Saturday, August 3, 2013
Sunday, July 28, 2013
New York's finest...
...my ass. This is waaaay more representative of the real NYPD, not all that heroic bull crap you see on those NYC cop TV shows. Parked IN the segregated bike lane for a doughnut run! The worst part is that you'd probably get a ticket for leaving the bike lane to go around them.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Shhhh...
...don't tell my surgeon! 8 more days until I'm allowed to do this haha. Whatever, I've got bikes to ride.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Recovery road...
...is unfortunately a road I'm all too familiar with. Last Friday I went under the knife to have a right inguinal hernia repaired. Surgery was successful and recovery has been going much better than expected. Hopefully I will be on a spin bike in another week or so and back on the bike by the third week...riding easy of course. Until then, I'll be enjoying the break from training and watching the Tour like it's my job!
Trying to catch up - Races #4 and #5
Yes, I've been neglecting the blog a bit these days. I've been busy training and racing my bike so the blog hasn't exactly been priority #1. Despite my absence here, I've completed another eight races prior to my mid-season break for surgery. So here's a quick run down of what happened in races #4 and #5...
Race #4, Bethel Spring Series - This was the final race of the Bethel Spring Series and we were in the running for the team competition as well as the yellow jersey with one of our sprinters, Stefan. Going into the race, Stefan was 2nd in points and needed to beat the yellow jersey as well as 3rd place in the standings to win. For the team competition, we were in the lead with a small margin. It was a tough race with lots of attacks but it all came down to the end of the race with a small group of riders getting away with about 5-6 laps to go. Since things didn't seem to be closing down for a field sprint, we made our way back to the front to shut things down. First Mike dropped the hammer. Unfortunately he dropped it so hard that no one could follow. I was up next after Mike came back with two to go. I accelerated smoothly after the finishing climb and headed down the hill. I knew there was someone on my wheel, I assumed the whole field was too. Unfortunately at the bottom of the hill I had a chance to look back only to realize I was off the front with one of our competitors who was very anxious for me to drag him up to the break which we were closing in on rapidly. I eased up, got yelled at by the wheel sucker, and forced him to go it on his own. Seems he couldn't decipher which team I raced for despite our team kits! I finished the lap in no man's land and got caught as we headed down the back straight. This time there was fire in the peloton...they were flying. I latched on to the back fairly spent and rolled into the finish a little frustrated at what had happened. Despite my frustration, one of my teammates told me that rolling off the front is what lit the fire in the peloton, igniting the chase. As it turns out, they caught the break on the finish stretch and Stefan sprinted to 2nd place, ahead of his competition, taking the yellow jersey. That also cemented our win in the team competition, thus taking the double.
Race #5, Quabbin Road Race - This past winter, I discovered footage on YouTube from QRR...an unsanctioned race in Massachusetts that circumnavigates Quabbin Reserve and finishes on the climb to the tower. The roads looked beautiful and it seemed to be a good event so I figured I'd give it a shot. Several other teammates headed over for the race as well and I had Ira and Tim along side me in the 3/4's. Well, there is a key word above that says a lot about this event...unsanctioned. It was well organized, well run, and had a nice purse and deep payout. Unfortunately, that's where the good ended. Our field ended up with something like 134 category 3/4 riders...yet again with the center-line rule in place. The course was extremely fast and the peloton was massive. It didn't take long for me to start to feel real uncomfortable with the way guys were riding given the speed, very schizophrenic...either all out or slamming on the brakes. I took my place on the left side near the double yellow so I'd hopefully have a way out if I needed it (this is called foreshadowing). The first half of the race was on two lane state routes with typical state route traffic. Unfortunately we didn't have a rolling enclosure that typically comes with a USAC race. Instead, we had the "Blue Knights" who were off-duty cops on personal motorcycles. I don't even think we had a full time follow car. Judging by events, the traffic was doing a good job at ignoring our "Blue Knights" and passing the peloton at will in both directions, sometimes at the same time! To make matters worse, the state route seemed narrow and had no shoulder, only a guard rail. I knew it was only a matter of time and sure enough, on a gradual down hill in excess of 35 mph, someone touched, panicked, and went down setting off a nasty chain