(or "How To Win a Field Sprint Without Really "Trying")
Yesterday's Criterium de Bethel was the penultimate race of this year's Bethel Spring Series. After having won the first of the six races, we haven't had the leader's jersey since. But the way the series points are weighted toward the end, we're still in the hunt. Unfortunately, so are a lot of other teams.
We counted on those other teams yesterday, figuring that they would chase anyone that tried to escape and keep things together. That ended up being a mistake. Somehow, we all let Bethel's Bill Muzzio (who had come in 2nd in a previous race) get up the road with 7 others. By the time we (and apparently the rest of the teams) realized how dangerous this was, it was too late. Lance & Joel did what they could to try and bring things back together and BJ tried to bridge, but the gap had grown too large and they weren't coming back.
With all the points taken by the break, all that was left to race for was honor and, frankly, fun. It was a safe race, with only one minor, low speed crash, the result of some wheel touching in corner 1. The guys got right up - almost too quickly given that the rest of the pack was coming by. If you crash, please don't pick your bike up - and turn it laterally - until all the other racers have passed you. But that was the only "scary" bit. Even the forecast rain held off for us.
With the break up the road, it was relatively slow a lot of the time but I was glad to be able to recover from abortive chase attempts in time to have something left at the end and fly the colors.
I wasn't quite sure how best to do that though until turn 2 of the bell lap. Things had finally strung out a bit and gaps were opening up. SDC came up on my seven, tapped me to let me know he was there, and I had my unspoken answer. I started to edge to through the pack to the right side, knowing that SDC could easily follow any so-called "needle" I could thread, and - as expected - the right opened wide on the backstretch.
Diving into the deep end of the huge opening, I didn't care so much that I was going right into the wind. I dug in and we passed by the arrowhead that was charging on the left side near the yellow line.
Shortly after we passed the front, I heard SDC yell "GO! GO!" and I dug deeper, committed to the lead out. We were only racing for 9th at that point, but I was going to do my best to get SDC to the line ahead of everybody that was left.
As I approached the bottom of the hill, I was fading fast and hoping that SDC would be coming around me any second. Why doesn't he come around?? I peeked to make sure that whatever direction I pulled off on wouldn't interfere with his line, but when I looked behind I saw I had a huge gap on him and the rest of the field.
Wait, WHAT?! That's not supposed to happen!
That was my first thought, but my second thought was "OH CRAP! Now I gotta try and hold this to the line!"
Well, as you no doubt guessed (my blogpost titles aren't usually subtle), I held it. Just barely. And with a little unwitting help from my friends.
What I didn't know was happening behind me I found out about after the race. They say the most convincing liars are those that actually believe the lie they're telling. Well, apparently, the corrrollary to that is the best way to fool everybody else is to fool yourself. *I* thought I was doing a lead out, but everybody else thought I was just going too early and was therefore doomed. By the time SDC politely mentioned in passing yelled to the guys around him "GO! GO! HE'S LEADING ME OUT!!" (I'd only heard the first part), I'd already gotten a healthy gap. So my friends in the pack may not have meant to help me, but by sitting up or otherwise not launching as early as I did, I caught them sleeping made it to the line first.
Well, ninth. Those eight escapees came in a good bit ahead of me, taking all of yesterday's points with them and putting Bethel's Muzzio in the leader's jersey going into the final week.
We have one race left and few cards left to play. But we're still in the game. And with the Easter holiday we have two weeks to come up with a strategy that'll put us in yellow when it matters most. Hopefully there'll be nothing accidental about that.
(First off, a quick but BIG THANK YOU to all who pre-registered for Pedal for Paws! We have over 90 folks so far, but it's not too late if you missed the early deadline. Just show up the day of the ride - Saturday Oct. 1! Secondly, there are a few posts that are "mile markers" for me throughout the year and I tend to repost them. So as the cycling season puts on its jacket & armwarmers, take a trip back in time with me to a Sunday Group Ride that took place on the eve of World War II, 70 years ago . . .)
September 21, 1941 was a Sunday, an early autumn day in Southern New England, clear and mild.
World War II had been raging in Europe for exactly two years. The German army had advanced into the Soviet Union that summer and was riding high on the success of having already conquered most of Western Europe. France had just been split into German-occupied and Vichy zones the previous month.
On this particular Sunday, the Japanese were celebrating the 10 year anniversary of occupying China's northeast territory of Manchuria. At some point during that same day, perhaps as some sign of heaven's outrage at such an audacious celebration, the sun was blacked out during a total eclipse visible in most of China - from just northeast of the Black Sea to the Pacific ocean.
Just three weeks earlier, the Japanese government assured President Roosevelt that it had "no imperialist designs on any foreign nation."
Britain had survived the Blitz, which ended that May - the same month Glenn Miller first recorded "Chattanooga Choo Choo" which was featured in a hit movie starring Sonja Henie. "Blue Champagne" by the Jimmy Dorsey Orchestra was the #1 song on September 21, but the Henie movie, "Sun Valley Serenade," was released to theaters exactly a month earlier. By then "Chattanooga Choo Choo" was already a top ten on the Hit Parade, well on its way to becoming the first gold record ever the following February. It was the nation's #1 hit by that December.
Bobby soxers fed the voracious appetite of juke boxes across the country and made Frank Sinatra the top male vocalist that year.
But there was no sign of bad weather this September 21 and at least a few folks took advantage of the beautiful Sunday afternoon to do what many of the readers of this blog do on Sundays.
They went on a group ride.
There aren't many left that remember the "Hobby Trains" run by the New York, New Haven & Hartford Railroad (the "New Haven") during the late 1930s and early 1940s. In an effort to boost ridership, the New Haven took advantage of the fact that their railroad connected the Great Metropolis of New York with New England. There were camp trains in the summer and ski trains in the winter. Photography specials in the spring and all year 'round. But what better time for a Bike Train than Autumn and what better place than the Berkshire Hills?
Thanks to a recent discovery of raw film footage by the NHRHTA, we can go back to that Sunday seven decades ago and enjoy the sights of a pre-war group ride. You'll have to pedal your single-speed cruiser over a bunch of rollers before you get to the picnic. Don't worry if you have to walk up some of the hills - and girls, be sure to mind your skirts that they don't get caught in the spokes. There are no "rest stops" as we think of today - bits of orange and Powerbars - but an entire spread complete with potato salad, Boston baked beans, chicken and watermelon awaits us.
So give your Schwinn, Columbia or Raleigh to the porter to put in the baggage car, give the conductor your ticket, and enjoy the trip. The train is about to arrive at the station . . .
Long day at work yesterday, into this morning. Didn't ride in to work as I'd planned and there's no racing this coming weekend.
But that doesn't keep us from celebrating Cycling Fun Friday!
These should have been included in the previous post, but, well, long story. At least the length of this post will be a welcome change from the EPIC posts I've been doing lately(!)
