easing up to conserve some energy, but with the 90 degree 3rd corner coming up - and turning out of the headwind - I decided to try and bridge to the group chasing the 2-man break.

I read somewhere recently that an attack/bridge is an all-out, do-or-die effort.  With an attack especially, you want to get an immediate, decisive gap to avoid giving anyone a free ride in your slipstream.  I'm pretty proud of the pic above because it shows I was successful - thanks in no small part to my teammates (click to see where the rest of the group is in the background).  By the time I got through the start/finish, I'd latched onto the chase group.

But the hard work was only beginning.  I had to recover as quickly as possible in order to be able to take my turn at the front.  While by that time we knew we wouldn't catch the break (and I didn't much care, having a teammate in it), we kept the pace high in order to prevent the rest of the field from catching us.

 

The high pace popped the weaker members of the group and I was surprised that I was still able to hang on when we whittled things down to just 5 guys, including Jeff and Aidan (who'd both been very active all night), Tim - who swapped out with teammate Mike Norton who bridged later - my teammate Henk and me.

But I felt like I was just barely hanging on.  Actually, I could hang on just fine - it felt like motorpacing.  But every time I took a turn at the front, I slowed down a little, finding it difficult - if not impossible - to maintain that same high pace.

We continued to rotate through though and I prayed for the lap cards to appear and stamp an expiration date on my suffering.

Finally they did - 5 to go.  2.5 miles.  I can do that.  4 to go, then 3.  Teammate Henk - perhaps noticing my fatigue at the front - tells me to sit in.  The next couple of rotations, I let a gap go and allow someone else to slot in in front of me.

2 laps to go, having recovered a bit near the back of our little group, I start to move up.

Bell lap - going into the back stretch, I'm 4th in line and on Mike Norton's wheel.  He's a big guy and a monster sprinter, so I figure his is the best wheel to follow.  Out of corner 3 - with a tailwind - Mike goes left to pass the two guys in front and about 1/2 way to the line, stands up and starts sprinting.

I dig deep to stay on the wheel and click down another gear as we come around the final corner.  The the final stretch is into a (mostly) headwind, and the more sheltered side is on his right, but that's also the long way around.  I make a split-second decision to stay sheltered and - also figuring he'd be expecting me to come around the shorter side on his left - I come around him on the right and start sprinting like crazy.

I came around him fast and hit over 37 mph into the wind, but ran out of real estate.  Able to manage only a meager bike throw, I lost the sprint by less than 1/2 a wheel.  Another meter and I think I would have had him.

But I'll take 4th in the "A" race any day, especially in my first season as a Cat3.  I was 2nd in the "field" sprint (what was left of the field anyway) since we never caught the two man break.

"There's always next week" - at least until the end of August. . .

Some quick stats: Distance - 22 miles, 24.8 mph avg (windy conditions, most laps were in the 26-30mph range), 37.2 max (final sprint), 91 rpm avg cadence, avg HR 165 (my LT is 163) and I hit my max HR of 183 in the sprint.

All pics/video taken by Mrs. Suitcase.

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A Personal Note:

We're glad you like what you see on this blog, but unfortunately, we've noticed more and more that our content is showing up all sorts of places with no credit given.  If you like what you see enough to want to use some of it in your own blog - especially the videos - we're flattered, but would appreciate it if you ask us first - or at least post some note indicating that you got the content from us here.

Thanks

Naugy Crit:Robbed by a Hood

Naugatuck, CT is an old milltown along the shores of its namesake river.  Like many other New England milltowns, it's a town in transition.  Many of the old factories have shut down and there are attempts - many successful - to attract new business.  And like any other town similarly situated, it probably has its issues with crime.  Though when I raced there this past Sunday, none of that was apparent - it's a beautiful, friendly town.

Oh, except there WAS one crime I know happened and it was perpetrated on yours truly.

A hood robbed me of my race.

I've raced the Donovan-Ruhlman Memorial Criterium at Naugatuck (the Naugy Crit) twice before and I've always liked the layout and my results.  But I should have read my report and course description from last year's race beforehand.  If I had, I could have saved myself from being a victim. 

The race followed the now-familiar routine, except an official made SDC remove his helmet cam prior to starting - a decision which is sure to disappoint the many fans of his race videos.  Almost 60 of us lined up, with large representation by my former team and Central Wheel.  I figured one or both of those teams would try to get a break going.  While the course isn't a bad one for breaks (you can get out of sight), it was pretty windy and it was hard to gauge the pack's motivation.

