Equipment - Fitting

(Disclaimer: although I paid a slightly discounted price for the fit, I gave a saddle that put me way over the top of any discounted rate. Out of pocket costs for me were on par with a retail customer. Over it, actually.)

A long time ago one of the guys that raced at the Bethel Spring Series was a guy I'll call CP. He was a local guy, Cannondale technical something or another, and he helped organize the team that eventually morphed into the current Stage One / Fusion think team.

CP is a sort of car guy as well, and for many years he worked a dream job at Lime rock.

One year, after moving to our present house, I was on my normal Quarry Road Loop when lo and behold, an old Stage One kit (with a rider inside it) turned onto the road in front of me. I caught up to the rider. To my pleasant surprise it was CP. He and I lived in the same town now!

We chatted a bit, I turned off (or maybe he did) and that was that.

He is involved with the local cycling groups and helped me try to get a race going in town. Unfortunately the town balked at the liability aspect of things so no crits here for the foreseeable future.

Fast forward a half dozen or so years and CP reached out to me. He'd just opened up a fit studio, Body Over Bike, not far from where I first spotted that Stage One kit. He asked if I wanted to get a fit done.

I hesitated, for many reasons.

I'd worked on my position for many years, slowly honing it, experimenting with variations, and arriving at what I felt was close to my optimal position after literally decades of experimenting. I was thinking I might have just a bit more length possible in my fit but it was otherwise pretty good. So, in my mind, my fit was pretty good.

There was another thing. Ego.

I didn't want to be found wrong.

I can admit that now, although it was hard initially to think this. I'd poured a lot of time and energy into my position, and I sort of needed, for my mental sanity, for my position to be right. Some of my A-B-A experiments (one position, then another, then back to the original) took many months, and during the B phase I had some pretty bad races and rides. I spent two separate seasons testing a different crank length, both years with the same dismal results. Effectively I had gambled and written off two seasons of racing to see if a particular crank length worked for me. I paid for my experiments, both fiscally and mentally. I was afraid to learn that all that was for naught.

Finally, I didn't want to be shoehorned into someone else's idea of what I should be doing. When I first used the Fit Kit, back in the 80s, it basically told me a definitive range of measurements. Once I strayed outside of their parameters it was game over, at least from the Fit Kit's opinion. My weird proportions meant I didn't fit anything, and the Fit Kit told me that I was just wacky on the bike. Of course back then there were no power meters, very little sophistication in measuring accuracy, and a lot of, "Yeah, that looks better." I know because I did that with my customers, my clients, when I fit them.

Eventually I got over my fears, doubts, and insecurities. I called up CP and took him up on his offer to do a fit for me.

My Fit Philosophy

In terms of fit thoughts I have two things that I think work in my favor. The first is that I'm not afraid of thinking outside the box - if I learn that I might be better doing this or that I'll analyze the idea and, if it's even remotely possible that the change is good, I'll give it a shot. The second is that I've had some significant success stories when fitting others. A corollary, and sort of significant, I've had no real failures that I know of.

I definitely think outside the box. Back in the shop days, for a recreational woman rider, I recommended a pretty aggressive position. She had back problems, she felt like the bike wasn't going anywhere, her saddle was uncomfortable, and she didn't feel like the bike was stable. I dramatically lowered her (straight) bars, added bar ends for more positions including a longer one, and moved the saddle up and forward. I wanted to reduce weight on the saddle, increase leverage on the pedals, and increase weight on the front end. These would deal with her saddle issues, speed, and stability, respectively.

I went that direction because I had similar issues, over the years. Her position mirrored mine, believe it or not, just on a hybrid instead of a road bike. I explained my philosophy, my goals, and how such a position would meet those goals. Hesitant but trusting, she tried it.

And she loved it.

She rode faster, easier, and in more comfort.

I fit only three very talented riders in my life - a strong duathlete, a Masters stage racer, and a low level pro. The dualthete admitted to me many years later that, even with sponsorship on nicer, more aero bikes, he would race on the (wrong sponsor) bike I fitted for him because he felt so much better on it. He was ranked in the teens (13th or 15th or so) nationally on the bike, so he was no slouch.

The Masters racer came to me, a bit desperate, after finding it virtually impossible to win a big Masters stage race in South or Central America, the biggest Master's stage race in the world. He was okay in the road race and a circuit race, but in the time trial he would lose a bit too much time. After I fit him to his TT bike (he seemed very dubious about the whole process) he went and won the stage race thanks to his time trial. He randomly reminded me of that a few times over the next 10 or so years - it was very nice to hear him thank me for my fit work yet again when I saw him at a race or something.

Finally, the pro. I may or may not have helped him, but the fact that he came to me asking for help after getting fit by (Euro) pro team staff… that was enough for me.

Body Over Bike

So that brings me to CP and his fit studio. I knew my life would be changing in the near future, severely limiting the time I had to ride and race - I'd be taking care of my elderly dad, basically tethering myself to the house.

Even so, I was thinking of ways I could progress with my riding. I wanted to use the limitations in my life to focus on things I'd let go. Since I'd be homebound for the most part I wouldn't be able to race much or even train outside.

Therefore I thought about "indoor stuff". I plan to focus a bit on my diet, which, after a very high A1C blood reading showing me as diabetic, forced my eating habits into a slightly unexpected direction. I wanted to take some time to perform badly needed maintenance on my bikes. For example those that race with me may have noticed I had no spare bike for a couple years now - it's still being put back together. I never bothered changing my chain this year so I'm a super loose, super worn chain. Even my bar tape dates back two years, and because it's black tape on black bars, you can't tell that half the drop on one side isn't even covered in tape. Since it's not noticeable from, say, 50 feet away, I haven't bothered replacing it. I can catch up on this kind of stuff while I'm at home.

And, significantly, I wanted to explore possible position changes on the bike. Since I expect to be on the trainer virtually every ride for the foreseeable future, I'd have a great laboratory for experimenting on fit. I could do some pretty straightforward "before and after" type comparisons, I could make changes mid-ride, and I could sort of measure power changes from one position to another.

Therefore CP's offer to do a bit more structured fit came at the perfect time.

Due to my then work schedule, and my preference to come in on one of my work late nights (so I could spend my early evenings with Junior and the Missus), we scheduled my fit session for 8:30 PM on a weekday evening. Expecting the fit session to run 2-4 hours, it'd mean a late night for the two of us.

I showed up at the studio with my bike, my riding gear, and a brand new saddle I wanted to try. I kitted up while he set up the fit bike with my pedals, saddle, and appropriate bars, and we got down to business.

Pedaling on the Guru fitamajig.

Note the white rectangles on the wall with cleat cut outs. These are templates for cleat placement on shoes. You can put your current shoe on the template, note on a grid where various landmarks land (I used the heel area), then replicate the position with new cleats or on a second/third pair of shoes. Very useful.

The Guru system has a bunch of Fizik saddles and Zipp bars and stems. We used a Zipp bar that measured the same as my FSA Wing Compacts. My saddle, my pedals.

CP with a corner of his fit studio, Body Over Bike.

We got down to business right away. I had no idea what to expect. I wasn't sure if I'd be told "you fit like this", or if there'd be some adjustments to the "base fit" based on stuff like having a bad back (me) or weird physiological proportions (me again). I went in with absolutely no idea what would happen in the session.

First, he had me stand next to the fit bike thing. Some camera thing scanned me and calculated my physiological dimensions instantly. That was really cool, and, for those with personal space concerns, it meant that no one had to stick a ruler between your legs or whatever.

The next thing was for me to check my shoe size. I was like, okay, whatever you have to do, but seriously, I've worn the same size and make shoes since the early 90s. Thankfully it seemed that I'd been wearing the right size shoes for that time. However, it appeared my feet sat really crooked, my ankles collapsing inward. An insole corrected that. I wasn't sure about the insole thing but I was willing to give it a go.

Next I got to ride my bike on a trainer. I suppose this is so that I refresh my muscle memory on how I fit on the bike I've been riding. CP had the same brand trainer as mine so that was straightforward, no need to even change the rear skewer. I quickly got going.

My first surprise was that my knee, which normally wobbles mid-stroke, wasn't wobbling mid-stroke anymore. I also felt like my feet were much more supported. It wasn't that they were "supported", it was more like they weren't collapsed inward. Before it felt like I was standing with my feet on two slopes, like I was standing inside of a flat-V shaped trough, one foot on each angled side. Now it felt like I was standing on a flat floor.

CP noted that when I was pedaling I reverted to the drops pretty quickly. I pointed out that because my back bothers me I find it most comfortable to be on the drops, and after a 12 hour day at work, I was sort of tired. Apparently many riders end up higher on the bike, meaning they have optimized their bike fit for a different position.