Enjoy!
The start - some EXPO near the front ....
... and even more EXPO near the back.
One of the chase attempts.
Rare (for this blog) video footage of a Prime Lap
And the more common finish line video
These summer evening races are just awesome - and the sunsets are a fabulous, and fitting, finis.
After racing five Sundays in a row, two races each Sunday, I was looking forward to one more Sunday of racing before taking a break. But all week Sunday's forecast looked bleak and I started to steel myself for some rare-for-me rainy racing.
I also figured that I'd better get in some good, hard miles in case I couldn't race. So Thursday after work, I took a risk and headed for the hills. Uncharacteristically, I planned on hitting the steepest, longest climbs I could find along with some other local hills. Unfortunately, I missed a turn at one point and ended up with all the hills between me and home - and I had to be back by a certain time. The resulting TT effort back - not to mention the brutal climbs themselves - totally shredded my legs. BION, that was the hardest day I'd had on the bike all year so far - racing included. And the next morning's Rooster Ride (always a slugfest brisk ride) wrung out whatever was left.
Here are some charts from my hill route
So while one part of me wondered how - or even whether - my legs would recover in time for Sunday, the other part of me secretly hoped for a Biblical deluge that would, if not cancel the race, at least make it totally impossible for me to participate. But Friday night I got a call from teammate SDC - he and his Missus would be able to join us for the races, rain or shine, and bring their cool "team car." I'd do the Cat 3/4 race by myself and then join SDC for the Masters 35+ later in the day. That settled it, I'd be racing Sunday, weather be d----d.
I took Saturday totally off the bike to go with Mrs. SOC on a "yarn crawl" in Rhode Island and to visit some local bike shops. We hadn't been on a road trip together for a while, so it was great to get out. And Mr. & Mrs. SDC showed up that evening for dinner and pre-race socializing, capping off a just-about-perfect day. Mrs. SDC's "unofficial forecast" even called for clearing, if wet, conditions for our races. Nevertheless, we packed multiple sets of clothes for the soaking we expected.
Packed up and ready to go
It was hard to sleep Saturday night with all the wind, thunder and driving rain. But - miraculously - we woke the next morning to clouds that were breaking up and sun that was starting to peek out. Strangely though, the wind seemed to be even worse. We packed up and headed out, excited about the prospects of the day.
This is us - looking excited
We got to Ninigret in time to get changed and warmed up. With the increasingly sunny sky, I started to worry that I'd actually be overdressed. But that disappeared once we were out of the car. It was WINDY! With all the windy races I've been in this year, this was by far the worst. Tents were being blown around, and at one point the announcer told everyone to take their spare/pit wheels out of their bags since they were blowing down the track! It's always breezy at Ninigret, no matter what it's doing in the rest of Southern New England. But this was crazy, with gale-force gusts.
I lined up with a couple of friends at the back, figuring that I'd sit in and hope for a field sprint - my usual M.O. I didn't think anybody'd be crazy enough to try and break away in the 3/4 race - and if they did, they'd blow up or the pack would catch them.
Part of the pack at the start
Over 40 guys lined up and went off at the whistle. I was glad that the first couple of laps were relatively easy since I didn't warm up for very long. But then the attacks started going off, and I knew folks were itchin' to race. As each attack would get caught, a counter would go and pretty soon I found myself near the back. "Oh well - My legs must still be recovering from Thursday's hills," I thought. I did what I could to hang on some wheels, but when the race actually looked like it would start to break up, I knew I had to get closer to the front.
Fortunately, after a few especially hard efforts into the wind, I was in the front 1/4 of the race - perfect. And good timing, as splits started happening behind us and folks were getting shelled by the windy conditions and increasing pace. We even started to lap a couple of hapless stragglers.
It was no wonder the race was blowing up - it was blowing HARD! A couple of times when we were stretched out, full gas, we'd go around the 4th corner into a strong head/cross wind and have our wheels almost blown out from under us! The racing wasn't sketchy - everybody handled their bikes well considering the conditions - but the wind made for some crazy corrections and over corrections as folks struggled for shelter while trying to avoid having their wheels swept out by either the wind or another bike.
After struggling like this for a while and about 1/2 way through the race, I realized that a 3 man break had actually gotten clear. I didn't worry about it too much at first, but when another 2 guys attacked and started chasing them - gapping the rest of us - I hoped that the pack would chase (and carry me with them, of course). I didn't know until I heard the announcer that Bill Yarbroudy - local fastman from NBX - was one of the two chasers. I also noticed that newly minted Cat2 Kyle Foley - who had animated the race earlier with his attacks - was his companion. Even to my daft racing brain, these started to look like winning moves.
But "Why isn't the field chasing?!" was the thought most occupying my brain at that point. Every time we'd string out a bit and put in some effort, we'd come around a corner, into the wind, and the pack would fan right out, slowing down to a crawl. And the break and chase group continued to motor along, putting over 15-20 seconds into the rest of us.
I did what I thought I could to try and get the pack motivated, doing my best not to miss turns at the front and keep the pace high. But I'd be dipped if I was going to work so hard while others sat on my wheel (heh - precisely what *I* would most likely be doing myself, if in their cleats). Fortunately, friends BJ and JM were of the same mind and kept things fast when they were at the front. But - realists - they weren't interested in towing the entire field either.
After a particularly hard pull - and after having been in a few small chase groups trying to bring the breaks back - BJ pulled off and shook his head when I suggested we go. I couldn't blame him, the wind was howling and the pack was clearly losing motivation with each lap.
I've mentioned before that I have a lot to learn when it comes to reading races. So much of doing that well is instinct born of experience and I'm still relatively new at this (or maybe I'm just a slow learner). Hearing how SDC evaluates race dynamics, factoring in every imaginable condition and variable, makes my brain hurt. I *wish* I could calculate all that while I'm racing, but I'm usually spending all my mental energy on the basics: "stay on that wheel," "stay upright," "dose your effort."
And if you've been reading this blog for any time at all, one of the things you know about me is that I cannot stand timetrialing, getting into breaks (since I often can't stay in them) or doing solo efforts. Consequently, I seldom attack unless necessary to help a teammate. Never for myself. I know my limits. At least I thought I did.
So when BJ shook his head and I found myself at the front just as we entered the backstretch, I can't tell you what I was thinking. All I knew was that I was at the front, heading into the wind, and I didn't want to be there. There were about 8 laps to go (I figured - there weren't any lap cards) I knew the likely winners were up the road and as much as I wanted to melt back into the security of the pack, I knew if I did I was getting nowhere and all I'd get at the end would be a decent workout.
But if I was just going to get a workout, I was at least going to make it count - and, heck, I might even get lucky and catch one of the breaks up the road. It took me about 2 seconds from the time BJ drifted back to decide to go for it. I put my head down and started pedaling for all I was worth!
