Gainesville Downtown Crit

Not all race reports are about the joys of racing and not all reports are made by the victor. This past weekend I headed to Florida to spend a little time with friends and family; soak up some cosmic rays; and race a little crit in my college town of Gainesville.

We had delicious breakfast (including fresh Florida strawberries, mmmmmh my favorite!) which was made for us by my good friend Mike (of Arena Baggage fame). I built my bike, watched Average Homeboy Rap, and headed over to the race site in downtown G’ville.



I was very familiar with the course from having lived in the city for 6 years, but had never raced it. It was a typical 4 90 degree turn, standard .8 mile course--- with just one wonderful twist: COBBLESTONES! The combination of the pave and the raised manholes make it a particularly fun, yet dangerous, route. The weather has been wet in the past, so I was happy to see 70 degrees of Florida sunshine and dry roads.

My legs were feeling rather weak on a warm up ride with Mike. Since the end of cross season I spent 3 weeks off the bike, eased back onto my trainer and started some weight training. I thought training was progressing, despite my lack of consistency in commitment--- something I’m ashamed to admit. To add to my weak legs, I wasn’t breathing well. I have asthma and allergies and the blooming south wasn’t helping me this particular morning.

Finally, the race report (I’ll make this quick): After a slow start (I got stuck behind a guy that was struggling to clip in) I found myself next to two training buddies from my days down there. The accordion effect was getting to me because we were at the back of the field. I made a couple of attempts to move up, but the field was moving quickly. After 6 or 7 laps I thought I had notice a rhythm in the accordion effect and let a wheel get away from me expecting that I would be jamming on the brakes again in the next corner (like I had done for all of the prior laps). I was surprised to see that this coincided with the field picking up the pace. I noticed my mistake right as two riders wizzed around me to catch the wheel I had lost. That’s pretty much where my race ended. I rode it out until 4 laps to go when I saw the break away moving up behind me.

I would love to report an early victory. Instead, I’ll try to put a positive, perhaps motivating, spin on this my experience.

• Don’t make the mistake of thinking that your training will be enough despite your lack of commitment. Your competition is training every time you consider having a beer rather than jumping on your bike.
• Don’t think that you’ve discovered the fields rhythm and that you can rely on it to stay the same. Packs are not predictable. Everyone else is sensing the same rhythm lap after lap and will use that to their advantage.
• Just because you’ve ridden in over 20 crits and never been lapped, doesn’t mean it won’t happen.
• Showing up to a race like this might seem like enough. Don’t forget your there to represent everything you’ve been working towards. If you feel like you don’t have “the love” for what you’re doing, push yourself anyways. Falling off the pack can, and will, ruin your day.

Shedd Park

This may be the post that killed the blog. I wrote it then realized it’s drowning in self pity and whining about how slow I feel. Sorry about that… and please skip to the next post where I tell you about my great finish and that this shit was all in my head (hopefully).

At this point in the season (just 6 races over the course of 3 weekends left) there’s little room for short-term adjustments in training. It seems that there may be a some training regiment that I’m missing, because it seems everyone has gotten a lot faster (and I applaud you all for it), but I'm staying about the same.

My 3 weeks off for the wedding and honeymoon have left me with rather weak legs and little to any lung strength. Lesson learned: Don’t stop riding for that long mid season. 5 or 6 days, maybe ok. 3 weeks? Hells no.

As a cyclist that wants to race a lot for the next 20+ years, so it was a very important lesson to learn, though.

Still, I haven't ever really ridden that hard in cold air. It's certainly not something that I'd claim I'm good at. It’s certainly something that I acclimate to (perhaps slower than I’d like), but right now I'm cursing Florida for its lack of seasons.

Plymouth

It started in the warmup as I realized I haven’t deeply inhaled any 40 deg (and very dry) air since last winter. My nose was leaking liquid, and I was feeling so-so about the course. There was one particular section by the start finish that had me less than enthusiastic. It consisted of a sharp left then right into 20 feet of sand, then 30 feet of grass, then double barriers widely spaced, then 30 more feet of grass, and then 20 more feet of sand.

The whole set was so long that on my first warm up lap my heart rate climbed dangerously high as I was running the length of it. On the next warm up lap, I decided to try to ride the sand and found out this wass super-loose-wheel-sucking type of sand. After picking myself up and dusting off the bike I decided I’d just be running it, no biggie right?

Well I got a good place on the line-up. After the whistle, I realized that I couldn’t shift my right shifter. Immediately I realized I had filled it with sand on that practice lap. What now? Spin like crazy. I kept myself midpack in a 36-21 gear, then grabbed a teammates bike at the pit. This bike was far from set up for me, so on the next lap I yelled for my teammates to get me something with a proper saddle height for the next lap.

So now I have a reasonable bike, but I’m close to last place. Time to unleash the fury and move back up, right? Well, I have asthma and apparently it wanted to unleash it’s fury on me instead. Usually I ride with my inhaler in my pocket in case such an attack occurs. Of course our new skinsuits are sans pockets, so I had to ride off the course to the car and grab my inhaler. A minute later I snuck back on the course from where I left in an attempt to just finish.

