ride joe ride

There was beer (though not to be opened in the park). There was a robot. There was birthday cake for Kevin. How could that not set the stage for a good night of racing? I know I certainly wasn’t the only one of the ~30 people lining up thinking that the smaller field, and tired legs might lead to a friendly group ride with a 2 lap sprint at the end. In fact, I thought I had successfully campaigned for this as we were lining up. Alas, it was not to be. The evening was a mix of two of the three worst weather features of the week: it was cold (the PT conked out on the ride down) and there was a stiff breeze blowing directly from the west. As we’d learned earlier in the week, this wind meant that working in small groups was a serious pain in the ass — for the majority of the loop drafting did little. The really fast guys took advantage of this, and I wasn’t savvy enough to position myself near them at the start. Gotta practice that for sure.

The first lap was quick, the second quicker, and then the hammer really dropped. The field strung out and then splintered into several lead dudes who were causing the harm, two chase groups and people shelled off the back. I was in the second group and worked with some good guys to pull us back up to the first chasing group.  At this point, my legs were feeling okay and I was doing some goofy “let’s go get em” stuff. By the time we joined the lead chasing group the leaders had 10 seconds or so on us and they were pushing harder. We were working together pretty well, with Matt Stevenson of XXX taking the brunt of the work. Honestly, though, I didn’t see us defying the wind and clearing the distance to the five or so remaining lead guys. Things get a bit hazy, but with eight laps or so to go, our bunch picked it up again, and my legs announced that the week of abuse was officially at the end.

I sat up and pulled out of the pace line. I know now that I was in about 8th place at this point, and that the next nearest group was way back. I should have jumped on with that group when they came through 30 seconds later, but I was already thinking about the birthday cake waiting at the finish. In retrospect, I wish I’d worked back up, but that probably has to do with me not currently being at the end of a 35 minute sojourn in the pain cave. Ernesto Ciccolini pulled off the win to make it four for the week.

So the aftermath: my house looks like a mid-century modern version of a pro cyclist hotel room — bike stuff everywhere. I have some serious bike maintanance to do, and last night’s running the tank dry after a week of racing has left me pretty worn down. I’ve got to work out a plan this week for not going into the Hillsboro-Roubaix next weekend super trashed.

I’m working on a letter to the city peeps thanking them and Half Acre for all the work, but it bears repeating: this was one awesome event and Half Acre deserves serious kudos for bringing this kind of series to our backyard. Half Acre was assisted by a bunch of volunteers including Allison who worked as a course marshall (and rode with me to/from the races for the most riding we’ve done together in months!). Thanks to you all — it was a great week.

Race reports are fun, but honestly the entire perfect, golden, cool fall day at Carpenter Park can be summed up by listening to this song. No, no — listen to the whole thing. If I had some video from the race, I’d make it over-exposed and fuzzy and set it to that song.

If you’d like a more verbose (and in English, as opposed to Icelandic) version, here it is.

The course:

Arguably one of the best yet this year, possibly taking second only to DeKalb. It was flat, grassy, bumpy as hell and technical. My first thought was that the race would go to the big-engine people, but it wasn’t nearly as fast as it appeared at first glance. Lots and lots of nice corners to mock you for using your brakes. As flat grass courses tend to be, it was very difficult with few places to catch a breath without sinking back through the ranks. The little runup with three, er two, barriers got steadily steeper as the day wore on. The highlight for the spectators was the sandpit with all its crash-inducing fun. Oh, and there was a ravine to jump. Good, good stuff.

Act 1:

I am now getting comfy with the idea that the Masters 30 races are, for me, like playing basketball with weights on your legs. I place badly in them, and they are simultaneously painful and humiliating. But man, when the weights come off for the 4b race, they certainly do make you feel light and springy.

The highlight of my Masters race was my first front line start for a big kids race. I suppose the lack of a pre-race hangover was making me feel cocky because I decided to line up along side people I had no business toeing the line with. Coming into the hole, I was in the top ten and I got my first taste of big kid starts. The dude next to me picked the same line I did, and I leaned into him. In a 4’s race, this is usually like sliding your way through a crowd with people kinda melting out of the way around you. Instead of melt, though, I got a curse and a hard shove back. My race face, which has unfortunately returned, doesn’t allow capitulation to that sort of thing, so I shoved back. I don’t even know who ended up getting the line as I think we were beyond the turn by the time we stopped the shenanigans.

Like my previous Masters race (I am striking last week from my memory) after burning all my matches trying to hang on to the fast guys, I fell into a pretty good rhythm. I passed a couple of people who were popped, and had a nice long chase-down of the dude I couldn’t get last week. I got him, and I kept up the crank for the 45 minutes, so it was a decent race. As a bonus, more people finished behind me than at previous Masters races — I was 23 out of 27 finishers. The top 15 is going to be hard to crack with these guys.

Interlude:

The race was held in conjunction with Carpentersville’s Octoberfest, so no more than 10 minutes separated me from my finish and a place in the beer garden. Yes, I got top spot on the “get to the beer garden” podium, and I do think I deserve some flowers or a stuffed lion or something. Cleverly, this establishment was placed at the end of a nice long concrete stretch of the course, so you could sip your beer while cheering the racers on. We proceeded to do just that for a couple of beers and some awesome mexican junk food. Yum. My drinking of beer was my signal, of course, that I was done for the day. One race, especially a M30+ race, was plenty.

