I started out today dressed at the edge of what was acceptable - a long sleeve and short sleeve jersey, fleece knickers, and a cap and short gloves. Temperature? Mid 50's, climbing to 60 or so in the sun. I do booties under 50 degrees and tights under 45 or 40 (training or racing, respectively). Up top though I dress pretty heavily. Under 50 and I'm usually wearing a jacket. With the sun hiding most of the time I was debating jacket or LS jersey and went with the jersey.
I felt a little chill a mile or two out, even after doing a short climb. I thought about turning back to get more gear but decided against it. I thought I'd rue this decision as I felt exactly like I did the weekend before I went to Florida. On that day I had returned home exhausted and chilled to the bone.
Two hours later, still less than perfectly warm, I had my wind vest on and knew my chilly premonition had been correct. I contemplated the clouds hiding the hills in front of me. A status check (how I was feeling), a thought to the upcoming week's schedule, and with the knowledge there will be at least two 70+ degree weekdays ahead, I slowed and turned around.
It's important to know when to chill out on a ride, so to speak. My goal was to do a Palomar assault today, but when I realized it wasn't realistic, I cut my losses and turned around. This way I'll have the legs and energy to go on tomorrow.
If I had pushed, I would have exhausted myself, possibly gotten sick (since I was cold), and would have sacrificed an attempt for at least tomorrow if not for two days or more. I fear two things when riding - being cold (which usually leads to bonking) and having an unexpected mechanical.
If I hadn't been cold and there were no clouds shrouding the hills ahead of me, I probably would have gone. Likewise, if this attempt was my last hard day of the trip, I would have pushed, tried to eat enough to fuel my lack of gear, and relied on recovering back at home. It's important to think about these things and balance available training time versus available recovery time.
There were a lot of karma type things on the ride which seemed to indicate the assault should be postponed. First, on the way out, I passed a (dead) retriever that looked like it had been hit by a car. It was laying on its side near some horses (who seemed a bit agitated), its blue bandana tied carefully around its neck. It's obvious someone will be very upset when they see the dog.
Almost immediately after turning around, I saw either a coyote or a dog, also hit (and dead) and laying in a ditch just next to the road. This creature was didn't have any distinguishing accessories and didn't look at all damaged. The only hint something was wrong was where it lay.
I was thinking about this second dog when psssshtt my rear tire flatted. I'd run over some glass but I couldn't believe I flatted so easily. The first thing I did, knowing I only had one tube, was to hold my glove on my front tire - I had to protect it so it wouldn't flat. 10 seconds of hand rubbing and I was out of the glass.
I pulled over the changed the tube. This went smoothly but I had a long-valve tube so I'll change it for a short valve tube. And carry at least two tubes for my next assault.
Okay, three tubes.
The one shining moment was when I started to descend Deer Spring Road and came upon a truck pulling away from a just-turned-green light. I did a minor jump to pass the cars behind it and tucked into the draft behind the truck. He accelerated but had to control his speed on the long descent. I alternated braking and pedaling to stay behind him, poking my head out to check out upcoming road conditions. I didn't want to hit a pothole or ride off the shoulder at 45 mph. When the road flattened out, I did an effort to stay with him, accelerating quite aggressively as he did the same. Max speed, 51.8 mph, 137 rpms in a 53x11, and that was on the flat.
With the help of that little interlude, I managed to ride home relatively quickly and without pushing my body.
Tomorrow I'll have to leave a bit earlier and dress a lot more conservatively. It may seem like overkill down here in the sunny warmth but up by Palomar a windproof jacket may be necessary. I'll take that approach tomorrow and see how it goes.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Sunday, February 11, 2007
California - Day Five - Rest Day, helmet cam
I woke up today pretty tired. Last night I was simply unable to stay awake and fell into a deep sleep. My body has a lot of accumulated fatigue and it's starting to pay the price. With my two Palomar attempts coming up, I'm inclined to work on recovery rather than training some more. So it was. Today marked my first rest day.
On a positive note, I saw a couple ribs on my body. It may not seem like a big deal but it's the first time I've seen ribs (without taking a deep breath) in so long I don't remember how long it's been. I've been famished too, and while we were eating lunch my friend asked if I was working on hiding the ribs again.
With a steady rain for most of the day, the priority was to do some chores around the house. The main mission for this weekend (with a Wednesday deadline) is to paint one of the rooms in the house. We're not painting it just off-white, we're doing a Steve McQueen "Lemans Porsche 917 race car" theme - light blue with a dark blue lower bit (shadow) and racing stripes - wide orange and narrow white ones - at our shoulder level. Since the room is for an 18 month old, he won't appreciate the setup for a while.
What this means though is for a few days I'll be borrowing a bed meant for a 4 year old girl since "my" futon is under a plastic tarp. I'll have a few stuffed animals, princesses, and things like that for company. Luckily I'm not that tall so I'll actually fit.
After we got the painting supplies, we stopped by Frye's. As this store doesn't exist where I live, it's a treat. Where else can you buy metal detectors, computer motherboards, night vision security cams, metal detecting wands, replica guns, and all the regular electronic and electrical goods?
For me, the emphasis was on getting the helmet cam back into action. Missing Horner, the Jelly Belly dude Alex, and the four-flat-tire Integra sliding all over the road, I'm anxious to have the ability to record events as they happen on the bike. After a bit of work, I've finally gotten the 120 degree lens into the ChaseCam. Initially I couldn't get it to tighten but I figured out a secret - put the retaining spring in first, then put the lens in. Presto! Some focusing and I have a fully operational helmet cam with two batteries (picked up an additional one today) and two tapes (2 hours each).
Oh and one other note. After taking a break from eating the Maltitol laden amino acid bars, my stomach has calmed down. I should have known. The bars are made by Ajinomoto, the company that sells MSG.
Still a bit tired but looking forward to a few hard days. With the weather good on Mon, Wed, Thu, and Fri, I may try a Palomar assault tomorrow. Rested legs, better idea of a schedule, and a full fuel tank could help pave the way to a successful attempt. And with temps expected to be in the mid/upper 70's later this week, it'll be an ideal time to take the helmet cam out for a spin or two.
Finally, since we now have an operating firewire for the camcorder, I may be able to upload some vids. I'm thinking of some how-to's but we'll see how things go.
On a positive note, I saw a couple ribs on my body. It may not seem like a big deal but it's the first time I've seen ribs (without taking a deep breath) in so long I don't remember how long it's been. I've been famished too, and while we were eating lunch my friend asked if I was working on hiding the ribs again.
With a steady rain for most of the day, the priority was to do some chores around the house. The main mission for this weekend (with a Wednesday deadline) is to paint one of the rooms in the house. We're not painting it just off-white, we're doing a Steve McQueen "Lemans Porsche 917 race car" theme - light blue with a dark blue lower bit (shadow) and racing stripes - wide orange and narrow white ones - at our shoulder level. Since the room is for an 18 month old, he won't appreciate the setup for a while.
What this means though is for a few days I'll be borrowing a bed meant for a 4 year old girl since "my" futon is under a plastic tarp. I'll have a few stuffed animals, princesses, and things like that for company. Luckily I'm not that tall so I'll actually fit.
After we got the painting supplies, we stopped by Frye's. As this store doesn't exist where I live, it's a treat. Where else can you buy metal detectors, computer motherboards, night vision security cams, metal detecting wands, replica guns, and all the regular electronic and electrical goods?
For me, the emphasis was on getting the helmet cam back into action. Missing Horner, the Jelly Belly dude Alex, and the four-flat-tire Integra sliding all over the road, I'm anxious to have the ability to record events as they happen on the bike. After a bit of work, I've finally gotten the 120 degree lens into the ChaseCam. Initially I couldn't get it to tighten but I figured out a secret - put the retaining spring in first, then put the lens in. Presto! Some focusing and I have a fully operational helmet cam with two batteries (picked up an additional one today) and two tapes (2 hours each).
Oh and one other note. After taking a break from eating the Maltitol laden amino acid bars, my stomach has calmed down. I should have known. The bars are made by Ajinomoto, the company that sells MSG.
Still a bit tired but looking forward to a few hard days. With the weather good on Mon, Wed, Thu, and Fri, I may try a Palomar assault tomorrow. Rested legs, better idea of a schedule, and a full fuel tank could help pave the way to a successful attempt. And with temps expected to be in the mid/upper 70's later this week, it'll be an ideal time to take the helmet cam out for a spin or two.
Finally, since we now have an operating firewire for the camcorder, I may be able to upload some vids. I'm thinking of some how-to's but we'll see how things go.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
California - Day Four - Horner, Mapei
Today was a moderate day. 3.5 hours, averaging 131 bpm. That puts the overall day below an average one. There were a few things of note on today's ride.
The most significant was that we were passed by some anonymous rider and Chris Horner, Predictor-Lotto, one of the top US pros out there, and by my estimation, one of the top 200 pros in the world. We half heartedly tried to catch up but after a mile or two Horner and his ride companion eased on down the road. There were two things I noticed about Horner - first, he seems much smaller in person than in the pictures. Second, he is so low on the bike. The kicker is that he was jabbering away the whole time and made his speed look effortless.
The next thing is that I learned that I still can't climb. Shorter efforts are fine but the long ones, forget it. One semi-successful technique I (re)discovered is that I could alternate emphasizing two different types of pedaling "technique". One was pulling up while sitting further back on the saddle. This emphasized some hamstrings and other leg-lifting muscles. The other was pushing down while sitting more forward. This emphasized quads and glutes. To get the latter, I'd ride in the drops, like Ullrich in the 2002 Tour. Granted, he didn't win, but I could see the use in climbing in the drops. I used this alternating technique to reach the top of a couple climbs in contact with my friend.
I also learned that you don't pass people on flats or downhills. You stay a bit behind them and then, if they falter on the hills, then you pass. If you don't, and they pass you back on the hill, then you look like a dope with no respect. We lingered behind a few different riders. One we passed after he blew trying to keep away from us for 10 minutes or so. Another kept his distance on the hills and eventually, after about 10 minutes, we let him go as our legs were pretty fatigued. And a third I passed on a descent a couple minutes after we saw him. He promptly blew us away on the next climb. Felt like a dope, especially since I blew right after and struggled to the top of the hill.
The day was less chilly than previous days so it was the first day I was in shorts and a short sleeve jersey. So I finally got some sun and the resultant weird tan - from the middle of my upper arm down to my watch (on the left arm) and wrist (on the right arm). The full-back glove meant no sun on my hands.
My legs are getting a bit fatigued - it's most obvious about 5 to 7 minutes into a consistent effort (like a moderate climb) or about 20 seconds into a hard effort (sprint or very steep climb). Otherwise I feel okay turning over the pedals. I'll have to focus on some speedwork for a couple days to keep my legs from getting too slow.
Like yesterday, the good news is that I don't have any problems - saddle, knees, Achilles, etc. And like yesterday, I still had some stomach problems. It might have been explained by something - I've been eating these amino-acid bars I got from the local Performance Bicycle (formerly Supergo) and was munching on one when my friend asked what I was eating. I gave him a new bar to examine. He was reading the label and pointed out it contained Maltitol.
"What's that?"
Apparently it's an artificial sweetner. And a laxative.
Doh.
After the ride we went to a few stores. I picked up a Mapei brochure on how to lay tile yourself, some decals for my bike (to commemorate this blog, if you must know), and passed on a Pinewood Derby car. I did see a Matchbox car display frame where you can display your unopened Matchbox (and Hot Wheels and similar) cars. I think it would work for my 20 or 30 cars I have so far.
In other news, my beloved Passat has been picked up by my finacee's best friend's husband (and he's my friend too, but the path is clearer when I describe it the long way). My fiancee, without my prompting or request, photographed and videotaped the historic event. Now I have a lot more room in both my driveway and my garage. Not only did he take the three sets of wheels, the various extra parts, and even the second set of springs for the Passat, he also picked up an engine hoist, engine stand, and a stand-alone parts cleaner.
I don't think my neighbors will know what to do with themselves.
The most significant was that we were passed by some anonymous rider and Chris Horner, Predictor-Lotto, one of the top US pros out there, and by my estimation, one of the top 200 pros in the world. We half heartedly tried to catch up but after a mile or two Horner and his ride companion eased on down the road. There were two things I noticed about Horner - first, he seems much smaller in person than in the pictures. Second, he is so low on the bike. The kicker is that he was jabbering away the whole time and made his speed look effortless.
