Take that Race Predictor 2

Goddard Park attracts thousands of visitors each year as Rhode Island’s most popular Metropolitan Park. The park offers a beautiful natural environment with spacious lawns, fields, and forested areas with a variety of trees from all over the world, including 62 deciduous and 19 evergreen species all neatly wrapped in blue vinyl tape. Visitors can make use of a golf course, an equestrian show area, 18 miles of bridle trails, 355 picnic tables, 11 game fields, a performing arts center and a beach for weddings, concerts, picnics and special events – such as cyclocross racing.

Goddard Memorial State Park, home of the NBX Grand Prix of Cyclocross, goes back to the early settlement of Warwick, a Rhode Island city located on the Narragansett Bay. Founded in 1642, Warwick has witnessed major events in American history. In 1772, Warwick was the scene for the first violent act against the Crown in what was to be called the Gaspée Affair. Local patriots mooned and then boarded HMS Gaspée, a revenue cutter (an armed enforcement service vessel) charged with enforcing the Stamp Act 1765 and Townshend Acts in Narragansett Bay and spilled the first blood of the American Revolution when the commanding officer of the Gaspée, took a shot to his crotch. Getting a shot to your crotch in Goddard Memorial State Park these days equates to missing the saddle on a superman style remount.

I flatted both days – I never flat. Some blame the roots. I’m a mountain biker I know how to handle roots. I ride roots so well that I took super sketchy lines that no normal person would ever attempt. I ride roots so well that I passed two other riders in a turn by hugging a tree and popping off its raised root collar to air the mud hole. I’m so good at roots that I was the extremely rare rider to take the right, high and dry line that just happen to lie on the far side of some sick surface roots. A post-race wheel autopsy confirmed my suspicion. The tube had a tiny single circular puncture. Saturday’s flat was the curse of the race predictor. I was supposed to finish 32^nd, my flat, pit stop and wheel change pretty much put me right on target.

Sunday’s flat was realized, believe it or not, at the exact location as Saturday’s flat, at the top of the stairs run-up three-quarters way though the lap; again on my last lap. I don’t like curses. I decided to assess my bikes handling (of course it handled fine, it’s a Colnago World Cup)as I raced toward the pit and if the Michelin Mud 2 bead stayed locked to my Stan’s Iron Cross wheel; I would take my chances and finish on the flat. I've had quite a bit of experience riding on flat tires. More than once I've been bit by a rattler (by the way, this flat was the result of a snake bite) while cruising down the back side of Sleeping Beauty on the East side of Lake George, and just road it flat to the bottom. The tire was still on the rim as I came up on the pit and I went for it. Race Predictor had me finishing 31^st in Sundays race. I crushed the curse by 9 spots. Take that Race Predictor.

You're probably thinking, “you destroyed an Iron Cross wheel for 9 spots!” Wrong. The wheel stayed true, the tire stayed locked in place, there’s not a mark on the Iron Cross. It was the curse that took a shot to the crotch. Thanks Stan.

Best race ever – again!

I’m in my post-season – Last week’s Bethlehem Cup is my traditional end-of-season race. Boy would that have been a mistake to end my season with my end-of-season race. My first post-season race was so great I’m thinking of re-defining my season.

The 2015 HRRT race team application included the question; “What was your best race ever?” Review of my race reports indicate that my best races have a common theme; I have a plan, I stick to the plan and as a result, I think, end up exceeding personal expectations. Day-1 of the Supercross Cup just made the list of best races.

Key ingredients to Don having a successful race: (1) Concentrate on the pre-ride. It’s not only about the legs. I personalize the course, try several lines and build Don’s plan “A” cognitive race map with plan “B” backups – for when it gets backed-up. (2) Decide how to address the hazards. It’s a race – get from point “x” to point “y” as fast as possible, not a pretty as possible. In this particular race the fastest line involved diving into the mud ruts. (3) Use proven nutrition. Oatmeal laced with nuts and berries and sweetened with pure maple syrup two hours prior to the start; a banana a half hour before go time; and a delicious GU Roctane at precisely T-15 minutes to launch.  Just typing the word Roctane makes me feel like I need to race someone – very Pavlovian.  (4) This is a new one. Park next to the guy who is always a top five finisher and do what he’s doing, under the neighboring tent, to keep legs warm and blood flowing.

