Terrible NYC riding...

As seen on my ride today.  Such terrible riding here in NYC.  Sorry for the poor quality, Motorola needs to take a lesson from Apple on how to put a great camera in their smart phone.  Actually, I should have taken a real camera with me.

Henry Hudson Drive - 9 miles of paradise right across the GWB

 

We have switchbacks too...except I'll get a ticket if I go right unfortunately :-(

Booooooo!

 

Very parkwayesque, too bad there's only a 1.2 mile "mountain" at the end!

 

 

Hudson River peeking through the trees

 

Headed up Alpine climb

 

Henry Hudson Bridge...gateway to northern Manhattan

 

Manhattan skyline and GWB pre-hurricane as seen from the water...

err, Ross Dock (soon to be under water!)

 

GWB peeking through the trees on my way home

 

So I survived the pre-hurricane wind for one last ride to enjoy the fall colors before the hurricane destroys Henry Hudson Drive (known as river road to the local cyclists) and blows down what's left of the leaves.  Every time we get hit with a big storm, trees come down and there's usually a rock/mudslide or two closing the road for a couple weeks.  It truly is an amazing 9 miles of riding.

Lucky 13 - Race #13

Three weekends ago, I headed upstate for the Hunter Mountain Fall Classic with Etsu, the FGX team director and racer.  Heading into this race, my form was on an upswing and training was going well.  That being said, the race was 78 miles, 2 laps around a 39 mile course and the one thing I was still lacking was long miles.  Since I have been back to racing, I think I only have one 80 mile training ride.  So needless to say, I was a little worried about the distance but my teammate Ira reassured me it wouldn't be a problem with all the descending.  I wasn't convinced!  The course started off with a short climb early in the lap followed by a long descent down to the river valley.  We then headed up the river valley and hung a right on Route 42 for a long gradual slog back up toward Hunter, including another fast descent.  We then turned onto 23A for the final false flat grinder back into town.  Several teammates who rode the spring Hunter Spring Classic said the race was likely to end up in a field sprint for the win.  Regardless, there was one final factor to consider...the weather.  A massive storm front was closing in on eastern New York complete with all kinds of high wind, hail, and general severe weather warnings. 

Saturday morning we awoke to partly sunny skies, lots of wind, and cool temperatures.  We packed up and drove to the start area right down the road.  I debated wearing arm warmers and was a bit concerned with the possibility of rain and dropping temperatures in the mountains.  After my warm-up, I ended up going with just a jersey and shorts hoping for the best weather wise.  I lined up with two teammates, Etsu and Ira.  Much like me, Etsu is on the come back trail having suffered from a nasty infection which knocked him out for the middle part of the season.  Ira on the other hand has been on a tear this season and is super strong not to mention a very smart racer.  It was an easy decision who we were working for. 