The next thing is that I learned that I still can't climb. Shorter efforts are fine but the long ones, forget it. One semi-successful technique I (re)discovered is that I could alternate emphasizing two different types of pedaling "technique". One was pulling up while sitting further back on the saddle. This emphasized some hamstrings and other leg-lifting muscles. The other was pushing down while sitting more forward. This emphasized quads and glutes. To get the latter, I'd ride in the drops, like Ullrich in the 2002 Tour. Granted, he didn't win, but I could see the use in climbing in the drops. I used this alternating technique to reach the top of a couple climbs in contact with my friend.
I also learned that you don't pass people on flats or downhills. You stay a bit behind them and then, if they falter on the hills, then you pass. If you don't, and they pass you back on the hill, then you look like a dope with no respect. We lingered behind a few different riders. One we passed after he blew trying to keep away from us for 10 minutes or so. Another kept his distance on the hills and eventually, after about 10 minutes, we let him go as our legs were pretty fatigued. And a third I passed on a descent a couple minutes after we saw him. He promptly blew us away on the next climb. Felt like a dope, especially since I blew right after and struggled to the top of the hill.
The day was less chilly than previous days so it was the first day I was in shorts and a short sleeve jersey. So I finally got some sun and the resultant weird tan - from the middle of my upper arm down to my watch (on the left arm) and wrist (on the right arm). The full-back glove meant no sun on my hands.
My legs are getting a bit fatigued - it's most obvious about 5 to 7 minutes into a consistent effort (like a moderate climb) or about 20 seconds into a hard effort (sprint or very steep climb). Otherwise I feel okay turning over the pedals. I'll have to focus on some speedwork for a couple days to keep my legs from getting too slow.
Like yesterday, the good news is that I don't have any problems - saddle, knees, Achilles, etc. And like yesterday, I still had some stomach problems. It might have been explained by something - I've been eating these amino-acid bars I got from the local Performance Bicycle (formerly Supergo) and was munching on one when my friend asked what I was eating. I gave him a new bar to examine. He was reading the label and pointed out it contained Maltitol.
"What's that?"
Apparently it's an artificial sweetner. And a laxative.
Doh.
After the ride we went to a few stores. I picked up a Mapei brochure on how to lay tile yourself, some decals for my bike (to commemorate this blog, if you must know), and passed on a Pinewood Derby car. I did see a Matchbox car display frame where you can display your unopened Matchbox (and Hot Wheels and similar) cars. I think it would work for my 20 or 30 cars I have so far.
In other news, my beloved Passat has been picked up by my finacee's best friend's husband (and he's my friend too, but the path is clearer when I describe it the long way). My fiancee, without my prompting or request, photographed and videotaped the historic event. Now I have a lot more room in both my driveway and my garage. Not only did he take the three sets of wheels, the various extra parts, and even the second set of springs for the Passat, he also picked up an engine hoist, engine stand, and a stand-alone parts cleaner.
I don't think my neighbors will know what to do with themselves.
California - Day Three - heartrates, parts bling, doping
Today was nothing special - a two hour ride which ended up about 2:15. My legs were a bit fatigued - not noticeable until 10 or 20 seconds into any efforts (I only made a couple). Good things were that I have no saddle issues, no sore or tender tendons, and no muscle problems (cramps or extreme soreness). My stomach though, still touchy. I guess this happens when I ride a lot.
I spent a bit of time in the small ring today. The contrast in efforts is apparent if I lay out some stats:
1. In Florida, my average heart rate was usually 135 bpm. On the longest ride I did a lot of work - the average was 141 or so.
2. My average yesterday, for the first three hours, was 151. For the whole ride, 147. A killer ride for me.
3. Today I went 120.
After the ride, and during dinner, my friend and I chatted about bikes, frames, etc. We talked about the new Ultra Torque Campy cranks - and how I couldn't justify the $550 or $600 to get them. We discussed the new super light frames - sub 900 grams, which makes them about a pound lighter than my reasonably light carbon frame. But they cost something like $3000. My perceived value of a bike is about $2500 so that frame is just way out of my league.
One of the big news items in the cycling world is that Floyd has denied permission for his B samples to be tested for exogenous testosterone. That just doesn't seem right - if he was clean, he'd allow the samples to be tested (it was the US anti doping association that asked to test, not the French one, so they'd probably have the samples tested in a more secure lab).
I've always thought they should skip the test:epi ratio test since it's vulnerable to a number of masking strategies. But (and I'm guessing here) it's probably more expensive. It seems more involved from what I've read. So basically the Feds (federations) let racers get away with exogenous testosterone as long as they can control the test:epi ratio. It's sort of like marking where your speed traps are situated - if you're dumb enough to speed there, you'll get caught. But you can go as fast as you want between them.
In other news, I got an email from from the website from which I downloaded the "LA Confidential" translation pdf (which, incidentally, I still don't know if it's really the translation). They have EPO on sale - 300,000 IU for $1600, delivered to your door, next day, guaranteed delivery, in easy to use styrettes (sp?). They even explain how to use said needle devices. I'm not sure how long 300,000 IU's lasts but I think it's a while - like 150 days at 2000 IU microdoses.
Interesting, isn't it? It costs less than a nice frame for a year of stronger riding.
No wonder there's so much doping going on.
Anyway, tomorrow is a group ride, if the weather is reasonable.
I spent a bit of time in the small ring today. The contrast in efforts is apparent if I lay out some stats:
1. In Florida, my average heart rate was usually 135 bpm. On the longest ride I did a lot of work - the average was 141 or so.
2. My average yesterday, for the first three hours, was 151. For the whole ride, 147. A killer ride for me.
3. Today I went 120.
After the ride, and during dinner, my friend and I chatted about bikes, frames, etc. We talked about the new Ultra Torque Campy cranks - and how I couldn't justify the $550 or $600 to get them. We discussed the new super light frames - sub 900 grams, which makes them about a pound lighter than my reasonably light carbon frame. But they cost something like $3000. My perceived value of a bike is about $2500 so that frame is just way out of my league.
One of the big news items in the cycling world is that Floyd has denied permission for his B samples to be tested for exogenous testosterone. That just doesn't seem right - if he was clean, he'd allow the samples to be tested (it was the US anti doping association that asked to test, not the French one, so they'd probably have the samples tested in a more secure lab).
I've always thought they should skip the test:epi ratio test since it's vulnerable to a number of masking strategies. But (and I'm guessing here) it's probably more expensive. It seems more involved from what I've read. So basically the Feds (federations) let racers get away with exogenous testosterone as long as they can control the test:epi ratio. It's sort of like marking where your speed traps are situated - if you're dumb enough to speed there, you'll get caught. But you can go as fast as you want between them.
In other news, I got an email from from the website from which I downloaded the "LA Confidential" translation pdf (which, incidentally, I still don't know if it's really the translation). They have EPO on sale - 300,000 IU for $1600, delivered to your door, next day, guaranteed delivery, in easy to use styrettes (sp?). They even explain how to use said needle devices. I'm not sure how long 300,000 IU's lasts but I think it's a while - like 150 days at 2000 IU microdoses.
Interesting, isn't it? It costs less than a nice frame for a year of stronger riding.
No wonder there's so much doping going on.
Anyway, tomorrow is a group ride, if the weather is reasonable.
Friday, February 09, 2007
California - Day Two - Palomar attempt #1
So a few stories from today but the main goal, doing Palomar, remains unmet. I started off a bit too late (due to some stomach issues in the morning, buying chainring spacers, and some misc errands) and had to turn back about 8 or 9 miles short of the summit. I did some glutes and hamstring work, hit only 49.7 mph on a 9% descent (couldn't tuck comfortably with the headlight on the bars), let a truck pass and then chased it down (that was fun), and remembered that climbing Palomar is a total struggle.
I sometimes have a hard time understanding what people feel when they say certain things. I mean I hear what they're saying but I don't feel the feeling. Let me explain. I'd like to think I understand how, say, our cats feel about getting massages. Cats have some instinctive protectiveness but if you get past that, they can relax and enjoy something like a foot massage, a shoulder massage, or the classic scritch. Same with babies - they love foot rubs, even ear rubs (I figured that out after I realized the cats like ear rubs).
So I seem to understand non-verbal cues (sometimes). But when someone says "that's too fast" (my fiancee when we're on the tandem and drafting a truck going 45 mph) or "My goal is to finish that ride" (pretty much any non-racing cyclist), it doesn't register.
Now it does. I started getting nervous on the bike once I hit 45 mph. It didn't used to be that way but I think the steep hill, the 200 or 300 foot cliff on the other side of the guard rail, and the very rough looking pavement dropping down in front of me had something to do with it. So now I understand that going too fast for comfort is, well, uncomfortable.
I also realize that just finishing a ride is a noble goal. I have to since it's become my main goal for the whole trip. "Do Palomar".
On to the stories.
So the first story, not a pleasant one. I was carving some turns on a nice descent and came around a bend at about 40 mph. A pick up truck was waiting to pull out of a driveway to my left. The driver looked right at me and pulled out about 50 feet in front of me. I paused and prepared to hit my brakes but it looked like he'd made a good left and there'd be room on the right for me to use till he got up to speed. So I kept coasting, rapidly closing the distance to his truck. He looked in his rearview mirror for a good second and then jerked the wheel over, tossing the truck into the shoulder. I slammed on my brakes to avoid having a taillight implanted in my forehead.
And when I recovered, I gave him the finger.
Now I normally don't do such things. But two intentional actions (pulling out right in front of me and then veering hard into the shoulder) meant this guy wasn't checking to see if my front rim was a box sectioned 32 hole (which it is). Whatever. He promptly took off.
Second story, I had just finished descending a 3 mile, 9% "hill" (at home, we'd call that thing thar a mountain) and was stretching and trying to get the "tuck" (as in aero tuck) out of my back. Suddenly I heard the distinctive sounds of a "rally" crash. That's different from a "car" crash because car crashes involve two metal objects smashing into each other. A rally crash is one car hitting something like a tree or wall.
This time, it was stones of some sort. I looked up to see a car going about 30 mph ungracefully straddling a foot-tall stone wall which separated the road from an orange grove. It kept tipping from one side to the other. With a flat front tire, the car looked hard to control and it slithered around. It didn't help that the chassis of the car was high enough that the other tires only hit the ground sporadically. As I watched, the car slid left back onto the road, pieces of rock wall flying, almost spinning in the process.
The driver definitely had his hands full. I realized it was a first generation Integra, and I was thinking "what a dope, he lowers his car so much when he has a flat the chassis hits". He slithered enough that, even though he was about 100 yards away, I started mentally preparing to jump the wall to my right to escape a possible out of control car.
His car would slide every time the wheels hit a little bump. This meant he had no suspension movement - which implied he lowered the car by cutting the springs, another Einstein move. Another red flag. I starting thinking about unclipping a foot.
I couldn't resist watching this guy though. I noticed something and looked closer. His other front tire was flat. Doh. No wonder he couldn't steer - he had no tires up there. Try riding a flat front clincher - now imagine your car like that.
He passed me, smashing the wall regularly but keeping his wheels mostly turned right - driving kind of like the old Tyco slotless car sets I never had. He was sawing away at the wheel, the seat was pretty low, then I realized something.
BOTH his back tires were flat. He was driving on his rims!
I actually looked around for the police chopper that should be chasing this guy but no such luck. I kept riding and the guy eventually turned off the road.
On the way back, I saw the wall damage from his "Integra Grind" move, then a lot of oil on the ground in staggering type pattern - like a bleeding animal (and this bleedout was probably terminal for the engine). The trail led... to the farm's driveway.
That's when it dawned on me. The Integra was an NFR - Not For Road use - a farm vehicle. The driver (probably a kid) was driving this thing around the orange trees when he lost control and bashed over the dividing wall.
Still, it doesn't explain the four flat tires.
Third, I had my first pro siting - the Jesus Christ guy from Jelly Belly (the guy on the left). I call him that because he looks just like the image the movies and books use to portray him. He, alas, was going the other way. If he wasn't, I'd have kicked his butt. Haha. Not a chance. Apparently they just had their training camp in San Marcos. That happens to be, oh, say, about 3 miles from where I'm staying. They also think knowing about cornering lines are important because they did another kart session in Carlsbad.
Finally, in continuation with my rediscovery of road speeds, it seems that in a pursuit type effort (well, maybe more like a kilo effort) I can sustain about 94-96 rpms in a 53x12 - 34 mph. This was 65 or so miles into my ride so it wasn't like I was doing it fresh. The only catch was I couldn't hold it very long.
I arrived back after about five and a half hours of riding. Consumed three bottles of water, one bottle of PowerAde (I wanted Gatorade in deference to the current National Football Champs but the moronic store has the shelves jammed so tight together you can't tilt the bottles at all so they won't come out of the fridge thing). No food, no gels. Incroyable. A fat burning ride I suppose. My legs are pretty sore.