Gloucester was freakin amazing

Saturday

I felt really good, but started 75th. I had a slow start and found myself being a little timid about shooting the holes that opened up on the opening sprint. I made it off the pavement in possibly a little worse shape than where I started. As we hit the first few turns then the sea-wall, I had already passed about 15 people. I was making steady ground for the next 3 laps. Teammates were yelling that I was in the top 40 on the 2^nd lap, and in the top 30 on the 3rd lap. Then as I round the steep section around 3^rd base disaster struck as I felt my rear tire roll. I screamed for a wheel in the pit. I considered running my bike, but then I thought to myself “This is Gloucester… I’ll kill a rim if I have to” and rode most of the lap (very slowly) back around to the pit. By this time I had to be in DFL. I had a quick wheel change and decided to put everything into making some ground back up. I finished in 76^th. And I really believe I would have been top 15 had I not flatted.

Sunday

My stomach was doing flips. Maybe it was all of the beer that I had drank the night before. Or perhaps it was the meat that I had eaten after being a vegetarian for 7 years. Maybe it was just nerves, but I took about 4 Hershey dumps before the race. On the starting line I chugged a VitaminEnergy to try to get some sugars and fluids back into my system. I got a decent start this time, despite starting in the 70’s again. Another racer in front swerved 3 feet into my front wheel. Cross tires rubbing make a scary noise, but we were both OK. I gave him a brief “hold yer line, buddy” and passed him. After the opening sprint, I made little progress on the first lap until the seawall. I took the outside line and passed 10-12 people. It was awesome to make that much progress so early. I made it up to about 35th by the second lap. I joined a few other riders that I have done a lot of racing with (including a couple of old BRC teammates and Jordan from Cambridge Bicycle / Igleheart). We were joking with each other, working together, and really having a great time. With 3 laps to go, someone yelled “2 laps to go”, so I kicked on the after burners, and decided to chase down a group of 5 that had a 10 second gap on us. I made it up to them surprisingly quickly, and decided to ride a wheel for a minute. Then I got sloppy and put my bars into a stake on a corner and rolled down the 3^rd base hill. I recovered quickly and was back on the group’s wheel by the finish of the lap. Then I realized I had 2 more laps, and feared that I wasn’t going to have the strength to hang on to the finish. I made a couple of passes just before the sand pit on that lap, and found myself at the lead of the group with 1 to go. I pressed on, chose good lines, and finished clean-- uncontested in the sprint.

My goal was top 20, so I’m really pleased.

Long Island - Whitmore's Cup!

Think about a standing-start 2 lap chariot race on the track. Now imagine what it would be like if your finish in this hypothetical track race determined the starting order for a 40 min cross race—except you don’t get a break between the races.

That was the setup for the course at the Whitmore Super Cross race in Southampton, NY. I planned to sprint at the start just hard enough to take the first corner in 5^th place. I wanted to make sure I didn’t blow up battling for first or second, but didn’t want to get stuck behind too many in the technical stuff (And man, was this course technical!). My start was good, as was Erik’s and Jacob’s. I believe we were all top 10 going into the first corner.

The morning dew was still on the grass. This spelled out large, pile-up wreck in my mind, so I took a good bit of the first 2 laps on foot. While there weren’t any large wrecks in front of me, I stayed on the heels of Jacob, who had now passed me. We passed a rider or 2 together. As we went into the third lap a gap had opened in front of us, and I decided that I needed to start riding some of the technical sections that were now drying up from the sun and the other rider’s tires. I passed Jacob then another rider, but this one held onto my wheel for a few laps.

With 2 or 3 laps to go, I decided to try reeling in what turned out to be 4^th place. And I was going to have to do it alone.

It really is lonely out there when you realize you’re pulling away from a strong rider not knowing how far ahead the next (even stronger) rider is. I knew I was doing well, but there is a feeling of desperation when you have no ruler for measuring your balance of effort and risk. I was trying to error on the side of conservative riding— as it has become a personal goal to keep my bike upright (as much as possible).

I never caught up to the next rider, but I finished the race in 5^th (my best ‘cross finish to date). The team was really supportive, and it really feels good to get those post-race congratulations. I grabbed a recovery drink, rode for 30 minutes, and then opened the tastiest Budweiser of my life.

Sucker Brook

After arriving at 8am, I was quick to register, set up my bike, and scout out what other racers were wearing to combat the chilly morning air. My warm up laps could not have been more pleasant. I was falling in love with a great course, enjoying the brisk air, and catching up with my friend Dan that I haven’t seen in 2 years (who, coincidentally, turns out to be friends with pretty much everyone on the team). I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Good people.

The course itself consisted of four distinct portions: The start was a short road stretch, followed by a grassy-switchback-spaghetti-bowl portion, followed by a wooded single track section, ending in a double sandbox. The grassy portion of the race was beautifully architected with off kilter turns over deep-rooted grass. A stair set and a couple barriers were thrown in for good measure.



The wooded section was fast and straight, but was the fairy of the many flat tires that were sprinkled around (I received one in the C race and one in the B race). The sandbox grabbed a few front wheels, including Dan’s, but almost everyone choose to battle through the deep ruts over dismounting. Craig generously loaned me his Igleheart— I couldn’t have been more comfortable in the ruts, which were 8 inches deep for the B race, and even deeper for the elites.



After my final race I grabbed a cold beverage while I shared stories of catastrophes (and near catastrophes), cheered on the racers in the next race, and soaked up the conclusion of another memorable day of cycling.