After thoroughly warming up I moved over to the fit bike gizmo. You can see the pictures above, but the main thing is that it allows position changes while you're on the bike, even while pedaling if you want. The only things that can't change automatically are the actual bars and saddle (they have to be removed and installed), the crank length (requires a few bolts to be turned on the cranks), and pedal type (remove/install like normal). Once you have a pedal, saddle, and bars, and you have a crank length selected, it's very straight forward.

CP suggested I give 170 mm cranks a shot. I ride 175 mm cranks, and I have really short legs, and 170 mm would work better on paper. I'd tried them for two seasons, unsuccessfully, but when we changed the arm length to 170 mm the fit bike felt so much better that I decided to give it another shot.

With that we got into the heart of the fit session. We didn't say much for a while - it was all stuff like this:

"You want to go another 5mm on the saddle?"
"I'd like to go forward a bit more on the stem."
"Wait, let's go back, can we compare this position to the one from before?"

Stuff like that.

Oh there was one bit that I think for me was significant. My legs were fatiguing pretty badly. CP asked if I was okay.

"Do you want me to reduce the resistance?"
"Um..."
"It's at 150w. I can bring it down to 80w or so."
"Yes, please."

Haha. No wonder I was fatiguing badly - 150w is close to an average race pace for me. I wonder if I was the lowest "fit power" rider out there.

At one point we were slowly raising the saddle, 5 mm at a time. One move in particular was a bit much so I asked him to bring it down "maybe 2 mm". I felt a bit ridiculous asking for a 2 mm adjustment but, whatever, it felt much better when he made the move.

I should point out that I wasn't being pushed into a particular slot or measurement. It wasn't like, "Your quad is x long so your setback needs to be y cm." It was more if it felt okay for me, with CP making suggestions to explore just outside my comfort zone. Then, based on my requests, he'd raise/lower or move forward/back contact points just a touch.

We ran into something pretty quickly - the fit gizmo ran out of room when I asked for more length. CP punched in the command then looked up at the screen with surprise. There was an error about not being able to move that way.

"Hm. That's the first time I've seen that."

So apparently my torso length is freakishly long because the fit gizmo wasn't able to accommodate me being a bit more stretched out. For me that meant that the length recommendation has to be taken with a grain of salt since I couldn't explore the limits on the fit gizmo.

However, with the bar drop and such, I did notice something. I did want to go lower, just to see what would happen. As CP dropped the bars lower and lower I suddenly felt a twinge between my shoulder blades. I never noticed the sensation before, not in an on/off way. I knew I got fatigued like that but I didn't associate it with a particular bar height. Now there was a definitive bar height value which produced the twinge.

To me this was significant. First, it taught me that such a thing happens. Second, it also taught me to look for that sensation when experimenting with my bar position. I knew I'd be experimenting on my own, and with the length part of the equation sort of "out of bounds", I'd be experimenting on my own.

As we honed in on where I felt good on the fit gizmo, CP would revert my position wholesale to another position. I could feel the difference between two positions immediately, without even having to stop pedaling the bike.

The final step in the fit session was to measure my bike. I had basically forgotten about that until now. CP measured my bike and while keeping the fit bike numbers handy.

The fit bike's saddle height? 518 mm (BB to Saddle rail, not BB to Top of saddle).

My bike's saddle height? 518 mm.

That "2 mm down" that I thought ridiculous? Not very ridiculous.

The results - this is with an SLR saddle.

CP noted that I have some significant drop, over 14 cm (14.2 cm, the lower left blue box in the picture above). I protested, saying that my saddle and bars were sort of level. I pointed out that a taller rider would have much more drop. He called me on that because in his experience my drop was pretty significant. We let Google decide after agreeing that Adam Hansen, ProTour rider, was a "much more drop" kind of rider. Hansen is 6'1", he's not afraid of going against conventional wisdom, and he has a super forward position with long cranks, just like me. We looked up his saddle-bar drop.

14 cm.

Oh.

At the end of my session CP sent me a pdf of my fit session results. This is nice because I have a record of my fit that I can refer to any time.

With the time well after midnight we cut the (first) fit session short. I returned to do a saddle session, primarily so I could explore other, more readily available saddles. I also had this idea of having a saddle that allowed for some setback. Even with my SLR saddle pushed back a bit I was left with only 4 mm setback, a far cry from the 4 or 5 cm setback commonly found on road bikes. Even the rules require something like 4 or 5 cm of seat back.

I'd brought along a Tares saddle I bought new literally 4 or 5 years ago. I never mounted it, never tried it, but because it has a short length it would make my bike look a bit less freakish. I sat on it, hated it, and immediately rejected it. So much for that. This is the saddle I gave CP.

CP examined my saddles, the SLR and the Titanio, comparing the shape of the saddle. We tried this or that based on the saddle shape. However nothing really seemed to match my saddle shape, and the one that was close wasn't comfortable at all.

Then CP made a suggestion. He put an Adamo saddle on, one of those twin tusk nose saddles. I was really iffy on this one but I knew CP wouldn't have me try something if there wasn't something there for me. Plus, as he pointed out, he doesn't sell them, so there was no conflict of interest on his part.

I got on the Adamo saddle and it felt okay. Not fantastic, just okay. However, it was "just okay" all the time, in any position. On my SLR I was "just okay" in one position and it was "horrible" everywhere else. With the older Titanio saddles that I thought fit me best, they were "great" in one position and not very good in everything else.

A day after the saddle session I got on my (SLR equipped) bike and thought to myself, "How the heck did I ride this thing?!" I got off the bike, looked on eBay, bought a saddle, and waited to ride until it came in. I installed it and BAM! I was good. It's "just okay" but not uncomfortable, and I have a much wider range of positions available to me. Sliding a bit back is still "just okay", sliding forward is "just okay". Everything is "just okay", making every position on the saddle totally usable. I haven't done much more than 2 hours at a time on the trainer, if that, but the saddle has been absolutely fine.

Adamo saddle on the red bike.

I bought it off eBay.

An internet forum member mailed me the black one that's on the black bike.

I've been good with the insoles too. I think that I need a shoe that lifts the inside of my foot a bit more than they do now. I started dreaming of a set of custom soled shoes but that's a wild dream for now. My ultimate dream would be to take a page from Adam Hansen's book and make some custom shoes based on the shape of the insoles.

I did two things that screwed me up for a while. First, the 170 cranks meant I needed to raise my saddle 5 mm. However, my first ride on them felt a bit low so I raised the saddle another 2 mm, then another 2 mm. Within an hour my knees were in pain. I returned the saddle to the "right height" but it took about 3 weeks for the knee pain to go away.

Likewise I decided to experiment with a 2 cm longer set up on my own. This was disastrous. I've returned to my previous reach, the one I already had on the red bike with the custom stem.

For now I'm good with the current fit, which the fit basically verified. I prefer the new saddle. I'm trying out the 170mm cranks. I really like the feel of the insoles. I'll see how they all work through the remainder of the season and make decisions from there.

Racing - CCAP Tuesday Night Criterium, June 7, 2016, B race

So Tuesday the 7th was my second race of the year, second ride outside. My first week was a disaster, with a combination of issues making me feel pretty uncomfortable on the bike. As a reminder the main problems were that I had a too-tight headset, making it virtually impossible for me to make small trajectory adjustments. I felt like I was swerving from curb to curb. Which I wasn't, but still, I felt really unfluent on the bike. The other problem was I was experimenting with a longer position. It was okay on the trainer but unacceptable on the road. Because of the custom stem on the red bike I was doing my fit experimentation on the black bike.

For this week I decided to revert to the red bike. It'd have the same reach/drop that I've had for a couple years, once I got my custom stem. I moved the 170mm cranks back to the red bike, the final major undecided change I've made over the course of the winter.

Note: the one major change that seems to have worked out well is trying out the Adamo ISM saddle, the unconventional twin tusk saddle that people seem to love or hate.

With the red bike back on the trainer, before the race on the 7th, I noticed, too, that the FSA Wing Compact bars are much, much stiffer than the old 3ttt Gimondi bars. So a little bonus there.

Initially I thought we wouldn't be racing on Tuesday, due to the weather, but as the 24 hours prior to the race ticked away the weather forecast went from sort of grim ("50% chance of thundershowers") to pretty good ("0-15% chance of thundershowers"). By 10 AM or so I started adjusting my schedule to accommodate the 2 hour time slot the race (stuff to do with my Pops and such).

For me the great thing about Tuesdays is the incredibly quick pre-race process once I've raced there the second time. I have my number, I take my time pinning it at home, using as many pins as I want (I forgot to take a picture of my number two weeks running now), I pump up the tires before I leave (race isn't far away so tire pressure isn't a problem). When I get there I get my bike out, slip on the race wheels which I pumped up just an hour ago max, sign the big form, pay my money, and I can race.