As I went past SDC, standing on the sidelines, I heard him yell "1000% effort!!" and it was - I hit corner 4 at speed and into the gaping maw of the biting headwind. And just about stopped - at least that's what it felt like. The Ninigret track is pancake flat, and after racing 5 weeks at Bethel - often doing over 70 laps up that blasted hill - I just tried to imagine the headwinds as just another "hill" and tailwinds as "descents" - my only chances to recover. I think that, more than anything else, helped me dose my effort properly and keep from totally blowing up.
Me going by a yelling SDC - thanks for the photo ChrisB!
When I cleared corner 4 - the first after my attack - I looked back and, amazingly, saw I had a HUGE gap. Of course the pack hit the same wall of wind that I did, but without my singular focus they'd fanned out and slowed down. By the time they strung out again, I'd put 5 seconds into them - and the gap was growing!
But it HURT. I literally put my head down for much of the time, concentrating on putting as much power into the pedals as possible while keeping my legs limited to a slow burn to keep them from totally igniting from lactic acid. I only looked up often enough to make sure I wouldn't ride right off the track.
I knew this was the "do or die effort" I'd always read about but never had the nerve to try in an "actual" race (as opposed to a training race). I'm not a risk taker by nature, opting to (over)analyze things until I know I can succeed on the first try. And if I don't think I can succeed, I don't usually try. I know a lot of other folks that have the same tendency. And I know how hard it is to overcome that tendency. But even more, I knew as I was in No Man's Land between the pack and the break, that I'd either catch them or totally explode trying. It's a cliche to say "nothing ventured, nothing gained" - and as true as that saying is, it was little consolation as I continued to grind around the track. All I wanted to do was to catch those guys ahead of me, or at least keep the pack from catching me.
"YOU'VE GOT 15 SECONDS!! KEEP GOING!!" I had a cheering section consisting of SDC and friend ChrisB (who'd graciously waited after his Cat5 race to watch), and the Missus' SDC & SOC taking shelter from the wind in the car. Every few corners, I'd look back and - inexplicably, remarkably - the pack was the same distance back, or just a little further away. Eventually, I noticed another guy trying to bridge up to me. "Great - that'd be some help." But I didn't dare slow down to let him join me. I knew I was WAY out of my comfort zone, engaging in a risky business considering my natural (or assumed) abilities. If he caught me (likely, I figured), I assumed I'd be the weaker of the two of us, so why wait? And if he didn't catch me, then he'd not be much help if I did wait for him. At least that's all my addled brain could reason.
So I continued to churn the pedals.
"Number 186 is putting in a huge effort - not sure who that is" - I heard the announcer say through the PA at one point, much to my satisfaction. Unfortunately, legs don't run on ego, else I would have been able to go faster. One of the big downsides of a conservative racing style is that nobody ever knows you're in the race, unless you get on the podium. Flying under the radar is a risky business in its own right. Everybody else wants to get on that podium too, so you seldom have a chance at notoriety - no matter how minimal that may be in The Grand Scheme of Things. But anybody who races is lying if they tell you they don't get at least a little boost when they hear the announcer mention his name. And, given the fact I was out on my own for almost 8 laps, I got to hear my name announced more times than during the whole rest of my racing "career" put together. It was another cold comfort as my legs and lungs started to sear from the effort. But it was much welcomed and appreciated just the same.
It looked like this for a while - Note the other guy in No Man's Land and the pack chasing (pic by SDC - click to enlarge)
10 seconds, 12 seconds, 4 seconds. Those were the gaps SDC made out between the break, the chase group, me and my chaser. And they stayed pretty consistent for most of those remaining 8 laps. On my own, I was going as fast as the pack chasing me, but so were the guys in front of me. We were all condemned at some level, but at least we were all in the money - provided we could keep the pack from catching us at the end.
And of course, if you've ever watch a bicycle race, you know that the pack - no matter how lethargic it may have been for the whole rest of the race - gets a fire in its belly with a couple of laps to go. I was racing for 6th place, but the pack was racing for only 8th, and that clearly didn't sit well with them. By the Bell Lap, my gap - which had stretched out to 20 seconds at one point - was down to 12 seconds. They strung way out during that last lap, going full gas. The first break - and even their two chasers - were well clear. It was only me and the other guy still left to pick off as the pack got the bit in its teeth and started charging hard.
I looked over my shoulder going around the penultimate corner and couldn't believe they were getting so close so quickly. Of course, I was just about out of gas - and I wanted them to put me out of my misery - but I wanted even more to hold them off. "I'll be dipped if I'm going to give up now, after I put myself through so much hell." I dug deeper.
Fortunately for me, coming around that second-to-last corner put the wind a little at my back and after the final corner into the finishing straight I had a full tailwind. Unfortunately for the pack, there was a cross-wind gust that caused just enough of a brake check to give me just that little bit more.
My legs couldn't lift my butt out of the saddle, but I clicked down another gear, squeezing out of them whatever was left, started sprinting seated, trying to take as much advantage as possible of the tailwind. As I flogged myself to the finish, I heard a guy coming up on my right. Not the guy that'd been chasing me into the pain cave, but somebody that'd launched off the front of the charging pack. No dice - no way I could challenge him. I let him go by, but I kept pedaling.
As I looked over my right shoulder to see how much of a gap I had over the rest of the field, all I could see were bodies sprinting. "Chris Adams is gonna hang on though" the announcer said as, from somewhere deep deep down in a place totally unfamiliar to me, I wrung a few more watts out of my pureed legs and threw my bike at the line.
Here's how it looked in Mrs. SOC's finish line video:
I held them off by maybe 1/2 a wheel at the line. I came in 7th, but I might as well have won the Tour de France.
I'd been at my absolute limit, hit the bottom, and dug even further. My legs, lungs, and even my heart (which I worried about briefly after I crossed the line) were absolutely killing me and it was all I could do to keep my feet turning enough to keep my bike upright as I continued past the first corner. But as I came back down along the backstretch, past where I'd launched my attack what seemed like an eternity earlier, I suddenly forgot everything but how wonderful it felt. Not to be done, but to have tried my best.
Post-race jubilation pic courtesy SDC
For someone whose reach seldom exceeds his grasp, I'd stretched further than I thought possible. Yeah, it might have been more dramatic if I'd actually caught the break and then went on to win. But that's the stuff of fiction. What was real was that I'd taken a risk and - at least as against all but 6 other guys in the race - and with a little luck, it had paid off.
Heh - it even paid off literally - I treated myself with some of my prize money.
After all that - and probably with an overdose of adrenaline and endorphines - I was already ready to race again. I lined up to help out SDC in the Masters 35+ race. But that's another story. Considering we were racing against the likes of Mark McCormack, it's a (really) short story for some other time.
Suffice it to say that I'm learning a lot from this bike racing thing. I'm learning how to push myself further than I thought possible; learning that my limits may be beyond what I think; learning that sometimes taking a chance - whether or not it ends up as you hope - is a much better way to live than resting in the numb embrace of low self-expectations.