The race started under threatening skies as we headed toward the first climb.  We crested the climb much quicker than I expected, partly due to our high speed along with the climb being shorter than I remembered.  Once over the climb, I drifted to the back of the peloton for the first time down the descent to play it safe.  The sharper corners toward the bottom of the descent ended up being a non-factor at speed making for a very non-technical descent.  That being said, there were some beat up patches of asphalt on the right side to avoid.  As we turned up the river valley, the rain started to fall every so gently, slowly building into a nice steady shower.  I stayed tucked in at the back playing it conservative for the first lap, hopefully I could save enough energy to make the distance with something left in the tank.  Numerous guys attacked and were reeled back as we made our way up the river valley and then back to hunter on Route 42.  Four guys finally got away and the peloton was content to ease up a little.  Unfortunately Etsu had a mechanical issue and dropped off on the gradual slog up Route 42 leaving Ira and me to do the honors for FGX in a field of 40-50 riders.  As we passed by 15, 20, and 25 miles of race, it was clear that it was going to be a long day for me.  My legs felt heavy and I was suffering but my power numbers were fine.  I was beginning to worry that I wouldn't have the legs to make it to the end.  The rain was proving a nice distraction however the shower passed as we neared 23A.  After turning onto 23A heading back toward Hunter, Ira attacked hard to bridge up to the break.  As the break turned onto Bridge Street in Hunter, I could see that Ira had closed the gap to the break to about 10 seconds.  Unfortunately he never was able to completely close the gap and he drifted back to the peloton shortly before we hit the short climb at the beginning of the second lap.  The wind was hammering anyone and everyone who dared sticking their nose out even the slightest bit on 23A and it took its toll on Ira.  As we made our way up the climb I began to move toward the front as the breakaway completely disappeared from view.  Despite Ira's best efforts attacking several times early on, covering other attacks, and attempting to bridge...he was still stuck in the peloton having missed the break that stuck.  Watching him the first lap began to inspire me more and more.  He was always perfectly positioned several riders back just out of the wind.  After we crested the climb and began the descent, I told Ira to sit in and I was going to try to get a couple BH guys to work with me to close the gap to the breakaway.  Warren, an acquaintance of mine on team BH was on the front and no one wanted to help.  I told him I'd work with them to help close down the break and we got down to business.  We hammered the second half of the descent as one or two other guys chipped into the chase.  Heading up the river valley, the good work continued until some young guy sat up on the front.  I had drifted back a bit with one of the BH guys to get a little rest.  As soon as the pace slowed, we both looked at each other and immediately made our way back to the front on either side of the peloton.  We lifted the pace back up only to have it drop again after our pulls.  Frustrated, the BH guy attacked and I instinctively jumped his wheel and we were off the front.  As I pulled through, he commented that maybe this will light a fire under their ass!  Amazingly it worked.  Several guys weren't very happy with us off the front and the pace rose sharply as they shut us down.  Once we were caught, the pace remained steady and several guys were working with us again.  I took a long pull onto Route 42 and kept the pace as high as I dared knowing the long gradual climb that was coming.  Funny to be worried about a gradual climb but when shutting down a break for a teammate, you leave just enough in reserve to not get dropped until the job is done.  On the way up, we caught a masters field and no shock, they mixed in with our field and wouldn't let us go.  After cresting the second climb, we ripped down the short descent and I topped out just north of 53mph.  At the bottom, there were a couple of attacks out of our field that I covered which ended up separating out the two fields finally.  As we turned onto 23A, the remaining two guys in the break were just up the road and the peloton quickly began to shut it down as the break battled the fierce headwinds.  By this point, I was pretty cooked and was hanging on near the back hiding from the wind as best I could...simply hoping to survive the last 7 miles.  The peloton closed to within 10 seconds of the break and everyone sat up content that it was over.  But it wasn't.  I watched the break start to stretch the gap back out as one rider attacked and bridged up, breathing new life into the break.  Before I knew it, they were over 30 seconds up the road and apparently the peloton was happy to race for fourth place.  I moved forward as gaps were opening further back, trying to find more steady wheels to follow.  Just then, Warren attacked and without a thought I jumped his wheel as we went shooting out the front.  I had no intention of trying to get away because I was suffering pretty badly now, rather I just wanted to cover the move to protect Ira.  I pulled through when Warren signaled and couldn't believe how strong the headwind was.  My legs were cooked and I didn't have much before I eased up and a third guy pulled through.  He wasn't much stronger and it quickly became apparent to Warren that this attack was going no where.  At least we managed to close the gap to the break down a bit.  I drifted back to around tenth wheel and was shocked to see everyone sitting up looking around as the break once again stretched the gap disappearing quickly up the road.  Now I was pissed.  How stupid can you be?  I knew Ira was probably a bit tired and trying to conserve for the finish since he packs a good sprint so I didn't expect him to work.  After watching Ira ride a great race, I was really annoyed with the stupid tactics playing out.  My frustration finally boiled over and I started making my way to the front to do something about it.  Unfortunately the top 6 or 7 guys had the entire lane blocked and I couldn't get through.  Angry as hell at these idiots for doing nothing but looking around at each other as the race slips away, I yelled "get out of my way" as I sliced through a tight spot between two of the riders.  I hit the front and drilled it for all I was worth.  I took note of the gap to the break which was around 50-60 seconds, put my head down and sank into the pain completely focused.  In two to three minutes of battling the headwind, I had cut the gap in half but I needed a break.  I flicked my elbow and amazingly someone pulled through...and then slowly eased off the pace not wanting to work too hard.  After a minute or two of rest and even more annoyed, I drove to the front again and buried myself one final time.  I knew this was it as we entered the outskirts of Hunter.  If I didn't get the peloton close enough, no one else was going to work and the race was over.  I sank deeper into the drops with my head slightly down focusing on turning the legs over as hard and as long as I could.  My legs were searing with pain but I kept going.  A quick glance at my power confirmed there was still something left as I hovered just over 300 watts.  Everything began to blur except for my focus on putting as much pressure on the pedals as possible.  It seemed like an eternity went by as I drilled the front and then I saw the parked cop car ahead and lifted my head as we approached Bridge Street...and there was the break!  I turned onto Bridge Street using every bit of the road so as to carry as much speed as possible.  I rose out of the saddle and accelerated with everything I had left and counted down the gap.  1, 2, 3, 4, 5...6 seconds!  Despite the burning of my legs, I hammered into the small rise after we crossed the river and pulled off to the far right and exploded, completely slouched over the bars...done.  I sensed the peloton flying by on my left as we rounded the final turn heading for the finish.  I tried desperately to grab onto the back of the peloton and did so briefly until they accelerated.  At 1K to go, I was spit out the back and didn't even care.  My job was done.  At 500M to go, I completely sat up craning my neck for a view of the sprint.  I saw Ira's white jersey go shooting out of the front as I pumped my fist in the air and yelled "GO!"  As the Peloton neared the line, I could no longer see what was going on and slowly pedaled in.  I crossed the line as Etsu and several of our 4's cheered me on.  I made my way up to Ira as he turned around to come back.  He had finished second, frustrated for mistiming his sprint.  Regardless, we were both ecstatic with the result and teamwork.  We pulled off to the side and talked with our teammates and a few other guys from our race, including the guy who bridged up to the break and almost won the race...had it not been for me.  Had I not taken those last two pulls, the break would have easily made it to the finish.  They were caught just inside of 500M to go.  The best part was rolling in off the back watching Ira go shooting out of the peloton for the sprint finish.  What a great feeling.  He deserved the shot at the win and he delivered with a great finish.  I was just happy I had something left to give him the shot at the win...especially after the race he rode.  Although I'm still not sure where it came from considering I was hanging on the back hoping to survive with 7 miles to go haha! 

