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