Risky investments are certainly no way to earn a living. But sometimes engaging in some risky business is the only way to earn a richer life.
This past Sunday was the last Bethel Spring Series crit of the 2011 season - the Circuit Francis J. Clarke - named after the industrial park where this illustrious 6 week series takes place. It's been a good series for me, though the results haven't reflected how good & confident I've felt. After a couple of seasons that included bad crashes & broken bones, having a weekly race series that's so safe (but still very competitive) has gone a long way toward stifling the inevitable pre-race butterflies. It's nice to actually look forward to a race rather than dreading it.
Ends up that's a mixed blessing. If you approach a race thinking you have a chance to do well, you start second-guessing how you ride in the days leading up to it. If it's a beautiful Saturday and you want to go on a long ride, what if you have a race on Sunday? Do you worry about overdoing it? Do you do something else or not ride at all? You have to answer the big question: Do you race to ride or ride to race?
I had a rest week leading up to the penultimate race and it didn't seem to make all that much difference. Yeah, the legs were fresh, and I was able to try some new things in that race. But the end result of the experimentation that fresh legs allowed was that I had NO result in the Cat 3/4 race and I'd cooked myself too much to even line up for the Pro123.
It's easy to chose when you've got nothing to lose. So last week, I rode. A lot. I put in the most miles in one week than I have all year. I even rode a lot on Saturday. And I even did heavy yard work Saturday afternoon (gasp!). I didn't do all that great rested - so I'd see how I'd do (not quite) worn out.
The body's a weird thing. I ended up doing better than I have yet this season - just outside some big (for me) results.
I lined up for the Cat3/4 race without any expectations, without any teammates (most were at Battenkill), and - for the first time this year - without any wind(!). I knew it would be a fast race, but I also knew with a big pack (diminished a little by B'kill) I could stay sheltered and work on my sprint. And I figured with a certain team present that things would stay together. Even better.
Like the previous week, it was Prime-A-Palooza with lots of giveaways. That and the lack of wind made for the fastest average speed yet. But I was able to use my deep dish Williams 58s and could follow wheels fairly easily. Without any real plan or obligation to help anyone, I was free to practice reading the race.
I didn't do so well at this for the first half. I stayed in just fine, but seemed never to be in a very good position when a prime was announced. Finally, with 14 laps to go (out of 27 total), the prime bell rang and I was in good position - near, but not at, the front. I knew the wheel I was following was Prime Hunting, I was 3rd wheel and there was only one guy up the road. At the bottom of the hill, the two guys in front of me started to go and I opened up about a 1/3 of the way up, surprising myself with how fast I passed them. The last man standing was still a ways up but fading hard and I was closing in really fast. I *just* got him at the line. Or so I thought.
After rocketing past and rounding corner 1, I looked back and had a HUGE gap. If I was a time trialist and/or if it was later in the race, I would have tried to see how long I could stay away. But I knew that effort would be futile, so I waited for the pack to embrace me once again.
Good thing, or actually NOT so good. 9 laps later, we were neutralized - there'd been a crash and one guy was on the tarmac, an ambulance on its way. There'd been a break of about 3-4 guys up the road a little ways, but the pack was closing in, intent on keeping things together. There'd been a touching of wheels toward the back as we were going up the hill. By the time we came around to the bottom of the hill again, the guy was in the road with a broken collarbone and the official was waving us down to neutral. First time I've ever seen an ambulance at Bethel.
We soft pedaled for 7(!) laps while everything got cleared up and then got whistled to stop. We'd restart the race again with 5 laps to go, with the guys in the break getting a little head start. We all realized that was the best that could be done, but none of us were looking forward to it. With everyone rested and recovered, just about EVERYbody would think they had a chance to win - and that would make things not only super fast, but very sketchy.
As expected, when the whistle blew, the break was off like scalded cats. They didn't get much of a head start and either because the pack was feeling generous, or wanted a quick chance to warm back up after the neutralization, it took us a lap to get up to speed. But once we did, we raced faster than I'd raced so far this year, stretching the pack to a thin thread.
I did a good job at staying near the front, was 4th wheel with 1/2 a lap to go and things were getting faster. There's nothing like the feeling you get when you're in good position at the end of the race and know you can be in contention - it's a heady mix of adrenaline, speed and a little fear. And that feeling is one of the primary reasons I continue to line up week after week. Having even a chance of getting a taste of that is like coke to an addict (or so I imagine).
Unfortunately, the wheel that I thought would be so good to follow faded a little too early, and before I could come around, guys started shooting up both sides. Fortunately, a lot of those same guys exploded on the hill and I was able to thread through a lot of them, hoping I'd get my first top 10 finish as I crossed the line.
Here's the video. If you can find me, count how many guys were in front of me. I didn't have a clue.
As I was visiting with my fellow racers - some of whom I won't see again for a while - Mrs. SOC came out with the bittersweet news: I'd come in 11th. It was my best Bethel finish EVER, but just outside the top 10 I'd hoped for. And to add insult to injury, the guy I thought I'd beaten out of the prime (even if by only a tire width), came out to tell me he'd actually won.
So close . . .
But not wanting to let the Series end, and Mrs. SOC having already pinned on my number, I lined up for the Pro123 race to join SDC one more time. Unfortunately, he had podium ceremony duties; fortunately, the racers - with a little impatience to get started (1/2hr late due to the previous crash), and a lot of gratitude for all he'd done for the Series - agreed to let SDC jump in when he could without penalty. Gestures like this are one of the many things that makes the racing community so cool.
All I wanted out of the P123 race was to hang in and finish. Being Pack Fodder was fine with me, especially after 27 laps racing up the hill, not counting the 7 neutral laps and warmup laps. Over 70 times up the hill would be a great accomplishment and a fitting end to a great series. Bonus was being able to race with SDC after he'd jumped in. We both finished as expected, with the pack, and I logged the most miles in a single day so far this year: 65 miles of racing.
It wasn't until dinner that evening with Mr. & Mrs. SDC (and friends/marshals D, M & A) that I discovered the Bethel Spring Series had one surprise left for me. As we were eating, I was whining expressing a little disappointment at having been JUST OUT of the top 10 in the Cat3/4 and JUST OUT of winning my first prime at Bethel when SDC said, matter-of-factly: "Oh, well, you know you got a result in the Pro race, don't you? You came in 20th. You'll actually get placing credit for a Pro race."
Wha-WHAT?
The mind and self-expectations are fickle things. Last year, I would have chewed glass to get a result - ANY result - at Bethel (they only score the top 20, and there are usually over 80 starters). Heck, even just a few weeks ago I thought 13th in the Cat3/4 was something to blog about. And now, I'd posted a result in the last Pro race of the Bethel Spring Series. In this case, 20th place is more satisfying than winning a prime or coming in top 10. Sure, it's just *barely* a result, but sometimes "so close" is close enough.