I received a lot of nice compliments from Ira and many other teammates.  For me, the satisfaction came from finally being competitive again.  Ira deserves all the credit for the race, he rode so smart the entire way and was super strong, taking chances to force the race in his favor.  Additionally, he always commented after my pulls "good job" or "nice work."  It was a great feeling to ride competitively and be able to impact the outcome of the race once again.  It has been a very long road back with many days of doubt and second guessing.  But lucky race #13 proved I was back.  After the suffering and pain subsided, I reflected on my born again love of racing.  I can't wait to get back out there!

Some Things Never Change - Race #12

I received many comments from the team on my race report for my 12th race of the season.  Several made me think, a couple made me laugh.  Comments like "It is pure racing, pure and very dirty", "It has subtle appeal", "It's like herpes, you can never really get rid of it", and "Yep, that's Brooklyn for ya."  I guess "It's like Herpes - Race #12" probably wouldn't have been the best of titles haha.  This past Sunday morning, I raced my second Floyd Bennett Field race.  I can't remember ever being this excited to race.  Pure excitement, no nerves.  I'm still not sure how this place has such a grip on me in this short a time.  I guess it is the raw, brutal nature of the racing at Floyd.  It's not a pretty place that's for sure.  Rather it has a rundown, long forgotten about vibe.  There's really not much to do there on a bike but suffer.  I guess that's my attraction to this place, satisfying my inner masochist.  Maybe the herpes analogy really does make sense.  Anyway, here's a nicely done video by the guys at SixCycles of a race earlier this year at Floyd that gives you a better taste of this place.  Don't believe the title either, there's certainly no Kid's Race or Big Wheel Championship. 

If you noticed one thing, I hope it was the aggressive nature of the racing.  For whatever reason, the number of surges and attacks seems nonstop at times.  Now factor in the nasty wind.  Riding at 28mph on every straight, there's no easy way out.  It's gonna hurt no matter what.