Act 2

Yeah right. If you sit around and watch a cross race for long enough, sooner or later you’re going to want to ride. We moved back out to watch the fun in the sand pit for Devon and Aspen’s races. By the middle of the elite race, I was starting to think that maybe another crack at the course would be a good idea. After all, it was a gorgeous fall day, and we were here. When the 4a’s went out for their warm up lap, I joined them. My between-race nutrition was somewhat less than ideal (beer, elotes and nachos? you think?) but I had that very nice sensation of returning to a course that I had already been abused by. All the line hunting and wondering where to brake was more or less worked out. Awesome. Shaky legs and all, I was doing the 4b race.

Fast forward to our line-up. Huge field (64 starers). Tim McGovern, fellow UCVCer, got a call up for his 13th place standing (yeah Tim!) and when the unwashed masses were called up next, I slid in behind him on second row. If you’re not on the front, it’s a good idea to line up behind someone who is not going to miss their clip and get off their bike to figure out what’s up.

We were off, with me hanging around the top 10 in a group chasing the lead group. Unlike any previous race, I kept a hot pace for a solid first lap. This had the effect of dramatically reducing the number of people who came whizzing past when we settled down. Also a first for me: I found myself riding in a group of peeps who all looked like they were shooting for a good finish. I would hang with these guys for almost the whole race, trading spots occasionally and losing a few people. By the end of the race we were down to three of us, one being Erik Norstrom fellow UCVCer and member of Team Tati.

Erik and I duked it out over the next laps, and by that I mean I did an awesome job of sucking his wheel. I managed to get in front of him a couple of times, but he was riding the sand pit with some serious skill while I was running it with somewhat less skill. By the final lap, he and the Pegasus guy we’d been riding with had a good 10 seconds on me coming out of the sand, and they lit it up for the remainder of the lap leaving me behind to admire the cascade of golden leaves coming down in the cool fall breeze. Okay, I really wasn’t looking at the leaves at that point.

I decided that I needed some practice with my victory fist pump, and since I didn’t have anyone actively chasing me, I gave it a shot. Yeah, that works much better on pavement than bumpy grass. I got one arm up, realized I couldn’t get the other up while simultaneously getting two eyes full of salty sweat. So with both eyes closed, one hand on the bars, I careened toward the officials’ tent. I got my eyes open just in time to see people starting to move out of the way and to hear one official say “just cross the line!” I did so, and I was done. 16th of 61 finishers. Less admiring of leaves, more cranky cranky and maybe I can crack the top 10?

Good times!

A note for the gear junkies: Both races were conducted over my newly built set of tubulars. After a whole lot of undue analysis, nail biting etc. I decided to just take a shot myself at rebuilding my set of Mavic GP4 wheels with a cassette hub. I built the rear wheel last Wednesday (lots of fun!), test rode it to work sans glue on Friday, glued some Vittoria XGs Friday night, rode a shakedown cross ride on Saturday and raced on them on Sunday. I glued using the “belgium” method: a good layer of glue on rim and tire, wait 30 min and then mount using tape (tufo in this case). I ran 33/30 for pressure at the race and the tires were rock solid. I am seriously convinced that I couldn’t have run anywhere near that without pinch flatting due to the course’s bumpiness.

(part 1 is here)

6 a.m. came somewhat earlier than I would have liked. Soon Devon and Aspen came by and we were on our way to DeKalb. Day 2 of the trip, mildly hung-over and on to the next course. Now it was beginning to feel like an epic weekend. We got to the park and quickly headed out for a reconnisance lap. The course was gorgeous — easily my favorite so far. It was fairly long, with a nice technical section full of hidden roots to slip on, a big run-up which reversed on itself for a really wicked off camber downhill (much carnage on that later in the day, though I managed to escape it with only a fall on this practice lap). Then it dropped down onto a paved walking path for a speedy section, and into an uphill stretch in some thick, deep grass and a single barrier. Throughout the day, the uphill grass section into the barrier would leave me totally tapped and slowing down each time I went through. A bit of single track, some tricky corners, and back to the finish. Simply awesome.

Somehow, I found myself signing in for the first race of the day: Masters 30+. These guys are exceptionally fast, but I decided that it would make a good warm up and hangover shaker. I was right on both counts. When a guy on the front row of the start waved me up to an open spot, I smiled and said “that’s not part of my game plan.” Ha, that was the truth. The start was wicked fast. Fast fast fast. I was soon sitting by myself in (what I thought was) DFL. After the first lap, this yielded a kind of detachment from the race that was exceptionally instructive. Freed of the simple desire to push as hard as possible, I began to realize that I was actually moving through the technical sections of the course faster when I was going at a significantly reduced effort. Without redline haze, I was able to pick better lines, stay off the brakes, and come into the power sections with much more spring. I decided I needed to apply this later in the day in the 4b race. I did manage to go down three times including my first experience with hitting the deck directly in front of someone. There is nothing quite like looking over your shoulder to see a wheel coming at your face. Thanks for not running me over man.  I was shocked to find out that I was not last when I pulled in. 16th out of 23, and lots learned. I actually liked the pacing of the 45 minute race and will probably ride the 30+ races again.