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I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating - A BIG THANK YOU to:
Outdoor Sports Center for sponsoring the 2011 Bethel Spring Series. They provided more primes and giveaways for this early season (so-called) "training series" than many big summer races. Their support has certainly kicked this race up a few notches when many of us thought improving something already so great was impossible.
Navone Studios for supporting the Series for the 2nd year in a row with fantastic INDOOR, sheltered registration, an actual bathroom for the ladies, and a cycling ambience you can't find anywhere else (just check out all those vintage racing bikes hanging from the ceiling and the great photos everywhere).
The many volunteers that take care of registration and marshalling. They give up their time to make sure that the racers are safe and that things go smoothly.
Finally, and of course, Carpe Diem Racing (a.k.a. Mr. & Mrs. SDC) for taking over what was already a great event and somehow making it even better. They take care of the million little things that don't even occur to us and insure that this "race by racers for racers" is the best crit series in the Southern New England/New York region.
It still surprises me how often race plans evolve when confronted with reality. I’ve had a good season so far at the Bethel Spring Series, racing well and feeling strong. The posted results aren’t the fairest or most accurate reflection of how I’ve been doing, since I’ve been trying a lot of different things and working for some friends on other teams. Spring series are great for experimentation.
But yesterday was different. Much different. Our friendly rivals/temporary teammates locked up the GC, I had a bunch of my own team members in the race, and I was coming off a rest week. But add to that a few additional factors: A lot of hungry racers from the recently-concluded Plainville crit series, folks wanting to get one more race in before Battenkill, gale-force winds, and Prime-A-Palooza!
That last factor - where LOTS of cool stuff is given away for primes (pronounced "preems"), and the primes come what seems like every few laps (first one across the line that lap wins) - insured that the racing would be especially lively. My teammates and I figured we'd go "prime hunting" for a bit and then see how we'd stack up in the sprint. Because - given the wind - there was NO WAY a break would stay away. Everybody would be nice and tame, not wanting to put a nose in the wind, and it would come down to a sprint.
That was our plan. Reality had a different plan.
Here's 3/5ths of our team at the start, with friendly rivals doing their best to maintain anonymity.
The remainder of our team for the day, looking decidedly nonchalant. For now.
I have to admit, as we lined up I wasn't exactly feeling smug, but I was pretty confident that we'd do well. The temperature was warmer than in the past couple of weeks, but the WIND!! Wow - the wind was really, really strong. During warmup laps on the backstretch, you'd just about have to dump into your granny to even make it to the hill. But there were over 80 of us at the starting line - plenty of shelter.
Two laps after the whistle blew, I knew we were in trouble (Lance and I, above). Everybody seemed to have the same plan to win primes. Of course it didn't help hearing before the start how much was up for grabs. Everybody was lickin' their chops and the first few laps were as fast as the last few laps of recent races.
Attack after attack went off - small groups got away - the field was stretched thin and even broke in a few places. My plan quickly evolved devolved from "maybe get a prime or two, come in top 5 or better" to "hang in and make sure I don't get dropped."
But - as often happens with racers of a certain level (and perhaps "of a certain age") - my ambition kept writing checks that my legs couldn't cover. Seeing how animated everybody else was convinced me that things wouldn't stay together til the end and I was determined not to be on the wrong side of a split.
Though it did make for some great pics (like the one above - not that I'm biased. Thanks Mrs. SOC!), my teammates and I did a LOT of chasing, bridged a lot of gaps, and generally found ourselves in the front far too often ...
over....
and over again . . .
Eventually, about 4 guys got a break to stick and we chased them for a while. It was torture - every time we'd get to the bottom of the hill, we'd see them just at the top. But by the time we rounded corner 1, they'd already gotten even further ahead.
With all my hopes of winning a prime melting away quicker than the morning frost, and any chance of things coming back together for a sprint not looking too much better, I played the last card I had - and one that I almost never use: I tried to bridge to the break.
Shortly after Mike took a monster pull into the backstretch (the picture above could very well be of the start of his effort), and just as he started to fade, I launched a huge attack into the headwind up the left side. I'd just seen the break go past corner 4, so I set the rest of my matches on fire in an all-out effort to catch them by the top of the hill.
As they crested the hill, I was within 50 meters - deep into my red zone, my lungs and heart struggling mightily to escape my ribcage, my gasps for breath echoing off of Navone Studios.
That was the closest I got. By the time I came around the corner, they'd gassed it and were almost to corner 2.
I was cooked and ready for the sweet, comforting embrace of the peloton.
Now it was, for me, a race of survival. Having used up everything I had, I now just wanted to finish. Drew and TJ were still hangin' in there (pictured above); like me Lance was trying to recover some (unlike me, he'd already raced that morning), and Mike was still looking pretty good (also having raced earlier). We'd done what we could to keep things together, we'd made a bunch of splits and did our share of keeping the race lively.
As the final laps wound down, the pace ramped up even higher. I was too far back to see what happened up front, but fortunately for you, Mrs. SOC was there with her little video camera:
I came in just outside the top 20, glad to have even been able to finish. But I decided not to do the P123 race for the first time this year. Fortunately, SDC flew the colors admirably in that race, coming in 13th.
So, what of "The Realities and Redemption of Regular Racing?"
It's nothing profound, just this:
When you race regularly, it's especially true that "there's always next time." You'll get a chance to try something different, maybe this time your plan will work. And if it doesn't, there'll be another chance at redemption when Reality has a different plan.
There's one Bethel race left. I have a plan, but can hardly wait to see what Reality has in store.
Those of you over a certain age will remember the Coca-Cola slogan "Things Go Better With Coke." It wasn't until I looked it up that I discovered that slogan was from 1963(!) No, I'm not THAT old.
Well, forgetting the contemporary connotations of that old saying, I can join with the masses and attest to the obvious: Racing is better with teammates, no matter what the result. The camaraderie of fellow-sufferers makes even the worst conditions bearable.
Yesterday's races were a case in point. Not so much for the conditions - which were among the windiest, and definitely the coldest so far of the season - but for the company itself. The last time I raced with these guys was last year when we were helping a teammate win the local race series. We rode together the day before this year's series started, but given the truly horrible conditions of that first race day, I decided to stay home. But yesterday's Cat 3/4 race saw us lining up together again: Lance (hot off a win at Plainville the previous day), me, Paul (up from Philly) and TJ (recovering his form after some setbacks last fall).
We were together to help another team - temporary teammates for the day - keep things together. Then we'd see how the sprint lined up.
Everything went as per usual for most of the race. I really enjoy racing every weekend: When racing becomes routine there are MUCH fewer, if any, pre-race butterflies or nervousness. As mentioned, it was VERY cold and VERY windy. The coldness evaporated by the end of the climb on the first lap, but the wind was a wall you hit every time you turned into the back stretch.