Well, that's exactly how Sunday went.  It hurt plain and simple.  At the start of the race, I rode near the front and covered the first two moves in the opening couple of laps.  After the second move was reeled in, I eased up thinking the peloton wasn't in any mood to let anything go...not to mention I was hurting a fair bit.  And just then it went, attack #3 stuck and I watched it slide off the front.  Initially I wasn't worried because I figured we'd run them down soon enough.  I couldn't have been any more wrong.  The move was greeted with a lot of looking around and hesitation.  A few of people tried to get to work on the chase as the gap stretched at an alarming rate.  About 4-5 of us started trying to work but gaps kept opening and the chase kept falling apart.  It took me a few minutes to realize what was going on.  Then it was all crystal clear.  Two riders from MangeSeed were screwing us every time we got organized.  They would get in the line and then let the gap open to the guy or two on the front.  OK, well now I know they clearly have a rider up the road!  We worked as best we could to keep things moving but after 4 or 5 laps of this with the break now out of sight, it was apparent our race was over.  None the less we kept trying and they kept disrupting anything and everything, unfortunately there simply weren't enough guys working to overcome them.  I gave up the chase and drifted toward the back to rest up in hopes of ditching some of these losers and slackers with a break attempt closer to the end of the race.  There's no better time to try moves you might ordinarily not try than from the second group with no chance of winning.  The back offered an interesting vantage point and at times the racing in our group was down right pathetic.  After 13 laps on the 2.3 mile circuit, the organizer shifted us onto the shorter 1.6 mile triangle circuit using another one of the runways.  This runway is beat to hell and easily the worst of the bunch.  It took a couple laps for the guys to find the smoother pavement so we took a little of a beating.  We were slated for 9 short laps to finish the race.  With around 6 or 7 laps to go, I moved up to the front just as things started heating up.  I was keeping an eye on the strong guys who attempted to work and noticed many of them back on the front.  I guess my idea wasn't so original haha!  I watched one attack go, counted the strong guys, and let them open a reasonable gap then I attacked hard and bridged up rather quickly.  I only had the rotation of three riders to recover and then I was on the front.  We quickly realized how hard getting away was going to be when we hit the short course runway directly into a strong headwind.  We slogged our way down the runway but the peloton wasn't having any of it and managed to organize a chase and shut us down.  A lap later, one of the riders in the first break attempt went hard again and I jumped.  We dragged out another strong rider but it ended in a similar fate with the peloton shutting us down on the headwind stretch.  The next lap, another attack went with a Kissena guy and then shortly after, his teammate bridged up.  This was the move I wanted but I was patient, I wanted to see the peloton's reaction.  Everyone seemed gassed.  Sure I was tired, hurting, and cross eyed at times but I wanted out of this group so badly.  I jumped hard again and swung wide left to ensure a delay in anyone thinking about grabbing my wheel.  I was clear and closing on the break.  I hit the back and rotated through to the front with little rest.  Everything was hurting and my lungs and legs felt like lead.  I hammered the front with all I had for my pull and rotated off.  We were working well together and managed to stretch this break a little longer but unfortunately the peloton wasn't letting anything go this close to the end.  Groupo Compacto.  I drifted toward the middle of the pack to get a little shelter and recover.  Just about then, the break lapped us.  The short course switch didn't help but ultimately it was the peloton's lack of ability to work together that brought this result, see my comment about the pathetic racing above.  Unfortunately some idiots decided to mix in and not let the break rightfully go.  Several of the guys in the break attacked to get away and I think 2 or 3 made the escape.  The rest were stuck.  On the next to last lap, there was a big attack by several strong guys (from the peloton) and this time I jumped immediately.  Unfortunately we only made it to the start/finish line for the last lap before the move was shut down.  I slid into the pack which now seemed much smaller than I recall.  Apparently all the attacks were doing some good in that they spit several out the back.  As we turned off the front straightaway, I was gassed and slipped off the back.  I watched the gap open but couldn't summon the strength to do anything about it.  And then the gap seemed to stabilize.  I looked back and could see a third group of rider we had shed over the previous laps.  I looked down, dug deep, and jumped out of the saddle.  I had no idea what was left but I knew I needed to dig.  I simply didn't want to face the short course runway alone into the headwind haha!  Plus, I really didn't want to finish off the back of another race...I had worked too hard this time to let that happen.  My legs burned and it felt like I could hardly breathe.  After a few seconds I looked up and the gap was shrinking.  Focus, keep digging...this isn't over yet.  Can't stop, won't stop (credit to pro Adam Myerson for that great saying).  I hammered my legs harder than I knew I could, looked up, and realized I was almost there.  I lined the corner up perfect and ripped it with a clean line not shedding one iota of speed.  Exiting the corner onto headwind hell straightaway I rolled up onto the last wheel.  I had maybe a minute to try to recover for the finishing sprint.  Unfortunately riding that stretch offered little recovery due to the beat up pavement and the sheer pace of the peloton.  All I could think was it's almost over.  I kept digging...recovering is a bitch when your churning out 300 some watts!  We turned onto the finishing stretch and there was an immediate acceleration as one guy went straight out of the corner.  I waited it out, not entirely interested in the finishing sprint for MAYBE top 20?  None the less, I kicked late from around mid-pack which was now really stretched out.  The front guys had already opened their sprint and were clear.  I managed to pick off numerous riders who went early, crossed the line and collapsed on the bars.  The funny thing is I would later find out that I finished 12th in the race.  Amazingly the officials managed to pick through the finishing video and get the results properly sorted out.  Cracking the top ten in a Floyd 1/2/3 race is a very respectable accomplishment considering the strongmen who routinely put everyone else in their place.  Apparently when the break mixed with the peloton, I didn't realize that all the attacks had shredded the peloton.  If I had only realized, I could have likely broken the top ten.  My first finish with the pack since getting hit and nearly cracking the top ten at that.  I think I'm finally getting back to being competitive...finally.