But it was fast from the start.  Despite how well I've been doing at the Tuesday night East Hartford crits, "real" races like this (maybe cuz there's prize money?) are certainly tougher and I didn't feel quite as strong and confident as I do on Tuesdays.  But I held my own, staying safe near the front of the field, jumping to splits when they happened, even chasing down a couple breaks.

SDC had agreed to help me if he could so we both tried to stay sheltered.  But the race had a strange dynamic - there was a lot of yo-yo-ing and changes in pace, but - thankfully - nothing sketchy, despite the poor roads.

The worst part of this race are the roads.  Nothing's changed since last year - or 2006 for that matter, when I first raced here.  The roads are littered with manhole covers, some recessed(!), potholes, and pavement seperations.  While you could ride over everything, you had to be careful.  There were quite a few jolts and you had to be careful you didn't get your bars knocked out of your hands.

I tend to race most of the time resting my hands on my brake levers, rather than in the drops.  The more upright position allows me to see more of what's going on in the pack and keeps my chest a little more open for breathing.  Problem is, when you're "on the hoods" and you hit a hard bump, bad things happen.

With about 11 laps to go in our 28 lap race, and after already hitting a lot of potholes, manhole covers, etc. I hit a particularly nasty hole VERY hard - so hard in fact that I was surprised that my wheel didn't crack or that my tire didn't at least blow out.  But something was still wrong.  I was slowing down fast and couldn't operate my rear derailleur and my right brake lever wouldn't work.

Fortunately, I was able to get out of the pack and to the pit to try and figure things out.  The rear wheel was frozen and wouldn't turn.  The brakes were locked up.  I released the QR on the lever, opening up my calipers.  Apparently, since I was riding on the hoods when I hit, the impact forced my lever down and in - stretching the cables as tight as they could go.

Unfortunately, the official did not consider this a "mechanical" which would have allowed me to jump back into the pack under the "free lap" rule.  I'd have to chase.  I got back on the bike and stomped on the pedals, shifting up and up to get maximum speed by corner 1 and the descent.

As I went fast around the corner, I tried to shift for more speed down the hill.  Nothin'.  I couldn't get the derailleur to move the chain past the middle of the cassette, so now I'm spinning like crazy to keep my speed up and try to get back to the pack.

It sure felt a lot more windy out there alone, but I continued - like a crazy man - to try and catch up for another few laps.  I secretly hoped that the announcer would at least mention my stupid valiant effort and give me some taste of fame - if not infamy - for my trouble.

But no.  The only bone I got was as I was coming through the start/finish with the pack about 100 meters behind me: "And we've got a rider off the front!  Oh, sorry, he's a lap down."

That turned whatever wind was left in my sails into a headwind.  I was done.

But I hadn't given up - not right away anyway.  I kept the pack at bay for around 3 - 4 laps which - for somebody that's not used to being out on his own like that - was quite an achievement.  No matter that the Mrs. said I looked awful, face and neck bright red, thinking I'd keep going until I passed out.

I only regret that I couldn't be there at the finish to work with SDC - and that he didn't know I was out of the race until about 4 laps to go.

But I learned a valuable lesson - and it can stand in for today's Tuesday Tip:

When racing on rough roads, either make sure your levers are rock solid and tight on the bars, or race in the drops.

Don't let a hood rob your race.

Why Cycle Wednesday:Keeping Up With the Big Boys

Why Cycle Wednesday is usually about taking the time to just enjoy the simplicity of riding a bike and appreciating the ever-changing landscape we get to see from the saddle.  It's everything that racing and training is not.

Sometimes though, the reason we get up for an early morning ride isn't to watch the sun rise over the water, but to get stronger and faster.  Whether your goal is to keep up with the bunch on your weekly group ride, or win the local crit, you have to put in the time and miles, making regular deposits into your training account.

Last night, at my 2nd Tuesday Night Crit of the season, I got to cash out some of the savings I'd been squirreling away.  And I had a blast!  What better answer to the question "Why Cycle?"

As I've mentioned elsewhere, our team, CVC/Subaru of New England, sponsors the Tuesday Night Training Series at Rentschler Field in East Hartford.  These races are perfect for trying new strategies/tactics and taking risks you wouldn't normally take.  There's a "B" race (for Cat4/5) and an "A" race (Cat1/2/3/4) and last night was only the second time I've raced the "A"s since upgrading to Cat3.