We did what we could to keep things together, and when that didn't work, we chased. (as always, be sure to click on the photo for a larger view)
But things would eventually come back together, often with the herculean effort of certain-racers-who-shall-remain-nameless.
Of course, the hill would always break things up a bit, and we'd all have to pedal hard on the descent to get together again. Fortunately, the downhill was also accompanied by a tailwind, making at least these efforts a little less, er, effort-ful.
As the race wound down, we were still gruppo compatto and starting to get things together for the inevitable field sprint. Team EXPO moved toward the front and got the train together with 4 laps to go.
Pauly was on the front and pushed the pace, stringing us out. Unfortunately - and note for next time - we may have gone a little too early cuz we lost a little steam going into the bell lap. Everybody else was feeling the effects too, of course, and as we turned into the wind on the back stretch for the final time, things bunched up and got a little sketchy.
We were still near the front, but started to get swamped on both sides. As we got to the end of the straight section, just before the curve heading toward the hill, traffic got especially heavy. I'd lost track of Paul, but Lance was on my right trying to get me over to his side where the way was a little clearer.
Unfortunately, I was too boxed in and couldn't really step on the gas til part way up the hill. As always, lots of riders were blowing up in front of us (another reason to be as close to the front as possible) and causing a little braking and a lot of swerving. The main event was going on in front of us, but Lance and I were still able to post results of 16th and 20th, respectfully.
We notched another race, had a BLAST racing together and actually getting a train going (we looked like a team time trial for a few laps anyway), and accomplished our primary goal. Sure, a win for ourselves would have been nice, but only secondary to the fun of racing together.
Here's how the front looked - with BJ notching his third win in 4 weeks. Chapeau!
As I have for the last couple of weeks - and plan to continue - I lined up for the Pro1/2/3 race immediately following. Of course, following my own advice, I made sure to refill my water bottles, have a GU, and ask Mrs. SOC to cut off my Cat3/4 race number.
There are two legs on which my doing the Pro race stand: 1) it's great training and 2) it's the only race I get to race with my former-Cat 3-teammate.
Pauly joined us too (though unfortunately didn't make it into the pic) so we had three EXPO guys racing.
None of us had any plan other than to hang in as long as we could. The wind seemed to pick up in intensity - or maybe our legs were just tired. I didn't know whether I'd make it to the end, but unlike the earlier race, the speed in this race was MUCH more varied, slowing down to under 20mph at some points on the windy back stretch.
Clearly, the pack wasn't really interested in punching through the wall o' wind and a break took advantage of this and went up the road. WAY up the road. We chased for many laps accompanied by TJ's yelling time gaps every time we came up the hill. But it didn't do us any good. The break was motivated, the pack was demoralized and as the break lapped(?!) us they - almost literally - rocketed past. Considering the conditions, and the fact that I was relying on the pack's laziness to give me much-needed opportunities to recover, their speed was truly impressive.
But no matter what our average speed was, it was still the Pro race at Bethel and Paul and I were hanging in there. In fact, I even found myself off the front a couple of times - a condition which I remedied as soon as I discovered there was NO way I was going to be able to stay away. And my between-race refilling came in handy when Paul needed some water with about half a dozen laps to go.
We both finished - having raced for 2 hours and 9 minutes, going up the hill 68 times. My legs, which started the day a bit tired from Saturday's group ride (seriously?! I never expected 33 easy miles and a few hills to have that effect), were well and truly toasted. But I'm going into a rest week, so hopefully the recovery will make me stronger and faster.
It had better - there's another race two races this Sunday. With any luck, no matter how I feel or the ultimate outcome, racing with friends always makes for a good day.
For cold weather racing, the right clothing choices are even more critical than usual. While I didn't end up shedding ANYthing during the races, I could have. That flexibility is the key to comfort.
Don't be afraid to pin your number to your jacket if you're sure you're going to be wearing it the whole race.
A knitted "neck donut" (I don't know the right term) gives you a lot of options - leave down just to cover your neck, or extend it up over your face (eh, leaving your eyes clear of course).
The team kit is in the washing machine, I just finished swapping out my Williams 58s for workaday Ksyrium SLs, and I'm at the computer again to try and put into words the incredible excitement, exquisite pain, and endorphine-induced euphoria of yet-another bike race.
It's the Monday night after a full Sunday of racing.
It's hard to come up with new ways to describe a criterium. You basically go 'round and 'round really, really fast. There's either a breakaway that sticks - or it doesn't and there's a field sprint. The weather conditions can play a role in the outcome - wind in particular can mess with people's heads. Will it favor a break, or discourage it? The answer is usually up to the racers - and how much they embrace the suffering.
But if you pay close attention, and your memory doesn't fail you (the helmetcam guys have a huge advantage in helping reconstruct a race), you realize that every single race, without exception, has its own dynamic - its own particular nuance.
In many ways, yesterday's Cat 3/4 race was "typical." It could be summed up in a few short sentences: A sunny and cold day, with little wind, favored a four man break for the win. The Series Leader won the field sprint, coming in 5th. I came in 9th in the field sprint - 13th over all.
But there was, of course, a little more to it than that. Since it's early in the season, we continue to see guys for the first time since last year, teammates that may have been around last week decide to take this week off, you find it hard to figure out how to dress for the ever-changing weather. The lack of teammates can prompt a change in strategy, or even a temporary alliance with another team.
Given the sunny, calm weather, there was a large field yesterday. I was the only EXPO rider in the bunch, so I decided to work for some friends. I discovered while racing Bethel last year for SDC that I really enjoy playing the domestique. There's less pressure to perform - you just have to be willing to chase attacks, bridge to breaks, counterattack - basically suffer for as long and often as you can. It's its own kind of fun.
So that's what I did in the Cat 3/4 race yesterday. Basically jumping on whatever I could, disrupting breaks when I got in them, chasing them down & towing the field to them when I couldn't.
It was a good race - hard & fast, but safe. I got a lot of chances to experiment with how hard I could go, and how often, and still recover.
I even threw a few attacks myself, just for fun. It served to keep the field animated.
And I was even out front a bunch of times.
Unfortunately for my own prospects - but fine for my teammates-for-the-day - a break eventually got away. And, considering it had members from the leader's team and another contending team, it stuck.
But my BIG accomplishment was that - unlike last week, and despite all the hard work I'd done during the race - I was able to recover enough to have something left for the end. As you already know from the little synopsis above, I came in 9th in the field sprint - 13th overall - my best finish EVER at Bethel.
I think next week, I'll try out working for myself and see how I do.
Here's the finishline video:
I cross the line at :17
WARNING: there's an F-bomb at :18. It's not me. Hopefully next time there'll be more putting frustration into the pedals, rather than letting it slip out in a family event. Especially when you're sprinting for, what, 15th?