I thought I'd get a warm up lap in and rolled away from our base camp just beyond the start finish. I got maybe 20 feet and Karen, the official, called everyone to the line.

So much for the warm up.

Start

With a two lap neutral start I felt my non-warmup wasn't a problem. Unlike last week I even remembered to bring a bottle, so no stopping and chasing back on during the neutral bit.

And the neutral laps, although it picked up with about 200m to go on the second and final neutral lap, weren't fast laps. I remember watching the Philly race one year, when it was Corestates. Someone flatted in their neutral laps, which are parade laps around a short loop at the start/finish. Thing was that they were flying along, probably 30 mph or faster. A rider from a smaller team punctured, struggled to get back on, the team sent two more riders back, I think they worked so hard that one rider never got back on. At any rate when you hear "neutral laps" you might get a 15 mph thing or you might get a 30 mph thing. Just be wary.

Wind from the left here, then on the next bit it was from the right. Tricky.

The wind was moderately strong Tuesday. Not horrible but enough so that you had to Wind Manage a bit. I spent a bit of the race experimenting - the worst was that in the curving finish straight the wind started out from the left but then ended on the right. This meant being to the right of the rider in front of you as you exited Turn 3 but then being to the left of the rider in front of you entering Turn 1. Combined with the long sweeping, multi-apex curve, it was a bit tricky moving from one side to the other.

I did notice one rider consistently finding shelter to the right as we exited Turn 3. However he stayed right as I moved left and he ended up in the wind as we passed the start/finish. I helpfully pointed out that he should try to stay left at that point.

Then the next lap I realized that the wind had shifted just enough that it was a plain headwind on the start/finish line - staying left or right didn't matter, you really wanted to be directly behind.

So I gave incorrect advice. I'm sure the rider was rolling around for a few laps thinking, "Who the heck does that guy think he is?"

Strung out.

The B race this Tuesday felt pretty hard. Although not quite at last year's A race levels, the race was definitely strung out a bunch of times. People raced aggressively.

I noticed with alarming clarity that when the race got strung out I suffered. I'm still trying to wrap my head around this because although I haven't raced outside I didn't think I'd suffer so much. Obviously I lack some aerobic conditioning, even for me. The only thing I can think of is that I haven't been riding very hard on the trainer; combined with my almost 3 month late start, I'm starting on March legs when everyone else has June legs. If that's the case I never realized how important it was to start early. That's food for thought for a different post - I think it's significant for someone that is "just starting out".

Legs failing me, I had to let gaps go.

As the attacks continued I started doing something I never expected to do - letting gaps go. I literally couldn't respond to the pace surges. I felt like a restrictor plate racer in an otherwise open field (restrictor plates artificially choke car engines, it's like breathing through a straw). I was okay with the easy stuff but as soon as I gunned it my power seemed capped. Based on my SRM data, my heartrate basically plateaued at about 160 bpm. I lacked the conditioning to rev my heart into the upper 160s, something I could do in 2015.

Sitting second wheel, with Jeff right behind.

Picture by Jeff Cote.

Having said that I did manage to get up there once or twice, and someone (Jeff Cote in this case) happened to capture it on film.

My view at about the same time.

Sitting from left to right is the Base Camp with Junior, the Missus, and Pops.

No, I'm not off the back with this guy, although based on my normal crit riding tactics, if you see one rider in front of me it's either 100m to go or I'm off the back.

Moving up hard to do a leadout.

This is on the backstretch of the last lap.

I was pretty redlined so I decided not to contest the sprint. I did want to do whatever I could to lead out the sprint, but the actual sprinting bit I figured was a bit far off. On the last lap no one made an early move so I could follow wheels without going into the red. On the backstretch I moved up the left side.

When I got about 3rd wheel, drawing up to Ralph on ERRACE, I was shouting to get on my wheel and tapping my hip. My riding broadcasted that I was going "now" but just to be sure I was also yelling it out loud and gesticulating as well. Ralph got the message and was the first to make a move.

Jeff takes over leadout duties and basically pulls me until the sprint truly starts.

At the same time my teammate Jeff thought it would be a nice gift to have me win in front of my Pops. Very touching, to be honest, because I really hadn't thought of it. I went out and won the 2005 Bethel Spring Series for my mom, and my dad was there cheering on the sidelines. In 2010 I won and, in my mind, that was for my dad. Now, though, not much registers with him, so any win would be really for my benefit.

Well, maybe Junior's also. He's still getting to understand the whole racing thing and he is learning about "first, second, third, fourth" etc, and it would be cool if he could say "My dad was first!".

In case you're wondering about the Missus, I think if I won she'd be happy for me, but she also knows that my sit and sprint tactics work pretty well with the B race. Plus as a long time racer it's not nice to beat up on newer riders. It's like a low level black belt (mainly earned because you'd have to be a blackbelt in your 34th season of racing... has it been that long?) "winning" against a white or yellow belt.

If I won the A race she'd be extremely surprised as I've never won a proper A race here before (I'm not counting the rain-shortened one from eons ago).

I did win a B race in 2014 but it was about as hard a race as I've ever done, mainly because most of the protagonists were Cat 3s by the end of the season. So there's that. We'll see how it goes this year, but my expectation is that I won't go for a win in the B race.

Ralph goes!

Note Jeff and I have moved right to get out of the way.

As Jeff pulled like a madman I sat on his wheel. To put things in perspective my power numbers here were pretty low. My initial surge to move up the side took about 640 watts, so something I could sustain to the line. Jeff went and I hit 800 watts briefly to get on his wheel, but sitting on his wheel my power quickly dropped into the 300-400w range. I'm sure Jeff was more in the 800w range, if not more.

Jeff moved gently to the right as his legs started to go. I moved with him, not intending to sprint, opening up the left/inside for whoever. At this point Ralph was on my wheel but I didn't know that. I just hoped someone got my wheel before Jeff did his big effort.

Ralph wins!

Note Jeff kneeling by the cone, taking a picture.

A few riders passed us before we coasted across the line. Jeff's leadout was super effective, with just Ralph on our wheel.

The picture Jeff Cote took.

View from the sidelines.

The field was pretty splintered at the finish. It's a sign of a good leadout. The point with a leadout is to first keep the tactical situation static, i.e. people really don't move around much because it's all they can do to just hold the wheel in front of them. The other point is to try and reduce the odds. Usually a leadout will occur around course features like a corner or wind or something. By doing what amounts to an early sprint, a leadout really amplifies the pack effects of said corner or wind or whatever. A lot of times a good leadout will cause gaps to form in the field, like if the leadout started just before a corner it's very difficult to accelerate up to leadout speed when you're focused on not sliding out in a corner.

In my case my "leadout" wasn't super fast because Jeff easily rolled by me. I should have been going a bit harder, closer to the 800w number I hit while getting on Jeff's wheel. However because of my speed differential to the riders at the front of the field I didn't want to go much harder.

Plus, to be totally frank, I didn't think I could go much harder.

Junior and my bike. Note ISM saddle.

After the race Junior, as usual, wanted to pedal the bike, meaning backward. His delight in everything always brings a smile to my heart. Last week I turned off the camera immediately but this week I tried to capture some of his glee in playing with my bike.

With extremely threatening clouds virtually at the course we packed up as quick as possible. My Pops doesn't move fast so if we got hit with a downpour it would have been very wet. As it was was hit some heavy rain just a few miles away from the venue.

As far as the race numbers go, I was actually a bit shocked. I knew the race was hard but I didn't realize just how hard. I averaged 197w for the 40 minutes we raced, including the two neutral laps. Golden Cheetah (the power software I use) is weird - it also says I averaged 215w, which is probably an error. Even worse it says my weighted average ("normalized power") was 210w. In other words it's saying my average was 215w but my normalized was lower at 210w. I'm sticking with the 197w. My average heartrate was just 157 bpm, well below what I'd expect to see.

I did hit a lot of peaks but none of them were very high. With Zwift I've gotten into the habit of looking for 23 second peaks so I do that even now, to give me some comparison numbers. In Zwift, for a max effort, I'll usually see 800-850w, with my best numbers being in the 950w range. In the race my best 23 second power was on the last lap and I did just 547w.

On the other hand I broke 600w about 20 times (of those four efforts broke 800w), meaning the race required me to make some efforts. If I was better, if I could rev my heart a bit more, I probably would have had bigger peaks but fewer of them - bigger efforts to get on a wheel but saving me the need to close gaps later.

Going Foward

So I got rid of the longer position. I went back to the red bike, which has my favored FSA bars in the right position and a properly adjusted headset. I do miss the slightly shorter stays of the black bike so maybe the thing to do is to move the stem/bars over to that. Not yet though as that's a lot of work.