After the race, we discussed the breakdown of the race with Phil from Team BH.  Phil is one of those strong men who makes this race great...and very tough.  He told me "You have to go with every move at the start until the right one stays away.  Sure, it hurts but you just have to ride through it."  I guess I now have my strategy for my next Floyd.  Wait a second, why do I want to get into a break with the hard men of Floyd?  Haha, some things never change.  Oh, one more thing...this is what is meant by Floyd being "very dirty":

The Legend - Race # 11

So what does an old, abandoned airfield have to do with cycling?  Well, this is the home of the best weekly races in the NYC area hands down.  What about Prospect Park you might ask, the infamous races where former local boy George Hincapie cut his teeth as an amateur?  I can't say much more than it is another park race much like the Central Park races.  True, the racing is often very fierce there but it is still a park race and sitting in can be accomplished relatively easy...assuming you don't get taken out.  You see, the thing about Floyd Bennett Field is that there is simply nowhere to hide.  It is flat, wide, open, dirty/dusty, and right on the water.  Sitting in here is severely complicated by the non-stop winds that blow in off the lower bay, not to mention the strongmen who absolutely kill these races.  And a funny thing about Floyd, you ALWAYS have a headwind of some variety for three out of the four straightaways.  Don't ask me how, I didn't believe it until I actually rode my first Floyd Bennett Field race this past Tuesday night.  Honestly, I'm still scratching my head over it a bit.  And then there's the pavement.  Old runways and taxiways that have deteriorated over the years leaving a worn, rough, concrete surface that has seen better days.  Luckily old man winter has been relatively gentile on all the concrete joints and there are only a few small treacherous areas.  So here's the course layout:

Simply put, Floyd Bennett Field is a hard man's race.  Naturally one might then ask why a spindly little climber like me would want to race Floyd.  Well, after hearing about the epic tales that this place spins out on a near weekly basis from the hardest men on our team, it is only fitting that this race should pique my interest.  Not to mention, I miss a good headwind.  Besides, I learned a long time ago that the best way to get faster is to ride with stronger, faster cyclists. 