After helping out some beginning racers in the "B" race, I lined up for the "A"s.  I did fine in last week's race, winning the first prime(!) and finishing with the pack.  But after my conservative racing last Sunday, I was ready to get out of my comfort zone and see what I could do, without having to worry about the result.

The speed was very high right from the start, a change of pace from last week, and we were all strung out from the gun whistle.  A guy in a black kit had launched, gapping the field almost immediately.  The pack eventually chased him down, but it was strung out for a bit.  When we caught him, DaveH, apparently wanting  to stretch his legs in prep for the Fitchburg stage race this weekend, started to detonate the pack.  That's him at the front (above).

Things calmed down a bit after a couple of laps (Dave not wanting to use up TOO much reserves before his season's major goal), but then the attacks started.  Fortunately, CVC had a lot of guys in the race so we were able to cover most of them.

But not all.  About 10 minutes into the race, "black kit" launched again - a perfectly timed attack on the headwindy back stretch, taking 3 other guys with him, but no CVC.  I was near the front (already doing better than on Sunday), so I was able to see what happened.  They got about 70 meters up the road and just before corner 3 (which turned into a tailwind) I jumped, trying to bridge.

When I took off, it was like I was sprinting for the finish.  But it was effective - I gapped the pack immediately with nobody on my wheel.  It took me about 1/2 a lap, but I caught them at the Start/Finish.  The 3rd guy in the paceline saw me hook on and pulled over, motioning me to pull through.  I thought "Crap! I just bridged!" - actually I may have said it out loud, because as I came through the guy told me he was cooked, and fell off the back.

So now I'm in a 3 man break - the first time ever in a race at this level.  Race Mission Accomplished: I am definitely outside of my comfort zone now.

I don't normally "do" breaks, usually contenting myself with staying sheltered and waiting/hoping for a field sprint.  I've been in a few, but I'm still very new to it.  I know to trade pulls, try to keep things smooth, try to conserve as much as possible - without letting on.  I think there's a fine line between racing smart in a break and being an outright slacker.  Being with the Big Boys now, I wanted to be proud of my effort.

We worked well together, and smoothly.  And got over 1/2 lap lead on the rest of the field.

I was doing my share, but I had to make sure I didn't work so hard I got shelled.  Now that I was in the break, my teammates could relax a little and maintain pace at the front of the pack.  But if I got popped after building such a long lead, it'd be tough for our team to get back in the game.

Fortunately, for some reason, "black kit" (BK) was always pulling into the headwind on the back stretch, with me on his wheel, and a young CCNS rider ("Chris" who I'd met earlier during the "B" race) on the rear.  As luck would have it, my pulls tended to be through the tailwind into the final stretch, then CCNS would take a turn.  My quick observation was that BK was by far the strongest of the three of us - he just kept plowing through that wind, and even took a full lap pull once(!) - and CCNS, while young, looked very smooth and fit - strong too.  They obviously knew what they were doing.  I just tried to hang on, keep things smooth and do my share.

A couple of primes came up and it looked like we ignored the first one.  CCNS was usually at the front through the S/F and he was there at the prime as well.  We just did our normal rotation.  I wasn't going to contest it.

When we came to the line for the second prime though, BK, who was 2nd wheel to CCNS, came around and took it - and continued to pull all the way around to the 3rd corner.  After CCNS took over and then pulled off, I asked him whether we should go back to our original order - "that seemed to be working well for us" (well, for me anyway).  But no luck.  With the re-sorting, I found myself pulling more into the wind.

Fortunately, it looked like there were only 15 min left before the 5 lap countdown and I surprised myself that I was still able to hang in there - but it was getting a lot more difficult.  I was the one pulling through the headwind on the backstretch now and every time I pulled off at corner 3, I had to stand and make a hard effort to catch back on.  And that was with the tailwind helping me.

5 laps to go - thank God - and we're still working together.

4 laps. 3 to go.  Wondering how long we'd stay together like this . . .

At the final corner, coming into 2 laps to go, I got my answer.

BK launched a HUGE attack in the final corner, flying to the far edge of the road.  My first thought was "it's way too early - he'll never make it - let him kill himself".  Then I reconsidered: he'd gapped us decisively with a huge effort, after all that hard pulling for so many laps.  He was still very strong.