I'm still on the fence about the 170 mm cranks. I felt like I couldn't surge well with the 170s, like I couldn't close gaps quickly. I'm definitely more a pusher than a spinner, although that might be because I used 175s for 10 of the last 12 seasons. However I definitely tend to push too much, as illustrated by the time I had a mechanical and had to do the Tuesday Night (A) race in the 39T chainring. So maybe I need to learn how to spin again?

I don't know.

It might be that it'll be easier for me to put the 175s back on. I felt capped like this in 2003 when I tried 175s for the first time. I felt like it in 2008, when I had only 170 cranks for the SRM, and again in 2011, when I tried to find some more speed. My best years in that time, 2005, 2010, 2015, I raced 175s.

Hm hm hm.

Racing - Why I Race

Why Do I Race?

Someone in a forum posted a link to this post in singletracks.com - 10 Reasons Why You Should Not Race Your Mountain Bike.

I thought this was very interesting. I read it partially because I don't race mountain bikes anymore (and I wondered if my deal killing reasons were in there), but partially because I figured whatever they mentioned in the post might apply to racing road bikes as well.

The main reason I don't race or even ride mountain bikes (or cyclocross ever) is poison ivy and ticks, Lyme disease, and whatever that new disease is that is worse than Lyme disease.

Another is that it's usually pretty messy, meaning it takes forever to clean the equipment after the race. Bike, yeah, whatever, but muddy kits take forever to clean.

I really like that there's a technical aspect to mountain bike racing. Tire tread choice, tire pressure, shock settings, they all make a noticeable difference. I never raced enough to get into the nitty gritty of bike set up; I think if I got into that aspect of things it'd be all consuming. Just before I stopped racing mountain bikes I'd already gotten a whole bunch of springs for my full suspension Jamis Dakar mountain bike, both for the frame (different lb/in but only one shock) and the Judy fork on it (air spring, elastomer spings, and I was about to get coil springs). Thing was that I wasn't good enough to mountain bike to be able to figure out what worked and what didn't work. I just worried about staying upright in the technical stuff. The fast stuff I just loved.

(I'll admit that I'm not good with heights so those elevated single track things, the big drop offs, the jumps, they all don't appeal to me.)

The post hit on a lot of things though, and it never mentioned poison ivy or cleaning up. It did mention a few things I thought relevant to me.

"Racing"

A lot of people assume that since I race I want to beat everyone else out there. When I talk to non-racers they always ask if I won, if I win, stuff like that. It's easy to understand winning, I get it, but there's more to racing than just winning.

For me I want to optimize my performance on a given day, with given fitness.

That can mean different things depending on the day, my fitness, my equipment, everything. If doing the best I can means 15th in a P123 race, that's fantastic. More often I work to get to the bell in such a race and then consider it "enough". If I get 2nd in an easier race but I think I didn't do everything right, then I feel disappointed in myself. A win, as rare as they are, is much more satisfying if I feel like I punched above my weight (for videos I have a couple - 2015 and 2005 - plus two more that are slightly less significant to me). Virtually all my wins feel like I pulled above my weight, but there is one where I felt like I was in the wrong category (a collegiate B race, back in the fall of 1985) and it didn't feel right. I had been racing a few years, I was into racing enough that I shaved my legs (only one other rider in the whole field shaved their legs), and when it came to the sprint it felt unfair. That race was about 30 years ago and I still think of it as a not-that-great win.

"Scenic Rides"

One thing the post mentioned was that when you're racing it's hard to take in the scenery when you're racing.

What?

I understand people go riding to take in nature and such but frankly, I don't care what's around me when I'm riding unless it negatively impacts my riding. Is there a forest fire? Ozone warning? Rain? Ice? A wall of thundershowers heading my way? Okay, that stuff registers.

A nice view?

Yeah, whatever.

I don't stop to take in vistas on my road bike, or on the mountain bike when I rode the mountain bike. Stopping on the mountain bike usually means mosquitoes. Road bike? Same thing. Even in SoCal, where there are no mosquitoes or other itchy bite things, I won't stop to check out the scenery. It is what it is.

It's sort of like the mantra from "Apocalypse Now". From that movie, Willard: "Never get out of the boat." For me it's "Never get off the bike."

(Okay, for a poison ivy free convenience store, okay, I'll stop and get something to eat on a super long ride, but other than that...)

Cost

Okay, there's a financial cost to racing, but, frankly, it's one of the only recreational things where I spend money. Combine that with a super supportive spouse, and a kid that thinks "Daddy races his bicycle in really big circles", and I have the best I can ask of from my family.

My racing doesn't cost a lot. Entry fees for a crit run $30-40 a race, training races $15, and in 2015 I did 14 races total. Not a lot of money. Even 25 or 30 races wouldn't be that much money.

I do have long term investments in racing, if you will. Carbon race wheels, a powermeter, my kits, they all add up. But I try to invest judiciously. I bought a slew of wheels in 2010, then three more used ones basically in 2013. Before that I was using wheels I got in 2005, and before that wheels I'd mostly gotten prior to 1995. New wheels every 10 years, not that bad.

Wear and Tear

The post mentions how racing forces the rider to replace stuff sooner than later because you want to race with new stuff on your bike (for better performance and such). I understand that in mountain bike racing - you want the newer tires (full knobs, nice clean edges, sheds mud better) when you go racing, you really can't get by with your wheels rubbing your frame, and a bad shock will really ruin your race.

However, except for creaking BB30 bearings, I raced in 2014 and 2015 without replacing anything at all, even my handlebar tape. By the end of 2015 (and, to be honest, right now) the tape was so bad that there were solid inches (inches!) of bar showing around the massively screwed up tape. Black tape on black bars so it's harder to see, but it's there.

My bike in 2014. It's the same now, at least for racing.

Even the band of tape is still on the downtube.

I am experimenting with different pedals and a different saddle.

I also raced with the same chain and cassettes for both years. Same wheels, same tires, same everything.

Road is kinder than off road for sure. In one muddy mountain bike race I wore through my new brake pads and wore out a new Deore XT chain. I didn't even do well, although I passed someone about 50 meters from the line because I couldn't brake at all on the steep descent. Still, on my road bike, I basically worry about wear items like cleats and tires. After that it's sort of up in the air, although I do choose my equipment to be reliable.

Still, though, the costs of racing aren't totally ridiculous. Compared to other hobbies I think it's pretty manageable.

"What's Left?"

If I don't enjoy the scenery and I don't race to beat people, then what the heck am I doing?

I take joy in trying to do the best I can when tackling technical things.

The things I enjoy doing, I like working at doing things better. For example I really liked approaching "mountain bike problems" with out of box solutions, if they made me faster. My last race I was experimenting with higher tire pressures with softer suspension settings. It didn't work well - even with massive tire pressure I pinch flatted out of the race 400 meters in - I also went "all or nothing" and carried no tubes, no nothing.

In another example of problem solving, there was a stream crossing on one of the trails I did regularly with the guys from the shop back in 1995-1997. We all worked on not dabbing in the water, mainly because you got your shoes wet if you did. I realized that if I went flat out just before the crossing I had a chance of just bunny hopping slash jumping the whole stream, avoiding all the little problems like which line to take through the rocks in the water. Instead of gearing down approaching the stream I'd put it in the big gear (46x11) and start sprinting. Different approach, tangible results.

A similar thing I enjoy - kart racing indoors. You're on the same course, same karts, and it's all rental stuff. Therefore no worries about set up and such - you just plunk your rear into a car and go. No "scenic" stuff (inside of a warehouse, and at speed, not much registers other than the 50 meters in front of you), just you, your (rental) helmet, and your (rental) kart. I like trying to optimize my driving technique / lines / etc. I'm so slow compared to the good drivers it's ridiculous. However as long as I can improve, as long as I can optimize my cornering, I'll be thinking about the next time I can get out there, like I am right now.

Kart stuff - gloves, helmet, neck thing.

I also dabbled in firearms for the same reason. I wanted to educate myself on guns (pistols as it ended up since rifles weren't really usable where I lived) and I wanted to get an idea of what it was like to shoot one. I'm so inexperienced at shooting pistols I'm probably like the person that rode a bike 25 miles to get an idea of what the Tour de France is like, but, still, I can watch someone shoot well and say, yeah, right, definitely waaay better than me.

The Heart of the Matter

The karts, the cars, that made me think in a more analytical way about why I enjoy bike racing.

I thought about what I enjoy about riding the bike, racing the bike. I thought specifically about my training loop near the house. It's about 15 miles long, it's basically flat, and it's basically the only loop I did regularly from 2007 to 2014 so I got to know it pretty well. One year I took perverse pleasure in only doing that loop. When I thought about it I realized there are two things I looked forward to on those rides, with a distant third.

