Let me clarify. It wasn't a bike race.
With that said... Velonews has a contest for the 2007 Tour where you predict the winner of the stage and his average speed. I only entered one so far - the prologue. You can enter after the stage has started but before it gets too close to the end. I don't remember the prologue rules but the road stages are closed at 10k to go.
Last year (or was it the year before) I mentally selected a couple riders before the finish of the stage - and chose them correctly. I never sent in my predictions so felt like maybe this year, if I get that hunch feeling, I'd send in something. This year, with the average speed bit as part of the prediction, I don't think I'll be entering as much. I follow Tour stuff but can't recall a single average speed for a stage - so nothing on which to base my predictions.
Anyway, it seemed that a lot of good racers were clocking mid- to upper- nine minute times in the prologue. I figured that there'd be one guy to break 9:00 and he'd do a doozy of a prologue. So I chose Cancellara and figured out what a 8:45 would be as far as speed went.
54 kph.
Seems reasonable right? I mean pros always TT at 54 or 55 kph.
Anyway, I sent in my prediction. Then I translated 54 kph to mph. And came up with 33.75 mph.
Almost 34 mph on a technical course where no one was breaking any speed records.
Okay, that might have been a tad optimistic. And only one entry per person per day. I would have been better off predicting Pee-Wee Herman winning the prologue.
I missed the coverage of his prologue but saw that some very fast guys were about 40 seconds slower than my predicted winning time. This confirmed my optimistic prediction so I sort of gave up hope that anyone would even break 9:00. And since I was at work and figured I blew the prediction, I sort of ignored the Tour for a while.
Sometime after the prologue wrapped up I checked the results. Lo and behold Cancellara did an 8:50. I quickly calculated the speed - 53.7 kph.
Drat.
I figured someone out there must have guessed something like 53.68 or something.
But surprise, surprise when I got up today to work (yeah, it's Sunday), I saw a spam like email in my mail client with the subject "re: Cancellara, 54 kph"
Because a spammer that uses a cyclist name and a speed deserves at least a chance to infect my machine, I opened the mail. No spammer here (though he probably sends out a lot of emails). Nope. Instead it was a notification that I won the prize for the prologue!
How cool is that??
So I've won two random things so far (both did require some participation). A picture caption contest (the contest and the winners- I got second) and now the Velonews thing.
Anyway, now back to my Sunday's work, house work (finding the PODS key and clearing out some of the basement), and some miscellaneous tasks I have to get done.
Later today I'll be heading over to Naugatuck for a race and we'll see if anything pans out there.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
What Would You Ask a Pro Cycling Team Manager?
Pretend you had a chance to sit down with a cycling team manager - you know, the one that all the press interviews if something happens with the team. What would you ask him (or her)?
First let's narrow the field of potential candidates. Focus on ProTour teams - that would reduce the field quite a bit (although it leaves out Slipstream which would be an intriguing interview). Ignore the ones that have racers tied to Fuentes and company.
Maybe select a team that is fighting doping on its own initiative - internal tests and such. Of course if you do that there are only two teams that fit the profile, CSC and T-Mobile. Although on principle I'd have eliminated both in July 2006, one team has significantly changed. The other seems to have stayed their course.
For me, it leaves only one candidate - T-Mobile. The team's manager? Bob Stapleton. Luckily he even speaks English.
If you were able to ask him anything, what would you ask him?
Think of him as a friend's friend. You're not out to slam him, but you can ask pointed questions. You're also not out to try and promote him so you don't have to ask the regular generic questions like the "tell us about T-Mobile's anti-doping program" type things.
Or "Do you like Giant bicycles?"
As opposed to Miniature ones of course.
Aspiring ProTour racers may get to the point and simply send him a resume.
But us mortals who don't have such high cycling aspirations, I think it'd be a bit more of a "what makes this guy tick" type of thing.
Think about it and fire away.
First let's narrow the field of potential candidates. Focus on ProTour teams - that would reduce the field quite a bit (although it leaves out Slipstream which would be an intriguing interview). Ignore the ones that have racers tied to Fuentes and company.
Maybe select a team that is fighting doping on its own initiative - internal tests and such. Of course if you do that there are only two teams that fit the profile, CSC and T-Mobile. Although on principle I'd have eliminated both in July 2006, one team has significantly changed. The other seems to have stayed their course.