What made day-1 of this week-end of racing best of the best is that I caught my mark. I thought of what Dave says “Race the guys ahead, pay no attention to those behind”. I chased from the start – never letting my mark get away. I passed everyone my mark passed. I thought of what Jens says “If it hurts me, it must hurt the other[s]…” I beat my brains out.  Then in lap four, my mark showed a moment of weakness and I attacked. Now it was time to pay attention to the guy behind me. Twice before the end of lap four there were counter attacks, but the counter attacks didn’t hold and I went into the bell lap ahead. I don’t know how far ahead, I was afraid to look. My mark rode past me on a run-up half way through the final lap. That must have been the burning of his final match because I overtook him on the slight up-hill grind that followed.

The race ended with in a 30 MPH sprint to the finish. I had bested my mark by one second on the clock, a bike and a half in length. As Roy, the dying replicate, says after the final chase sequence in Blade Runner, the best sci fi movie ever, “time… to die…” Well, time to recover anyway. I've got one more race weekend.

Masters schmasters, these guys are fast!

So the guys have been after me for a while to race Masters. Easier said than done.  I needed to be at least Cat 4 to race masters and I needed to make the bogey of ten (10) USAC races to upgrade.  I reached the bogey two weeks before the season closer, Bethlehem. With the help of one of the guys, the upgrade application made it through “the process” in time for me to register for the Bethlehen Masters 55+ race.  I’ll have to admit, even though I had convinced myself that the guys wanted me to races masters so that they could kick my butt and I also convinced myself that they all would, I felt quite at home in this geriatric bullpen of racers.

It was one of the smoothest starts I remember, we all simply accelerated onto the course.  Maybe it was the nature of the course design, but once on course it was nothing but the flow of racers.  Not the sprint to brake slinky of Cat 4-5.  Not the “excuse me while I drive you into the tape” of Cat 4-5 racing.  Not the “I’m going to pass you just to hold you up on the next climb” of Cat 4-5 racing.  There guys just flowed around the course. These are my peeps – they are just faster.  I went from mid-pack to bottom third with one quick upgrade.  I guess that’s the way it should be.

I need a race within the race to drive me. The major proponent of my upgrade to master’s racing, was the designated object, “rabbit”, of the race within the race. My rabbit got a considerable lead early in the race and I was never able to close that lead. Turns out that the rabbit is a considerably better sprinter that me and he put a few racers between us on the way to the “hole”. Getting around those racers and back onto the tail of the rabbit took the entire race plus 50 yards. It was one of the hardest fought races of my two seasons, one of the most exhausting races of my two seasons and one of my most satisfying races ever. The guys were right – racing with the masters is where I belong.

Sports for $100

I'll take Sports for $100

Waking to a predawn alarm  –  Kitting-up with two extra outer layers and a puffy jacket  –  Bushwhacking the bikes, in darkness, off the side porch, through the rhododendrons, across the lawn to the idling car  –  Meeting the on-call road snow emergency crew at the local 24/7 convenience store for a cup of coffee  –  Adding trail mix, bananas and chocolates to the coffee tab  –  Arriving at the park before the park entrance attendant has a chance to sort out the morning  –  Parking in an empty parking lot next to a field filled with collapsed tents, wind torn banners and miles of fluttering vinyl tape – Eating breakfast out of a paper bowl in the romantic light cast by the navigation system screen and seat heater lights – Fifteen minutes of quickstep dancing in the dark , cold and windy line of racers outside the concession stand in a kit with two extra outer layers and a puffy jacket – Pinning each other’s race numbers on the left side rib cage of our kits with the world’s smallest safety pins and numb fingers – Feeling our way along the course between the tape as the sun peaks above the horizon but continues to hide behind the cloud cover – Picking up the pace on the second pre-race lap to test tire pressure and adhesion – Testing your bike handling abilities and line selection on pre-race lap number three – Bringing your heart rate down and formulating your race plan on lap four while you listen for the last call to staging – Dropping everything at base camp save a last gulp of water, your GU Roctane and something to block the wind during the call-ups – 