Tomorrow is an easy day - like a transition day but way easier. I hope to run an errand or two.
Finally, we just checked - my friend has a Mac with firewire something and my camcorder has firewire. So hopefully I'll be able to show a tape of what I see, rather than trying to describe it.
Now for some much needed sleep.
I sometimes have a hard time understanding what people feel when they say certain things. I mean I hear what they're saying but I don't feel the feeling. Let me explain. I'd like to think I understand how, say, our cats feel about getting massages. Cats have some instinctive protectiveness but if you get past that, they can relax and enjoy something like a foot massage, a shoulder massage, or the classic scritch. Same with babies - they love foot rubs, even ear rubs (I figured that out after I realized the cats like ear rubs).
So I seem to understand non-verbal cues (sometimes). But when someone says "that's too fast" (my fiancee when we're on the tandem and drafting a truck going 45 mph) or "My goal is to finish that ride" (pretty much any non-racing cyclist), it doesn't register.
Now it does. I started getting nervous on the bike once I hit 45 mph. It didn't used to be that way but I think the steep hill, the 200 or 300 foot cliff on the other side of the guard rail, and the very rough looking pavement dropping down in front of me had something to do with it. So now I understand that going too fast for comfort is, well, uncomfortable.
I also realize that just finishing a ride is a noble goal. I have to since it's become my main goal for the whole trip. "Do Palomar".
On to the stories.
So the first story, not a pleasant one. I was carving some turns on a nice descent and came around a bend at about 40 mph. A pick up truck was waiting to pull out of a driveway to my left. The driver looked right at me and pulled out about 50 feet in front of me. I paused and prepared to hit my brakes but it looked like he'd made a good left and there'd be room on the right for me to use till he got up to speed. So I kept coasting, rapidly closing the distance to his truck. He looked in his rearview mirror for a good second and then jerked the wheel over, tossing the truck into the shoulder. I slammed on my brakes to avoid having a taillight implanted in my forehead.
And when I recovered, I gave him the finger.
Now I normally don't do such things. But two intentional actions (pulling out right in front of me and then veering hard into the shoulder) meant this guy wasn't checking to see if my front rim was a box sectioned 32 hole (which it is). Whatever. He promptly took off.
Second story, I had just finished descending a 3 mile, 9% "hill" (at home, we'd call that thing thar a mountain) and was stretching and trying to get the "tuck" (as in aero tuck) out of my back. Suddenly I heard the distinctive sounds of a "rally" crash. That's different from a "car" crash because car crashes involve two metal objects smashing into each other. A rally crash is one car hitting something like a tree or wall.
This time, it was stones of some sort. I looked up to see a car going about 30 mph ungracefully straddling a foot-tall stone wall which separated the road from an orange grove. It kept tipping from one side to the other. With a flat front tire, the car looked hard to control and it slithered around. It didn't help that the chassis of the car was high enough that the other tires only hit the ground sporadically. As I watched, the car slid left back onto the road, pieces of rock wall flying, almost spinning in the process.
The driver definitely had his hands full. I realized it was a first generation Integra, and I was thinking "what a dope, he lowers his car so much when he has a flat the chassis hits". He slithered enough that, even though he was about 100 yards away, I started mentally preparing to jump the wall to my right to escape a possible out of control car.
His car would slide every time the wheels hit a little bump. This meant he had no suspension movement - which implied he lowered the car by cutting the springs, another Einstein move. Another red flag. I starting thinking about unclipping a foot.
I couldn't resist watching this guy though. I noticed something and looked closer. His other front tire was flat. Doh. No wonder he couldn't steer - he had no tires up there. Try riding a flat front clincher - now imagine your car like that.
He passed me, smashing the wall regularly but keeping his wheels mostly turned right - driving kind of like the old Tyco slotless car sets I never had. He was sawing away at the wheel, the seat was pretty low, then I realized something.
BOTH his back tires were flat. He was driving on his rims!
I actually looked around for the police chopper that should be chasing this guy but no such luck. I kept riding and the guy eventually turned off the road.
On the way back, I saw the wall damage from his "Integra Grind" move, then a lot of oil on the ground in staggering type pattern - like a bleeding animal (and this bleedout was probably terminal for the engine). The trail led... to the farm's driveway.
That's when it dawned on me. The Integra was an NFR - Not For Road use - a farm vehicle. The driver (probably a kid) was driving this thing around the orange trees when he lost control and bashed over the dividing wall.
Still, it doesn't explain the four flat tires.
Third, I had my first pro siting - the Jesus Christ guy from Jelly Belly (the guy on the left). I call him that because he looks just like the image the movies and books use to portray him. He, alas, was going the other way. If he wasn't, I'd have kicked his butt. Haha. Not a chance. Apparently they just had their training camp in San Marcos. That happens to be, oh, say, about 3 miles from where I'm staying. They also think knowing about cornering lines are important because they did another kart session in Carlsbad.
Finally, in continuation with my rediscovery of road speeds, it seems that in a pursuit type effort (well, maybe more like a kilo effort) I can sustain about 94-96 rpms in a 53x12 - 34 mph. This was 65 or so miles into my ride so it wasn't like I was doing it fresh. The only catch was I couldn't hold it very long.
I arrived back after about five and a half hours of riding. Consumed three bottles of water, one bottle of PowerAde (I wanted Gatorade in deference to the current National Football Champs but the moronic store has the shelves jammed so tight together you can't tilt the bottles at all so they won't come out of the fridge thing). No food, no gels. Incroyable. A fat burning ride I suppose. My legs are pretty sore.
Tomorrow is an easy day - like a transition day but way easier. I hope to run an errand or two.
Finally, we just checked - my friend has a Mac with firewire something and my camcorder has firewire. So hopefully I'll be able to show a tape of what I see, rather than trying to describe it.
Now for some much needed sleep.
Labels:
California,
cycling,
Jelly Belly,
sprinting,
training
Thursday, February 08, 2007
California - Day One
This was a day similar to Pedro Delgado's first day in 1989 Tour de France - where he missed the start by 2:40 and was dead last by the end of the prologue. It wasn't quite so significant for me but it was a long day.
I was up at 5:40 AM to prepare for a 6:00 AM "confirmation" call that my brother would be up and ready to go. Taking a shower at about 5:46 AM, he called. So my wonderful fiancee got up to answer the phone and confirmed my brother was on the way.
A little groggily, we bade each other goodbye for my two week trip and I left.
We arrived at the airport 90 minutes before the flight and things went smoothly. I couldn't self check in (my name's on the TSA list and in a perverted way I'm proud of that so I haven't done anything about it) so I always have to go to a counter. Plus I had a bike to check in.
JetBlue is a lot better with bikes - $50 fee and not a lot of BS. I also managed to videotape them loading and unloading the bike - last piece on the plane, first piece off. How special (really). And when they slid it into the luggage trailer, one guy looked at it, thought about it, and (thankfully) tipped it vertical. My wheels were safe.
I slept a bit on the plane and didn't see anything significant (I did catch the take off and landing though). After landing, I turned on the phone to retrieve voicemails. This is where it gets a bit complicated.
First, the plan was to do the following:
1. Get a key fob for my friend's car, he would mail it to me.
2. Said friend (well, the wife half) would drop the car off at the airport - she was flying to the East Coast on the same day.
3. Using fob, get into car, where there is a key, the parking stub to exit the parking lot, and a garage door opener.
4. Drive to friend's house, open garage door.
5. Retrieve hidden house key, get into house.
6. Build bike, eat, and go for a nice ride.
The way it actually turned out:
1. Fob overnighted to the office.
2. Temporary receptionist did not get mail so fob didn't arrive. This didn't dawn on me until after the post office closed.
3. Call friend, key now hidden on outside of car.
4. Parking stub left in wife's pocket so not in car.
5. As car registration and driver's license do not match, could not leave the parking lot. Negotiated with parking security but to no avail. Ultimately I understand but at the time it was a bit frustrating. Call friend, update him. I have to take the shuttle.
6. Found parking (not an easy task - there were dozens of double parked cars) and brought the bike, gear bag, clothing bag, and backpack back to the ground transportation area.
7. Got Cloud9 shuttle (one I've used before, excellent service, highly recommended). The suntanned, sunglassed, shorts-wearing dispatcher reminded me I was in California when he pointed at an incoming shuttle - "Dude, that's all you." You wouldn't hear that in NY.
8. While on shuttle, called friend to report progress.
"You did remember the garage door opener, didn't you?"
Crap.
9. Last stop, get gear and stuff to the house (and to the back of the house since I can't get in).
10. As my friend has a fully stocked bike tool bench type of setup, I brought no tools. Normally I bring a set of full size allen wrenches, cassette tools, cable tools, a full sized floor pump, etc. This time, just a Specialized multi tool, my Blackburn mini pump, and some tire levers. Using the multi tool, I put my bike together, including the pedals (!). I can't believe the tool has an 8mm but it does. Awesome. Pumped up the tires to about 60 psi.
10. Rode to the local shop. Rolled around the bend, onto the sidewalk, and wondered why the shop had such an interesting looking mannequin - it had white thigh-high stockings, garter, and a bustier. I figured it was a Valentine's Day theme or something. Nope. When I looked up I realized I was about to ride my bike into an Adult Store. Apparently the shop had moved a few weeks earlier.
11. Went to the other local shop which never really impressed me - a Trek Superstore. They did allow me to pump up my tires (a plus), they had some energy bars in stock (a plus since I hadn't eaten for about 9 hours except for two 100 calorie snacks and one PowerGel), and they let me try on some helmets. But they thought my crit-bend bars were "track" bars (what?), they asked if I was a Cat 1 (I guess it's like being carded when you're 30, it's flattering and also a bump to the head when you realize you aren't what they're expecting), and they basically admitted they have no small parts (no axle spacers??). At least one guy, Eric, offered the advice of going to a hardware store and getting a 10x1 spacer. Not sure if it's right but it sounded good.
12. I rode around for two hours till my friend came home from work, the last 15 minutes in the dark, doing loops around his block. At least I had the forethought to put on my blinky headlight and taillight.
The only positive thing is that I realized I might have to update my sprinting primer, the one that talks about speed. I was trying out my "glute recruiting" positions I recently rediscovered on the trainer and found that, yes, I had a LOT more power. So I was enjoying this and accelerating from lights or up the long grades found here, standing and shifting.
At one light - with a long, 4 or 5% upgrade immediately after - I went when the light turned green and shifted, accelerated, shifted, accelerated. I wasn't "sprinting" and I wasn't spinning by a long shot - just churning the gear and shifting when it felt right. I shifted again and again until the derailleur paused. The thing is it only does that when shifting to the 11T (until I fix it - the cable needs to be slippier). I looked down and sure enough I was in the 53x12T. I checked my speed.
32 mph.
Uphill and without going too hard.
This was a good sign.
But my Maximum Optimal Sprint Speed (MOSS) minimum from my sprint post should probably be upgraded to 34 or 35 mph. But I'll leave it for now.
At the equivalent of about 2 AM "home time", after retrieving the car from the airport parking lot with my friend, I fell asleep exhausted. I knew I was exhausted because when I woke up 8 hours later, I still had my glasses on.
What a long day.
Day Two will bring two things on the agenda - fix the 5th chainring bolt and the first attack of Palomar Mountain.
I was up at 5:40 AM to prepare for a 6:00 AM "confirmation" call that my brother would be up and ready to go. Taking a shower at about 5:46 AM, he called. So my wonderful fiancee got up to answer the phone and confirmed my brother was on the way.
A little groggily, we bade each other goodbye for my two week trip and I left.
We arrived at the airport 90 minutes before the flight and things went smoothly. I couldn't self check in (my name's on the TSA list and in a perverted way I'm proud of that so I haven't done anything about it) so I always have to go to a counter. Plus I had a bike to check in.
JetBlue is a lot better with bikes - $50 fee and not a lot of BS. I also managed to videotape them loading and unloading the bike - last piece on the plane, first piece off. How special (really). And when they slid it into the luggage trailer, one guy looked at it, thought about it, and (thankfully) tipped it vertical. My wheels were safe.
I slept a bit on the plane and didn't see anything significant (I did catch the take off and landing though). After landing, I turned on the phone to retrieve voicemails. This is where it gets a bit complicated.
First, the plan was to do the following:
1. Get a key fob for my friend's car, he would mail it to me.
2. Said friend (well, the wife half) would drop the car off at the airport - she was flying to the East Coast on the same day.
3. Using fob, get into car, where there is a key, the parking stub to exit the parking lot, and a garage door opener.
4. Drive to friend's house, open garage door.
5. Retrieve hidden house key, get into house.
6. Build bike, eat, and go for a nice ride.
The way it actually turned out:
1. Fob overnighted to the office.
2. Temporary receptionist did not get mail so fob didn't arrive. This didn't dawn on me until after the post office closed.