For me, it leaves only one candidate - T-Mobile. The team's manager? Bob Stapleton. Luckily he even speaks English.
If you were able to ask him anything, what would you ask him?
Think of him as a friend's friend. You're not out to slam him, but you can ask pointed questions. You're also not out to try and promote him so you don't have to ask the regular generic questions like the "tell us about T-Mobile's anti-doping program" type things.
Or "Do you like Giant bicycles?"
As opposed to Miniature ones of course.
Aspiring ProTour racers may get to the point and simply send him a resume.
But us mortals who don't have such high cycling aspirations, I think it'd be a bit more of a "what makes this guy tick" type of thing.
Think about it and fire away.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Story - SUNY Purchase Tuesday Night Sprints
My favorite group ride ever was the SUNY Purchase Tuesday Night Sprints on the southeastern edge of NY State. Every Tuesday, from about 4:30 PM, anywhere from 50 to 200 racers would show up, from non-licensed to National Team racers and everything in between. They'd do sprints on a two mile loop, taking about 7 or 8 minutes each loop. At about 7:30 the sprints would wind down and the group would break up into little cliques and cool down with a lap or two of 42x21 twiddling.
When we first learned of the ride a bunch of the team and I went to check it out. And it was incredible.
We pulled into the parking lot and there were cars and bikes everywhere. My body went into race mode, my heart racing, adrenaline coursing, my body quivering in anticipation. And as we got our bikes out of our cars a huge group rolled by, winding it up for the sprint. With the line about 300-400 meters from the lot, it was the most exciting part of the sprint. What an inspiring sight!
We quickly got ready and rode backwards on the loop until we saw the group thundering towards us. Even years later I'd be shaking with adrenaline at this point. We turned around and snuck into the back and started trying to figure out what was going on. The problem with underground rides like this (it was pre-Internet so it was all word of mouth) was that there was no information on how the ride worked, what was okay, and what was not.
For many years a few racers, the "patrons" of the ride, would dictate things. They'd ride up to someone, tap them on the shoulder, and tell them "Go to the B's". Meaning sit up and do sprints with the other group. The second group, smaller and less experienced, would ride a bit behind the first group.
When they split the group, the worst thing was to be demoted. The best was to be selected as an A. The splits didn't happen often (only when the rider count went way over 100) but they happened enough that you knew your place when the two groups started to separate.
Like any group ride with a sprint, there was a bit of prestige associated with winning sprints so racers really tried hard to win.
My first vivid memory was when I mixed it up for the first time. I was being somewhat led out and watched a guy attack from about a kilometer from the line. Suicidal for most but from what I knew the attacker was a Cat 2, had a custom team outfit, a custom bike, and even a matching helmet. I figured he probably knew something I didn't since I had only a team jersey, generic shorts, and a generic Cannondale peppered with stickers. I scampered off after him and after a big effort, got on his wheel.
I was astonished at his commitment to the effort so far out but I dug deep and stayed on his wheel. Not much registered in my head except his freewheel and rear hub until the field recaptured us and swarmed around me. I tried to keep a decent vantage point in the group and went with the surge. Suddenly a racer rocketed away from the field.
It was the same guy!
Holy smolies and a dozen canolies.
This guy was a cookie monster. I decided I'd have to be on his wheel and launched a mega effort to bridge up to him. I managed to do so and hung on, my wheels a little choppy as I started bobbing with effort.
We were flying past the parked cars and I wondered what it looked like from there, two guys flying along, the field intent on devouring the escapees. The road beared slightly left and up before bearing right and slightly down for the final 250 meters.
I wasn't sure when to go and so started from pretty far out - I figured I needed to get as much of a head start as possible on the field. My initial jump crushed this Cat 2 and I thought, well, Cat 2 or not, riding in the wind for no reason doesn't get you anywhere.
I was sprinting and sprinting and sprinting down the interminably long straight when I heard the whooshing of tires coming up quickly.
That Cat 2 flew by me.
I was almost apoplectic with shock.
How the...?
I adjusted my trajectory and managed to get on his wheel. He had to be totally dead and I just knew I'd be able to beat him. But it wasn't true. He maintained some incredible speed to the line and I simply could not get around this guy.
We crossed the line and I looked over at him. He didn't even seem totally spent. Okay, like he did a sprint. But not like he did a jump, pursuit, jump, pursuit, jump, sprint. All in about a kilometer.