So I dug deep into my Suitcase of Courage (sorry, couldn't resist) and chased, with CCNS on my wheel.  It took all I had, but I caught him just after corner 1 and he sat up.

We fell back into an illusion of working together through the backstretch and around the final two corners.  By the time we went through the S/F, we'd almost stopped, watching each other, with the bell announcing the final lap.

All I could think of right then was Paul and Phil saying "Ah, the cat and mouse games have stahted" (because, during ALL of our greatest moments riding, we ALWAYS hear Paul and Phil in our head, don't we?).

"ON YOUR RIGHT!!!" broke my reverie and I saw CCNS launching up the right side up the road as I'd been watching BK on my left.  "Click" "Click" no mo' buwwets.  But a "GO CHRIS!" from Mrs. SOC and Mrs. SDC at the line went straight to my legs and I chased, with BK on my wheel.

Big mistake.

I was hurting, but surprised that I was in this dream-like state.  All that existed for me in the world at that moment was CCNS' wheel. 

I ... Had ... To ... Get ... On ... That ... Wheel.

We hit the headwind back stretch and I was still digging my own grave, shoveling for all I was worth.

I caught him, finally, going through the 3rd corner.

Then POW! BK launches off my wheel, comes around us both and goes for the line.  Forget bullets, I ain't even got a gun now.  So it's CCNS' turn to chase, if he can.  I'm not letting go of his wheel for love or money.

As I see BK raising his hands at the finish, I notice CCNS look over his left shoulder.  I jump off his wheel on the right and start sprinting, shocked I have anything at all left.  I come in second.

Here.  See.  And watch to the end, noting the gap to the pack - at least as much a testament to my teammates' control as to the break's speed.

It wasn't until we were cooling down that I realized what illustrious company I'd been in.  CCNS/Chris is a Cat2 and - at only 23 yrs old - looks like he's got a lot of racing experience under his belt already.  When I introduced myself to "BK" and he said his name was Tim, I knew he had to be Tim Unkert and he confirmed that, yes, in fact he was.  I'd heard a little about Tim before since he frequents these Tuesday night races and when I was in the "B"s I'd watch as he often placed in the "A" race.

But it wasn't until the Mrs. and I joined Mr. and Mrs. SDC for dinner afterwards that I learned I just lost to a former bronze medalist at the Elite Road National Championships!  Tim's a Cat 1 racer and won the silver medal at last year's CT state crit championships.  Oh, and he podiumed at 6 other races last year.

Big Boys indeed.

You can probably tell I had a lot of fun.  Sunday's race was fun too, but not as much.  Conservative racing may be smart - and it will continue to be what I do best at.  But there's nothing like taking a risk and seeing what happens.  That's what made New London and Ninigret so much fun too.  The final results weren't what I'd hoped they'd be in those races - I'd burned too many matches taking racing aggressively - but I had a blast.

That's why I love these Tuesday night training races - results don't matter.  You can take all the risks and have all the fun without worrying about how you place.  Sure, they're not "BIG" races and a even a great result is mitigated by that fact, but only a little.

I have to realize that, at my amateur level, ALL races are "training races."  The results never matter - not really.  It's not like I do this for a living.  Thank God.

But I DO do this for the comraderie of being on a great team, for the competition, to test the limits of my capabilities, to help out my teammates when they need me.

And sometimes, like last night, it's just pure, unadulterated fun - especially if I can keep up with the big boys . . .

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If you want to know what was happening in the peleton, click here.

And thanks, as always, to Mrs. SOC for the pics and video.  ESPECIALLY last night!

Still Learning...Keith Berger Crit 6/28/09

One of the attractions of racing is its variety.  Every race offers a number of opportunities to push yourself, find your limits, try new tactics, learn.  Just when I think I have racing figured out (being able to act on what I think I know is another matter), I realize how much I have left to learn.

Case in point: yesterday's race.

But first, an introduction.

Course Description

In addition to our weekly training races, my team puts on a larger, annual race in East Hartford - The Keith Berger Memorial Criterium in East Hartford, CT. 

 

The track itself is a pretty straightforward one mile circuit, with few unique characteristics.  Despite its proximity to the river, there's no view - just a very large levee.  The roads are wide, in decent shape, and (technically) closed to traffic.  One distinguishing characteristic is the short leg between corners 3 and 4.  It's very short, so you have to be in good position going into corner 3 and there's still a long way to the finish line (located where the "54" is at the corner of Hartland St. and Founders Plaza - click for a larger view) but at least it's straight and wide.

