ride joe ride

First off, serious thanks to Tim for putting together a very fun morning of alley cat style cross yesterday in Jackson Park. We did a tag-team race (lots of fun!) and a couple of shorter mass-start races. In all, it was a great workout and an excellent alternative to sitting around wishing there was a CCC race on Thanksgiving weekend. This is defentitely something we should consider doing regularly during the season next year.

In other news, I have been spending some time thinking about what next year’s early-cross season (aka the road season) is going to hold for me. As a result, I’ve also been giving some thought of where I am going to go with this blog after cross season ends next week. I looked back through my previous posts, and I’ve realized that this has become a cycling blog. I’ve written only a few non-cycling related posts in seven months. I’ve been having fun doing that so far, so I think I am going to go with that theme somewhat more officially.

So, here’s what I have in mind. I’ve gone through periods of using a coach and not over the years, and I’ve found that some of my best experiences have been self-coaching. For your general entertainment, the collective good of the interwebs, and to give myself something to do, I’m going to move toward making this blog a record of my attempt at self-coaching for next year’s road and cross seasons. I’ll set some goals, devise a training plan and race schedule, record my progress, and try to figure out what works and what does not. At this point, I am planning on training with a power meter, so I’ll probably have an area where I post profiles of my workouts. The cornerstone of this will be a weekly post in which I review what I’ve done, how the numbers are stacking up, and what I will change about my plan for the next week (this was always the biggest benefit a coach offered me). The goal will be to offer some commiseration for anyone else who tries a similar plan of self-coaching. Well that and also offering some entertainment vis a vi my suffering and blowing off workouts publicly.

So look for some changes in the near future. I’m planning on taking a month off after the cross championships to get familiar with my training toy, get the road bike squared away, get the blog format worked out, and devise a training program which takes me through the summer. Totally PRO without all that weighty “winning” stuff.

I think I’ve been putting off writing a report from this weekend’s race because of what it represents: the fact that cross season is almost over. This weekend’s bandit race will be a fun filler as the CCC takes a break, but the truth is that we have one more race left and then it’s 9 months until the next cross race. Ouch.

Anyway, this weekend I headed up to Woodstock with Steve for some crossy goodness. The day started out cold but sunny and calm, and we decided early on that it was perfect cross weather. The course was lots of fun if a little on the long side (I heard 2.2 miles). No mud or sand, but some really nice big hills and some ripping fast sections. Oh and it was bumpy. Like my back is currently still reminding me how bumpy it was. BUMPY.

I got the lantern rouge for the start! I picked a guy to line up behind who is normally very quick, but he had a problem clipping in and we got spit out of the back. No matter, I clawed back on as we hit the first hills. Unfortunately, by the time we’d exited the hills, I’d passed the guy I’d set my sights on for the day and he didn’t look like he was coming back. I tried to hang with a few guys, but the nature of the 30+ races have changed over the past couple of weeks. We haven’t had more than 20 people in our race for weeks, and it seems like the only people (besides me!) who are coming out are wicked fast. Yeah, they dropped me.

So I rode my race mostly alone and missed the fun competition of the last few weeks. The highlight was probably the last 5 minutes or so when Mark Moeller, whom I’d passed in the first couple of laps, suddenly appeared behind me and spiced things up a bit. I dug in for the last half lap and thought I’d lost him. In actuality, he knew where I was weak and was letting me blow myself out before attacking. Coming into the final chicane before the finish straight I heard the “thunk, thunk” of his downshift just before he blazed by me at mach 2. By that point I seriously had nothing left and once he hit the chicane in front of me, I knew he had it. He was waiting as I crossed the line (for 15 of 19) and we laughed at how all our sneaky plans had unfolded. Sometimes getting snaked at the end like that makes you think of all the ways in which you could have done better, but Mark played me so well in that last bit that laughter seemed the best response.

Steve and I watched the next race and then headed into Woodstock for some seriously amazing mexican food. By the end of my plate of mole-covered cheese enchiladas and a couple of beers, I was ready for some intensive cross spectatorship. One of the downsides of renting a car to make it to the race is how it tends to work against just sitting around and enjoying the other races. With the end of the season looming, it was good to hang out for the whole day, talk to all the excellent cross people and suck on a water bottle filled with good belgian beer. What an afternoon.

By the time Steve was lining up at for the 4b race at 3:00, the wind had picked up and the clouds moved in. Steve had a bit of gallows look to him, but it was his first race so that was to be expected. The day felt old and waning and a little sad. Steve started well and was mid–pack into the first turn. By the second lap, Steve was still hanging mid-pack! I celebrated in his honor by cracking a bottle of Duvel. Something about the twilight, the beer, the sad cold wind blowing the leaves around, and cheering for Steve as he passed made these my favorite spectating moments of the season.