Man this guy was a monster.
He attacks at the start of the "sprint" bit, counters and leads out, then after I sprint away from him he comes back and just annihilates me. And there's no one around at the end. I mean he is so clear of everyone else after the big pull and the big jump.
Insane.
Okay, we all know that we have those days where we feel invincible. And I figured maybe the guy had it for a mile. But the next sprint was almost a mirror copy of the first. And the next.
And the next week.
And the following week.
This story was getting old and I desperately wanted to rewrite it. But I didn't know how.
So for a few weeks I tried to assimilate this uber-powerful sprinting and time trialling demigod disguised as a Cat 2.
I mean, if he's a 2, what are the 1s like? And the pros? And the guys who dominate the pros? And Eddy Merckx?
Mind boggling.
A month or so later, cooling down with a half dozen friendly racers after a couple hours of haplessly chasing this demigod, I finally blurted out my frustrations in trying to beat this guy.
"Man, I can't beat that Sleepy Hollow guy."
"Who?"
"You know, that Sleepy Hollow guy. Rides a 56 or so. I just can't beat him."
"Who do you mean?"
"That Sleepy Hollow guy."
"You mean the triplets?"
Triplets?
I looked at my friend in blank incomprehension. The gears started turning. The grey matter was processing.
"Triplets?"
He laughed at me.
"You know there are three brothers right?", he said, " They're triplets."
I cracked a grin.
"Wait, you thought it was one guy?"
The group burst out laughing.
"Well how was I supposed to know? I mean I see this guy with the team clothing do a big attack, I go with him, we get caught, he goes again, I go again, and then after I sprint around him he comes back and beats me. How was I supposed to know there were three of them??"
Everyone was cracking up. And I laughed too.
The improbability.
From them on my tactics were that much clearer. Figure out which one was the designated sprinter. And beat him.
And that's what I did.
When we first learned of the ride a bunch of the team and I went to check it out. And it was incredible.
We pulled into the parking lot and there were cars and bikes everywhere. My body went into race mode, my heart racing, adrenaline coursing, my body quivering in anticipation. And as we got our bikes out of our cars a huge group rolled by, winding it up for the sprint. With the line about 300-400 meters from the lot, it was the most exciting part of the sprint. What an inspiring sight!
We quickly got ready and rode backwards on the loop until we saw the group thundering towards us. Even years later I'd be shaking with adrenaline at this point. We turned around and snuck into the back and started trying to figure out what was going on. The problem with underground rides like this (it was pre-Internet so it was all word of mouth) was that there was no information on how the ride worked, what was okay, and what was not.
For many years a few racers, the "patrons" of the ride, would dictate things. They'd ride up to someone, tap them on the shoulder, and tell them "Go to the B's". Meaning sit up and do sprints with the other group. The second group, smaller and less experienced, would ride a bit behind the first group.
When they split the group, the worst thing was to be demoted. The best was to be selected as an A. The splits didn't happen often (only when the rider count went way over 100) but they happened enough that you knew your place when the two groups started to separate.
Like any group ride with a sprint, there was a bit of prestige associated with winning sprints so racers really tried hard to win.
My first vivid memory was when I mixed it up for the first time. I was being somewhat led out and watched a guy attack from about a kilometer from the line. Suicidal for most but from what I knew the attacker was a Cat 2, had a custom team outfit, a custom bike, and even a matching helmet. I figured he probably knew something I didn't since I had only a team jersey, generic shorts, and a generic Cannondale peppered with stickers. I scampered off after him and after a big effort, got on his wheel.
I was astonished at his commitment to the effort so far out but I dug deep and stayed on his wheel. Not much registered in my head except his freewheel and rear hub until the field recaptured us and swarmed around me. I tried to keep a decent vantage point in the group and went with the surge. Suddenly a racer rocketed away from the field.
It was the same guy!
Holy smolies and a dozen canolies.
This guy was a cookie monster. I decided I'd have to be on his wheel and launched a mega effort to bridge up to him. I managed to do so and hung on, my wheels a little choppy as I started bobbing with effort.
We were flying past the parked cars and I wondered what it looked like from there, two guys flying along, the field intent on devouring the escapees. The road beared slightly left and up before bearing right and slightly down for the final 250 meters.