One other thing: it's pancake flat and very fast.  The only thing that'll break things up are your competitor's legs, or the wind - if there is any.

Despite the plainness of the track, this is one of the best crits I've raced.  Sure, I'm biased, but the team knows what it's doing and is very organized.  Since I'm new, I think I can still say that with some level of objectivity.  Registration was well-manned ("womanned" actually) and smooth, "facilities" were close at hand, and there was even neutral support provided by SRAM.  I wouldn't have minded getting to use one of their backup bikes, but I didn't want to crash to be able to.  There was a finishline camera, plenty of officials and the results were posted quickly.

Best of all - the main point of the race was to raise funds for junior racers and cancer research.  Keith Berger was a CVC team member who died of cancer and one of his passions was supporting and encouraging younger racers.  I never had the privilege of knowing him, but his family continues to support the race and were there yesterday thanking people.  First class folks for sure.

This was the first time I'd ever raced here and the first time I've been able to volunteer with some of the logistics.  Mrs. SOC and I volunteered to help marshal the course and, in addition, I was able to get a good deal on PowerAde.

 

A REALLY good deal - 10 cases worth.  Consequently, we had to use the truck - too much to pack.  How much?

 

Well, in addtion to the 15o bottles (32oz each!), there was: 1 bike, 4 wheels, race bag, trainer, pump, cooler, 2 beach chairs, 2 umbrellas, "sundry" bag and other miscellaneous items.  Thankfully, my truck has an "extra cab."

The Race

Back to the "learning" though.  Being "our" race, we on the Cat3 team hoped to do well.  And we were packing some extra firepower in the form of a couple of strong new teammembers.  So we had a total of 5 in the race.  Since it was the first time we were racing together like this, our plan was to each race our own race and see where we were at the end.  It was pretty windy, with headwinds on 2 sides of the track, so we figured no breaks would stick.  "No problem" I thought - I figured we'd just stay sheltered and see how we'd fare in the sprint.

 

Me and Hobgoblin at the line - the last time I'd see the front of the race.

 

Just under 50 of us lined up and were off.  This is a shot of the first corner.  S/F is behind to the left.

 

It was a very good race.  Here's 4/5ths of the CVC team together.  The pace was never really unmanageable, though it did vary a lot depending on whether we were heading into the wind.  We used our brakes more than we really should have.  But, despite some minor bumping here and there and a couple of clipped pedals in the turns, there were no crashes.

 

Any safe race is a good race and this was definitely a good race for me.  Flat, fast races suit me and though my HR data shows me in Zone 5 for most of the race, it didn't feel that hard.

I raced very conservatively - trying to practice moving up within the pack when I could, but mostly staying to one side or the other about 1/2 way back.  Conserving my energy but, paradoxically, using more than I should have when it didn't matter.

Consequently, I wasn't near the front where I could attack or chase down any breaks.  Since that really wasn't in our plan, I didn't think too much about it at the time, but I think I would have had a lot more fun if I'd been more near the front and latching onto attacks when they came.

Turns out, I raced too conservatively.  The front got away from me during the final few laps and I couldn't move up quick enough, despite a great effort by SDC to thread me through the pack and up to the front.  I was glad I could follow his wheel as he threaded needles (learning only later that there were a lot of gaps he decided not to go through) .

I *did* move up though, and though I lost the wheel through the 3rd corner, I passed a lot of guys in the final stretch, guaranteeing a top 20 finish (barely).

But on the video I think I look a little ridiculous sprinting past guys that had basically sat up.  I think from now on, if I'm not in contention for the top 10 I'll sit up too, even if I lose a bunch of spots.

So, what did I learn?

• Practice staying in the middle of the pack, making my zone of comfort smaller and smaller;
• Practice holding position, especially if you're on a good wheel;
• When you have teammates in the race, have a clear plan, deciding who is going to be set up for the win and have the others race/sacrifice accordingly;
• Related to the above, race less conservatively - especially if you're not the one responsible for saving all your matches for a sprint that will win

And, finally, I have to consider that in the Cat3s, if you end up lower than 10th, it should be because you blow yourself up working for your teammates, and not because you race so conservatively that you aren't near the front when you need to be - either racing for the day's designated leader, or maintaining a winning position in the final laps.

As I've said before, one of the nice things about racing is that there's usually another race and another chance to learn and perfect your skills and tactics.

My next race is tomorrow night and class is in session.