3. Call friend, key now hidden on outside of car.
4. Parking stub left in wife's pocket so not in car.
5. As car registration and driver's license do not match, could not leave the parking lot. Negotiated with parking security but to no avail. Ultimately I understand but at the time it was a bit frustrating. Call friend, update him. I have to take the shuttle.
6. Found parking (not an easy task - there were dozens of double parked cars) and brought the bike, gear bag, clothing bag, and backpack back to the ground transportation area.
7. Got Cloud9 shuttle (one I've used before, excellent service, highly recommended). The suntanned, sunglassed, shorts-wearing dispatcher reminded me I was in California when he pointed at an incoming shuttle - "Dude, that's all you." You wouldn't hear that in NY.
8. While on shuttle, called friend to report progress.
"You did remember the garage door opener, didn't you?"
Crap.
9. Last stop, get gear and stuff to the house (and to the back of the house since I can't get in).
10. As my friend has a fully stocked bike tool bench type of setup, I brought no tools. Normally I bring a set of full size allen wrenches, cassette tools, cable tools, a full sized floor pump, etc. This time, just a Specialized multi tool, my Blackburn mini pump, and some tire levers. Using the multi tool, I put my bike together, including the pedals (!). I can't believe the tool has an 8mm but it does. Awesome. Pumped up the tires to about 60 psi.
10. Rode to the local shop. Rolled around the bend, onto the sidewalk, and wondered why the shop had such an interesting looking mannequin - it had white thigh-high stockings, garter, and a bustier. I figured it was a Valentine's Day theme or something. Nope. When I looked up I realized I was about to ride my bike into an Adult Store. Apparently the shop had moved a few weeks earlier.
11. Went to the other local shop which never really impressed me - a Trek Superstore. They did allow me to pump up my tires (a plus), they had some energy bars in stock (a plus since I hadn't eaten for about 9 hours except for two 100 calorie snacks and one PowerGel), and they let me try on some helmets. But they thought my crit-bend bars were "track" bars (what?), they asked if I was a Cat 1 (I guess it's like being carded when you're 30, it's flattering and also a bump to the head when you realize you aren't what they're expecting), and they basically admitted they have no small parts (no axle spacers??). At least one guy, Eric, offered the advice of going to a hardware store and getting a 10x1 spacer. Not sure if it's right but it sounded good.
12. I rode around for two hours till my friend came home from work, the last 15 minutes in the dark, doing loops around his block. At least I had the forethought to put on my blinky headlight and taillight.
The only positive thing is that I realized I might have to update my sprinting primer, the one that talks about speed. I was trying out my "glute recruiting" positions I recently rediscovered on the trainer and found that, yes, I had a LOT more power. So I was enjoying this and accelerating from lights or up the long grades found here, standing and shifting.
At one light - with a long, 4 or 5% upgrade immediately after - I went when the light turned green and shifted, accelerated, shifted, accelerated. I wasn't "sprinting" and I wasn't spinning by a long shot - just churning the gear and shifting when it felt right. I shifted again and again until the derailleur paused. The thing is it only does that when shifting to the 11T (until I fix it - the cable needs to be slippier). I looked down and sure enough I was in the 53x12T. I checked my speed.
32 mph.
Uphill and without going too hard.
This was a good sign.
But my Maximum Optimal Sprint Speed (MOSS) minimum from my sprint post should probably be upgraded to 34 or 35 mph. But I'll leave it for now.
At the equivalent of about 2 AM "home time", after retrieving the car from the airport parking lot with my friend, I fell asleep exhausted. I knew I was exhausted because when I woke up 8 hours later, I still had my glasses on.
What a long day.
Day Two will bring two things on the agenda - fix the 5th chainring bolt and the first attack of Palomar Mountain.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
California - Pre Tour Medical Checks
So this is like the Tour, again. At least in my fantasy world. Tomorrow I fly out west, assemble my bike, and do Day One of the California Tour (I can't use Tour of California since someone else already took that name). Incidentally my Tour misses their Tour by a day. Shucks.
Because of said Tour, I've been a bit busy the last few days. Work has been very busy and the home front has also been heavily scheduled. My biggest and least forgiving deadline is that I am leaving for California early tomorrow morning. My brother will be at my house at about 6 or 6:30 AM to drive me to the airport so I *have* to be ready then.
My second least forgiving deadline is preparing my beloved VW Passat for its give away - I'm giving it and all of its related parts to my fiancee's best friend's husband (who, incidentally, is a friend of mine). The Passat (and usually my other cars) ended up with a lot of extra parts, sort of like my bikes. Three sets of wheels, two intakes, new brakes, two sets of springs, manuals, so on and so forth. All need to be "staged" for a Saturday pick up. Along with some big tools I haven't used - an engine hoist, engine stand, and a stand alone parts cleaner.
So anyway, I have a lot to do tonight.
For this trip, like Florida, I have to get my various electronic gear bits together. I have most of my electronics from the last trip but am adding a critical thing: the helmet cam.
It's a Canon ZR100 teamed up with the ChaseCam helmet cam (520 lines resolution, the "nice" one) with a new and as of yet not-really-fitting 120 degree wide angle lens. The 92 degree lens is more a "butt and ankles" lens - which is fine for certain types of films but for trying to record a criterium, it's not really what I had in mind. To get more of a "wheels and jerseys" view, I got the 120 lens over the winter. I hope to record more than the 3 or 4 races and one sprint workout I managed last year. If I'm successful I'll be posting links to them here.
I have a new CamelBak HydroPak to carry the kit. I've been using a first generation CamelBak and the skinny straps leave marks on my delicate shoulders. Plus the thing is sort of wiggly due to the bulk and weight of the filled pack. There's a lot to carry - the camcorder, eight AA batteries, and some wires. My helmet carries the actual ChaseCam as well as a "powered mic" which simply means you get lots of wind noise in the background (I'm experimenting with wind muffling foam pieces).
I may experiment and carry actual fluids in my CamelBak and put the ChaseCam and camcorder on my bike but my preference is to load the rider, not the bike. The goal is to tape parts of my rides out there and do a few "touristy" shots (nice vistas, weird things, car accidents, in other words things I saw in previous trips to CA). Mounting the camcorder on the bike will allow me to start/stop it without stopping - with the CamelBak, I have to take the camera out of the bag to start/stop it.
This is the Pre Tour Medical Check post though, not the Electronic Gizmo post. The trip is not so I can tape nice views of some desert valley or the bumper of the truck I'm drafting. It's to try and prepare a normally semi-sedentary body to the stresses of racing really hard in March and April. Hence the "Medical Checks".
I recently bought some fat measuring calipers and a "body measuring tape" for lack of a better term. Basically the two combine to tell you how bad you are in objective terms which dig a lot deeper than the subjective ones. In other words I've thought recently "Wow, I'm getting in shape". I pull out the calipers to verify my subjective claim and the calipers say "No you are almost 19% fat".
Ouch.
Reality bites sometimes, doesn't it?
You know, I virtually threw out one of those electronic scales for saying I was at 16% fat. Maybe I should bring it back. Whatever, the numbers don't lie. Apparently I'm carrying around something like 30-35 lbs of fat. Pretty incredible right? If I can lose, say, half a bike's worth, it'll be great. We'll see though.
My aerobic system is oddly efficient. I cry all the time about my lack of aerobic ability but it has nothing to do with an inefficient cardiovascular system. I've always had a low resting rate, my heart walls are thick enough to raise red flags at physicals, and I have nice big veins that make blood-drawing nurses really happy. It's just that oxygen somehow doesn't get to my muscles. Or I don't have slow-twitch muscles that can use them.
Recently I measured my heart recovery rate over a 60 second period. My heart rate dropped from a very hardworking (for me) 164 bpm to 107 bpm in that minute. So my recovery is reasonably good. Trying to apply what I've learned, I thought of a new tactic to utilize my jump and my recovery. I figure I should sprint-coast-sprint-coast in my races.
Then I realized, "Oh wait, I already do that."
I'm not sure what my resting rate is so I'll have to measure it soon. It should be in the 40's. If it's good, it's in the 30's. 50's means I just drank coffee, I'm nervous, or I'm really out of shape.
Muscularly I think I'm reasonable. I have good knee-cap support (no sore knees after 100 miles), I have some jumpy strength in my legs (I observed this while doing some mini-jumps on the trainer), and I haven't lost much upper body strength (which is absolutely critical for backing up your big leg efforts). And I do a lot of shoulder muscle type exercises to build some padding around my collarbone.
I have a couple goals for this trip. Just like any training ride, I am leaving the house with some goals in mind. These goals define tasks.
First, I want to stay healthy. I have a nasty habit of getting really, really sick when I'm training hard. Last year I slept with a knit hat, long sleeve shirt, long sleeve pj's, socks, and walked around with slippers on my feet. It worked. I'll try and do the same this year.
Next, I'd like to do lose some fat. Long rides do this for me so I decided I want to do at least three Palomar rides. I did one and three quarters last year - I ran out of time so turned around about 5 miles from the summit on one ride, then went back and did it the right way shortly thereafter. I've tried for a few years though and now that I've gotten over that hump, I want to make it my "standard" long ride. The routes range from 92 miles to about 113 miles long. The longer the route, the flatter the non-Palomar bits.
Another thing I'd like to do is be more consistent in my riding. After my fat measuring catastrophe, I've decided to try and ride some of that half-bike off, and that means a lot of miles. Instead of doing an hour on my easy days, I'd like to cruise around a bit more, take in the sites, etc. To help accomplish this, I have a lot of gear so I am dutifully prepared for all sorts of weather.
Finally, if possible, I want to do a group ride that doesn't contain pro women and national level racers. I just get dropped and feel totally humbled. It's a good workout but it lasts, like 2 minutes. If I feel good though, then I'll go for the fast rides.
If you're in the Carlsbad area and want to go for a ride, let me know. I'll be out there.
Because of said Tour, I've been a bit busy the last few days. Work has been very busy and the home front has also been heavily scheduled. My biggest and least forgiving deadline is that I am leaving for California early tomorrow morning. My brother will be at my house at about 6 or 6:30 AM to drive me to the airport so I *have* to be ready then.
My second least forgiving deadline is preparing my beloved VW Passat for its give away - I'm giving it and all of its related parts to my fiancee's best friend's husband (who, incidentally, is a friend of mine). The Passat (and usually my other cars) ended up with a lot of extra parts, sort of like my bikes. Three sets of wheels, two intakes, new brakes, two sets of springs, manuals, so on and so forth. All need to be "staged" for a Saturday pick up. Along with some big tools I haven't used - an engine hoist, engine stand, and a stand alone parts cleaner.
So anyway, I have a lot to do tonight.
For this trip, like Florida, I have to get my various electronic gear bits together. I have most of my electronics from the last trip but am adding a critical thing: the helmet cam.
It's a Canon ZR100 teamed up with the ChaseCam helmet cam (520 lines resolution, the "nice" one) with a new and as of yet not-really-fitting 120 degree wide angle lens. The 92 degree lens is more a "butt and ankles" lens - which is fine for certain types of films but for trying to record a criterium, it's not really what I had in mind. To get more of a "wheels and jerseys" view, I got the 120 lens over the winter. I hope to record more than the 3 or 4 races and one sprint workout I managed last year. If I'm successful I'll be posting links to them here.
I have a new CamelBak HydroPak to carry the kit. I've been using a first generation CamelBak and the skinny straps leave marks on my delicate shoulders. Plus the thing is sort of wiggly due to the bulk and weight of the filled pack. There's a lot to carry - the camcorder, eight AA batteries, and some wires. My helmet carries the actual ChaseCam as well as a "powered mic" which simply means you get lots of wind noise in the background (I'm experimenting with wind muffling foam pieces).
I may experiment and carry actual fluids in my CamelBak and put the ChaseCam and camcorder on my bike but my preference is to load the rider, not the bike. The goal is to tape parts of my rides out there and do a few "touristy" shots (nice vistas, weird things, car accidents, in other words things I saw in previous trips to CA). Mounting the camcorder on the bike will allow me to start/stop it without stopping - with the CamelBak, I have to take the camera out of the bag to start/stop it.
This is the Pre Tour Medical Check post though, not the Electronic Gizmo post. The trip is not so I can tape nice views of some desert valley or the bumper of the truck I'm drafting. It's to try and prepare a normally semi-sedentary body to the stresses of racing really hard in March and April. Hence the "Medical Checks".