After reading this, I decided it was high-time I started making the Pro1/2/3 race a regular part of my Bethel Spring Series training. And there'd be an added bonus: I could race with (and try and race for) a recently upgraded Cat2 SDC.
I told Mrs. SOC I wouldn't need any pictures or video, since I didn't expect to be in this race for very long. The nice thing about doing a race that's above you is that "all" you have to do is hang in - no strategizing, worrying about attacking or countering, bridging and such. Just hang on. That's the good news. The bad news is that it's STILL gonna hurt. But, to twist a common phrase, whatever doesn't kill you makes you faster. And having just raced 27 laps on this track, the prospect of 41 MORE laps would certainly put my legs to the test.
SDC and I both decided we'd just look after each other and hang in as long as we could. Racing with the P123 folks is a bit different. It's faster from the start, with the field stringing out single-file pretty early. But it's no safer than the Cat3/4- and, in this race, even less so.
I saw my first crash of the season in the Pro race. It happened as we were coming up the hill. Allofasudden, I saw a wheel go up, and guys braking and spreading outward to avoid the crash. Guys went over like dominoes, and - even more bizarre - the ripple effect (and/or some of the guys toward the back not paying close attention) caused a second crash behind me(!). Fortunately, SDC and I both made it through and the pack neutralized itself for a lap (which I thought was pretty nice - maybe this is common among the higher Category racers?). When we came back through the start/finish, there was a HUGE group of guys waiting to get back in - racers that had been caught up in or otherwise delayed by the crash getting a free lap.
There isn't much to tell about the rest of the race. It was faster, but there was a LOT more speeding up and slowing down. Frankly, I think that may explain why I was able to hang in there. Just as I thought I wouldn't be able to go another lap, the field would inexplicably slow down and I'd recover.
I thought SDC had recovered pretty well too. At one point, late in the race, I got in front of him and assumed I was towing him up the side of the pack. Sure enough, as we slowed - ever so slightly - for the hill, he came rocketing past - just as the bell rang for a prime. He was off the front - WAY off the front - until the 3rd corner, when he dropped back. But his move animated the race - we certainly all worked even harder for the next couple of laps. I didn't see him after that, and didn't learn until later that that was his "burning brightly like a dying comet" move. Heh - pretty dramatic for sure.
As for me, I have to say, as I was going up that hill for over-the-50th time that day at race speed, my legs were getting pretty tired. This race was at least as mental as physical. Each time up the hill I had to talk my legs into pushing my feet around, and around, and around a little bit more. No dramatic Jens-like bravado of "Shut Up Legs!" - more like a silent prayer to them to coax them along just one more time.
And they did. For 41 laps - 68 on the day. And as we hit the bell lap, I was still in the group, flying like crazy down the hill after the first corner. "THIS! THIS! is why I love racing! Riding my bike as FAST AS I CAN!" Even though my legs and lungs were screaming, I hung in there. And as I hit the hill for the 68th time that day - but the last time for another week - I got out of the saddle to do a little sprint, more to keep in contact with the pack than for any other reason.
But as soon as my left leg pushed down on the pedal, I felt a twinge in the quad. I've been fortunate that I've never cramped on the bike, but I've read enough to know what I felt. I knew if I pushed even a wee bit harder, I'd have a full-on cramp.
So I sat down, and still crossed the line with the main bunch - finishing my first Pro123 race of 2011 and racing more in one day than ever before - over 52 miles.
Now the cycling clothes are done washing, and the bike is ready for an after-work ride tomorrow. The memories of yesterday's races will eventually give way to plans for next weekend's races, but my tired legs won't let me forget too soon a great day at the Bethel Spring Series.
Biggest Learning Point from yesterday - REFILL YOUR BOTTLES BETWEEN RACES. If you do races back-to-back, you'll go through more fluid than you think. I did nutrition right, having a GU before the 3/4 race and another one befor the P123. But I ran out of water with 5 laps to go in the Pro race. I'm usually realy good at hydrating - which is probably why I've never cramped. But not drinking at all for the last 5 laps is likely the reason why my quad had trouble.
Yesterday's Ris Van Bethel marked the beginning of my 2011 racing season, and it started off with a bang. Two bangs, that is. But more on that later.
After skipping last week's race due to the lousy weather, by yesterday I was ready to race. Or so I thought. Nobody let my stomach in on the plan and I woke up Sunday morning feeling lousy. As wonderful as it was being out with friends the night before, we got home late - just after midnight. And as I was getting ready to set the alarm, I remembered - OOPS! Daylight Savings Time is starting! So it was actually after 1am before I hit the sack.
I should know this routine by now though. By the time I got to the track, my stomach had started to settle down. And as soon as I started seeing faces I hadn't seen since last year, all the butterflies faded away. The main reason I race is to get to spend some time outdoors with other like-minded guys (and gals) riding our bikes as fast as we can. Everything else is incidental.
It was a little chilly at the start and VERY VERY windy. But as the field lined up, more than one racer mentioned how he'd take the wind over the sand/grit dowsing the pack got last week.
The strong wind even prompted a last-minute wheel change. Remembering how much my front end got whipped around during the Sweep Day ride last week, I swapped out my Williams58 clincher and put on a Reynolds Stratus DV tubular on the front. I hoped the lower profile would work better and figured the deep-dish rear would act as a nice rudder.
We had four EXPO guys in the race: Me, Lance and Dennis - who raced together here last year - and new teammate Joel, returning to racing after a 16 year hiatus (he started racing VERY young). Unfortunately, Dennis is out of the shot. And also unfortunately, the camera obviously adds at least ten pounds - or my base layer is much thicker than I thought . . .
I've mentioned it before - the best thing about the Bethel Spring Series for me is that I hardly ever even see a crash, much less get caught up in one. I don't know whether it's the quality of the racers, or the characteristics of the track, but I'm never nervous at the line like I am in some crits. That makes for a MUCH more enjoyable race for sure.
We started off and it was pretty fast - made worse by the fact that I couldn't get my left shoe clipped in (the lack of outdoor riding becoming evident). After bonking so badly - and surprisingly - last Thanksgiving, and starting my training a month later than last year, I really had no idea what to expect, and certainly no expectations in this race. Nobody was as surprised as I was when I realized I could at least hang in with the rest of the pack.
Which was easy since Lance and Dennis were doing all the work. We hadn't discussed any plan for the race. None of us have targeted it and are using these races as a true training series. So we all just decided to do whatever we wanted to do. And apparently, Lance and Dennis wanted to attack and chase breaks, which they did for much of the race. I was content to let them, figuring if I made it to the end feeling good that I'd see whether I could mix it up in the sprint.
Unfortunately, 9 laps into the 21(?) lap race, going into the third corner bend, I felt a familiar squishiness in the front of the bike. I'd flatted my front tire.