Maybe it was because I was doing too much soaking up the ambiance that I missed Steve coming down the final chicane with mechanical troubles. I’d been chatting with Damon, and he said “hey isn’t that your friend?” Sure enough Steve was walking toward us outside the course tape with his front wheel in his hand. Damn, we didn’t put wheels in the pit for him. In a funny twist, I ran down the hill and replaced his wheel with the one from my bike, but a course judge who’d been watching yelled “you’re out!” as he slid back under the tape to continue. So actually, he’d didn’t DNF but was DQ’d for taking wheels outside of the pit. The official seemed very sorry to toss him out, but we assured her that he’d rather be drinking beer anyway.

As dusk was settling in, we headed back to town for some well deserved dinner. Congrats to Steve on his first cross race!

Good luck to all you lucky people heading out to Jingle Cross!

Normally, I attempt to make race reports less self-indulgent and, hopefully at least, somewhat more readable by someone who isn’t deeply interested in my development as a cyclocrosser (i.e. anyone else besides me). This week, not so much on that strategy. I just had one of my most inspiring races (running included), and I need to basically make myself some notes for future mulling. If you’re gonna read the whole sucker, I suggest a good Belgian beer and these guys for musical entertainment. I had one brief section of this song of theirs stuck in my head for the whole last lap and it did me right.

The race this week was at Lan Oak Park in Lansing, and as we rolled up to it, I was pretty bummed. It was absolutely flat and tightly contained in a small park. There was a 60ft or so sandpit, but it was the absolute highlight on the course. I knew before even riding the thing that I was going to get lapped — it was just that short and utterly fast. All the turns were pedal-able and there was almost nowhere to recover. The weather was bleak and cold without any precipitation to liven things up. There is a certain calmness that comes with resignation, and while doing my practice laps I felt this settle in. I think this probably helped me out.

My goal for the day came courtesy of crossresults.com (down, no doubt due to Sunday race postings, as I’m writing this), which I discovered earlier in the week. I wanted to beat a person on my nemesis list, and I figured I’d start at the top: Brad Dash. He has finished better than me in every race we’ve ridden together and usually by a margin of 3 or so places. I was actually hoping to see Brian Karlow who shows up as both a nemesis and a victim (i.e. achieving arch-rival status) but his brother Bob said he’d decided not to make the drive down. Bob is on my nemesis list, but by a large margin. Bob’s fast. As we lined up for the start, I noted Brad on the front row. I opted for a second row start behind one of the fast dudes I knew wouldn’t slow me down.

Lined up next to me was Patrick Meyer, a fellow UCVCer and Tatito. Patrick and I had ridden a “shake out” ride the day before with a number of other guys. As sometimes happens, the ride turned interval-y, and I confessed to Patrick that my legs were feeling pretty shot before we lined up. He agreed that while fun, it probably wasn’t the best pre-race prep. I think this could have been better for us than we imagined.

We started, and by the half-way mark we’d strung out. To my surprise, I was holding Bob’s wheel with Brad just ahead of us and Patrick just behind me. Normally Bob disappears into the distance very quickly. Brad was looking ripe for being picked off. As I was doing my practice laps I developed this (utterly genius, no doubt) strategy: I was going to serious bury myself for the first 2 laps. Just 2 laps. No matter what, I was going to remain over redline as much as I could muster. No thought of future laps, and nothing held in reserve.

Coming into sand pit on the third lap, Bob was gone ahead despite an unfortunate intersection with a tree. Brad was safely behind me by a sustainable distance and Patrick was right on my wheel. My strategy had been executed: I’d ridden the hell out of the first two laps and I was seriously hosed. A word about the sand. It was too deep to ride, I think. I attempted to ride it four times with only one successful attempt — the rest had ended in some variety of me falling and running the rest. I would eventually run it on the last two laps after figuring out that no matter how deft you were at navigating it, it was still faster to run.

But on this lap I tried riding it and faltered. Patrick surged ahead, and by the time we passed through the start/finish soon after, he had a serious gap opened up. Under most circumstances, I’d have written him off at this point. I had Brad behind me, and I was really hurting.

In life, I am generally the sort of person who is more likely to adapt to circumstances than to try to utterly change them. I heard the voice inside suggesting that I focus on maintaining my spot rather than trying to climb up. I was already pegged anyway and I had my goal of beating Brad was in the bag unless I did something dumb (or he did something heroic, I guess). My overarching fear is of overdoing it and really blowing up. Over the next lap I decided that wasn’t going to be the game today. I made a deal with myself that if I burned four of my remaining five matches catching up with Patrick, I’d leave it at that. By the time I’d worked up to him I was slobbering and really ruined. He looked over his shoulder, saw me, and put the hammer down. Damn.