1. Jumps. If I can do a 100% jump then I'm a happy camper. I'm not super motivated to do jumps arbitrarily. I need some motivation. A truck or a line of cars passing at 35-40 mph on a fast section of road. Traffic pulling away from a light just in front of me. A green light at that right turn.

If I can do a jump or two, and I have good jumps, then the ride automatically becomes a good ride, as in "How was the ride?" "Ah, well, it was a good ride, I got a good jump in."

2. Fast corners. There are exactly two fast corners on the whole loop, where I can enter the corner at something approaching edge-of-control speeds. The first one is off a downhill, it has no light, and it's a left, so as long as there isn't any oncoming traffic I can hit the turn. This is about a 50-50 thing, where about half the time I have to stop or slow. It's a hard turn so even when it's clear it's a bit nerve-wracking at full speed.

The second one is a right with a no-turn-on-red. Since I stop at red lights I have to hit a green to make the turn. I can see the light from a couple hundred yards away so it's tricky hitting the green. Too often I approach and it turns red. I figure I hit the green maybe one out of every eight to ten loops. If I time it ride I do a jump before the light, cornering at 30 mph or so, and then, ideally, do a massive jump behind a vehicle just in front of me. Done right I can do a 40 mph sprint effort.

Thing is that if I hit that second light right and I get a nice vehicular leadout, it's an absolute blast - the ride is a success. It doesn't matter to me how bad I felt, how slowly I rode, if I do a nice corner-jump-sprint then the ride suddenly gets classified as "a great ride", as in "How was the ride?" "It was a great ride, I did a massive sprint by the Duck School."

3. A distant third - motoring fast on a flat road. And a corollary, motoring fast on an uphill. I should quickly point out that me motoring on an uphill is a rare occasion, so when I am fit and light enough and the wind is right and there's a long line of cars going 30 mph passing me and I can big ring a hill then it's pretty satisfying. That happens maybe once every few years. The last time I remember that happening was probably in 2010. So that's pretty unusual.

Motoring fast on flat roads... that's more realistic. When the wind is right (aka I have a massive tailwind) and I can roll a 53x12 at some decent speeds for a while, it's really nice. I can dream about being a strong rider for a bit.

Then I blow up, realize it's been about a minute, and that good riders can go that fast for an hour. And I realized, yeah, this is why I don't do breaks and such.

Being able to motor on a flat road makes the ride okay. "How was the ride?" "Well, it was okay. Hammered a bit on such and such road. Rest of the ride wasn't very fast."

I guess that I enjoy cornering fast, jumping hard, and hammering on flats. Racing allows me to do that, and in fact the whole ride basically consists of those elements, with me recovering between the hard bits.

So Why Do I Race?

Ultimately, the question remains, why do I race?

It reminds me of an article I saw about parenting, kids, and school. I guess a lot of parents ask, "What did you do in school today?" I know I do (we call Junior's daycare "school").

That question puts pressure on the kids to give an answer that is "right". Maybe Junior best remembered running after the boy with the ball (as he did tonight), but maybe he thinks we want to hear that he painted or sang or danced.

A better question, according to the article, is "Did you have fun today?"

That's a much more open ended question. You can follow it up with "What made it fun?"

"Did you have fun at school today?"
"Yes!"
"What was fun?"

His face lit up.

"I was digging in the woodchips and found a worm and I ran really fast and played with the bouncy thing and threw the ball in the air and it went over the fence and we ate yogurt for snack and I didn't have any accidents!"
"That's great!"

So why do I race?

Because it's fun.

Racing - Sprinting By The (Power) Numbers

This is related to my jump/sprint numbers from the other night.

Me getting led out at the now defunct SUNY Purchase Tuesday Night Sprints, probably 1991 or so.

My good friend and former teammate sent me a link to this interesting sprinting article: "The Profile Of A Sprint" from The Science of Sport website. It's a great article, opening with one of those bike cams mounted on a couple pros' bikes (on the Giant team). Go ahead, watch it, I'll wait.

Clip from above linked article.

Okay, so that was exciting, right? Really chaotic, and, frankly, it's really difficult for me to tell when the rider should jump. I guess that's why they have markers every 100 meters for the last kilometer (or more), because if I were in such a sprint I'd have one eyeball on them and another on the riders around me.

I'll sort of follow along their article and inject some of my own thoughts.

Sprint Length

First, they state that a pro sprint typically lasts about 10-15 seconds at the end of typically flatter (and therefore less selective) stages, allowing for a large number of riders to arrive at the finish together. I'd want to add here that for at least the Tour de France, the Champs Elysee stage seems to end up being a much longer sprint. One winter I studied a number of stage sprints while on the trainer and found that most sprints were short, like 10-13 pedal revs in the wind. This is well under 10 seconds in the wind.

A notable exception? The Champs consistently seemed to be 20 revs or so, or almost twice that of a "regular" stage. Not having every sprinted on the Champs I can't tell you exactly why this is the case, but I'm guessing it has to do with the wind (tailwind?), the slight down hill nature of the finish, and the fact that it's a super prestigious stage for a sprinter to win so they'll go a bit earlier.

Good Sprinters are Good Sprinters

What's really interesting is that in the Grand Tours from 2008 to 2011 there were 79 field sprints. 54 of those sprints were won by 5 riders. 19 others accounted for the remaining 25 sprints. This means that there were really just 5 really effective sprinters for those years. That's a very, very, very small number.

Power Numbers

Now for some nitty gritty - wattage and speed. What's incredible is that the power numbers aren't out of this world. For the six sprinters studied the average peak power was about 1250w, a number that even I can hit.

Sustained power, for the average 13 second sprint, was about 1020w. Again, this is a totally attainable number by a number of riders, me included.

My "good" sprints have been about 1250w peak with the best sprint being a sustained 1100w effort for 18 or 19 seconds. Typically my peak will be about that, like 1250w, but depending on the sprint my sustained effort is usually shorter and usually is in the 1050w range.

Top speed averaged about 41 mph. That's fast but not outlandishly fast.

Basically even the best pros are sprinting at numbers you might see in a Cat 3 race.

Of course there's a huge difference between the pros and a Cat 3. Cat 3s aren't racing for 3-6 hours before the sprint, they don't have a massively fast (and tough) final hour, and they typically don't have to hold 30+ mph before they get into the sprint.

Thoughts

I think that the numbers only tell part of the story. Obviously hitting the numbers counts. But reaching the end of the race in good position, with as much in reserve as possible, is critical. I'm sure there are much stronger sprinters out there that don't get the job done regularly, and there are weaker sprinters out there doing super well. Race craft counts for a lot, but it's good to know what sort of numbers the big boys are hitting. At least it's a point of reference.

Racing - Goals for 2016

(Wrote most of this in April 2016)

My last outdoor ride in 2015.

Note the sparse training.

Out of curiosity I looked at my Strava training calendar to see when I last rode outside. It was August 4, 2015, at one of the last CCAP Tuesday Night races. It seems, based on how things are going here, that my next outside ride will be another CCAP Tuesday Night race, hopefully in May or June. I just hope it isn't a year before I ride outside. I just need to race before August 4 to keep this from happening.

My criteria for a race is to minimize the time spent away from home base. My dad doesn't travel well and requires constant supervision "out in the wild". He can walk but isn't cognizant about his surroundings - he doesn't recognize that he could be walking into harm's way. At home it's manageable because we've gated off danger areas (stairs, kitchen), but outside it's difficult. He'll walk into the street completely oblivious or start down a hill he has no chance of navigating successfully (he can't "brake" well when he walks - he just accelerates with gravity). At a bike race he'd step in front of the field if it meant he could take a few steps.

Another tricky thing is that he doesn't communicate at all, not for a number of years. Therefore he can't tell us if he's hot, for example. This means we have to keep an eye on him, guess at his comfort level, and react accordingly. This precludes any racing on very hot days since he'd be in a more vulnerable state.

In order to reduce potential for things going wrong, we also want to minimize time spent outside. There's a number of things we have to do to care for him and it's not ideal to be doing that stuff in the parking lot at a race.

His "window of opportunity" is realistically in the 3-4 hour range, meaning if we time things just right, we can spend a solid 3 hours away from the house without any problems. If unexpected things come up it might be a bit less time, and, in an emergency, perhaps another hour might be acceptable (to me). Combine the round trip travel time and suddenly my racing world shrinks to maybe a 45-50 minute travel radius from the house.

As an experiment we did a long road trip, 3.5 hours each way, and a public lunch stop at a restaurant. It went as well as could be expected but we definitely needed a family bathroom in the middle of the trip. "Family bathroom" meaning a lot of room and a relatively clean floor. Portapotties wouldn't cut it, not even the handicap stalls, at least not the ones I've seen.

