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.