I arrived early with a teammate, traffic was fairly reasonable for NYC.  I could have ridden out but that meant dealing with Flatbush Avenue which has been routinely described as a war zone during rush hour.  After the year I've had, I'll drive thanks.  As soon as I got out of the Jeep, I noticed the wind was howling right down the front straight away.  Howling as in a steady 20mph!  Strangely I was very relaxed before the race, a first for this year.  For some reason, this place drew me in as soon as I arrived.  We registered, got ready, and headed out for some warm up laps.  I was guided around the course by another teammate who is a Floyd veteran and strongman, Mike.  He gave me many pointers on positioning, wind, who to watch out for and what combinations of riders to not let get off the front, and how the race was likely to go down.  Soon the rest of our team arrived and it was race time.  After starting in the front, I drifted to the back during the first lap.  I wanted to see what this place was like at race pace before I got too involved.  The first several laps were fast and tough, much like a crit except here you don't dare let even a small gap open.  I made that mistake early on and before I knew it I was about five bike lengths off the back going backwards into a stout crosswind.  I ended up busting out nearly 500 watts to close that gap up!  I was careful to not let that happen again.  As the race wore on, I became more comfortable and settled into the pace and effort nicely.  Around the sixth lap I began to move toward the front without even trying.  Strange thing is that this seems to happen to me regularly in these short circuit races.  Over the next several laps, I worked on or near the front and closed down a couple break attempts in which we were not represented.  As the efforts took their toll, I began to drift back to get some rest for the finish.  Unfortunately I heard a move in the making from one of the strong guys and a co-conspirator.  As they accelerated I quickly assessed my teammates positions and realized they were poorly placed to cover the move.  I accelerated and grabbed the second guys wheel as we shot past the front of the peloton.  I was already 3/4's blown but I knew I had to give it a go.  As we settled into the effort, the first (strong) guy pulled off much earlier than I expected.  The second guy hardly even pulled before moving to the left and flicking me through.  I went to pull through however the second guy kept his pace trying to force me to accelerate to pull through.  Already riding at 33mph into a crosswind, I wasn't playing his game.  I wasn't born yesterday, I know that tactic.  Very soon the fourth guy who grabbed my wheel on the initial move begins yelling at me to pull.  Apparently he though I was trying to hold them up or something because the next words out of his mouth were "get out of the way."  Funny, there was a whole third of the width of a freaking airplane runway to my right protected from the crosswind in which he could have pulled through!  Besides, I couldn't move to the left because wheel #2 (now known as "short round" haha) was still trying to figure out how to rotate to the back of a paceline.  All this in a 1/2/3 race.  I'm not sure where some of these guys learned to race a bike or picked up their tactics but I am continually shocked at how stupid some people ride at this level.  Speaking of bad tactics, maybe the Schleck brothers were giving free clinics in the NYC area earlier this year?  Anyway, now I was pretty much blown as I tried to somehow extract myself from between these two clowns.  Once clear and attempting to latch on to the back, a quick glance back confirmed the peloton was in no mood for a break as everything was strung out.  With not much left in the tank, I sat up and tried to recover as the peloton caught me.  I grabbed onto the back again but was blown off a short while later when there was a hard acceleration...no doubt to answer another attack.  With three laps to go I was shelled and on my own.  I rode out the last three laps trying to hold as much power as I could to at least get a few more good miles in.  I can't lie, I was happy to cross the finish line.

Race photos by Victor Chan

After the race, we packed up and headed back into the city for dinner and drinks at Veselka, one of our sponsors.  Overall, I was very happy with my race.  It felt so good to be in the thick of a race again, it has been a while.  In fact, I forgot how much fun it is smack in the middle of the tactics, attacks, bridges, and counter attacks.  With a little better management of my efforts, I would have finished with what was left of the pack.  Not only that but it was clear that Floyd Bennett Field was a special place.  It is definitely a unique, challenging race...not something easily put into words.  And for once...instead of fighting for survival hanging on at the back, I was fighting at the front and rediscovered my love of racing all over again.  Who knew I was going to find that missing piece at an old abandoned airfield?  I think I just found another favorite race.
 

ToC - Races #9 and #10

ToC...as in Tour of the Catskills that is!  After a tough prior two races, ToC was looming on the horizon.  Given my struggle to gain enough fitness to be competitive, I briefly contemplated dropping out of the ToC before it even started.  This is a tough three day stage race that normally I'd be very excited about, even peaking my form for the event.  This hasn't been a normal year however.  A three day race you say yet only races #9 and #10 in the title?  More on that in a bit.  Despite the fact that I still have a lot of work to do to be competitive again, I decided to go anyway and give it my best shot.

Friday's stage was an individual time trial around 12 miles.  This was my first time trial in a long time and it was actually pretty fun...although I did have to dust off the TT bike.  Hey, what can I say...I prefer racing directly against others.  I have never been pushed harder than some of the road races I have done in the past.  Plus you don't always control the situation adding to the fun and difficulty.  Despite my lack of form and training on the TT bike, I turned in a performance I was happy with.  I'm sure I left a good 30 seconds on the course because I was riding blind, no computer what so ever to measure anything.  I'll have that fixed by my next TT where hopefully the result will matter a little more than just training.