reaction. I witnessed several guys pile in at full speed and the sound was horrible. That was the last time I rode in the pack. That crash split the field and I was now at the back of the front group where I remained the rest of the race. About 10 miles later on another super fast gradual descent, there was a touch of wheels near the front setting off the second pile-up. I could see a cloud of dust in the peloton from everyone slamming on their brakes, seconds later I smelled the burning pads. With one eye on the oncoming lane (which was thankfully clear of traffic) and the other on the peloton, I swerved first around a guy sitting in the road with no bike and then around the massive pile of machines and men. I saw Ira in front of the crash on his feet fiddling with his chain. I asked if he was OK and he said yes. Tim was safe somewhere behind me. With that, I quickly set about closing the sizable gap to the remainder of the peloton which was still flying. It seemed to take forever and I passed a few guys who tried and simply couldn't make it. No sooner than I made contact, now completely shelled, we hit a long grinder and it was all out. I remember focusing on the wheel ahead and trying to ignore my body screaming at me...staying locked on the wheel. I survived to the top and things finally let up allowing for some much needed recovery. I was now the sole FGX rider in a peloton of around 50. The remaining 30 miles were mostly uneventful...except for a few guys who managed to crash on a climb at a relatively slow speed! With around 4 miles to go the pace jumped as it was now all business. I sat in, content to let others kill themselves in a vain attempt to get rid of a few more. We turned into the Quabbin Reserve park and the road began to climb. Despite descending this very climb for the "neutral" start, I has no clue about grade, length, or even exactly where the finish line was. I sat at the back as the peloton aggressively attacked the climb from the bottom. As the climb wore on, I started naturally moving forward as guys tired and drifted back. Surprisingly, the climb was longer than I would have guessed and we were still hammering. Finally we rounded a gradual bend to the left and I could see the finish. I accelerated as did the guy just ahead of me. In the final 200 meters, we passed many guys blowing to shreds. Unfortunately I crossed the line feeling like I could have gone harder, a victim of not knowing the run up to the finish. Regardless, I finished up lucky 13th and pocketed $90. I told you there was a nice purse with deep payout!
In the days following QRR, video of the first crash in the 3/4 race hit the internet and it told a tale of just how dangerous this race was...not due to crashes but due to the lack of control of the surrounding traffic. After the race, I vowed that that was my last QRR because I never felt safe until after the second crash slimmed the peloton down to around 50 riders. A simple rolling enclosure with significantly more active lead/follow cars or on-duty police would have completely changed the experience. It's a shame really, because it was a great race on a demanding course.
Race #4, Bethel Spring Series - This was the final race of the Bethel Spring Series and we were in the running for the team competition as well as the yellow jersey with one of our sprinters, Stefan. Going into the race, Stefan was 2nd in points and needed to beat the yellow jersey as well as 3rd place in the standings to win. For the team competition, we were in the lead with a small margin. It was a tough race with lots of attacks but it all came down to the end of the race with a small group of riders getting away with about 5-6 laps to go. Since things didn't seem to be closing down for a field sprint, we made our way back to the front to shut things down. First Mike dropped the hammer. Unfortunately he dropped it so hard that no one could follow. I was up next after Mike came back with two to go. I accelerated smoothly after the finishing climb and headed down the hill. I knew there was someone on my wheel, I assumed the whole field was too. Unfortunately at the bottom of the hill I had a chance to look back only to realize I was off the front with one of our competitors who was very anxious for me to drag him up to the break which we were closing in on rapidly. I eased up, got yelled at by the wheel sucker, and forced him to go it on his own. Seems he couldn't decipher which team I raced for despite our team kits! I finished the lap in no man's land and got caught as we headed down the back straight. This time there was fire in the peloton...they were flying. I latched on to the back fairly spent and rolled into the finish a little frustrated at what had happened. Despite my frustration, one of my teammates told me that rolling off the front is what lit the fire in the peloton, igniting the chase. As it turns out, they caught the break on the finish stretch and Stefan sprinted to 2nd place, ahead of his competition, taking the yellow jersey. That also cemented our win in the team competition, thus taking the double.