“One minute to start” you throw your last piece of warm clothing over the rail of the bull pen, check your gear and jack your pedals for the start – “Thirty seconds to start, start could come at any time” – Sprint, sprint , sprint like you've never sprinted before, the sooner you get on course the better position you’ll be in for the first bottleneck. From here on out you execute your plan which can be summed up as: Ride as fast as you dare, pushing the biggest gear you can bear, take every opportunity that presents itself and when you hear the bell, step it up a notch and finally sprint to the finish.

What is Cyclocross Racing?

It's a very, very mad world, mad world

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere "Mad World" GARY JULES

How weird is it that I end up exactly mid-pack two weeks in a row? Cyclocross season rages on and I’ve settled in. The fields expand and contract with the different venues and yet it seems that I end up in the same race within the race week after week and we all attack and attack again to get to the place where we first started – first.

I learned this week what a road crash sounds like - the ring of aluminum; air being forcibly removed from lungs; lycra skid-shredding on asphalt and panic. “I love my disc brakes!” I thought as I threaded myself between one of my nemeses and his tangled bike. The crash occurred within the fifty yards of the start. I spent the balance of the race playing catch up.

When you’re playing catch up, a good pre-ride is more than important than ever. There are a couple of features on the Wicked Creepy course that has beneficial lines. One in particular was a stairs run-up with a 180^o left, off-camber turn at the top step and a smooth run out. The beneficial line was the inside line. As long as I could keep a step on my competitor, I controlled the remount. My competitor would have to go way wide or wait. In either case I’d win.

After three laps I was racing familiar faces in worn out places bright and early going nowhere, going nowhere…

And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which [I feel like] I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very mad world, mad world

If you go [with a break], you can either win or not win

"If you go [with a break], you can either win or not win. If you don't go for it, you definitely won't win.” –Jens Voigt

This weekend I started my race in the middle of the field. The days of a front line call-up are over now that I’m racing Category 4. At Providence, I played it safe at the start and lost places. This time I decided to be aggressive, hold my position, race “hard” start to finish and take my chances on blowing up. I made it half way through the third curve when I suddenly had the sensation of being upside-down. I remember how blue the sky was – it had been cloudy the day before the race. Thud! I was on my back in the middle of the field of racers. The bike lying next to me wasn't mine. “Where’s my bike?”

Some random guy was trotting upstream in the flow of racers to hand me my bike. Without pause, I superman mounted and re-entered the race. Peddling away from the scene of the “accident” I started to assess the damage. My bike seemed fine. My chain obviously stayed in place. The shifters were aligned. I was missing some skin from my left knee. Other than my knee, I’m okay. Bottom line, that crash was no big deal in comparison to the mountain biking crashes I've endured. Two days later though, my ankle is stiff, my back tight and I have a sore right buttock.

Jen Voigt says going with the break is “just logic”. I cannot argue the logic; I can however question the return on investment. The investment being the stiff ankle, a tight back and a sore right buttock; the return being a smack-dab-in-the-middle-of-the-pack finish. For me, being smack dab in the middle at the finish is very satisfying. I value that satisfaction as being worth the stiff ankle, tight back and sore buttock. I’m guessing that not everyone will agree with me – it might just be the mountain biker side of my brain typing – but I’m going to hold my position and race hard from start to finish from here on out. Not necessarily because it’s logical, because it’s satisfying.

Forget the rest, it’s about doing what you want

“Forget the rest, it’s about doing what you want” – Brice Minnigh

The November issue of Bike magazine’s “Start here” talks about mountain biking as “casting off those social chains that enslave us… escaping from all rules and responsibilities, from a homogenizing social order that stamps out individual expression and grinds humanity into a nauseating passive pile of sameness… and getting out to shred with a reckless abandon that funnels us straight back to our primal roots”.