Finishing the TT.

Post TT deep thoughts.

Saturday brought a 65.5 mile road race which included the infamous Devil's Kitchen on a nice hot 90+ degree day.  Since many of you have never heard of Devil's Kitchen, let's just say it makes the Devil's Backbone back in Ohio look like...not even child's play, it doesn't even register compared to the Devil's Kitchen.  My goal was to stay with the peloton until the base of Devil's Kitchen and then simply survive.  Well, I achieved my goal but it was waaaay harder that I ever thought it would be.  Only a few miles in, we hit the first climbs of the day.  Nothing too serious but the peloton was in a serious mood causing many watts to be poured out even on the minor stuff.  About 6 or 7 miles in, I was taken out on a climb by some guy who rode into someones wheel and took a hard right turn directly in front of me.  I was even riding in the top third of the field!  I didn't go down but I did smack my left hand and brake hood and had to clip out, stop, and untangle.  I sorted things out quickly and chased back on without any major issue, fixing my crooked brake lever along the way.  From there things got worse as we climbed toward the first KoM of the day.  Gunning from the back is never ideal, especially on a climb which means constantly going around those getting gaped but I had no option thanks the crash.  Well, one moment's inattention was all it took and some guy gaped several of us a good 50 feet off the peloton and I was pinned in.  I finally broke free as a Cosmic rider went flying by to bridge up so I jumped his wheel.  We rejoined as the peloton made a left turn and the road kicked up for the final climb to the KoM.  By now I was in the red and couldn't hang onto the back as the cracks opened up.  Luckily the climb wasn't too terribly long and we had a nice descent to catch back on so I rode my pace to the top.  Once over the top, I had company from three teammates from another team who were chasing hard.  I let them work a while and then jumped in as one of them started to tire.  Shockingly it took longer than I figured and more energy than I expected to catch back on.  Once back, it was pure survival mode given the number of matches I had burned.  Heck, I think I stole someone else's matchbook because I didn't realize I had as many as I did with my limited fitness!  Regardless, once the descent slowed and the rollers started, hanging on was all I could do.  I managed to get a brief reprieve as the course completely flattens/bottoms out about 6-7 miles before Devil's Kitchen.  It was then that I knew it didn't matter, I was done.  56 miles in, I was immediately dropped at the base of Devil's Kitchen and after a couple minutes of climbing, stopped, dismounted, and began to walk.  Walk, really?  Well yes and I wasn't alone by any stretch of the imagination.  You see, Devil's Kitchen consists of 1.4 miles at 16% average and totals 2.1 miles of climbing depending where you measure from.  So yes, I walked.  This bitch makes Brasstown Bald look reasonable.  Both times I have ridden it I have been in complete shock at the gradient.  You cannot comprehend this climb until you have seen it and ridden up the beast plain and simple.  For a detailed write-up, check out this post I found from last year from some guy...

http://thedailygrind.robdamanii.com/2011/08/09/getting-fried-in-the-devils-kitchen/

And if you wonder why it is called Devil's Kitchen, it is because even on a cool day, the heat comes out of nowhere on that climb and cooks you.  It is always hot, searing hot on that climb.  So back to the race, I eventually made it to the top with a series of ride/walk intervals.  Once the road returned to civil gradients, I was immediately back on it and strangly feeling better.  I rode the final 7ish miles strong and finished 59th of 73, somewhere around 15 minutes back.

Chilling before the start.  FGX was well represented, Ira almost won stage 2 and Jimmy took 6th overall

After recovering a little and taking in what seemed like a ton of fluids, it was clear I was pretty beaten up...mentally and physically.  After three consecutive race weekend beatings, by the time Sunday rolled around the weekend had stopped being fun.  The though of fighting just to cling to the back of the peloton yet again was extremely demoralizing.  A minor point was that Stage 3 was the hardest of the race and generated plenty of buzz among the top riders regarding difficulty.  By the time the start rolled around, I packed up and called it a weekend.  Mentally, I was cooked.  It has been a long, challenging road back to health and riding/racing and there's way more to it than I've ever written about here. Not that that is an excuse, but I gave it my best shot and failed.  While some cannot accept or even admit failure, that Sunday it wasn't very tough to accept and admit failure.  Being the competitive person I am, I did beat myself up a bit over my decision...quitting is never easy.  But hindsight being 20/20, the real failure would have been not attempting something so challenging for me for fear of not finishing.  It took me a few days but I'm proud of what I accomplished that weekend.  Those close to me know just how much of a victory that failure actually was.  Maybe next time I'll plan a less grueling comeback haha. 