Race #5, Quabbin Road Race - This past winter, I discovered footage on YouTube from QRR...an unsanctioned race in Massachusetts that circumnavigates Quabbin Reserve and finishes on the climb to the tower. The roads looked beautiful and it seemed to be a good event so I figured I'd give it a shot. Several other teammates headed over for the race as well and I had Ira and Tim along side me in the 3/4's. Well, there is a key word above that says a lot about this event...unsanctioned. It was well organized, well run, and had a nice purse and deep payout. Unfortunately, that's where the good ended. Our field ended up with something like 134 category 3/4 riders...yet again with the center-line rule in place. The course was extremely fast and the peloton was massive. It didn't take long for me to start to feel real uncomfortable with the way guys were riding given the speed, very schizophrenic...either all out or slamming on the brakes. I took my place on the left side near the double yellow so I'd hopefully have a way out if I needed it (this is called foreshadowing). The first half of the race was on two lane state routes with typical state route traffic. Unfortunately we didn't have a rolling enclosure that typically comes with a USAC race. Instead, we had the "Blue Knights" who were off-duty cops on personal motorcycles. I don't even think we had a full time follow car. Judging by events, the traffic was doing a good job at ignoring our "Blue Knights" and passing the peloton at will in both directions, sometimes at the same time! To make matters worse, the state route seemed narrow and had no shoulder, only a guard rail. I knew it was only a matter of time and sure enough, on a gradual down hill in excess of 35 mph, someone touched, panicked, and went down setting off a nasty chain reaction. I witnessed several guys pile in at full speed and the sound was horrible. That was the last time I rode in the pack. That crash split the field and I was now at the back of the front group where I remained the rest of the race. About 10 miles later on another super fast gradual descent, there was a touch of wheels near the front setting off the second pile-up. I could see a cloud of dust in the peloton from everyone slamming on their brakes, seconds later I smelled the burning pads. With one eye on the oncoming lane (which was thankfully clear of traffic) and the other on the peloton, I swerved first around a guy sitting in the road with no bike and then around the massive pile of machines and men. I saw Ira in front of the crash on his feet fiddling with his chain. I asked if he was OK and he said yes. Tim was safe somewhere behind me. With that, I quickly set about closing the sizable gap to the remainder of the peloton which was still flying. It seemed to take forever and I passed a few guys who tried and simply couldn't make it. No sooner than I made contact, now completely shelled, we hit a long grinder and it was all out. I remember focusing on the wheel ahead and trying to ignore my body screaming at me...staying locked on the wheel. I survived to the top and things finally let up allowing for some much needed recovery. I was now the sole FGX rider in a peloton of around 50. The remaining 30 miles were mostly uneventful...except for a few guys who managed to crash on a climb at a relatively slow speed! With around 4 miles to go the pace jumped as it was now all business. I sat in, content to let others kill themselves in a vain attempt to get rid of a few more. We turned into the Quabbin Reserve park and the road began to climb. Despite descending this very climb for the "neutral" start, I has no clue about grade, length, or even exactly where the finish line was. I sat at the back as the peloton aggressively attacked the climb from the bottom. As the climb wore on, I started naturally moving forward as guys tired and drifted back. Surprisingly, the climb was longer than I would have guessed and we were still hammering. Finally we rounded a gradual bend to the left and I could see the finish. I accelerated as did the guy just ahead of me. In the final 200 meters, we passed many guys blowing to shreds. Unfortunately I crossed the line feeling like I could have gone harder, a victim of not knowing the run up to the finish. Regardless, I finished up lucky 13th and pocketed $90. I told you there was a nice purse with deep payout!
In the days following QRR, video of the first crash in the 3/4 race hit the internet and it told a tale of just how dangerous this race was...not due to crashes but due to the lack of control of the surrounding traffic. After the race, I vowed that that was my last QRR because I never felt safe until after the second crash slimmed the peloton down to around 50 riders. A simple rolling enclosure with significantly more active lead/follow cars or on-duty police would have completely changed the experience. It's a shame really, because it was a great race on a demanding course.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
The Secret Race - Race #3
OK, so all of this is getting a little out of order as I try desperately to catch up on my posts. This post goes back to early April, so here we go...
With a less than stellar March finally giving way to good health and a couple solid weeks of training, it was time to tackle the Northeast's springtime right of passage, the Tour of the Battenkill. I reconned the course Easter weekend to check out what kind of shape the dirt sections were in. Surprisingly, the dirt was in the best shape I had ever seen it in with only one bad section less than a mile long. Well packed, minimal loose gravel, and few pot holes. What more could you ask for? Oh yeah, good weather. I've been fortunate with my Battenkill experiences, all have been held under blue skies and spring-like temperatures. This year however, it was looking like my luck had run out.