I recently bought some fat measuring calipers and a "body measuring tape" for lack of a better term. Basically the two combine to tell you how bad you are in objective terms which dig a lot deeper than the subjective ones. In other words I've thought recently "Wow, I'm getting in shape". I pull out the calipers to verify my subjective claim and the calipers say "No you are almost 19% fat".
Ouch.
Reality bites sometimes, doesn't it?
You know, I virtually threw out one of those electronic scales for saying I was at 16% fat. Maybe I should bring it back. Whatever, the numbers don't lie. Apparently I'm carrying around something like 30-35 lbs of fat. Pretty incredible right? If I can lose, say, half a bike's worth, it'll be great. We'll see though.
My aerobic system is oddly efficient. I cry all the time about my lack of aerobic ability but it has nothing to do with an inefficient cardiovascular system. I've always had a low resting rate, my heart walls are thick enough to raise red flags at physicals, and I have nice big veins that make blood-drawing nurses really happy. It's just that oxygen somehow doesn't get to my muscles. Or I don't have slow-twitch muscles that can use them.
Recently I measured my heart recovery rate over a 60 second period. My heart rate dropped from a very hardworking (for me) 164 bpm to 107 bpm in that minute. So my recovery is reasonably good. Trying to apply what I've learned, I thought of a new tactic to utilize my jump and my recovery. I figure I should sprint-coast-sprint-coast in my races.
Then I realized, "Oh wait, I already do that."
I'm not sure what my resting rate is so I'll have to measure it soon. It should be in the 40's. If it's good, it's in the 30's. 50's means I just drank coffee, I'm nervous, or I'm really out of shape.
Muscularly I think I'm reasonable. I have good knee-cap support (no sore knees after 100 miles), I have some jumpy strength in my legs (I observed this while doing some mini-jumps on the trainer), and I haven't lost much upper body strength (which is absolutely critical for backing up your big leg efforts). And I do a lot of shoulder muscle type exercises to build some padding around my collarbone.
I have a couple goals for this trip. Just like any training ride, I am leaving the house with some goals in mind. These goals define tasks.
First, I want to stay healthy. I have a nasty habit of getting really, really sick when I'm training hard. Last year I slept with a knit hat, long sleeve shirt, long sleeve pj's, socks, and walked around with slippers on my feet. It worked. I'll try and do the same this year.
Next, I'd like to do lose some fat. Long rides do this for me so I decided I want to do at least three Palomar rides. I did one and three quarters last year - I ran out of time so turned around about 5 miles from the summit on one ride, then went back and did it the right way shortly thereafter. I've tried for a few years though and now that I've gotten over that hump, I want to make it my "standard" long ride. The routes range from 92 miles to about 113 miles long. The longer the route, the flatter the non-Palomar bits.
Another thing I'd like to do is be more consistent in my riding. After my fat measuring catastrophe, I've decided to try and ride some of that half-bike off, and that means a lot of miles. Instead of doing an hour on my easy days, I'd like to cruise around a bit more, take in the sites, etc. To help accomplish this, I have a lot of gear so I am dutifully prepared for all sorts of weather.
Finally, if possible, I want to do a group ride that doesn't contain pro women and national level racers. I just get dropped and feel totally humbled. It's a good workout but it lasts, like 2 minutes. If I feel good though, then I'll go for the fast rides.
If you're in the Carlsbad area and want to go for a ride, let me know. I'll be out there.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
How To - Position is a relative thing
Racers consistently obsess over their position, trying to find the "perfect" position. But this is virtually impossible - hitting the "perfect" fit is like trying to hit a moving target. As your body adapts to riding, you'll find that your position can change to accentuate the adaptations your body has made.
An extreme real-time example of "fluid optimal position" is Eddy Merckx - due to a devastating early career crash that killed his derny driver, his hip bothered him for the rest of his life. His intra-race seat height adjustments are documented in "La Course En Tete" during the World Championships. A lessor example of changing optimal positions would be the recommendation I read somewhere which stated that during a stage race, after the first really long day, drop your saddle by a couple millimeters - this will relieve some of the stress on tightening muscles. It works too, although I apply it to my training camps rather than stage racing.
Your position will vary throughout your riding career in a less extreme and less fluid fashion. For example, when you first start riding, you tend to be a more upright, perhaps what one could call the "Entry Level" position. Non-cyclists are usually optimized for walking - so your glutes are not well developed, your hamstrings and your lower back isn't happy being bent over, your quads are not that strong, and your triceps, neck, and upper shoulders aren't happy supporting your head as cycling requires. The most foreign measurement for a new cyclist will be the seat height - it usually feels much lower than a non-cyclist feels is right. This is because the human body is optimized for walking and that involves straight legs. You don't walk around crouched like an ape, do you?
The Entry Level position holds true until you develop some of the aforementioned muscles - the glutes, hamstrings and lower back become stronger, your quads are usable at less-than-fully extended positions, and your upper body muscles can support your head correctly. If you find yourself hunching over more, bending your elbows more, then you're probably ready to move to the "Intermediate" position. The bars are a bit lower and farther away from the seat. Your seat may move back a bit. In such a position, you substantially increase your power by recruiting your glutes, hamstrings, and lower back - and when they develop in response, you can alter your position again.
Of course this adjust-and-adapt cycle will level out and at some point you'll find yourself in the "Optimal" range, with the only adjustments you make for riding preference (time trial, road race, crit, mountain bike), gear (cold weather gear is thicker and sits you higher off the saddle), any physical issues (stiff back, tight shoulder, etc.), and any personal preferences (long hilly ride versus super short/fast crits).
The Optimal range is relatively diverse for those of you used to measuring in 1 mm increments. I find my seat to pedal distance rarely changes but my saddle will move back and forth up to 2 cm. Move the saddle forward requires it to be raised (to maintain seat-pedal distance) so my seat post does move up and down about 1 cm. When my riding requirements rarely change (the length of the fall and winter for example), my position doesn't change. But when I'm trying to optimize for particular races, I definitely try and optimize my position about a month or two before hand. This means I am adjusting towards the short, fast summer events by the time January rolls around.
From personal observations, I would say that one's Optimal position is pretty set after about 3-4 years of consistent riding, i.e. relatively serious riding for 3 seasons for 3 or 4 years. This can be radically altered if there is a substantial change in riding requirements. For example, Davis Phinney transitioned from being a top a 100km TTT rider to a pro doing much longer races and eventually won the Coors Classic stage race. In the process he substantially lowered his seat and it appears he moved the cleat back on his shoe. Injury can alter position - probably the best known is Floyd Landis - his hip issues dictated his unusual position on the bike. Free thinking radical experimentation can lead to some interesting bikes - Steve Bauer comes to mind, with his chopper bike with chainstays so long it required the builder to use two sets of stays brazed together. His power position got him to the end of Paris Roubaix at the front but he had sacrificed speed for power with his position and couldn't sprint for the win. Minor position adjustments are relatively common - Bernard Hinault fit a 1 cm longer stem to his bike just before winning Tour of Lombardy in a spectacular solo break. When Greg Lemond joined Renault-Elf, his seat was raised something like 5 cm and his feet straightened out. His spectacular results show that this had no ill effect on his racing.
As I mentioned before, the one thing that rarely varies is the seat to pedal distance. Your pelvis may sit farther forward on the bike (for shorter, faster events) or a little more to the back (for longer events emphasizing power). This doesn't mean your seat post doesn't move, it simply means your seat-pedal distance remains pretty constant. For example, changing pedals may drastically alter your seat height relative to the bottom bracket and require a seat post movement simply to maintain your seat-pedal distance. Moving the seat forward will definitely require the seat post to be raised slightly.
If you haven't changed your position recently, it simply means your current position is set up for you as of the last time you changed your position. But if you have changed at all since you set your position (you ride more, you ride faster, or conversely you gained weight, you ride less) then it may not be ideal anymore.
Staying optimistic about fitness, as one gets fitter one can usually got to a more compact (or smaller) frame. As long as the top tube remains the same length, you will probably be able to drop your bars more relative to your seat. This will probably make you more aero and improve power without changing your seat-pedal position. If the frame is also longer, it will stretch your upper body out a bit. Big bike manufacturers usually have two sets of frames to satisfy the new and the advanced rider. Giant, for example, has the TCR for the more fit riders and the OCR for the newer riders. The TCR has a much shorter head tube and a slightly longer top tube - optimal for a fit rider but uncomfortable for someone trying out road riding. The OCR is the opposite - a more upright position for those less fit or simply new to the sport.
Position trends seem to be cyclical. You may end up emulating Jens Voigt's "new" position, a very forward, very high seat, coupled with a faraway, low bar. Of course this was also Alexi Grewal's Coors Light position over 10 years ago. The forward position allows you to severely flatten your upper body without crunching up your diaphragm. Works for them, it might work for you. All position ideas have their advantages and disadvantages.
A note on Jens Voight - his position looks very forward but it might be a function of the seat tube angle - a shallower angle will allow the seat tube to fair the rear wheel better and the designers may have chosen to have a bike that's more aero than one that "fits" better.
Higher/forward seat - more speed, easier to spin, necessary for short-quad folkds, instinctive position for high effort bits. Being "on the rivet" means you're going as hard as you can. It comes from the idea that in the old days, the riders would scoot forward on their riveted seats until they were "sitting" on the front rivet. Hence "on the rivet". This position tends not to be ideal for ultimate power - say on climbs.
Lower/rearward seat - much more power especially at low rpms, more recruitment of glutes, lower back, hamstrings. Works well with cleats further back on shoes. Necessary for those with long quads. Allows for more movement on bike so it's easier to, say, bunny hop or skip the rear wheel around.
Long reach to bar - more aero, more forward position when out of saddle (better for climbing and probably for sprinting). Less able to react to "exogenous" bike input - in other words, when someone slams your bike, it's harder to stay upright. Less weight on seat. More weight on hands (requires gloves or better gloves).
Shorter reach to bar - more comfortable, improved bike handling. Less stress on upper back, triceps, and neck. More weight on rear wheel so more stress and wear on rear wheel and tire. More weight on seat. Less weight on hands.
Note - you can combine one seat theory with one bar theory - so you can have a more forward seat with a shorter reach to the bar.
Remember that although you may alter your position on purpose, any unintentional position changes will affect you significantly. The first link (to the Discovery rider getting his seat position checked) is probably not the rider saying "Hey, I read a blog on changing seat positions and I want to try my seat a little higher." It's probably "My seat should be like so and it isn't right/level/etc." Racers are meticulous when it comes to seat position but it does not mean they can't ever change it.
An extreme real-time example of "fluid optimal position" is Eddy Merckx - due to a devastating early career crash that killed his derny driver, his hip bothered him for the rest of his life. His intra-race seat height adjustments are documented in "La Course En Tete" during the World Championships. A lessor example of changing optimal positions would be the recommendation I read somewhere which stated that during a stage race, after the first really long day, drop your saddle by a couple millimeters - this will relieve some of the stress on tightening muscles. It works too, although I apply it to my training camps rather than stage racing.
Your position will vary throughout your riding career in a less extreme and less fluid fashion. For example, when you first start riding, you tend to be a more upright, perhaps what one could call the "Entry Level" position. Non-cyclists are usually optimized for walking - so your glutes are not well developed, your hamstrings and your lower back isn't happy being bent over, your quads are not that strong, and your triceps, neck, and upper shoulders aren't happy supporting your head as cycling requires. The most foreign measurement for a new cyclist will be the seat height - it usually feels much lower than a non-cyclist feels is right. This is because the human body is optimized for walking and that involves straight legs. You don't walk around crouched like an ape, do you?
The Entry Level position holds true until you develop some of the aforementioned muscles - the glutes, hamstrings and lower back become stronger, your quads are usable at less-than-fully extended positions, and your upper body muscles can support your head correctly. If you find yourself hunching over more, bending your elbows more, then you're probably ready to move to the "Intermediate" position. The bars are a bit lower and farther away from the seat. Your seat may move back a bit. In such a position, you substantially increase your power by recruiting your glutes, hamstrings, and lower back - and when they develop in response, you can alter your position again.
Of course this adjust-and-adapt cycle will level out and at some point you'll find yourself in the "Optimal" range, with the only adjustments you make for riding preference (time trial, road race, crit, mountain bike), gear (cold weather gear is thicker and sits you higher off the saddle), any physical issues (stiff back, tight shoulder, etc.), and any personal preferences (long hilly ride versus super short/fast crits).
The Optimal range is relatively diverse for those of you used to measuring in 1 mm increments. I find my seat to pedal distance rarely changes but my saddle will move back and forth up to 2 cm. Move the saddle forward requires it to be raised (to maintain seat-pedal distance) so my seat post does move up and down about 1 cm. When my riding requirements rarely change (the length of the fall and winter for example), my position doesn't change. But when I'm trying to optimize for particular races, I definitely try and optimize my position about a month or two before hand. This means I am adjusting towards the short, fast summer events by the time January rolls around.