I wasn't sure when to go and so started from pretty far out - I figured I needed to get as much of a head start as possible on the field. My initial jump crushed this Cat 2 and I thought, well, Cat 2 or not, riding in the wind for no reason doesn't get you anywhere.
I was sprinting and sprinting and sprinting down the interminably long straight when I heard the whooshing of tires coming up quickly.
That Cat 2 flew by me.
I was almost apoplectic with shock.
How the...?
I adjusted my trajectory and managed to get on his wheel. He had to be totally dead and I just knew I'd be able to beat him. But it wasn't true. He maintained some incredible speed to the line and I simply could not get around this guy.
We crossed the line and I looked over at him. He didn't even seem totally spent. Okay, like he did a sprint. But not like he did a jump, pursuit, jump, pursuit, jump, sprint. All in about a kilometer.
Man this guy was a monster.
He attacks at the start of the "sprint" bit, counters and leads out, then after I sprint away from him he comes back and just annihilates me. And there's no one around at the end. I mean he is so clear of everyone else after the big pull and the big jump.
Insane.
Okay, we all know that we have those days where we feel invincible. And I figured maybe the guy had it for a mile. But the next sprint was almost a mirror copy of the first. And the next.
And the next week.
And the following week.
This story was getting old and I desperately wanted to rewrite it. But I didn't know how.
So for a few weeks I tried to assimilate this uber-powerful sprinting and time trialling demigod disguised as a Cat 2.
I mean, if he's a 2, what are the 1s like? And the pros? And the guys who dominate the pros? And Eddy Merckx?
Mind boggling.
A month or so later, cooling down with a half dozen friendly racers after a couple hours of haplessly chasing this demigod, I finally blurted out my frustrations in trying to beat this guy.
"Man, I can't beat that Sleepy Hollow guy."
"Who?"
"You know, that Sleepy Hollow guy. Rides a 56 or so. I just can't beat him."
"Who do you mean?"
"That Sleepy Hollow guy."
"You mean the triplets?"
Triplets?
I looked at my friend in blank incomprehension. The gears started turning. The grey matter was processing.
"Triplets?"
He laughed at me.
"You know there are three brothers right?", he said, " They're triplets."
I cracked a grin.
"Wait, you thought it was one guy?"
The group burst out laughing.
"Well how was I supposed to know? I mean I see this guy with the team clothing do a big attack, I go with him, we get caught, he goes again, I go again, and then after I sprint around him he comes back and beats me. How was I supposed to know there were three of them??"
Everyone was cracking up. And I laughed too.
The improbability.
From them on my tactics were that much clearer. Figure out which one was the designated sprinter. And beat him.
And that's what I did.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Story - Paul Ruhlman
You ever do a race and it's titled something like "The Someone Someone Memorial"? And you just go and race and see how you do and focus on your finish and hydration and heartrate and power and all that stuff. And you go home.
That Someone Someone loved cycling so much that at some level someone, perhaps a family member or a good friend, decided to sponsor a race in Someone Someone's name. And if they didn't do that, perhaps that race wouldn't have happened.
Next time you do a race like that, ask who that Someone was. Although they may not have been famous in a Time Magazine sense, they probably affected a lot of racers around you now, either directly (that Someone raced with your peers) or indirectly (that Someone raced with people who raced with your peers).
A big "Someone" race is the Fitchburg Stage Race, a race held in Art Longsjo's memory.
Interestingly enough there happens to be a "memorial" race this weekend - the Donovan-Ruhlman Naugatuck Criterium in Naugatuck, CT.
The senior Donovan I never knew - his son Scott was a very strong Cat 2 by the time I started racing and he was definitely "old". In other words, he wasn't in high school anymore.
The other name though...
I'm sure that no matter what your age, you'll think about times when you were younger and think, "Boy, was I naive." As a young Junior (in other words, I was barely a Junior in high school), I didn't realize some of the magnitude of the races I was entering. I just checked out Velonews for upcoming events, asked the guys on the team what race they were doing, what it was like, and I'd sign up for it. If the entry was too much then I'd skip the race.
To prepare for events my main training ride was the weekend Oscar's group ride out of Westport. My specific training varied depending on the upcoming race. If it had a climb, I'd go do climbs. If it was fast, I'd, well, I'd go do climbs fast. And if it was a road race, I'd do long rides. With climbs. Of course I'd have to race down Route 7 as fast as possible, drafting trucks or cars or whatever I could find, just because it was so fun. But I "worked" on climbing.