Race day morning, just across the border in Vermont, I awoke to sleet/ice covered ground and temperatures barely above freezing. By start time, temperatures were supposed to be approaching 50F but I had my doubts as the overcast skies seemed to have a firm grip on the day. Thankfully, Cambridge was a bit warmer than Vermont. Unfortunately that meant that the system that dumped sleet and ice on us the previous day/night dumped rain in and around the Cambridge area. Big deal you say, the rain was gone by race time...why are you complaining? Well, if you thought that you clearly haven't ridden a road bike on dirt roads...and wet dirt roads at that. No, I'm not afraid of getting dirty but I do have my reservations about racing on saturated dirt roads. That essentially feels like riding your bike through a couple inches of wet cement...at race speed! Than means BIG power just to sit in. I have known this little fact for some time now and saturated dirt roads would not favor me one bit...despite the fact that I like harsh conditions. My normal advantage on dry roads of being able to pop over the short steep kickers while expending less energy than the rest was now a liability. In reality, it didn't matter since I had let go of Battenkill being an early season goal thanks to my March illness. Regardless, I still harbored hopes of a strong ride in a race I love.
We lined up, all 133 of us, and it was mostly quiet with many nerves on display...all fully aware of what lay ahead. And once underway, it was clear that this day was going to be a battle with guys immediately fighting for position. There was even a crash a few miles in! Unfortunately promoters want the biggest bang for their buck so they squeeze way too many rider into fields with the centerline rule in effect and the results are inevitable. This is becoming a sad but common occurrence at the bigger races these day. Fields should be limited to no more than 100 riders when we do not have use of the whole road. I started about mid-pack but was continually shuffled back by those taking stupid chances. Eventually I found myself at the back of the massive peloton which I wasn't all to worried about. Typically ToB stays together until the latter stages of the race. My plan was to sit in for the first 50 miles and then move up as we neared the final two climbing sections. This was especially important due to my suspect fitness. As the race headed off the main road and through the iconic covered bridge, we picked our way through the first dirt sections. At the top of Juniper Swamp climb (which tops out at over 20%...on dirt!), we were stopped and held by the race officials due to an accident from a previous race on the descent. Damn, I could have walked my bike up the climb haha! It was actually a relief for many, many guys...quite literally a relief as the temporary stop turned into one massive nature break. Thank god we were in the middle of nowhere with no spectators around as the officials collectively turned their heads. Soon we were back under way. I felt reasonable enough but hadn't really been tested yet. Before I knew it, we were rolling through the first feed zone as I cruised through on the back. I saw my wife and told her "I'm in pain." How could I be in pain, I had not even been tested with a tough section yet. Well more on that in a bit. About a mile after the feed zone, we hit the first real climb on Joe Bean Rd. The climb is a little over a mile in length with four distinct steps, topping out at around 15%. As we began to climb, I set a comfortable tempo and after the first step I began to steadily move up. By the top of the climb, I was mid-pack and feeling good...but still in pain. Joe Bean Road rolls into a fast gradual descent, first on pavement and then on dirt. Up until this point, the dirt had been fairly firm because all three dirt sections we had already ridden were well drained. This section (Ferguson Road) was at a low point. What started out as just mushy dirt road soon turned into a complete mud pit. The peloton turned the screws and I stopped looking at power numbers as they were continually in the 300-400+ range. Besides, I had better things to pay attention to like sliding all over the place and staying upright. The previous races that passed through had beat this section of dirt, err mud, up pretty good and there was no good line...just mud. I was burning matches fast and was starting to worry about the whole damn match book going up in flames. Finally we reached the end and pavement. Things eased up and I rested up as best I could and grabbed a quick bite to eat. Up next was Carney Cassidy Road with its two serious dirt kickers. At first everything was good, I made it over the first kicker and then the second. I we climbed out of the second kicker, Ferguson Road's effort came back to haunt me as the elastic stretched and I started slipping off the wheel. And just then, I quit. One rider tried to encourage me to fight back but I was done. You see, mentally I was barely in this race from the start. It all goes back to that "I'm in pain" remark at the first feed zone. True, I was in pain but the pain is not why I had so little fight. It was the cause of the pain that had taken the fight out of me. As I struggle onward, my eyes grew blurry as I fought back the emotions and frustrations welling up inside of me. For a few moments, I thought "why me...again?" I had been riding my own secret race, I was riding injured. You see, the night prior to the race I discovered I had a right inguinal hernia. In other words, my intestines were falling out...and it didn't feel particularly great. I've already had a hernia on the left side many years ago so I knew exactly what was wrong and exactly what was required to fix it. Surgery...followed by a lengthy recovery. At first I was angry and then just depressed. I had worked so hard yet again only to have it taken away from me one more time. After last year, I couldn't do another mid-season come back, that I knew for sure. So for a few moments I felt sorry for myself...then I lifted my head up and started mashing on the pedals again. Not out of anger, not out of determination to finish, simply because I wanted to keep riding my bike.