After finishing, I found Allison and tried to simultaneously help her work up her courage to race while also tending to myself. Thanks to both Aspen and Devon for once again shoring up a person’s willingness to jump into cross. Meanwhile, the weather went south as the women’s 4s lined up. Heavy rain began to come down in sheets treating us to a very Belgian cross course. As Al raced, I met up with Steve and his dad, and attempted to repair the “warm up” damage of my first race. A little kringle, some cheese curds, a whole lot of coffee, and I began to feel okay again. Meanwhile, Al was doing a great job of making it through her first race with exceptionally little preparation. In her words post-finish: “I threw up, I crashed, and it hurt like hell. That was awesome!” Can there be a more ringing endorsement for a sport?

Before long it was time to line up again for the 4b race. Instead of taking a practice lap as the official suggested (I’d been around the course enough) I took a bathroom break and was rewarded with the chance to pick which side of the front line I wanted to start from. Once again, no excuses in this race. Though nobody backs me up on this, I actually let out an involuntary attack scream as we went off the line that caused the dude next to me to swerve a bit. I was third or so into the “hole” which in this case was a hairpin turn and resulted in some contact with guy next to me (sorry about the elbow mountain bike guy).

On to the first lap. I was tired as hell, but I had the advantage of having lapped the course seven or eight times. As happened the day before, over the first lap I slowly sank from near the front coming into the hole to 15th or so by the end of the first lap. Also like the day before, I found myself spending lots of time following a guy. At one point, Aspen yelled “pass him!” from the sideline, and somehow the suggestion stuck: I pulled around him coming into the fast barrier and spent some time moving up. This seemed like vastly more work than simply trying to hang on to him, though, and he soon made his way back around me. By the end of the race, I was barely hanging with him and found myself having to push to keep from losing contact. This is seriously something I have to work on: from what I have learned so far, moving up in the cross field means being able to willingly force yourself back into suffering after moments of reduced stress (technical sections, catching someone’s wheel etc). The adage is that “cross is all about the transitions” and this is exactly what I think it’s referring to.

I managed to hold off another couple of guys in the last bit (muttering “no crashes, no crashes”) and pulled across the line in 16th out of 40-some just as the sun was beginning to break through. My fourth race was in the bag. I was exhausted and utterly content. I finished somewhat stronger than last week over the whole weekend,  I think I learned a great deal, and (most importantly) I got to spend a couple of days enjoying the combination of cross and friends. In summary: a really epic weekend.

I was going to make this an update in my tubular series, but I realized that today was actually my first real ride on what amounts to a completely reconfigured bike — today’s ride was more or less like riding a new bike. Things started inauspiciously when I came across a down rider 3 miles into my ride. She’d hit gravel on a sharp turn and come down hard on her elbow. It looked like it was probably broken. While I was talking with her companions/calling an ambulance a fellow UCVC rider came along. After we helped with the ambulance logistics, we decided to ride together. The ride ended up involving the lake front path, a cross town leg to Yojimbos for tire sealant and a cyclo-comp, and then returning along the lake path. Maybe 30 miles total.

Gears: What to say about my first real geared ride in years. As I suspected, I didn’t really feel the need to shift much. The ability to coast is amazing, and really helps when you’re riding for a couple of hours in ways you wouldn’t think of. You can drink while coasting, stand up and stretch while coasting etc. There is a rhythm when you’re riding with other geared riders that I think I was totally unaware of pre-gears. The sound of another freewheel is the cue to coast so you’re keeping the same speed. Finally my cadence is not in a completely different realm as the people I am riding with. There is a lot of talk about the connectedness you feel when you’re riding fixed. You and your bike are one machine etc etc. I find riding a geared bike is much more like riding a motorcycle or horse. That is, the agent which is moving you is something you are not in fact “one with.” Going down hills, this is particularly apparent: you’re riding this svelte thing and you’d better make sure it is pointing in the right direction. I found this to be lots of fun. I found myself spending almost all my time in 52 up front and 17 in the back. I got a good laugh when I just did the calculations: this is almost exactly the same gear length as the 49×16 that I have been running fixed for the past year. Not quite the gear ratio of champions, but the alps’ de 47th is somewhat shy of a category climb.

Tires: Simply put: all the hype about the ride quality of the tubulars is more or less accurate. The Vittoria CR’s at 22mm run smoother than my favorite Continental GP 4000s in 25cm. If you hunt around, you’ll see the ride of tubulars described as “cloud-like” and I now see where this is coming from. Small to medium sized road crap just gets sucked up by the tire in a way that makes me want to write these suckers poetry or something. Just beautiful, compelling, calming and just what you want when you’re going to be on them for many hours. I am running just shy of 7 bars front and rear which feels about perfect, but I may mess with pressure a bit.

In fitting celebration for a first geared ride, I just popped a cat-eye on Cupcake. Tomorrow: 70 miles.