From personal observations, I would say that one's Optimal position is pretty set after about 3-4 years of consistent riding, i.e. relatively serious riding for 3 seasons for 3 or 4 years. This can be radically altered if there is a substantial change in riding requirements. For example, Davis Phinney transitioned from being a top a 100km TTT rider to a pro doing much longer races and eventually won the Coors Classic stage race. In the process he substantially lowered his seat and it appears he moved the cleat back on his shoe. Injury can alter position - probably the best known is Floyd Landis - his hip issues dictated his unusual position on the bike. Free thinking radical experimentation can lead to some interesting bikes - Steve Bauer comes to mind, with his chopper bike with chainstays so long it required the builder to use two sets of stays brazed together. His power position got him to the end of Paris Roubaix at the front but he had sacrificed speed for power with his position and couldn't sprint for the win. Minor position adjustments are relatively common - Bernard Hinault fit a 1 cm longer stem to his bike just before winning Tour of Lombardy in a spectacular solo break. When Greg Lemond joined Renault-Elf, his seat was raised something like 5 cm and his feet straightened out. His spectacular results show that this had no ill effect on his racing.
As I mentioned before, the one thing that rarely varies is the seat to pedal distance. Your pelvis may sit farther forward on the bike (for shorter, faster events) or a little more to the back (for longer events emphasizing power). This doesn't mean your seat post doesn't move, it simply means your seat-pedal distance remains pretty constant. For example, changing pedals may drastically alter your seat height relative to the bottom bracket and require a seat post movement simply to maintain your seat-pedal distance. Moving the seat forward will definitely require the seat post to be raised slightly.
If you haven't changed your position recently, it simply means your current position is set up for you as of the last time you changed your position. But if you have changed at all since you set your position (you ride more, you ride faster, or conversely you gained weight, you ride less) then it may not be ideal anymore.
Staying optimistic about fitness, as one gets fitter one can usually got to a more compact (or smaller) frame. As long as the top tube remains the same length, you will probably be able to drop your bars more relative to your seat. This will probably make you more aero and improve power without changing your seat-pedal position. If the frame is also longer, it will stretch your upper body out a bit. Big bike manufacturers usually have two sets of frames to satisfy the new and the advanced rider. Giant, for example, has the TCR for the more fit riders and the OCR for the newer riders. The TCR has a much shorter head tube and a slightly longer top tube - optimal for a fit rider but uncomfortable for someone trying out road riding. The OCR is the opposite - a more upright position for those less fit or simply new to the sport.
Position trends seem to be cyclical. You may end up emulating Jens Voigt's "new" position, a very forward, very high seat, coupled with a faraway, low bar. Of course this was also Alexi Grewal's Coors Light position over 10 years ago. The forward position allows you to severely flatten your upper body without crunching up your diaphragm. Works for them, it might work for you. All position ideas have their advantages and disadvantages.
A note on Jens Voight - his position looks very forward but it might be a function of the seat tube angle - a shallower angle will allow the seat tube to fair the rear wheel better and the designers may have chosen to have a bike that's more aero than one that "fits" better.
Higher/forward seat - more speed, easier to spin, necessary for short-quad folkds, instinctive position for high effort bits. Being "on the rivet" means you're going as hard as you can. It comes from the idea that in the old days, the riders would scoot forward on their riveted seats until they were "sitting" on the front rivet. Hence "on the rivet". This position tends not to be ideal for ultimate power - say on climbs.
Lower/rearward seat - much more power especially at low rpms, more recruitment of glutes, lower back, hamstrings. Works well with cleats further back on shoes. Necessary for those with long quads. Allows for more movement on bike so it's easier to, say, bunny hop or skip the rear wheel around.
Long reach to bar - more aero, more forward position when out of saddle (better for climbing and probably for sprinting). Less able to react to "exogenous" bike input - in other words, when someone slams your bike, it's harder to stay upright. Less weight on seat. More weight on hands (requires gloves or better gloves).
Shorter reach to bar - more comfortable, improved bike handling. Less stress on upper back, triceps, and neck. More weight on rear wheel so more stress and wear on rear wheel and tire. More weight on seat. Less weight on hands.
Note - you can combine one seat theory with one bar theory - so you can have a more forward seat with a shorter reach to the bar.
Remember that although you may alter your position on purpose, any unintentional position changes will affect you significantly. The first link (to the Discovery rider getting his seat position checked) is probably not the rider saying "Hey, I read a blog on changing seat positions and I want to try my seat a little higher." It's probably "My seat should be like so and it isn't right/level/etc." Racers are meticulous when it comes to seat position but it does not mean they can't ever change it.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
How To - Working on sprinting
Inevitably people ask me about sprint workouts. There are a lot of different ideas floating around out there and many of them do help with your sprint. For me, though, sprint workouts should include a few things:
1. Fun
2. Speed and a feeling of going really fast
3. Optimize maximum speed
Doing 100% all out efforts is not easy. I no longer have the mental gumption to do anything really hard that lasts longer than, say, a minute. Sprinting is fun for me and therefore I enjoy doing sprint workouts, I don't get burnt out, and I don't mind exerting myself for the 30-60 seconds necessary for a sprint.
The only thing is that the workouts don't seem right if you don't finish an effort and say "Boy was I flying!". Maybe you're working on going faster so you're thinking, "Boy I wish I was a bit faster!" That's fine. But if you finish an effort and think, "I really think I should have been able to beat that guy on the Huffy with flat tires riding to work" then maybe it's time to take a break and do the workout a different day.
The most important part of sprinting, and a thing that I've never seen mentioned anywhere, is that you absolutely have to work on increasing your maximum speed. It can be on a flat road or one that's very slightly downhill, but you have to increase your maximum speed.
Max speed not only helps your sprint but it also makes any other racing incrementally easier. If your max speed is 31 mph and an attack goes off at 35 mph, you'll be in trouble. If your max speed is 37 mph, you'll be hanging on for dear life. But if it's 42 mph you'll easily manage a 35 mph attack.
Workouts
Please keep in mind that these workouts should be done by riders after they've gotten cleared by their doctors. Also, although everyone can increase their max speed, you will not be able to transform a non-sprinting rider into a pure sprinter. It takes more to beat a pure sprinter than just sprinting against them head to head.
Determine Maximum Optimal Sprint Speed
My favorite jump/sprint workout (after you've warmed up and are sweating a bit) is to find a slight (1-5%) downhill followed by a flat section the length you require for a sprint (at least 200m). Use the downhill as your "leadout" and jump as hard as possible at your start point (on the flat). Try doing this in a cross/tail wind and keep track of your max speeds. As an alternative to the downhill, draft large motorized vehicles to help bring you up to speed. This speed will be your maximum optimal sprint speed (MOSS).
Hey I made up an acronym!
You can do these sprints weekly to keep track of your MOSS (say 3-10 times on the day you do it). Twice a week might be maximum, otherwise you end up just overdoing it. You'll find the speeds creeping up naturally.
As a "normal" racer, i.e. a Cat 3-5, your minimum MOSS should be 31-32 mph. In other words, you really, really need to hit that speed. It's better if you can hit 35-38 mph and you'll probably find yourself at that speed as a late Cat5 or a new Cat 4. And if you can break 40-42 mph, you're in Cat 3 race placing territory. 44-46 mph will win you races. Remember, this is an "optimal" sprint, one where you're relatively fresh and have a perfect "leadout".
Once you get an idea of your MOSS in the workout above, do some other types of sprint workouts to try and increase your MOSS.
Alternate Gear Sprint Workout
Sprint from a rolling start up to your maximum speed and alternate gears high and low. Try alternating between a 53x14 and 53x17 for starters (I think that will be the lowest pair of gears usable - whatever pair you use, you should have a 3-4 tooth gap for your two gears). You'll think the easy gear is easy when you first start the workout, but as your legs fatigue, you'll really be jonesing for the big gear interval - the little gear is so hard to spin fluently once fatigued. (Note: this is why roadies sprint in big gears and trackies sprint in little gears).
The alternating gear workout helps you learn the difference between "pushing" and "spinning". Since this is not an optimal speed workout, you may not hit your max speeds, even in the bigger gears. This is normal - I find myself losing about 10-15% of my top end speed.
Group Sprint Workout
The best sprint workouts I ever got was a Tues night sprint ride at a local university on a 2 mile loop (SUNY Purchase for those in the NYC area). Approximately 50-150 riders of all levels (up to Cat 1, national team riders - Jessica Greico was probably the best known racer who regularly showed up) would show up for 2-3 hours. Approx 1km-long committed leadouts (started on a 200 meter slight downhill followed by an undulated 800-1000 meters) by numerous leadout riders meant the leadout would typically hit 35-38 mph on a slow day and 40+mph on a fast day.
The top speeds I observed were typically 42-46 mph on the 200m slight downgrade to the line. 15-20 sprints really cooked your legs and I learned a lot of tactics and techniques on sprinting by doing these sprints. I learned that if you have the power, you can jump really hard even if you're going really fast already. I also learned that you can fake-jump hard enough to draw out non-sprinters one or two times, then sprint for real. Finally I got to work on my bike throw a lot.
Group sprint workouts are motivating, fun, and slightly dangerous. With the fun and competitiveness of group sprints, you also end up with a chance of either accidents or poor riders causing problems. Keep your head up and remember it's not a race, even though you might be sprinting as if it were one.
Urban Sprint Workout
Another workout is the "urban sprint workout". I personally enjoy sprinting with cars in city traffic. Pick a loop that has all one-way traffic (or median'ed roads so there is no one driving towards you). I have a favorite 2 mile loop and the speed limit is 30 or 35 mph which means drivers go 35-40 mph. This is perfect for motorpacing up to my jump point, 200 meters from a nice crosswalk.
My sprint speed varies wildly with traffic, wind, and my legs - it may be as low as 34 mph and as high as 48 mph (well, on one day I hit that mark a few times). Doing this workout with friends is more consistent since they're on bikes and it's easier to hold their wheels. But doing it alone is fine. Trucks are a rare treat so they receive the most magnetic drafting attention possible.
When I worked in NYC going up and down the large Avenues was a real treat. Synchronized lights, some semblence of awareness of cyclists, and everyone driving 35 mph or so.
Group Rides (with sprint lines)
Many group rides have one or two sprint lines incorporated into the route. These are excellent places to practice sprinting for a number of reasons:
1. Lots of riders, many of whom you don't really know.
2. Only one chance at each line.
3. Natural variables like wind, temperature, pack riding patterns subtlely alter the demands of the sprint.
4. Natural competition.
Group rides are like races because you don't know everyone (and their habits), you have only one chance at the line, a lot of people want to beat you, and you won't know the conditions at the sprint till you get there.
I do one group ride only for its sprints. Sometimes I'm on my own (no teammates), sometimes I have friends or allies (teammates or simply allies), but I suffer like a dog to be able to contest the first sprint. To be completely frank, I rarely make it with the group to the second sprint. Therefore the first sprint is the one I pinpoint.
It's a real treat when someone you don't necessarily know too well decides to lead you out. It's even better when that rider is far better than you. One sprint that I particularly liked was in NY when one guy (Ray Diaz, one tough racer, second from left in this picture) tried to lead out his less experienced teammate. I heard them talking a bit, Ray was pointing at the riders to watch, so I figured they'd be a good leadout. With 500 meters to go I managed to squirm my way onto Ray's wheel and he looked back, read the scene (me on his wheel, his buddy on mine) and decided to keep the leadout going. This was awesome!
The only problem was that Ray wasn't ramping up the speed the way I preferred. I love sprints where I'm being led out at 40+ mph, where it's a struggle just to hang onto the wheel in front. It makes the actual sprint a lot more decisive. Ray's leadout didn't seem like one of these. In his defense, this was a mid-ride sprint and there are a couple false flats immediately after the sprint that are leg breakers right after a hard effort.
I figured that since I wasn't his teammate (and Ray's teammate was on my wheel), Ray would keep the speed a little lower and force me to jump early (and lead out his teammate). It worked. I got worried that we'd get swarmed and started to ride a bit to his side, trying to ride as "wide" as possible, drawing my front wheel to his bottom bracket area. After sitting there for about 5 seconds, I decided I had to go (after all I had very little benefit from the draft and I was actually helping those behind me). I launched very early, sat up when I had a big gap, and soft pedaled about 100 meters to the line. I didn't contest when one furiously sprinting rider "caught" me at the line - after all, I was satisfied with the gap I opened and my sprint in general, and I was already recovering for the upcoming false flats. To Ray's credit, the group was completely strung out behind me so I was being a bit paranoid on the swarming bit.