And keep riding is exactly what I have done. Two doctor visits confirmed my diagnosis. The surgeon told me to "go on living my life as normal" until surgery so I decided that is exactly what I was going to do. With that single comment from the doctor, I decided to take a chance that I wouldn't make my condition worse and delayed my surgery until mid-summer so I could enjoy racing my bike. Now surgery will serve as a nice mid-season break allowing me to ramp up for some good late season races. It will also give me a good excuse to lay on my butt and enjoy the Tour de France! Coincidence on the timing? Not a chance!
Yeah, yeah, yeah...guts falling out, whatever. Back to Battenkill. After I was popped, I recovered nicely and rode strong to the finish...mostly alone as no one else seemed strong enough to stay with me. The further I rode, the more the pain faded away. I nearly managed to hold off the rather hard working, large groupetto to the finish...solo. Unfortunately I was caught 1 kilometer from the finish and ended up way back. Mostly though I was happy to have finished on this particular day. Muddy and tired, I was ready to call it a day. Until next year that is...
With a less than stellar March finally giving way to good health and a couple solid weeks of training, it was time to tackle the Northeast's springtime right of passage, the Tour of the Battenkill. I reconned the course Easter weekend to check out what kind of shape the dirt sections were in. Surprisingly, the dirt was in the best shape I had ever seen it in with only one bad section less than a mile long. Well packed, minimal loose gravel, and few pot holes. What more could you ask for? Oh yeah, good weather. I've been fortunate with my Battenkill experiences, all have been held under blue skies and spring-like temperatures. This year however, it was looking like my luck had run out.
Race day morning, just across the border in Vermont, I awoke to sleet/ice covered ground and temperatures barely above freezing. By start time, temperatures were supposed to be approaching 50F but I had my doubts as the overcast skies seemed to have a firm grip on the day. Thankfully, Cambridge was a bit warmer than Vermont. Unfortunately that meant that the system that dumped sleet and ice on us the previous day/night dumped rain in and around the Cambridge area. Big deal you say, the rain was gone by race time...why are you complaining? Well, if you thought that you clearly haven't ridden a road bike on dirt roads...and wet dirt roads at that. No, I'm not afraid of getting dirty but I do have my reservations about racing on saturated dirt roads. That essentially feels like riding your bike through a couple inches of wet cement...at race speed! Than means BIG power just to sit in. I have known this little fact for some time now and saturated dirt roads would not favor me one bit...despite the fact that I like harsh conditions. My normal advantage on dry roads of being able to pop over the short steep kickers while expending less energy than the rest was now a liability. In reality, it didn't matter since I had let go of Battenkill being an early season goal thanks to my March illness. Regardless, I still harbored hopes of a strong ride in a race I love.