One race in particular seemed to be actually doable, the Cornwall Road Race. It had just one real climb, the climb wasn't that long (perhaps a mile plus), and it started about a hundred yards from the start. None of this "climbing after racing for 15 minutes". Just go and climb, at least on the first lap.
As young as I was, an even younger (I think 14 at the time) Junior named Paul came up to me and asked what gears I'd be using. I ran a 15-21 almost straight block with 53x42 rings (Junior gears). I thought he was asking me for advice and I really had no idea what gears would be best - I figured if I couldn't go fast enough in the 21 that'd be it. Secretly I was thinking that I could climb in the 19 and perhaps attack in the 16 or 17.
"Do you stand or sit when you climb?", Paul asked.
"Um, I usually stand", I replied.
Actually, I read somewhere if you stand, you should stand about 2/3 of a climb and sit the other 1/3. And the given rule is if you stand you can use a cog one tooth smaller. But I figured that was splitting hairs and I didn't need to complicate this kid's life with minor details.
"Oh, that's good. You need a 22 if you sit."
What?
"Who is this joker?", I thought.
A one tooth difference? What's he talking about?
I forgot about this know-it-all kid in my preparations for the race. And we took off and we hit the climb. When I was standing on the climb I felt fine. But as soon as I sat down the gear was just too big. And I started drifting backwards when I sat down. So I stood as much as possible - but I'd almost blow, have to sit, and drift backwards. I think I made the climb once, maybe even twice with the field. Eventually I succumbed to the inevitable and drifted right off the back.
It seemed like when I sat, well, the gear was too big.
Maybe by a tooth.
I paid attention to Paul after that. Quiet kid, not really chatty. He had some very powerful teammates - a new kid named Rob Lattanzi and a superstar Junior Pat Morrisey. He and his Laurel Bicycle Club crew drove up to Greenfield, MA for the Greenfield Stage Race. One of the chaperon racers for his team owned a VW bus and they piled in there for the long drive up.
Greenfield was a major race back then. Two long road races in a row. I'd never done a stage race so I wasn't sure how my body would react to back to back efforts. In order to simulate consecutive race days I did a few Saturday and Sunday group rides, going hard on both days.
I felt it was doable.
I'd recently figured out some of the dynamics of riding in a pack. I wasn't very good at sitting on a wheel (ironic to hear that now, isn't it?) and it seemed like I was always braking to avoid hitting the guy in front of me. My newly found trick was to do the following - instead of braking if the rider in front slowed a bit, I'd let my front wheel drift to one side. In the team's group rides where the I knew the course and the pace was reasonably steady, this maneuver saved me a lot of energy. I'd rank it as my favorite new "tactic". Riding inches away from everyone was still a few years away but this was a start.
The first day was horrendously difficult. I'd never ridden on so quickly on such wide open roads. The wind seemed atrocious, and combined with the always-furious Junior pace, the field stayed single file for as long as I remember.
At some point, the rider in front suddenly slowed. I was mentally drifting and didn't see this happen and almost hit him. I moved to the side to avoid braking, pleased with my new skill. Unfortunately I scooted up virtually next to the guy so the racer behind me simply moved up and took my spot.
Suddenly, in a single file pack, I was out in the wind. Not good.
I tried to move back in line but couldn't, the racers zipping by quicker and quicker. I kept looking back and got ready to do an all out sprint when the last riders passed me me. Suddenly a gap appeared in the long line of racers. I looked over and saw Paul had left a big gap. He yelled to get into the line. I sprinted in, groveled for a half minute, and recovered. He rode up next to me and mentioned it's better to brake when it's single file, that slewing off the line simply invites others to take your spot.
Point taken.
Eventually I came off on a climb (big surprise) and time-trialed in on my own. One of my classic "I paid for a training ride where there are marshals at each intersection" rides.
After the race we met up with him and his teammates for food and race stories. He seemed tired and a bit disappointed so I asked him how he did.
"Seventh", he replied.
Seventh! Seventh was about a step below, well, maybe winning the Tour! Seventh! I couldn't believe it. And he was disappointed. I don't remember too much about what he said of the race but boy oh boy seventh.