Ray rode up to me afterwards. He was grinning (it seems like everyone involved in fun sprints grins afterwards) and told me I could have won if I'd waited. I pointed out I could have pedaled a bit to win the sprint but I had been more concerned with working on field positioning and my actual sprint (the physical bit of sprinting, not the bike throw). I also mentioned that I figured he wasn't ramping up the speed so as to force me to go earlier.
"But I was going 37 mph!" he protested.
"Exactly.. too slow!"
We laughed.
I told him if he'd been holding 40 mph, I would have felt comfortable waiting. 37 mph - well it seemed like a feint to me. I think he thought I was joking, but I wasn't. A couple more mph and no one would have thought about moving up early.
He laughed at my remark and rode up to the front of the group to proceeded to make mincemeat out of everyone's legs, mine included. That was the difference between him and me. While he was at the front merrily pulling away right after a huge effort, I groveled at the back to try and make it to the second sprint. I don't remember anything about that sprint so I am guessing I got popped sometime before it.
By the way I'm a lowly Cat 3 (1 being national level and 5 being beginner) and although I can sprint reasonably well, there are a lot of guys who sprint way better than I do. I mention the speeds because in Cat 3 races, although they may average 25-27 mph for an hour, typically contain short bursts at 36-38 mph to bridge to a break, attacks at up to 42 mph, and generally things are going fast only after we're going over 31 mph.
Anyway, I hope these tips help you with your sprinting.
Oh I forgot one more tip on sprinting.
If you're sprinting against Aki, forget everything he ever said about sprinting.
1. Fun
2. Speed and a feeling of going really fast
3. Optimize maximum speed
Doing 100% all out efforts is not easy. I no longer have the mental gumption to do anything really hard that lasts longer than, say, a minute. Sprinting is fun for me and therefore I enjoy doing sprint workouts, I don't get burnt out, and I don't mind exerting myself for the 30-60 seconds necessary for a sprint.
The only thing is that the workouts don't seem right if you don't finish an effort and say "Boy was I flying!". Maybe you're working on going faster so you're thinking, "Boy I wish I was a bit faster!" That's fine. But if you finish an effort and think, "I really think I should have been able to beat that guy on the Huffy with flat tires riding to work" then maybe it's time to take a break and do the workout a different day.
The most important part of sprinting, and a thing that I've never seen mentioned anywhere, is that you absolutely have to work on increasing your maximum speed. It can be on a flat road or one that's very slightly downhill, but you have to increase your maximum speed.
Max speed not only helps your sprint but it also makes any other racing incrementally easier. If your max speed is 31 mph and an attack goes off at 35 mph, you'll be in trouble. If your max speed is 37 mph, you'll be hanging on for dear life. But if it's 42 mph you'll easily manage a 35 mph attack.
Workouts
Please keep in mind that these workouts should be done by riders after they've gotten cleared by their doctors. Also, although everyone can increase their max speed, you will not be able to transform a non-sprinting rider into a pure sprinter. It takes more to beat a pure sprinter than just sprinting against them head to head.
Determine Maximum Optimal Sprint Speed
My favorite jump/sprint workout (after you've warmed up and are sweating a bit) is to find a slight (1-5%) downhill followed by a flat section the length you require for a sprint (at least 200m). Use the downhill as your "leadout" and jump as hard as possible at your start point (on the flat). Try doing this in a cross/tail wind and keep track of your max speeds. As an alternative to the downhill, draft large motorized vehicles to help bring you up to speed. This speed will be your maximum optimal sprint speed (MOSS).
Hey I made up an acronym!
You can do these sprints weekly to keep track of your MOSS (say 3-10 times on the day you do it). Twice a week might be maximum, otherwise you end up just overdoing it. You'll find the speeds creeping up naturally.
As a "normal" racer, i.e. a Cat 3-5, your minimum MOSS should be 31-32 mph. In other words, you really, really need to hit that speed. It's better if you can hit 35-38 mph and you'll probably find yourself at that speed as a late Cat5 or a new Cat 4. And if you can break 40-42 mph, you're in Cat 3 race placing territory. 44-46 mph will win you races. Remember, this is an "optimal" sprint, one where you're relatively fresh and have a perfect "leadout".
Once you get an idea of your MOSS in the workout above, do some other types of sprint workouts to try and increase your MOSS.
Alternate Gear Sprint Workout
Sprint from a rolling start up to your maximum speed and alternate gears high and low. Try alternating between a 53x14 and 53x17 for starters (I think that will be the lowest pair of gears usable - whatever pair you use, you should have a 3-4 tooth gap for your two gears). You'll think the easy gear is easy when you first start the workout, but as your legs fatigue, you'll really be jonesing for the big gear interval - the little gear is so hard to spin fluently once fatigued. (Note: this is why roadies sprint in big gears and trackies sprint in little gears).
The alternating gear workout helps you learn the difference between "pushing" and "spinning". Since this is not an optimal speed workout, you may not hit your max speeds, even in the bigger gears. This is normal - I find myself losing about 10-15% of my top end speed.
Group Sprint Workout
The best sprint workouts I ever got was a Tues night sprint ride at a local university on a 2 mile loop (SUNY Purchase for those in the NYC area). Approximately 50-150 riders of all levels (up to Cat 1, national team riders - Jessica Greico was probably the best known racer who regularly showed up) would show up for 2-3 hours. Approx 1km-long committed leadouts (started on a 200 meter slight downhill followed by an undulated 800-1000 meters) by numerous leadout riders meant the leadout would typically hit 35-38 mph on a slow day and 40+mph on a fast day.
The top speeds I observed were typically 42-46 mph on the 200m slight downgrade to the line. 15-20 sprints really cooked your legs and I learned a lot of tactics and techniques on sprinting by doing these sprints. I learned that if you have the power, you can jump really hard even if you're going really fast already. I also learned that you can fake-jump hard enough to draw out non-sprinters one or two times, then sprint for real. Finally I got to work on my bike throw a lot.
Group sprint workouts are motivating, fun, and slightly dangerous. With the fun and competitiveness of group sprints, you also end up with a chance of either accidents or poor riders causing problems. Keep your head up and remember it's not a race, even though you might be sprinting as if it were one.
Urban Sprint Workout
Another workout is the "urban sprint workout". I personally enjoy sprinting with cars in city traffic. Pick a loop that has all one-way traffic (or median'ed roads so there is no one driving towards you). I have a favorite 2 mile loop and the speed limit is 30 or 35 mph which means drivers go 35-40 mph. This is perfect for motorpacing up to my jump point, 200 meters from a nice crosswalk.
My sprint speed varies wildly with traffic, wind, and my legs - it may be as low as 34 mph and as high as 48 mph (well, on one day I hit that mark a few times). Doing this workout with friends is more consistent since they're on bikes and it's easier to hold their wheels. But doing it alone is fine. Trucks are a rare treat so they receive the most magnetic drafting attention possible.
When I worked in NYC going up and down the large Avenues was a real treat. Synchronized lights, some semblence of awareness of cyclists, and everyone driving 35 mph or so.
Group Rides (with sprint lines)
Many group rides have one or two sprint lines incorporated into the route. These are excellent places to practice sprinting for a number of reasons:
1. Lots of riders, many of whom you don't really know.
2. Only one chance at each line.
3. Natural variables like wind, temperature, pack riding patterns subtlely alter the demands of the sprint.
4. Natural competition.
Group rides are like races because you don't know everyone (and their habits), you have only one chance at the line, a lot of people want to beat you, and you won't know the conditions at the sprint till you get there.
I do one group ride only for its sprints. Sometimes I'm on my own (no teammates), sometimes I have friends or allies (teammates or simply allies), but I suffer like a dog to be able to contest the first sprint. To be completely frank, I rarely make it with the group to the second sprint. Therefore the first sprint is the one I pinpoint.
It's a real treat when someone you don't necessarily know too well decides to lead you out. It's even better when that rider is far better than you. One sprint that I particularly liked was in NY when one guy (Ray Diaz, one tough racer, second from left in this picture) tried to lead out his less experienced teammate. I heard them talking a bit, Ray was pointing at the riders to watch, so I figured they'd be a good leadout. With 500 meters to go I managed to squirm my way onto Ray's wheel and he looked back, read the scene (me on his wheel, his buddy on mine) and decided to keep the leadout going. This was awesome!
The only problem was that Ray wasn't ramping up the speed the way I preferred. I love sprints where I'm being led out at 40+ mph, where it's a struggle just to hang onto the wheel in front. It makes the actual sprint a lot more decisive. Ray's leadout didn't seem like one of these. In his defense, this was a mid-ride sprint and there are a couple false flats immediately after the sprint that are leg breakers right after a hard effort.
I figured that since I wasn't his teammate (and Ray's teammate was on my wheel), Ray would keep the speed a little lower and force me to jump early (and lead out his teammate). It worked. I got worried that we'd get swarmed and started to ride a bit to his side, trying to ride as "wide" as possible, drawing my front wheel to his bottom bracket area. After sitting there for about 5 seconds, I decided I had to go (after all I had very little benefit from the draft and I was actually helping those behind me). I launched very early, sat up when I had a big gap, and soft pedaled about 100 meters to the line. I didn't contest when one furiously sprinting rider "caught" me at the line - after all, I was satisfied with the gap I opened and my sprint in general, and I was already recovering for the upcoming false flats. To Ray's credit, the group was completely strung out behind me so I was being a bit paranoid on the swarming bit.
Ray rode up to me afterwards. He was grinning (it seems like everyone involved in fun sprints grins afterwards) and told me I could have won if I'd waited. I pointed out I could have pedaled a bit to win the sprint but I had been more concerned with working on field positioning and my actual sprint (the physical bit of sprinting, not the bike throw). I also mentioned that I figured he wasn't ramping up the speed so as to force me to go earlier.
"But I was going 37 mph!" he protested.
"Exactly.. too slow!"
We laughed.
I told him if he'd been holding 40 mph, I would have felt comfortable waiting. 37 mph - well it seemed like a feint to me. I think he thought I was joking, but I wasn't. A couple more mph and no one would have thought about moving up early.
He laughed at my remark and rode up to the front of the group to proceeded to make mincemeat out of everyone's legs, mine included. That was the difference between him and me. While he was at the front merrily pulling away right after a huge effort, I groveled at the back to try and make it to the second sprint. I don't remember anything about that sprint so I am guessing I got popped sometime before it.
By the way I'm a lowly Cat 3 (1 being national level and 5 being beginner) and although I can sprint reasonably well, there are a lot of guys who sprint way better than I do. I mention the speeds because in Cat 3 races, although they may average 25-27 mph for an hour, typically contain short bursts at 36-38 mph to bridge to a break, attacks at up to 42 mph, and generally things are going fast only after we're going over 31 mph.
Anyway, I hope these tips help you with your sprinting.
Oh I forgot one more tip on sprinting.
If you're sprinting against Aki, forget everything he ever said about sprinting.
Friday, February 02, 2007
How To - The Actual Sprint
Sprinting.
My only strength is sprinting.
If it wasn't, the blog would be called something other than Sprinter della Casa.
What this means is I spend a lot of time thinking of how to make my sprints count.
I find that I focus on particular things when planning my approach to an upcoming sprint. This is assuming I'm in position to contest an upcoming sprint, i.e. I'm still in the race. If I am, I think about the following things (Note: the things I think about are relatively universal, i.e. if you approach sprinting the same way, it should help you too):
1. Gearing
2. Shifting
3. Length of sprint
These have nothing to do with training or positioning or any of the many other factors in sprinting. What it does is focus on the actual sprint itself - when will you start it, what gearing will you use, and the idea of shifting in the sprint.
Gearing
If I'm being led out (or sitting behind unwitting lead out riders), I typically shift up one or two gears relative to the riders in front, i.e. instead of the 15T, use the 14T or 13T. This suits my strength (power jump). Roadies are typically power sprinters and use their power to muscle the gear.
Since the speeds are quite high in a leadout, it's not unusual to find myself already in the 12 just before the sprint, my legs cruising along, itching to jump. If my legs are getting a bit "slow" feeling, I'll pop up to a bigger cog for a rev or two and then drop back into my "jump" gear.
Because approaching a sprint is rarely a planned thing, you can't really plan on your final sprint gear. It might be the case that a fanatically committed team leads the sprint out and you're hanging on in your 11T. Or everyone looks at each other with 500 meters to go so you're cruising in a 15T. However you can think about your actual sprinting gear with a +/- 1T range for wind, tired/fresh legs, optimal/non-optimal jump, etc.