I stayed with him, reminding myself that a bike length gap turns into being dropped in the blink of an eye. This period was really the crux of the race, and we were both all sorts of on it. At some point I pulled around him, as we suffered through the last few laps. We both took shots at each other, trying to open a gap and see where the other stood. Nothing stuck. I slowed up, trying to recover for what we could both see was coming. He didn’t come around, and I knew he was sitting in to recover as well.

The bell rang as we crossed the start/finish for the penultimate time. The above song was on continual repeat in my head. I had a plan: I was going to hammer with whatever I had left for the first half of the course to cause some damage before the sprint, and then summon every flake of smooth I had left to bring it in. I hammered. Patrick hung. A barrier and then another. Still right there with me. He was going to make a move. Was he going to wait until the sprint? I just needed the lead at the end of the sand and a perfect remount. If I came out of the sand ahead, I could hold him off for the full out crank to the finish. I told myself this over and over with the song playing in my head. We hit the sand together. I ran like I was finishing my PR 5k. I was back on the bike, feet dropping into place. I heard him clip in just beside me. I stood up and we rounded the last tight corner. I knew it was mine. Knew it. When were we going to go? Now?

Now. Coming into the finish straight, I could hear him breathing just alongside me, only inches back. Time seemed so slow. Maybe I downshifted. Someone yelled “Stand up on it!!” but I was already on it with everything. My vision was blurred and tunneled and the whole world was crank. Literally everything I had was in my legs, making them go. Where was the finish line? There, just right there. I waited to see him slide ahead in slow motion like in the book, but it never happened. I looked over my shoulder. Why the hell did I do that?! Nothing made any sense. And we were across. Did I get him? My brain was jello, and my stomach heaved. I tried to keep the bike upright. My vision cleared and the last seconds of the race clarified in my mind as I tried to navigate a corner, heaving. I got him.

Thanks for an awesome race Patrick. There is no doubt in my mind that I was able to ride so close to the edge of my ability because of us pushing each other. Given identical circumstances, I wouldn’t bet anything on coming across first again –  it’s that kind of competition which makes for an epic race.

14th of 19 doesn’t sound spectacular, and I will spare you an analysis (especially if you made it this far!) of who those 19 people were. In all respects, I am as proud of today’s race as any I’ve done.

Al, totally a trooper for coming out in the uncomfy conditions and putting up with my pre-race grumps, got more footage, and we’re moving along with the video. Depending on how next week’s weather looks, we’ll decide if we’re going to shoot more or move along with editing. Thanks for all the kind words about the project!

Just when I thought cross couldn’t get more awesome, I find this. The site takes data from our races and performs a whole variety of statistical analysis on them. Amongst other things, each racer who has competed in a sufficient (5 maybe?) number of races during the season is given a list of their 5 “nemeses” and “victims.” A nemesis is someone who has repeatedly beat you my a small margin, and you get to be someone’s nemesis by doing just that. These are the people you roll across the line to pat on the back (or squirt with a water bottle depending on your inclination). I pulled up my page, and was floored by how accurate it was. There was the list of people I have been competing with. Brian Karlow, previously introduced here as Pinerello dude, is on both my nemesis and victim list. In my opinion, there should be a third list for these rare people: the arch-rival list. I think it’s your turn this week Brian!

Truth be told, I have been discovering the whole “series” aspect of cross on my own in pouring over races results. For the first half of the season I really didn’t pay any attention to overall series standings. There isn’t really an analog to this “series” concept in running where a race is a race — several strung together are really just a bunch of individual races. In cross, though, the series standings are somewhat more like baseball. After the season is 3/4 over, the individual race can be seen as less important than who is beating who to move up in the overall season standings. It’s like a first person shooter (early season “must beat everyone”) slowly turning into a strategy game (late season “if I beat that guy I get a place in the standings”). So in addition to all the other cool aspects of cross I have eulogized about, now I am find an this strategic element. Awesome. The guys who have done this stats site, making this aspect of the sport that much easier to follow, need to have beers bought for them.

I’ve tried to start a race report which isn’t whiney three times or so, and it’s not working. So, since I have something else to say anyway, I’m just going to state some facts about the race at Northbrook yesterday. Above all, it was a freakin’ awesome course — utterly epic. My play-by-play recap of the course from last week makes me dizzy and confused so I’m going to skip the replay this week. Suffice it to say: totally epic. We finally got bona fide cross weather: my race started under a slate grey sky, 34F and spitting sleet. Again, epic. I made a really stupid mistake and I suffered both physically and performance-wise because of it. I wore glove liners (as opposed to, say, gloves) and by the middle of the race, I couldn’t shift without looking at my fingers. I was also hurting a whole lot, and not paying attention to my hup hup. In the last two laps, I kept shifting the wrong direction because of the way the SRAM shifters work (well that, and my dumbass decision not to dress properly), so I gave up shifting. After I finished, I went from whining about my hands (the warm up was even more excruciating) directly to “why the hell do I do this, I suck blah blah blah” Totally not pretty nor cool. I woke up this morning realizing that if it weren’t for the potential of the sport to occasionally bite back like this, I might as well be playing shuffle board (not that I have anything against shuffle board!). Yeah, cross rocks. I don’t want to think too much about the fact that only three races remain in the season.