CrossStock is what occurred when mountain bikers decided to host a skinny-tired, curly-barred happening. I’m not sure CrossStock has boundaries. If there are boundaries the following fall within: Ride what you brung • beer and doughnut hand-ups • totally sketchy downhill • eye gouging rocks • tractor ruts • rock wall crossings • hot tub • out and backs hairpins • drum circles • amateur hour • beer podiums • farm animals • bonfire • and a death spiral.

A bit of trivia – Most ants are sighted, however some are completely blind and it’s possible for them to become disorientated and march in circles until they die of exhaustion – its been called one of the strangest sights in nature. I tend to agree with this assessment once I witness it re-enacted at CrossStock.

Lastly, CrossStock provided a first for me. This was the first time I shared a podium with Thierry – ever!

“By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail”

Dr. Brescia, an HRRT sponsor, quoted Benjamin Franklin this morning “By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail”

It’s time to re-apply to the HRRT teams.  One of the application fields is ‘Best Race Ever’; however, a single race didn't stand out in my mind.  Looking back through my race reports, I noticed a trend. The races I gushed over were races where I had put in place a plan, stuck to the plan and as a result (apparently) done better than I had expected.  Racing at the KMC Cyclocross Festival was another example of what I consider one of my best races ever.

Unsung heroes: Colnago World Cup – The bike soaks up the hits without complaint; the geometry allows for whipping through slithering cross courses; and the bottom bracket is sufficiently high that I've yet to have an issue pedaling through just about any corner.  ProGold – A “light” chain lubricant that noticeably quiets my drive train, sheds dirt, and does not build up and become tacky goo that complicates chain cleaning.  Note that the couple of times I've used ProGold’s bike shine, my bike was noticed and commented on (positively) by other.  GU: adding Electrolyte Brew to my warmup routine ensures that I’m fully hydrated at the race start; a Roctane Ultra Endurance Energy Gel at the start line kept my legs pumping to the end – my last lap was the fastest. Comfort Inn – We were pressed to quickly find a place to stay; we found friendly staff, a clean, quiet and restful room, and the included breakfast met our nutritional needs as well as our need for a very early departure.  Comfort Inn was one of the lowest priced rooms in the area and I have no doubt, the best value.

During the course pre-ride, I tried several different techniques on obstacles.  For the two sketchy course fly-overs, I decided to play it safe and run.  We arrived early to get a full forty minutes of warmup; then kept my legs loose and blood flowing with a trainer course-side while I waited for the staging call.  An unintended positive consequence of spinning – it calms nerves.

I got a forth row call-up – big surprise.  I thought I’d be in the back at the start.  I watched a hole-shot crash the day before and decided to play it safe.  Playing it safe cost me a few spots getting onto the course.Once on course, I made a big push to hang onto the chase group – I was able to maintain contact for the majority of the first lap. During the race I didn’t deviate from my plan to run sketchy fly-overs and keep pushing myself every lap to catch or at least hold onto the rider ahead – don’t look too far ahead; never look back. On lap three I caught Paul.  Paul and I duked it out the rest of the race. While we grappled, we caught and passed two other riders and traded lead a couple times. Threading our way through the death spiral for the last time, I went wide and then dropped across to the inside for the pass; Paul shut the door on me. I chuckled and congratulated him on the fine counter move. We sprint to the line for a photo finish near mid pack.

Another best race; I had a plan, stuck to it, found a race within the race, felt good about my performance, and finished where I had hoped and had fun.

The Rensselaerville cycling festival indeed had it all

"Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride."

— John F. Kennedy

“Cyclists live with pain. If you can’t handle it you will win nothing.” 

— Eddy Merckx

The Rensselaerville cycling festival indeed had it all – from the web site…

“A delicate balance of epic ride and party time, for those who want the best of both worlds …the Medio Fondo includes some dirt roads, some difficult climbing, and gorgeous vistas along the challenging ascent into northern tip of the Catskill Mountain range.  You’ll ride past working farms, historic villages, and beautiful fall foliage colors.”

I like to refer to it as the ‘Hagens Berman Masochistic Fondo’.  How can something so fun and well intentioned end up on the pain cave end of the spectrum?  Lapse of good judgment:  First lapse – I planned this as a recovery ride for the previous day’s race; Second lapse – I stopped to take pictures at mile two; Third lapse – I didn't pack my own nutrition; Final and deadliest lapse – I pushed to catch up.