However, the plus side is that if the weather isn't really hot, and if the race is close to the house, it should be a very possible trip. The CCAP Tuesday Night races fit our criteria well because it's close to the house - 35 to 45 minutes each way - and the racing is short and on time. It's also very informal and inexpensive so even if I drop out quickly I'd feel okay with it.

It's possible that we do a New Britain race. It's also 35 minutes away (on Sundays it's very consistently 35 minutes due to no traffic), and, if the races are reasonably on time, we should be okay for a shorter race. No P123 90 minute races but a 17 to 25 lap race, probably okay.

I'll be leveraging my "no warm up" thing, where I basically kit up and line up. This will save a bunch of time since we can arrive 15 minutes before the race start, reducing my dad's exposure to the

These seem like pretty straightforward and simple goals.

After that?

No real telling. It'd be great to contest a sprint or two but that's not very likely. I don't want to lose touch with cycling, that's for sure. However my life outside of cycling has made it pretty clear that for 2016 cycling is definitely a lower level priority.

Racing - CCAP Tuesday Night Criterium, May 31, 2016

May 31, 2016 was my first race of 2016.

Not only that, it was literally my first ride outside.

I've been riding, it's just that I've been riding the trainer "not so seriously" since last summer. I have to say that it was weird to go out and see 92 degrees on the thermometer for my first race. I usually have a race routine down by the end of May but not this year. I scrambled for a couple days to get everything together. I checked the race wheels, put the rack on the car, gathered my tool box stuff, first aid bin, tracked down bottles, a cooler, freeze packs for the cooler, my kit, gloves, camera, all sorts of stuff.

My bike has a few significant changes compared to 2015. First, it's the black bike, a bike I haven't raced since I think 2013 or 2012. It has an older style Campy Ergo lever, they're a bit worn, so the bike shifts a little less crisply than the red bike. Second, I've been experimenting with a 2 cm longer position, so the bars are 2 cm further away from the saddle compared to the red bike. The black bike also has older crit-bend bars and I'm not that keen on the drops. My FSA bars are much better on the drops. Third, I have 170 mm crankarms on the bike. I am trying those out as well, versus the 175 mm cranks that have served me so well in my good years since 2004 (best seasons being '05, '06, '10, '15). I used 170s two years, 2008 and 2011, both seasons being pretty unsuccessful.

I also had two worries about race day itself. First, I hoped that with all my preparation that my bike would be okay. I checked and double checked stuff but without a shakedown ride I wouldn't be sure that my bike would be 100% until I got on the thing. Second, I hoped that I'd be okay on the bike. My last outside ride was August 4, 2015, when I did my last race for the year, a Tuesday Night crit. I don't think I did a report although in the end I led out a teammate in the A race.

With all the extra stuff I needed to do before the race the field was lined up before I had my number pinned on. I was definitely a bit rusty on the whole race day thing, unable to think clearly enough to just take my jersey off and pin the number. Realistically it would have been very quick, but instead I fidgeted with my SRM and helmet and who knows what else while the Missus pinned me up.

Field lined up. They were there for at least a minute before I got there.

Fortunately the race hadn't left before I lined up. The bike felt pretty stiff steering-wise and I wasn't really comfortable with my directional control on the bike.

It was when I started off that I realized my bottle of water was still in the cooler at our race base. Therefore...

Retrieving my bottle during the second neutral lap.

Note the field on the road.

On the second neutral lap I stopped to grab the bottle. My dad, the Missus, and Junior are all sitting in a row.

I didn't see this in my focus on getting my bottle - Junior reaching out to touch my bike.

I feel bad because with all the stuff happening the one thing I don't want to do is ignore Junior. However, here, while I'm busy sticking the bottle into my cage, Junior is about to reach out to touch my bike. I didn't realize this at all.

I rolled out, the group was going a nice 12 or 15 mph, and I linked up at about Turn 3 on the course, the last turn.

Sitting in the field.

During the race I realized that in my winter experimenting with stems I'd ended up with a tight headset. On the trainer it doesn't show at all and I didn't really notice it in my wobbly pedaling to the registration desk. No warm up either so no chance for me to notice it then. However, once under way, it was painfully apparent to me that my headset was too tight. It made the bike hard to steer subtly, resulting in me swerving back and forth. It wasn't a lot, I wasn't swerving feet at a time, but it was definitely not ideal. So my apologies for any swerving I did out there.

In the last group, which was about to disintegrate.

As the race went on I realized something else - I didn't have the ability to rev the engine like normal. I could plod along at a steady pace but when riders made efforts I really couldn't move.

As one rider said to me after the race, I'm starting like it's March, but everyone else is 2-3 months into their season. I guess that this means that I'm better when everyone is worse, meaning I do better in the spring races when everyone collectively is doing worse. The better everyone gets the worse I do. I felt super rusty out there.

Rider after rider went off the front, forming groups, coming back, all sorts of stuff. It was actually pretty interesting from a tactical point of view. I could only watch from the back of the field.

When I was in the third group, and, really, the fourth since teammate Jeff had started a bridging move to the second group, I decided I should see how it'd go if I tried to bridge. Rev the engine, so to speak.

It didn't go well.

I mean, okay, I did a reasonable effort, but my jump was weak, my sustained power wasn't all that great. The longer reach didn't seem to hurt me but the shorter cranks... I'm seriously considering going back to the 175s.

At any rate I blew up pretty hard after my effort and sat up. My race was done, at least in the group.

Blowing up after doing a little bridge move.

I pedaled slowly, for the next 15 or 20 minutes, after racing for all of 30 minutes. Realistically our neutral laps were faster than what I was doing at this point.

On one lap Xander, ever the nice person, kindly pointed out the gap to the next group behind. I could barely get out of the saddle, forget about pedaling faster, but I like that that's how he was thinking.

Xander giving me a time gap.

I decided that I'd do another effort at 2 to go, to get baseline sprint numbers. I wanted to see what my peak, 5s, 10s, and, possibly, 20s numbers were on the bike as it was right there - 170s, longer reach, etc. I decided to jump into the crosswind on the backstretch and not necessarily go to the line. The cross-headwind after Turn 3 didn't seem so bad so I ended up going a bit further than I expected.

End of race (time) sprint.

I sprinted on the 2-laps-to-go lap, but I was lapped several times by then.

Sprint numbers?
Peak: 1064w
5s: 1014w
10s: 979w
20s: 801w
30s: 608w

I guess I took it relatively easy on the jump because it's a solid 200w lower than I'd expect in the same situation. My 10s is also lower by about 100-150w and my 20s about 100w lower. My 30s is about on par so I think I went easier but longer. I have a feeling that with 175s my peak would be higher but I'm not sure.

In comparison my best ever numbers were 500w higher for peak, about 300w higher for 10s, and a whopping 350w higher for 20s. I haven't seen those numbers in a while though, not since 2010-ish.

When I rolled up to our base camp after the race Junior spotted me and yelled out and ran over. That was nice.

Junior sees me.

So going forward the plan is to get the red bike rolling again, meaning replacing the BB30 bearings and retaping the bars. It has the newer Campy lever shape, the FSA Compact bars, and my normal reach. I'll stay with the 170s on that for a bit but if things really seem sour I'll move back to the 175s.

Equipment - Black Tsunami, 2.1

(2.1 because it was 2.0 and then I fiddled with it)

Over the winter I experimented a bit with my bike. I raced it Tuesday May 31, my first race of the year and my first ride outside. I'll go into the race in a different post but I was on the black bike for the first time in a couple years. The main reason? I wanted to experiment with reach, and the red bike's custom stem makes it impossible for me to fiddle with reach. On the black bike, with a normal 12 cm stem as "default" I have room to go further out.

Longer stem with 26.0->31.8 adapter for bar/stem

My 26.0 bars, dating back from about 1997 or so, didn't fit the only 14 cm stem I had that would fit the black bike. Luckily I got some Wheels Manufacturing adapters. Made with aluminum, they allow the 3T stem to hold the 3ttt bars. And yes, the company changed names between the 1990s and now. Old was 3ttt, now it's 3T.

The rear triangle. 39 cm stays make it super compact.

I love the short stays for out of saddle sprinting. The black bike is marginally shorter than the red bike. It might be my imagination but the black bike feels a bit better out of the saddle.

The cranks are 170s. I tried them but I think I'd need a lot of outdoor time to get used to sprinting on them again. I used to do 10-15 sprints once a week for 2-3 months (plus race virtually every week) before I felt good sprinting on 167.5s and 170s. Nowadays I don't have that kind of time/energy. The 175s feel good out of the box even if on paper they're slower. I'm about 20% slower in my sprint than back in the day. I'm sure part of it is that I no longer do so many sprints, but I'm sure my age has a lot to do with it. I've given up on trying to regain that lost speed.