In other me-centric cyclocross news, Al and I have decided to participate in NSIT’s always-fun Five Minute Film Festival in the oft-done but rarely done well genre of cx music video. Details on the competition are there (well last year’s details), but the bottom line is that a bunch of talented people submit snazzy movies which are judged and shown at the annual holidays party/film festival. Given that we’re not particularly talented film-wise, and ours will be of a bunch of sweaty people riding circles around a muddy goose-poop covered park dressed in spandex, we don’t expect to win anything. It will, however, be fun to open people’s eyes to the beauty that is cyclocross, and it’s an excuse to make a cross music video which isn’t set to AC/DC (why is it always AC/DC?). I think we shot enough usable footage yesterday, but if anyone out there also shot video and would like to help out, let me know. In it for you: free belgians and my undying gratitude. If I think we’re short video, we’ll try to shoot more next week (hope for similar weather, and everyone has to wear the same kit as this week okay?).

Here’s the kind of thing we have in mind.

(Over and out)

Edit: Looking at results I just realized that this was my 10th race! Wow, seems like a long, long time since Jackson Park.

We rode it yesterday in St. Charles, the sixth installment of the Chicago Cyclocross Cup. What is my whining about crashing etc etc in comparison with being able to reveal the ingredients which, combined with mild weather and great people, made for a mind-blowingly awesome day of cross? Here they are in order of appearance:

1. A starting chute followed by a short piece of course marked only with flags. Lots of “yeah, I’ll stay inside on the next laps” coming from the field at the start.

2. A muddy hill climb with embedded erosion-stopping railroad ties. You snooze, you pinch flat. Enough mud to make it look like you raced cross, not so much that you wonder if you should have brought the mountain bike.

3. A barrier to make you get off just as you make it up the muddy hill. Think you were over your LT before? Ha!

4. A no-recovery false flat (yes, this is where you might want to vomit) followed by a non-tricky sand pile. Well not tricky until you’re a little cross eyed.

5. A fast concrete patch to crank up speed before bombing down a nice hill whose best line spit you out inches from a chain-link fence. You didn’t brake on that hill did you?!?

6. A couple of barriers to get you warmed up for the quickly following tricky off-camber, steep chicane. Pick the wrong line and you’ll stall half way through. Then, the guy behind you will hit you and step on your rear wheel after you fall over. Well he will if he is me, apparently.

7. Another big downhill, though this time you get to chose your own adventure: the rock path and its loose fun? The bumpy left side with the best line? The smoother right side which could make you not the friend of someone coming down the other side and heading for the same right turn as you? Does it matter since once you’re down you’re thrown into a 180 turn that converts all that downhill fun into brake dust? Did you pedal on the downhill!? No?!

8. A twisty, hilly section on boggy ground that will make you think your brakes are dragging the rim. I almost got off to check, honestly. No dragging brakes, just legs starting to give out. Toss in a little off-camber section on wood chips for giggles.

9. One more downhill (how long was that muddy uphill anyway?!) leading you to the crowd pleaser: a section which I named “the meat grinder” in my race addled head. This consisted of a hairpin turn through a small gravel/sand pit (hint: you can’t turn in a sand pit and stay upright) and then another wicked off-camber chicane of three turns. Add a whole lot of people yelling in your ear. My heart was all aflutter when I pulled the last turn and stood up to head into the fast half of the course. Did you crash in this section!? Yeah, so did I.

10. A fast half of the course which I loved by the time I’d get to it and hate by the time I’d leave it.  Sprinkle in several ruts which tested choice of tire pressure (too low? well the pit isn’t too far now), a barrier or two (jumpable ravines work well) and a surprise tight turn which reminded us that this is cyclocross and not a road race.

Me? I had a good race. I finished on the lead lap and had some good competition (despite an anemic M30+ field which seemed consequently to contain a higher percentage of badass) to keep things lively. I lapped a handful of people, which was a new thing for me. Above all, I couldn’t stop smiling over what an awesome day of cyclocross we had. All ten CCC races could be held on this course and they’d never hear a complaint from me. Well done guy and gals.

After lots (too much probably) of thought, I went with the M30+ race. By far the strongest argument for the 4b race was the chance it offered to compete near the front. A strong argument, but not enough to overcome plain ol’ logistics and timing: I like morning racing, and I’m way too twitchy to enjoy the rest of my day when my race is in the late afternoon. So I’ll be breaking in the course for all of you afternooners.