(It might have been 4th or 9th which two other places he got while I knew him - I do know he placed in both Greenfield races and the Cornwall race).
The next day I got out there, feeling like a pro, wishing that perhaps one day I could do this more often. Race, eat a lot that evening, do a little mini-massage (I read about that in Bicycling), wake up, eat, and get dressed to race again. Bleary eyed, a bit sore, I readied my trusty Basso. I had no illusions of doing anything - I figured it'd be great if I made it for a while in the field before I got shelled.
And that's how it went. The field went single file, I blew at some point, went shooting out the back, then dragged myself over countless hills, rises, and climbs to get to the finish.
Disastrous from a racing point of view but definitely an experience for a kid who could barely drive.
Over the next year or so I saw Paul a couple times at races. Always quiet, always modest. I'd have to pry his results out of him. I remember him always doing well but honestly I simply can't remember other races we did together. He qualified for Nationals, something that all of us dreamed of doing (some overtly, some secretly).
He went to Nationals but never returned.
Apparently he was a passenger of a car that got involved in an accident (I'm not sure but I think the car got hit by someone else - they were in the wrong place at the wrong time). He was fatally injured.
For a number of years the Paul Ruhlman Memorial race took place in Meriden. My best and only placing there got me some money, $45 or so. After holding the money in my hand and realizing who was paying it out, I held out the money to the race announcer (a great Cat 2 himself) and asked him to make sure it made it into the Ruhlman fund.
I didn't know if he'd pocket the money or what (I didn't even know what the Fund did) but a few minutes later I got a visit at my car from an older couple I'd never met in my life. Mr and Mrs Ruhlman. I have to confess I didn't know who they were but they took care of that by introducing themselves as "Paul's mother and father."
They thanked me for my donation and asked how I knew Paul. I mentioned Greenfield and Cornwall and that, honestly, I didn't know him that well, he just helped me when he could. I felt a bit embarrassed as I hadn't meant for anyone to say anything, I just felt that taking the money wasn't right, not when it'd increase the cost of the race and therefore decrease the contribution to the Paul Ruhlman Fund.
This Sunday I plan to be at the Naugatuck race (work permitting). For the first time in recent memory the 3's have not been lumped with the 1s and 2s (and there are some stories about those races but they all end in me not doing well). Although racing with the big boys is fun when you're in shape, for me, right now, racing with the 2s simply means I'd be dropped in a few laps. A 3-4 race has some potential though. My legs aren't too great as evidenced at last week's New Britain race, but maybe they'll come around. Some double secret training might help my cause.
And perhaps I'll be able to make another hard earned donation in Paul's memory.
That Someone Someone loved cycling so much that at some level someone, perhaps a family member or a good friend, decided to sponsor a race in Someone Someone's name. And if they didn't do that, perhaps that race wouldn't have happened.
Next time you do a race like that, ask who that Someone was. Although they may not have been famous in a Time Magazine sense, they probably affected a lot of racers around you now, either directly (that Someone raced with your peers) or indirectly (that Someone raced with people who raced with your peers).
A big "Someone" race is the Fitchburg Stage Race, a race held in Art Longsjo's memory.
Interestingly enough there happens to be a "memorial" race this weekend - the Donovan-Ruhlman Naugatuck Criterium in Naugatuck, CT.
The senior Donovan I never knew - his son Scott was a very strong Cat 2 by the time I started racing and he was definitely "old". In other words, he wasn't in high school anymore.
The other name though...
I'm sure that no matter what your age, you'll think about times when you were younger and think, "Boy, was I naive." As a young Junior (in other words, I was barely a Junior in high school), I didn't realize some of the magnitude of the races I was entering. I just checked out Velonews for upcoming events, asked the guys on the team what race they were doing, what it was like, and I'd sign up for it. If the entry was too much then I'd skip the race.
To prepare for events my main training ride was the weekend Oscar's group ride out of Westport. My specific training varied depending on the upcoming race. If it had a climb, I'd go do climbs. If it was fast, I'd, well, I'd go do climbs fast. And if it was a road race, I'd do long rides. With climbs. Of course I'd have to race down Route 7 as fast as possible, drafting trucks or cars or whatever I could find, just because it was so fun. But I "worked" on climbing.