We lined up, all 133 of us, and it was mostly quiet with many nerves on display...all fully aware of what lay ahead. And once underway, it was clear that this day was going to be a battle with guys immediately fighting for position. There was even a crash a few miles in! Unfortunately promoters want the biggest bang for their buck so they squeeze way too many rider into fields with the centerline rule in effect and the results are inevitable. This is becoming a sad but common occurrence at the bigger races these day. Fields should be limited to no more than 100 riders when we do not have use of the whole road. I started about mid-pack but was continually shuffled back by those taking stupid chances. Eventually I found myself at the back of the massive peloton which I wasn't all to worried about. Typically ToB stays together until the latter stages of the race. My plan was to sit in for the first 50 miles and then move up as we neared the final two climbing sections. This was especially important due to my suspect fitness. As the race headed off the main road and through the iconic covered bridge, we picked our way through the first dirt sections. At the top of Juniper Swamp climb (which tops out at over 20%...on dirt!), we were stopped and held by the race officials due to an accident from a previous race on the descent. Damn, I could have walked my bike up the climb haha! It was actually a relief for many, many guys...quite literally a relief as the temporary stop turned into one massive nature break. Thank god we were in the middle of nowhere with no spectators around as the officials collectively turned their heads. Soon we were back under way. I felt reasonable enough but hadn't really been tested yet. Before I knew it, we were rolling through the first feed zone as I cruised through on the back. I saw my wife and told her "I'm in pain." How could I be in pain, I had not even been tested with a tough section yet. Well more on that in a bit. About a mile after the feed zone, we hit the first real climb on Joe Bean Rd. The climb is a little over a mile in length with four distinct steps, topping out at around 15%. As we began to climb, I set a comfortable tempo and after the first step I began to steadily move up. By the top of the climb, I was mid-pack and feeling good...but still in pain. Joe Bean Road rolls into a fast gradual descent, first on pavement and then on dirt. Up until this point, the dirt had been fairly firm because all three dirt sections we had already ridden were well drained. This section (Ferguson Road) was at a low point. What started out as just mushy dirt road soon turned into a complete mud pit. The peloton turned the screws and I stopped looking at power numbers as they were continually in the 300-400+ range. Besides, I had better things to pay attention to like sliding all over the place and staying upright. The previous races that passed through had beat this section of dirt, err mud, up pretty good and there was no good line...just mud. I was burning matches fast and was starting to worry about the whole damn match book going up in flames. Finally we reached the end and pavement. Things eased up and I rested up as best I could and grabbed a quick bite to eat. Up next was Carney Cassidy Road with its two serious dirt kickers. At first everything was good, I made it over the first kicker and then the second. I we climbed out of the second kicker, Ferguson Road's effort came back to haunt me as the elastic stretched and I started slipping off the wheel. And just then, I quit. One rider tried to encourage me to fight back but I was done. You see, mentally I was barely in this race from the start. It all goes back to that "I'm in pain" remark at the first feed zone. True, I was in pain but the pain is not why I had so little fight. It was the cause of the pain that had taken the fight out of me. As I struggle onward, my eyes grew blurry as I fought back the emotions and frustrations welling up inside of me. For a few moments, I thought "why me...again?" I had been riding my own secret race, I was riding injured. You see, the night prior to the race I discovered I had a right inguinal hernia. In other words, my intestines were falling out...and it didn't feel particularly great. I've already had a hernia on the left side many years ago so I knew exactly what was wrong and exactly what was required to fix it. Surgery...followed by a lengthy recovery. At first I was angry and then just depressed. I had worked so hard yet again only to have it taken away from me one more time. After last year, I couldn't do another mid-season come back, that I knew for sure. So for a few moments I felt sorry for myself...then I lifted my head up and started mashing on the pedals again. Not out of anger, not out of determination to finish, simply because I wanted to keep riding my bike.
And keep riding is exactly what I have done. Two doctor visits confirmed my diagnosis. The surgeon told me to "go on living my life as normal" until surgery so I decided that is exactly what I was going to do. With that single comment from the doctor, I decided to take a chance that I wouldn't make my condition worse and delayed my surgery until mid-summer so I could enjoy racing my bike. Now surgery will serve as a nice mid-season break allowing me to ramp up for some good late season races. It will also give me a good excuse to lay on my butt and enjoy the Tour de France! Coincidence on the timing? Not a chance!
Yeah, yeah, yeah...guts falling out, whatever. Back to Battenkill. After I was popped, I recovered nicely and rode strong to the finish...mostly alone as no one else seemed strong enough to stay with me. The further I rode, the more the pain faded away. I nearly managed to hold off the rather hard working, large groupetto to the finish...solo. Unfortunately I was caught 1 kilometer from the finish and ended up way back. Mostly though I was happy to have finished on this particular day. Muddy and tired, I was ready to call it a day. Until next year that is...
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
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