The odd thing is I've learned over the years that it’s predominantly about preparation and sticking to a plan.  It didn't take me long to figure out that my spur of the moment idea to dart ahead of the peloton and then stop to take pictures was hair-brained. The peloton passed me before I could get the camera out of my jersey pocket.  Andrew rubbed it in with a “You’ll need to ride faster than that to get a picture” shout out.  It was an oh-crap-I’d-better-get-back-on-my-bike moment.   Jen and I had discussed, prior to the ride, at which aid stations we would stop.  I’m not sure why, but rather than riding a reasonable pace to the first aid station stop to regroup, I decided to overdo it and attempt to bridge from group to group to catch up as quickly as I could.  At the 12 mile point, Jen had decided to sit up to let me catch up – Too late; I was already starting to hurt with over 43 miles and the bulk of the climbing to go.

A few HRRT riders regrouped at the 15 mile aid station.  The aid station had nothing that I considered suitable – I regretted not bringing my own nutrition. Pain really started to set in during the first sustained (8 mile) climb.  I started to feel those random muscle twitches that signal the onset of cramping.  The sustained on-asphalt climb turned out to be a precursor to a really painful stone road climb.  As painful as the stone road climb was, the stone road descent was sketchy – I passed a lot of riders with flats, but couldn't catch Jen. This was the second time Jen had to sit up and wait for me.

By this time in the ride, I had retreated into my primitive brain and was functioning in some sort of

instinctual survival mode.  The rest of the ride consists of very short flashes of high brain consciousness scatter throughout miles of a base-of-the-brain pain cave.  Flash – I was on a super smooth road descent.  I believe it reached a speed of 50 miles per hour.  Flash – “2.3 miles to the wall”.  I was already climbing, what the heck is the wall? Flash – I’m now riding straight up; Single-speed stomp, stomp, stomp; must keep moving.  No, don’t cramp now! I guess I made it to the wall.  Flash – Some random guy on the side of the road says “this next hill is a really difficult one”.  Thanks for that, random guy.  Flash - No relief from climbing during the last fifteen miles – fighting cramps and dead legs all the way.  Flash – It’s over and there is half a chicken, barbequed to perfection, lying on a plate in front of me.  Yum, I can now engage higher brain functions and re-enter reality.

In retrospect, the pain was mostly avoidable. However, I handled it and I won – I won a really cool raffle prize!

Use not only the strength you have, but all that you can borrow

Woodrow Wilson said “I not only use all the brains that I have, but all that I can borrow”

I looked over to Andrew; we were both entrenched deep within the peloton, and asked “How fast are we going?” “27 miles per hour.” was the answer. I was barely pedaling.  It occurs to me that there is a parallel to President Wilson’s quote in road racing - Use not only the strength you have, but all that you can borrow.

This was the third annual running of the Drops to Hops.  The first year I hardly paid it any attention until HRRT brought home hardware.  Then the second year, HRRT was memorialized by Andrew and Kurt making it onto the Drops to Hops flier.  It was at that time I had decided – much like the time I had decided to do my first Tour of the Battenkill – after a couple of IPA from our dear sponsor, Tom, that I was racing the 2014 running of the Drops to Hops.

The Drops to Hops elite race is an all category neutral mass start. I’ve heard this type race is one of the most dangerous. I heeded the advice from a road race clinic I had taken earlier this year and positioned myself well up in the front third at the start and hung onto the wheel ahead of me as long as I dared. Wise advice; as the miles passed and I started to drop back in the field of riders, rider aggression was on the rise and rider stability on the decline.

I first saw route profiles printed and cut to fit the top tube at the Ididaride. I tried it for the Drops to Hops – what a great idea.  No surprises; with the exception of how much bigger those little humps at the end of the race feel in comparison to the little humps at the beginning. Having the race profile for constant reference also helped me to properly time my nutrition – it worked well. I like to think of it as my poor man’s incantation of a radio and directeur sportif.