After the pack blew past me, I remembered that SDC had told me that I could ride on a tubular, so that's what I did - all the way up to the start/finish and pit area. I had my stand-by Williams58 waiting and teammate Joel - who'd ended his race early due to a badly pulled leg muscle - helped me swap it out. I was a little stressed, but didn't need to be - the pack seemed to take a LONG time to come back around. It's certainly a different race when you're waiting on the sidelines.
As I got back in, I turned my Garmin back on - or so I thought. I actually turned it off at that point so didn't get ANY data for the remainder of the race. Which is a real pity, since it would have been nice to have evidence of my late-race efforts . . .
With about 5 laps to go, I was feeling pretty good. Whether it was the euphoria of racing again, the pleasant surprise that I was keeping up, or - most likely - the extra lap of recovery due to my flat, I tried to bridge to a break. There were four guys up the road and they'd gotten pretty far ahead. I was near the front and as two guys launched off I was able to grab a wheel. The three of us tried over the next few laps to make it, but with 2 laps to go I knew we'd be caught. The Race Leader's team chased hard to bring everything back together, so I figured I'd recover for a lap then try sprinting at the end.
That's when Reality finally caught up with me. One lap recovery was nowhere near enough and when Lance asked me how I was feeling about 1/2 way through the Bell Lap, I - sadly - had to admit I was cooked.
But my first race of 2011 was in the bag. I'd raced strong, kept my head, and stayed upright.
This is what it looked like at the front:
NOW it was time to do the P123 race.
One of the downsides to having a last name that starts with "A" - the only guy with a lower number was the Race Leader. No pressure.
After having one of the helpful registration gals cut off my 3/4 race number, I went back out to line up. And BOY! did it feel COLD! I was literally shaking from head to toe at the line, my bike quivering back and forth. I was hoping to be able to at least hang with the Big Boys long enough to give SDC some shelter - or at least moral support. Since he's upgraded to Cat2, it's hard for him to get teammates in these races. Fortunately, the starting whistle got us going before things got totally unbearable and the hot pace from the start warmed me all up again by the time I got through 1/2 a lap.
The P123 race was predictably faster, with the pack being strung out only 1-2 wide most of the time. Even through the brutal wind on the backstretch, it didn't calm down too much. I'd entered this race just to see how long I'd last, but I never really got a chance to see. The Fickle Finger of Fate hit my REAR tire on the 12th lap of this race(?!) Flatting twice in two races, I decided I was done for the day and ready to get over to Hobgoblin & Dorothy's house for the rest of the afternoon.
It's amazing how different your perspective can be pre- and post-race. Sunday morning started out with my mind (not to mention my tummy) churning over all the yet-unanswered questions of the day: how would I do? would I be able to keep up? would I crash? By the time Mrs. SOC and I sat down to a lovely late lunch of pizza, fruit, cupcakes and great conversation (all my favorite things) that afternoon, I had two races chalked up for the season, two flats, one pit experience, LOTS of acquaintences renewed, and endorphins pumping. I couldn't quit smiling all along the drive home.
This is why I race - to have fun doing something healthy and spend time with friends. And I hope as I go through the 2011 racing season that you'll join me as I share my personal victories when I do well, and some tips/advice when I don't. Either way, I think it'll be a great year.
Photos & video courtesy Mrs. SOC
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Learning Points
After each race, if I learn anything new or that I want to remember for future races, I'm going to start jotting them down here.
Use lower profile wheels in windy conditions.
When doing races back to back, be sure to pin BOTH number on - first race number on top.
Have scissors handy when you have to remove your first number.
Be sure you restock your supplies before your 2nd race or you'll run out.
Eat at least 2-3 hrs before your race, no matter how you feel, even if you have to force yourself. Sure, you may make yourself totally sick and you won't be able to race at all. Or, more likely, you'll have the energy you need to race. If you don't eat, you're much more likely to bonk and can guarantee that your race will turn out badly. So eat.
(Quick Update: My cycling took a major nosedive starting Labor Day Weekend when I decided to restore my basement from the March flooding. That major project and extra job-related work has taken up all the time I usually spend riding. Proof: I've only been on my bike twice since Sept. 3 - and only for a total of less than 50 miles. Ugh.
So, since I clearly don't have any of my own cycling to report on here, I leave you with a post that I did this time last year. It's the timeless story of a group ride that took place on the eve of World War II. I may not be able to ride as much as I'd like lately, but thankfully I live in a more peaceful time.)
September 21, 1941 was a Sunday, an early autumn day in Southern New England, clear and mild.
World War II had been raging in Europe for exactly two years. The German army had advanced into the Soviet Union that summer and was riding high on the success of having already conquered most of Western Europe. France had just been split into German-occupied and Vichy zones the previous month.
On this particular Sunday, the Japanese were celebrating the 10 year anniversary of occupying China's northeast territory of Manchuria. At some point during that same day, perhaps as some sign of heaven's outrage at such an audacious celebration, the sun was blacked out during a total eclipse visible in most of China - from just northeast of the Black Sea to the Pacific ocean.
Just three weeks earlier, the Japanese government assured President Roosevelt that it had "no imperialist designs on any foreign nation."
Britain had survived the Blitz, which ended that May - the same month Glenn Miller first recorded "Chattanooga Choo Choo" which was featured in a hit movie starring Sonja Henie. "Blue Champagne" by the Jimmy Dorsey Orchestra was the #1 song on September 21, but the Henie movie, "Sun Valley Serenade," was released to theaters exactly a month earlier. By then "Chattanooga Choo Choo" was already a top ten on the Hit Parade, well on its way to becoming the first gold record ever the following February. It was the nation's #1 hit by that December.
Bobby soxers fed the voracious appetite of juke boxes across the country and made Frank Sinatra the top male vocalist that year.
But there was no sign of bad weather this September 21 and at least a few folks took advantage of the beautiful Sunday afternoon to do what many of the readers of this blog do on Sundays.
They went on a group ride.
There aren't many left that remember the "Hobby Trains" run by the New York, New Haven & Hartford Railroad (the "New Haven") during the late 1930s and early 1940s. In an effort to boost ridership, the New Haven took advantage of the fact that their railroad connected the Great Metropolis of New York with New England. There were camp trains in the summer and ski trains in the winter. Photography specials in the spring and all year 'round. But what better time for a Bike Train than Autumn and what better place than the Berkshire Hills?
Thanks to a recent discovery of raw film footage by the NHRHTA, we can go back to that Sunday 69 years ago today and enjoy the sights of a pre-war group ride. You'll have to pedal your single-speed cruiser over a bunch of rollers before you get to the picnic. Don't worry if you have to walk up some of the hills - and girls, be sure to mind your skirts that they don't get caught in the spokes. There are no "rest stops" as we think of today - bits of orange and Powerbars - but an entire spread complete with potato salad, Boston baked beans, chicken and watermelon awaits us.
So give your Schwinn, Columbia or Raleigh to the porter to put in the baggage car, give the conductor your ticket, and enjoy the trip. The train is about to arrive at the station . . .