One race in particular seemed to be actually doable, the Cornwall Road Race. It had just one real climb, the climb wasn't that long (perhaps a mile plus), and it started about a hundred yards from the start. None of this "climbing after racing for 15 minutes". Just go and climb, at least on the first lap.
As young as I was, an even younger (I think 14 at the time) Junior named Paul came up to me and asked what gears I'd be using. I ran a 15-21 almost straight block with 53x42 rings (Junior gears). I thought he was asking me for advice and I really had no idea what gears would be best - I figured if I couldn't go fast enough in the 21 that'd be it. Secretly I was thinking that I could climb in the 19 and perhaps attack in the 16 or 17.
"Do you stand or sit when you climb?", Paul asked.
"Um, I usually stand", I replied.
Actually, I read somewhere if you stand, you should stand about 2/3 of a climb and sit the other 1/3. And the given rule is if you stand you can use a cog one tooth smaller. But I figured that was splitting hairs and I didn't need to complicate this kid's life with minor details.
"Oh, that's good. You need a 22 if you sit."
What?
"Who is this joker?", I thought.
A one tooth difference? What's he talking about?
I forgot about this know-it-all kid in my preparations for the race. And we took off and we hit the climb. When I was standing on the climb I felt fine. But as soon as I sat down the gear was just too big. And I started drifting backwards when I sat down. So I stood as much as possible - but I'd almost blow, have to sit, and drift backwards. I think I made the climb once, maybe even twice with the field. Eventually I succumbed to the inevitable and drifted right off the back.
It seemed like when I sat, well, the gear was too big.
Maybe by a tooth.
I paid attention to Paul after that. Quiet kid, not really chatty. He had some very powerful teammates - a new kid named Rob Lattanzi and a superstar Junior Pat Morrisey. He and his Laurel Bicycle Club crew drove up to Greenfield, MA for the Greenfield Stage Race. One of the chaperon racers for his team owned a VW bus and they piled in there for the long drive up.
Greenfield was a major race back then. Two long road races in a row. I'd never done a stage race so I wasn't sure how my body would react to back to back efforts. In order to simulate consecutive race days I did a few Saturday and Sunday group rides, going hard on both days.
I felt it was doable.
I'd recently figured out some of the dynamics of riding in a pack. I wasn't very good at sitting on a wheel (ironic to hear that now, isn't it?) and it seemed like I was always braking to avoid hitting the guy in front of me. My newly found trick was to do the following - instead of braking if the rider in front slowed a bit, I'd let my front wheel drift to one side. In the team's group rides where the I knew the course and the pace was reasonably steady, this maneuver saved me a lot of energy. I'd rank it as my favorite new "tactic". Riding inches away from everyone was still a few years away but this was a start.
The first day was horrendously difficult. I'd never ridden on so quickly on such wide open roads. The wind seemed atrocious, and combined with the always-furious Junior pace, the field stayed single file for as long as I remember.
At some point, the rider in front suddenly slowed. I was mentally drifting and didn't see this happen and almost hit him. I moved to the side to avoid braking, pleased with my new skill. Unfortunately I scooted up virtually next to the guy so the racer behind me simply moved up and took my spot.
Suddenly, in a single file pack, I was out in the wind. Not good.
I tried to move back in line but couldn't, the racers zipping by quicker and quicker. I kept looking back and got ready to do an all out sprint when the last riders passed me me. Suddenly a gap appeared in the long line of racers. I looked over and saw Paul had left a big gap. He yelled to get into the line. I sprinted in, groveled for a half minute, and recovered. He rode up next to me and mentioned it's better to brake when it's single file, that slewing off the line simply invites others to take your spot.
Point taken.
Eventually I came off on a climb (big surprise) and time-trialed in on my own. One of my classic "I paid for a training ride where there are marshals at each intersection" rides.
After the race we met up with him and his teammates for food and race stories. He seemed tired and a bit disappointed so I asked him how he did.
"Seventh", he replied.
Seventh! Seventh was about a step below, well, maybe winning the Tour! Seventh! I couldn't believe it. And he was disappointed. I don't remember too much about what he said of the race but boy oh boy seventh.
(It might have been 4th or 9th which two other places he got while I knew him - I do know he placed in both Greenfield races and the Cornwall race).