Using these saddles now, they are great for me.

Another thing I'll post on but the Adamo ISM saddles are great for me. They're very heavy, such that it's pretty noticeable when rocking the bike, but otherwise they're great. I didn't have problems before but after I tried the saddle I couldn't go back to the SLR that I had on the bike.

Detail on some cable management stuff.

With the longer stem I had to re-anchor all the cable housing. It worked out well, very compact, full range of motion for turning the bars. The random computer wire is for the SRM.

Front/wind view of cables.

The "aero" appearance of the cables. My bike is so short that the cables realistically don't play a big part of aero. Someone said somewhere that a foot of exposed cable is about 1 watt at some higher speed, 25 or 30 mph. My total exposed housing is probably a foot, if that. So not a big concern objectively speaking. Subjectively though I like clean housing and, my preference, internal routed housing.

Exustar pedals keep my foot in much better than the Keo Max 2 that I bought.

Another future post topic. I've been riding some old Keo Carbon pedals for forever, I think since 2007 or so. I bought more Keo pedals, the Keo 2 Max specifically, to replace the pretty worn Keo Carbons, but I unclipped out of them regularly, seated and standing. It was pretty disconcerting. The Exustars retain my foot better.

Detail on the dual speed pick ups and clearance to crank.

Because I ride Zwift on the trainer, and because I ride the trainer most of the time, I want an Ant+ speed sensor. The SRM uses its own proprietary speed sensor. I didn't want two magnets on the wheel so I set up the two pick ups on either side of the chainstay. The SRM is under or inward, the Ant+ is the big squarish one up top.

The SRM hangs down for the clinchers, points inward for the race wheels. Those have much more inboard spokes due to rim height, and all my wheels have basically the same hub, all HEDs.

The Ant+ points up and is set for my regular clincher wheel. I don't use Ant+ for racing so I don't have to adjust it.

The same pair of zip-ties holds both mounts tightly. I can rotate one or both mounts around the chainstay.

Although I like this bike I prefer the FSA Compact bars. I'll need to get a second custom stem for this frame so I can use those bars. Ultimately I'd like the newer Campy shifter shape as I much prefer them, but these work.

Equipment - Off Season Experimenting

(Not a great post but I need to put down some thoughts before I post other things.)

I recently realized I may be going for my record between outside rides, with both rides being races. In 2015 my first outdoor ride was the first race in the Aetna Nutmeg Spring Series. My last three rides outside were the second Limerock (July 19th) and two Tuesday Nights (July 28th and August 4th). I haven't ridden outside since. I'm pretty sure my first outdoor ride this year will be whatever race I do in 2016, possibly in May or June. I really don't want to go a year without racing so I want to race by August 4th.

To race, though, I need to make sure my bike is okay.

Winter for me is a time to refresh the equipment, try things out that I've been thinking of trying out. I have a list sorts of things I want to get done. Although I started this post a while back I figure that with today's weather it's appropriate to get this thing up. Now or never, right?

April 4, 2016

The view from our front door.

I have four major bike refreshing/reconditioning thoughts, as follows:

1. Goal: Get black bike up and running. Need: Another stem for that bike, install stem and FSA Compact bars. Install Adamo saddle. Solder in battery in SRM spider, measure slope, make sure wire harness is okay (I think it's not). Install Ant+ speed/cadence sensor for Zwift.

2. Goal: Get red bike up to snuff. Need: rewrap bars (it's been early 2014 since I've wrapped the bars). Replace SRM wire. Get Exustar pedals back on bike. BB30 bearings. Check race wheels.

3. Goal: Experiment with 170mm cranks. Need: fiddle with red bike. I already put the cranks on it.

4. Goal: Experiment with saddle position (related to 170mm cranks). With 5 mm shorter cranks I need 5 mm more set back because my foot doesn't go forward as much. I also need more height, because my foot doesn't drop down as far.

First Goal - Black Bike

I haven't had the black bike rideable since I put the custom stem on the red bike. Those that go to the same races as me might have noticed that I haven't been bringing a spare bike to the races for a couple years now - it's because the black bike isn't rideable.

The main reason is that I haven't ordered another custom stem. I guess it's money I don't want to spend right now. I have the old bar/stem and they fit the same for the drops so that should work for now. If I want to spend a few hundred dollars on a stem I already have the bars for the bike.

I do have a second Adamo saddle that I need to install. The saddle came free courtesy of a pay-it-forward from a member of bikeforums.

The one tricky bit is the 170 mm cranks. I don't have a second set of 170 mm arms for the Cannondale SI cranks, so I may leave 175s on the black bike.

I'm pretty sure the SRM wire is shot on the black bike. Someone asked how such a wire goes bad. Unlike a cyclocomputer (historically the super thin wired cyclocomputers aren't that reliable) the wire plugs directly into the SRM. A cyclocomputer normally sits on a mount, and the wires run into the mount. To repeat, the SRM doesn't plug into a bar mount. Therefore there's some regular movement with the wire  each time you plug and unplug said wire, and I think it makes it go bad. The wired SRMs rely on the wire for cadence, speed, and power. The only wireless aspect of the wired SRM is heart rate.

Since wiring harnesses are about $80-85 each, and I have two bikes, it starts adding up really quick when you consider that for me I need a harness every year or so.

Second Goal - Red Bike

For sure I need to rewrap the bars. It's been about 2 years since I last wrapped them. Enough said.

The SRM wire on the red bike just died a couple rides ago. As mentioned above the wire eventually breaks somewhere so cadence/speed/power data doesn't show up. I have to replace that before I have any kind of power readings and therefore any true experiments with Goal Three.

I put the 170 mm arms on the red bike - the Cannondale SI is a modular crank system so the cranks are separate from the (SRM in this case) spider. I have two sets of 175 mm arms, one set of 170 mm arms. I had some Look Carbon Keo Max pedals on the 170 arms. I slip out of the Keos like nobody's business so I need to switch them out for the Exustars. They're much more reluctant to let my feet out and that's better for me.

One possible solution is to get a wireless SRM. It's possible to upgrade an SRM from wired to wireless (just ask SRM if you have one). Apparently my SRM units are not consistently upgradeable, although I'll find out more what that means. I could sell my SRMs and buy a wireless, and use no power on one bike (leave it on the trainer for Zwift?). This is sort of jumbly totally not solid anything kind of stuff right now though.

My BB30 bearings are worn. I need to replace them.

I need to double check my race wheels to make sure they're okay. I'm sure they are but I don't want to find out at a precious race day that they're not okay.

Third and Fourth Goal - 170 mm cranks and resulting position and pedaling changes

I've been riding 170s for about a month now. It's not a super long time to acclimate to a different crank length but it's enough time to notice a few things. For historical reference I rode 170s from about 1983-1988, 1995 to 2003, in 2009, and in 2011. The last two times (2009, 2011) I was looking to regain lost speed and instead lost a good 30-50 feet in the sprints. I'm furiously chugging the Kool Aid though and I'm hoping that the 170s will help me this time. Otherwise I'll go back to the 175s. With the 170s there are a few things I know about.

First, for some reason, with 170s I need to be toe in a bit. With 175s I need to be toe out. I adjusted my cleats a couple times in about 20 minutes and it's been good since. I had historical precedence so I knew I needed about yay much toe in. Took me two tries, and about 10 minutes of pedaling gingerly to confirm, and I was good to go.

Next, since 170s have 5 mm less reach and drop than the 175s, I had to push the saddle back 5 mm and raise it 5 mm. I raised it a bit more, I think 4 mm extra, because it felt like my back was a bit flatter, but my knees screamed in protest. I quickly lowered it to the baseline and my knees recovered - it took about 3 weeks but they're okay now.

I do know that too much more set back and I'm pretty far back in terms of knee-pedal relationship. I'm slightly forward right now, but not much. The Adamo saddle lets me move back without much problem, so I've been pedaling lower rpm from further back, higher rpm sitting up front. My older saddles really didn't let me do that so this is a nice change.

So that's it for now. It's been pretty busy in a time consuming way here at home so it's tough for me to write posts. I do have a few thoughts jotted down in draft form (a couple hundred to be honest, but maybe 10 or 12 in the last few months). I hope to find time to get those out there shortly. For now this is it.

Racing - How I Learned About Racing

I saw a post on Facebook about how things like Zwift might make racing (and riding in general) more dangerous because on Zwift you don't have to worry about turning or overlapping wheels or any of those other "in real life" (IRL) cycling things. On Zwift (and other virtual riding platforms) you just pedal. The thought was that after a winter of Zwifting riders would come out and collide into each other, ride into ditches, stuff like that.