Regardless, you need some rpm headroom for your jump. In your car you don't downshift to accelerate from 6000 rpm if you have a 6500 rpm redline. Instead, select a gear that allows you to accelerate from, say, 4000 rpm up to redline. This is assuming some factors like you have enough torque at 4000 rpms and stuff. But I digress. It would do no good to jump at 140 rpm when you make more power at 120 rpm. Instead, it would be better to jump at, say, 110 rpm so that you spend a lot of time in the meat of your powerband and then start to sprint out of it before you shift up to the next gear.
One requirement to execute is you have to get to the beginning of the sprint reasonably fresh. If you've killed yourself simply to get into position, you won't have the boost necessary to launch you to the finish. This is my take on Zabel's sprint performances.
I have helmet cam tapes (from a cam I wore on my helmet) which I watch when I want to psych myself up. Two things surprise me. One is how far apart everyone rides. The other is how much faster I go in the sprint versus any other time in the race. Even the relatively hard moves to get into position pale in comparison to the mic-flooding rush of wind produced when I launch into my final sprint.
When one talks about gearing and sprinting, one can always debate the advantages of spinning versus powering a big gear. Trackies typically use much lower gears and still hit incredible speeds - 43 mph is not unheard of with a 51x14. Mark Whitehead (a great trackie) and Davis Phinney once met head to head in a sprint on Phinney's turf, a criterium. Whitehead was spinning a 53x15 with sewing machine like legs while Phinney churned his 53x12. Since it was road turf, the Phinney's power sprint won in the end. As a general rule it is easier to power a big gear at a certain speed at the end of a long race rather than spin a smaller gear. As long as you don't go too far over 120 rpms in road sprints you should be fine.
Moral of that story? You can work on your spin sprint but on the road you absolutely need your power.
Shifting
Once you start your sprint, you must be able shift any time you like. If you can't sprint at 100% and shift at the same time, you might as well put downtube shifters on your bike.
If you've installed and adjusted things properly, your drivetrain can take a full on shift (out of the saddle, no easing up, no thought to when to shift). It might be loud or unsettle your bike (or in the old days jerk your foot out of a triple-binda set so tight your toes turn purple) but your bike will shift. In the old days I used a single right-side bar end shifter and chopped my bar so the shifter sat right in the palm of my hand.
If shifting under full gas you may unclip, skip your rear wheel, wrench your bars if not tightened, bend them if you're really strong, etc. It's critical to practice shifting while sprinting before you do it in a race. You don't want to learn in the middle of a big field sprint that your derailleur wasn't adjusted quite right as your chain jams between your 11T and the frame. I've had to crank my pedals down a little more than normal, to the point where I can't unclip with just my foot - I have to hit my shoe with my hand to unclip.
I use Campy Ergo levers set relatively low on the bars. If you have your levers up high (like a climber) then it'll be virtually impossible to shift from the drops while at full gas. The reason? You have to move your hands up to shift. If your levers are optimally placed you'll have access to the controls while you're sprinting.
I see a lot of riders set up their levers so it's "comfy" when you're riding on the hoods. The problem when it comes down to a sprint is that you don't ever want to sprint from the hoods. You lose power, control, and braking ability. Drop your levers down so you can shift from the drops without any contortionistic maneuvers. You don't have to get SRAM levers to shift in the sprint - just put the levers you have now in the right place.
Length of Sprint
A long time ago I read that a human body can sprint (at max effort) for 40 pedal revolutions. I took that as gospel and followed its implied message ("You'll cover the last bit of the race fastest if you sprint for 40 revolutions"). But during long trainer sessions watching race tapes of big field finishes, I counted the pedal strokes the Tour sprinters did once they jumped into the wind. Surprisingly I found most of them did only 8-10 strokes in the wind in the stages I checked. The exception was the final stage when they inevitably went about 20 revs. I realized afterwards that the Champs Elysee finish is a slight downhill sprint so sitting on wheels is less advantageous.
One of my best sprints ever was one where I committed to going at about 10 revolutions to go before I even got to the race. The venue was one of my "target races" (I have two or three a year) so it was pretty important to me to do well. I hadn't managed to break into the top 5 or 6 but always seemed to be around 10th so I knew doing better was possible. Normally I wouldn't go to a target race and radically change my approach but since I'd been doing the race a long time I figured I had to change something. I picked out a landmark which was about 10 revolutions from the end and decided I'd gamble and go very late in the sprint.
The race went reasonably well and it came down to a big field sprint. I waited for what seemed like an eternity as racer after racer launched into their final sprint. I grimly hung on about 10 or 15 riders back and waited for my mark. In the end I probably went a revolution early but did a spectacular sprint and threw my bike for third or fourth.
Could I have done better had I gone earlier? I think so. I think Tour racers have so little left after four hours finished off by a very fast run in to the sprint. The pros can't afford to go too much earlier because they're used a lot of their reserves before 200 meters to go. I, on the other hand, have much more in reserve - I'm probably still flush with carbs and stuff and not starting to get those weak, dizzy spells I get after being on the bike for 3 or 4 hours.
With the 8 or 10 revolution sprint out of the way, I now go a bit earlier in general. I do try and limit my sprints to 20 revs or less, and unless I flub my position going into the sprint, I've been successful. At a new race venue I'll ride backwards from the finish in the gear I think I might use for 20 revs, find a landmark, and try and be in good position at that landmark. Wind, legs, and lead out determine the final gear but after a lot of sprints and a lot of racing, I have gotten good at figuring out a base gear for the sprint.
Now if you are sprinting against me, all these things don't apply. Go from 40-60 revolutions out, sprint on the hoods, and jump and stay in your 12T.
:)
My only strength is sprinting.
If it wasn't, the blog would be called something other than Sprinter della Casa.
What this means is I spend a lot of time thinking of how to make my sprints count.
I find that I focus on particular things when planning my approach to an upcoming sprint. This is assuming I'm in position to contest an upcoming sprint, i.e. I'm still in the race. If I am, I think about the following things (Note: the things I think about are relatively universal, i.e. if you approach sprinting the same way, it should help you too):
1. Gearing
2. Shifting
3. Length of sprint
These have nothing to do with training or positioning or any of the many other factors in sprinting. What it does is focus on the actual sprint itself - when will you start it, what gearing will you use, and the idea of shifting in the sprint.
Gearing
If I'm being led out (or sitting behind unwitting lead out riders), I typically shift up one or two gears relative to the riders in front, i.e. instead of the 15T, use the 14T or 13T. This suits my strength (power jump). Roadies are typically power sprinters and use their power to muscle the gear.
Since the speeds are quite high in a leadout, it's not unusual to find myself already in the 12 just before the sprint, my legs cruising along, itching to jump. If my legs are getting a bit "slow" feeling, I'll pop up to a bigger cog for a rev or two and then drop back into my "jump" gear.
Because approaching a sprint is rarely a planned thing, you can't really plan on your final sprint gear. It might be the case that a fanatically committed team leads the sprint out and you're hanging on in your 11T. Or everyone looks at each other with 500 meters to go so you're cruising in a 15T. However you can think about your actual sprinting gear with a +/- 1T range for wind, tired/fresh legs, optimal/non-optimal jump, etc.
Regardless, you need some rpm headroom for your jump. In your car you don't downshift to accelerate from 6000 rpm if you have a 6500 rpm redline. Instead, select a gear that allows you to accelerate from, say, 4000 rpm up to redline. This is assuming some factors like you have enough torque at 4000 rpms and stuff. But I digress. It would do no good to jump at 140 rpm when you make more power at 120 rpm. Instead, it would be better to jump at, say, 110 rpm so that you spend a lot of time in the meat of your powerband and then start to sprint out of it before you shift up to the next gear.
One requirement to execute is you have to get to the beginning of the sprint reasonably fresh. If you've killed yourself simply to get into position, you won't have the boost necessary to launch you to the finish. This is my take on Zabel's sprint performances.
I have helmet cam tapes (from a cam I wore on my helmet) which I watch when I want to psych myself up. Two things surprise me. One is how far apart everyone rides. The other is how much faster I go in the sprint versus any other time in the race. Even the relatively hard moves to get into position pale in comparison to the mic-flooding rush of wind produced when I launch into my final sprint.
When one talks about gearing and sprinting, one can always debate the advantages of spinning versus powering a big gear. Trackies typically use much lower gears and still hit incredible speeds - 43 mph is not unheard of with a 51x14. Mark Whitehead (a great trackie) and Davis Phinney once met head to head in a sprint on Phinney's turf, a criterium. Whitehead was spinning a 53x15 with sewing machine like legs while Phinney churned his 53x12. Since it was road turf, the Phinney's power sprint won in the end. As a general rule it is easier to power a big gear at a certain speed at the end of a long race rather than spin a smaller gear. As long as you don't go too far over 120 rpms in road sprints you should be fine.
Moral of that story? You can work on your spin sprint but on the road you absolutely need your power.
Shifting
Once you start your sprint, you must be able shift any time you like. If you can't sprint at 100% and shift at the same time, you might as well put downtube shifters on your bike.
If you've installed and adjusted things properly, your drivetrain can take a full on shift (out of the saddle, no easing up, no thought to when to shift). It might be loud or unsettle your bike (or in the old days jerk your foot out of a triple-binda set so tight your toes turn purple) but your bike will shift. In the old days I used a single right-side bar end shifter and chopped my bar so the shifter sat right in the palm of my hand.
If shifting under full gas you may unclip, skip your rear wheel, wrench your bars if not tightened, bend them if you're really strong, etc. It's critical to practice shifting while sprinting before you do it in a race. You don't want to learn in the middle of a big field sprint that your derailleur wasn't adjusted quite right as your chain jams between your 11T and the frame. I've had to crank my pedals down a little more than normal, to the point where I can't unclip with just my foot - I have to hit my shoe with my hand to unclip.
I use Campy Ergo levers set relatively low on the bars. If you have your levers up high (like a climber) then it'll be virtually impossible to shift from the drops while at full gas. The reason? You have to move your hands up to shift. If your levers are optimally placed you'll have access to the controls while you're sprinting.
I see a lot of riders set up their levers so it's "comfy" when you're riding on the hoods. The problem when it comes down to a sprint is that you don't ever want to sprint from the hoods. You lose power, control, and braking ability. Drop your levers down so you can shift from the drops without any contortionistic maneuvers. You don't have to get SRAM levers to shift in the sprint - just put the levers you have now in the right place.
Length of Sprint
A long time ago I read that a human body can sprint (at max effort) for 40 pedal revolutions. I took that as gospel and followed its implied message ("You'll cover the last bit of the race fastest if you sprint for 40 revolutions"). But during long trainer sessions watching race tapes of big field finishes, I counted the pedal strokes the Tour sprinters did once they jumped into the wind. Surprisingly I found most of them did only 8-10 strokes in the wind in the stages I checked. The exception was the final stage when they inevitably went about 20 revs. I realized afterwards that the Champs Elysee finish is a slight downhill sprint so sitting on wheels is less advantageous.
One of my best sprints ever was one where I committed to going at about 10 revolutions to go before I even got to the race. The venue was one of my "target races" (I have two or three a year) so it was pretty important to me to do well. I hadn't managed to break into the top 5 or 6 but always seemed to be around 10th so I knew doing better was possible. Normally I wouldn't go to a target race and radically change my approach but since I'd been doing the race a long time I figured I had to change something. I picked out a landmark which was about 10 revolutions from the end and decided I'd gamble and go very late in the sprint.
The race went reasonably well and it came down to a big field sprint. I waited for what seemed like an eternity as racer after racer launched into their final sprint. I grimly hung on about 10 or 15 riders back and waited for my mark. In the end I probably went a revolution early but did a spectacular sprint and threw my bike for third or fourth.
Could I have done better had I gone earlier? I think so. I think Tour racers have so little left after four hours finished off by a very fast run in to the sprint. The pros can't afford to go too much earlier because they're used a lot of their reserves before 200 meters to go. I, on the other hand, have much more in reserve - I'm probably still flush with carbs and stuff and not starting to get those weak, dizzy spells I get after being on the bike for 3 or 4 hours.
With the 8 or 10 revolution sprint out of the way, I now go a bit earlier in general. I do try and limit my sprints to 20 revs or less, and unless I flub my position going into the sprint, I've been successful. At a new race venue I'll ride backwards from the finish in the gear I think I might use for 20 revs, find a landmark, and try and be in good position at that landmark. Wind, legs, and lead out determine the final gear but after a lot of sprints and a lot of racing, I have gotten good at figuring out a base gear for the sprint.
Now if you are sprinting against me, all these things don't apply. Go from 40-60 revolutions out, sprint on the hoods, and jump and stay in your 12T.
:)
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