 

Mt. Greylock

My posts are a little out of order but that's what happens sometimes when you are playing catch-up.  For Tour of the Hilltowns, my wife and I stayed in Williamstown MA and decided to make a weekend out of the race.  On Sunday, we rode Mt. Greylock...the highest peak in MA tucked up in the northwestern corner.  We started out Sunday morning and climbed the north face first, descended the south face, turned around and climbed the south face, and then descended the north face back to Williamstown.  It was an absolutely beautiful day and afforded me the opportunity to get some more steady climbing into my legs.  Mt. Greylock tops out at 3,491 feet and the northern ascent is about 7 miles in length while the southern ascent comes in around 10 miles.  Both are beautiful but I enjoyed the northern ascent the most.  The view from the top was outstanding and given the clear conditions, we could see four states.  Here are a few pictures from the day...

Now I can check one more state's highest peak off my list!

Race #8 - Capital Region Road Race

After getting my ass handed to me at Tour of the Hilltowns, I decided to jump into another hard road race the following weekend...Capital Region Road Race.  Brillant idea I know!  FGX lined up with six in the Cat 3 race as the rain began to fall.  We had a pretty good line-up with three strong riders, Jimmy, Ira, and Alexi and three on the rebound, Etsu, Darius, and myself.  For me it was another training race and I simply hoped to stay with the peloton as long as possible.  Soon we were under way as the rain began to pick up a bit.  We headed through the feed zone neutral then the pace car sped off and the race was underway.  The pace immediately picked up and seemed to stay at a fairly high level.  The course rolled for the first 6 miles until we hit the first serious climb, a 2-mile stair step climb that seemed to never end.  I slid backward as we climbed but I did manage to hang onto the back of the peloton.  I was again surprised at the wattage the Cat 3 peloton climbs at as the pace seemed aggressive.  My next focus was to recover as quickly as possible because the second kicker of a climb was only a couple miles later.  Before I knew it we were already there and we turned off onto a small side road that seemingly shot straight up and bent around a turn.  I was immediately in trouble as I had yet to recover and I began to slip away from the peloton, a familiar feeling these days.  After I rounded the bend, the road continued upward in excess of 10%.  The top was so close yet so far.  After I crested the climb, I was able to quickly pick up the pace and eventually collected a few other riders.  We worked together for the most part until we hit a main road with some gradual rollers.  On the first roller I heard a yell from the back and we had dropped a rider.  We eased up and waited figuring it was best to remain together.  This happened on the next two rollers and by the third time, I kept the hammer down and never looked back.  At that point, I could see the cars trailing the peloton...I'll be damned if I was waiting again.  A total of three of us hammered ourselves back into the peloton over the next few miles.  I sat in and tried to recover as best I could knowing more climbs were only a few miles away.  As we hit the feed zone climbs, I was shot and dropped away, this time for good.  I continued on after a short debate on dropping out.  I wanted to get at least another good lap in before I'd consider anything.  About 6 miles into the second 20 mile lap, the skies completely opened as I soldiered on.  I didn't seem to mind, in fact it was nice to be out there alone in the pouring rain.  I hooked up with another rider for the last half of the lap and we started rotating.  Unfortunately the sensations weren't right for me, something was off.  I was completely fatigued.  At the end of the second lap, I pulled out of the race.  As I headed back to the car I ran into Darius headed back to the finish line to cheer on the rest of the FGX guys.  I grabbed my rain jacket and did the same.

Afterward, I learned that both Darius and Etsu were dropped before I was.  Neither of them had a good day either quite obviously.  I did manage to take the race for what it was, more training, and not beat myself up too much.  I knew I still had a ways to go to be competitive again.  My goal now became gathering as much fitness as possible and then rest up before Tour of the Catskills.  ToC would be another gamble of a race for me but I was committed to at least giving it my best shot...but that's another post.