Although the poster had a point, the reality is that we've been experiencing a fundamental change in how new racers learn their craft. New racers nowadays tend to be better prepared physically, in terms of fitness, but there is no longer an inadvertent "indoctrination" process for most racers.

20-30 years ago there wasn't the internet (at this kind of "lemme Google it" level), you had to mail your license and pre-reg payments in using an envelope and a stamp (or two), and it was a big undreground thing to go find a bike race. Velonews was sort of the source for race listings (because USCF had a next to useless newsletter), and you had to go find Velonews because not every shop carried it. And, at some point back there, there were no Barnes & Nobles, and even when they first started popping up, they'd get maybe 3 or 4 Velonews per store. So it was really hard to find out about races and such.

(Back then promoters would buy pre-printed stickers from USCF, by region or state, and then mail flyers out to those addresses. I remember a few of us sitting at the shop stuffing envelopes. Back then the flyer was the key, the prize list, the entry, directions, everything was on the flyer, and everyone's refrigerators were plastered with race flyers. If you were cool you had your speeding ticket taped to the fridge also, the one you got while you were on the bike, ideally for speeds over 50 mph.)

My rule book from 1983.

Yes, you got a rulebook with your license because it was all done via mail (note it's envelope size).

You should still read the rulebook each year.

Or at least Google for the changes.

What this did was it forced those that wanted to race to really seek out races and everything that comes with it. You really had to join a club (because back then you might have paid $10 "Unattached Fee" on a $15 entry fee). Clubs, in turn, had to promote a race to be able to wear their kit (in 1988 I wore a generic kit becuase our race got canceled). This all made it highly unlikely that someone showed up at a race without any race knowledge at all. They had already searched out a shop that has Velonews, they joined a club (or at least were riding with one), they wanted to do some weird sport that involved doing some very un-American (for that time) things like shaving your legs and wearing lycra shorts with nothing underneath.

Generic kit in 1988 (the blue one, in case you're wondering).

I was really skinny back then, in the 110 lbs range.
I believe this is in Middletown in the July 4th Firecracker Criterium (field finish).

I was scared of the faster corners in this race.

Leading through Turn 4 at the Danbury Criterium, I think in 1992.
This time we had team kits.

(4th place in the field sprint/race).

I was much more confident in corners at this point.

This whole set up led to a great sharing of knowledge situation. I learned sooooo much from my first team (1983-1997, various entities), primarily from my first leadout man, Mike H. I learned about group riding, leadouts, tricks for climbing (which generally don't work for me because watts/kilogram), time trialing (ditto, because FTP), etc. When we talked about races I learned about courses and riders. I went to "race school" for 5 hours every weekend, the two 2.5 hour group rides I did with the club. I haven't gone to, or, I suppose now it would be "held", race school in forever. Even on the group rides I did in the last few years, all five or so of them, I've been too wasted trying to stay with the other much stronger riders to do much more than breathe.

When I finally went to my first race back in 1983 I'd already learned about gearing, about tubulars, about drafting, about all sorts of stuff, from my first mentor Ken B. I even learned about speed, but I hadn't grasped the concept yet. I'd already watched the US National Championships in person (because I tagged along when one of my teammates went to do the Junior race). Heck, just that day I learned a few things. First, don't fall over at the start (half the Intermediate field, i.e. 12-14 years old, fell over when one rider couldn't get their foot into their toe clips). Second, I learned that rolling a tubular is a bad thing (Roy Knickman rolled his tire in the sprint but he managed to finish 2nd with his tire flopping around in his frame!). Third, I learned that as a Junior I had to watch my gear limits that, fortunately, my club and shop had set up perfectly for me. I learned that last rule because the guy that beat Roy Knickman to the line had an illegal gear! He won the sprint in a 53x12 I think and the limit at the time was 53x15. So Knickman won after rolling a tire in the sprint because the guy that beat him was disqualified.

As the USCF, and later, USAC, sort of lost their way (I honestly don't remember what year clubs no longer had to promote a race, and it's been eons since I've seen any race with an "unattached fee"), clubs became less a "vehicle to hold a race" and more "just a club". There are clubs/teams around here with 4 or 5 riders because all they want to do is race together. In the old days they'd have to hold a race, and that discouraged such small groups. Now if someone started a business and wanted to wear a kit with the name on it (why not?), another small team would pop up. However there was no extra race, you never saw these people working a race, and you generally never heard of these guys riding together, or, significantly, recruiting and training a new rider.

This led to many clubs, not that many races, and less racers feeding into the system. It led to smaller clubs, to less organized ones, and to all sorts of clubs all over the place. A new racer now had a wealth of (typically less quality in terms of mentoring, race promotion, and group ride) choices as far as clubs went, and honestly, there are many groups that don't want to ride with new or non-racers (unless the rider in particular might be so strong as to make the team better).

With Lance Armstrong, road cycling became significantly more popular, more so than when Greg Lemond was racing. Significantly Lance also helped market, through Carmichael Training Systems, the concept of "power training", and riders started thinking "Oh, if I can do 250w I can race". A huge thing that happened is that riders working on their specific programs started skipping group rides, or they'd do their "own ride" within the group ride. "Sorry, I have to stay in Z2 today". This led to less group riding skills, less shared knowledge. Now riders started to ride on their own, doing intervals, etc, getting stronger.

However they lacked access to that pool of knowledge that clubs used to bring to the racer. Yes, they could find races now, thanks to the internet, and they could even register for them. They could buy a license immediately, at the race, instead of committing to racing a month prior by mailing in forms to get a license via mail. But this didn't help them find clubs, or, more significantly, mentors who could teach them some basic things.

It's one of the reasons why I post such long things here, in Facebook, and in forums and stuff, to try and brain dump my knowledge for others. These very fit, very strong, very optimized riders would show up at a race and not really have any idea how to race.

One significant thing that is missing out there is a book on HOW to race. Not "how to do a paceline", which is a technical thing (sit in another rider's draft, pull at an even speed when you get to the front, wiggle your elbow and pull off to the opposite side, drift to the back, start accelerating up to speed as you pass the last rider's cranks). What no one says is WHEN to do a paceline, which is a tactical thing. Do you do a paceline at the start? How about a break? What about at 1 lap to go?

The application of the technical skill, the paceline, is just as significant as the skill itself. In fact I'd argue, because it's easy to learn about pacelines but hard to learn when to apply them, the tactics are more significant. Obviously you have to learn one (the technical bit) before you can do the other (the tactical bit), but if you don't learn the tactical bit, you are at a major, major disadvantage.

There are books that claim to be tactical books but they don't actually talk about when to apply the technical stuff. Yes, there are isolated examples and such ("in such and such race, I did such and such because such and such and I won"). Generally speaking, though, you can't apply that to your world, because you're not some pro in some race with a given set of competitors with specific strengths and weaknesses and history and all that jazz.

Someone needs to write such a book. I've been on idle for about 10 years now, but I have just under three hundred pages of such stuff written over the course of about 15 years. I started writing stuff in about 1990, when I'd write notes for the team before races, with course maps, how to do the corners, what to watch for, historical race outcomes, etc.

The manuscript just sits there, waiting for me to finish it. Part of the problem is motivation. The other part, significantly, is that I keep learning more and more about tactics and how to apply different techniques, and I think, "Oh, this needs to go there, I need to add that there, " etc.

The other part is that I'm still trying to figure out what I take for granted, and how to describe to someone how to do those things or handle those situations. I had an epiphany in 2010 (which was long after I'd written most of the manuscript) when my then rival (and still a good friend) Bryan H opened a gap while I was on his wheel.

My "move" described below happens just after 4:35.

I'm cracking because of the action that started at about 3:00.

I'd been responding to attack after attack, I was absolutely on the edge of cracking, and if I'd made an effort at that moment, I'd have blown up.

(If I'd just pulled through, like a paceline, it would have been the end of my race. Therefore it's a tactical thing I had to apply, because doing the simple technical thing would have ended my race.)

I immediately, without any thought, moved over and waved everyone by. I knew I couldn't close the gap so I made it clear to the others that they needed to do it. A number of riders streamed by before both he and I picked up the pace a bit and got back on wheels.

I realized after the fact that this was a standard response for me. It was a situation where I reacted in the same way the same way given the same situation (me cracking, gap opens up one rider in front of me, single file field).

Someone asked me if I thought bike racing was so "algorithmic". He didn't use that word but he asked if we should race like a computer program. "If this, then that." I told him, yes, racing is like that. Problem is that I've been racing long enough that many of my reactions are automatic now, and I'm trying to figure out what they are and the situation that triggers them.

Yeah, so I have some work to do.