I recently received 65 miles of pace line riding coaching from Julie. Julie shepherd me and a group of eight “B” riders, from mile 35, to the end of the Mohawk-Hudson Century.  During that ride I not only learned to pace line ride, I learned how to teach others to pace line ride.  I also witness that with a little patience and assertiveness, riders who had never before ridden together, could ride together and take advantage of the combined strength of the pace line. The biggest challenge was to keep riders from pulling too long. It’s not really intuitive that if one rider “helps” too much with long pulls, they’ll burn themselves out and quite quickly drop off the back. In the aggregate, they end up

reducing the overall strength of the pace line. I think. Anyway, I had paid attention to Julie and knew not to over pull and yelled to other riders to “get off the front” every thirty seconds or so. This modus operandi kept me fresh enough to follow any breaks and continue to bridge up when the opportunity arose.

On the backside of the second big hump, about mile 30, I found myself in a foursome I would eventually finish with. I had to earn my keep in the final foursome. I’m not aware of an official protocol used for joining a group of riders other than asking “Hey, can I ride with you?” but I can read facial expressions and the facial expressions were saying lets drop this wheel sucker.  Lucky for me I was not the weakest rider among the four of us. I held my position and waited for an opportunity at the front. I gave the group one of my best pulls of the day, not long, but strong up a slight incline. The obvious alpha member of the group gave me a “nice pull” accolade as I came off the front – I now belonged. 

And that’s the way it stayed until one last big effort by me and Mr. Alpha at the finish line. Mr. Alpha retained his title.  For me, it was the fastest average speed I have ridden to date – thanks to borrowed strength.

“It never gets easier, you just go faster.”

 “It never gets easier, you just go faster.” Greg LeMond. In my case it’s “they” who go faster.

I didn’t know if I was going to race until the end of my pre-ride; two days previous I couldn't put weight on my left foot. My foot is Injured – not sure how – maybe I just over did it? In the previous few weeks I rode the Ididaride and the ADK 80K, banged my head on a tree (not that this has anything to do with my foot), participated in a cyclocross clinic, rode the Mohawk-Hudson Century, and then helped a friend load hay into his barn -- all along with a few training rides sprinkled in between. I've read that the first step to recovery is getting past the denial that you’re injured. At the end of my pre-ride, my foot felt fine; evidently I’m not injured (or still in denial).

The race started about normal; the hole-shot could have been mine if I wanted risk life and limb (the

photo of the first turn tells a different story) – I chose to go wide and avoid the gravel, exiting the first curve in third. No problem, just maintain contact with the leaders – cook book. That seemed to work in Cat 5. I quickly discovered that Cat 4-5 was a whole new recipe (for disaster).  It rained the day before and the course was soft. Things slowed down as soon as the race went off-road. By things, I mean me. Racers started passing me like sedans passing long-haulers in the Pennsylvania hills. These Cat 4-5 guys have a much higher power to weight ratio than I’m used to.

I consider myself skilled with the technical parts of cyclocross racing, so I cannot explain why, on the first lap, I dismounted a full three strides early at the barriers. I sort of redeemed myself in the shallow hollow taped to kind of mimic a half-pipe feature – shift, shift and shift – you could accelerate all the way through that feature. Beyond the “half-pipe”, there were a couple reversed banked curves. I caught riders every lap in these two sections of technical riding.

Things that worked well:  My nutrition. A bowl of oatmeal loaded nuts and berries, and sweetened with pure Vermont maple syrup two hours before go time and then a GU Roctane at T – 15 for the excellent start; and my new Colnago World Cup.  I didn’t seem to have any problems on the short punchy climbs – the World Cup geometry is kick; and shouldering the Colnago was a very natural motion – balanced and always falling right into position.

 

Things that didn't work so well: My legs. In the end power to weight ratio trumped technical riding

skills. My race warm-up; it was less than half the length it should have been. That’s a lesson I learned last year and then ignored by doing just one lap to qualify my foot.  My foot; it blew up. Turns out I do have an injured foot.

All in all, things went pretty well. I lost to many more than I want to–but beat a few racers that I didn't think I could beat. I’ll take it.

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