The next day I got out there, feeling like a pro, wishing that perhaps one day I could do this more often. Race, eat a lot that evening, do a little mini-massage (I read about that in Bicycling), wake up, eat, and get dressed to race again. Bleary eyed, a bit sore, I readied my trusty Basso. I had no illusions of doing anything - I figured it'd be great if I made it for a while in the field before I got shelled.
And that's how it went. The field went single file, I blew at some point, went shooting out the back, then dragged myself over countless hills, rises, and climbs to get to the finish.
Disastrous from a racing point of view but definitely an experience for a kid who could barely drive.
Over the next year or so I saw Paul a couple times at races. Always quiet, always modest. I'd have to pry his results out of him. I remember him always doing well but honestly I simply can't remember other races we did together. He qualified for Nationals, something that all of us dreamed of doing (some overtly, some secretly).
He went to Nationals but never returned.
Apparently he was a passenger of a car that got involved in an accident (I'm not sure but I think the car got hit by someone else - they were in the wrong place at the wrong time). He was fatally injured.
For a number of years the Paul Ruhlman Memorial race took place in Meriden. My best and only placing there got me some money, $45 or so. After holding the money in my hand and realizing who was paying it out, I held out the money to the race announcer (a great Cat 2 himself) and asked him to make sure it made it into the Ruhlman fund.
I didn't know if he'd pocket the money or what (I didn't even know what the Fund did) but a few minutes later I got a visit at my car from an older couple I'd never met in my life. Mr and Mrs Ruhlman. I have to confess I didn't know who they were but they took care of that by introducing themselves as "Paul's mother and father."
They thanked me for my donation and asked how I knew Paul. I mentioned Greenfield and Cornwall and that, honestly, I didn't know him that well, he just helped me when he could. I felt a bit embarrassed as I hadn't meant for anyone to say anything, I just felt that taking the money wasn't right, not when it'd increase the cost of the race and therefore decrease the contribution to the Paul Ruhlman Fund.
This Sunday I plan to be at the Naugatuck race (work permitting). For the first time in recent memory the 3's have not been lumped with the 1s and 2s (and there are some stories about those races but they all end in me not doing well). Although racing with the big boys is fun when you're in shape, for me, right now, racing with the 2s simply means I'd be dropped in a few laps. A 3-4 race has some potential though. My legs aren't too great as evidenced at last week's New Britain race, but maybe they'll come around. Some double secret training might help my cause.
And perhaps I'll be able to make another hard earned donation in Paul's memory.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Enter to Win a Polar Heartrate Thingamajig
Enter to Win a Polar here...
All you have to do is give them your name and address. And since it's PEZ Cycling, I figure it's not a bad thing. Just do it before July 13th 2007 as that's when it expires. You have two days.
Oh and you have to know the second American ever to win the Tour de France. Look, PEZ is in Canada. And Canada require winners of things like lotteries and random drawings to pass a skill test. If you don't pass the skill test, no watch. So make sure you know the answer just in case.
Good luck!
All you have to do is give them your name and address. And since it's PEZ Cycling, I figure it's not a bad thing. Just do it before July 13th 2007 as that's when it expires. You have two days.
Oh and you have to know the second American ever to win the Tour de France. Look, PEZ is in Canada. And Canada require winners of things like lotteries and random drawings to pass a skill test. If you don't pass the skill test, no watch. So make sure you know the answer just in case.
Good luck!
Tactics - Leadouts
I was thinking about some things from my "getting led out" days. I learned a lot of things the hard way - leadout guy dropping the sprinter (me), leadout guy can't find sprinter or vice versa, leadout guy blows up way too early (once a leadout guy Mike blew at the bell - not a great set up for the finish but I won the field sprint, sort of... I think that's for a different post), things like that.
A leadout (pronounced "leed-out", as in "to lead out", not "led-out") is a racing tactic where a team sacrifices the chances of one or more racers in order to improve the team sprinter's chances. Or, if you're David Millar and you're racing on a team without a good sprinter, the leadout may come from a friendly opponent (David) who volunteers to help out another team's sprinter without a good leadout (Baden Cooke) because they're friends!
A proper leadout works because the sacrificial racers (the "Leadout" racers) raise the speed of the race so high that it is very difficult for rival sprinters to move up in the field. This requires the Leadout's Sprinter to be in place near the front when the leadout begins. It also requires a pace so high the field is forced in single file for at least the first 15 or 20 racers - and on a really smoking leadout, perhaps the first 50 or 60 racers.
For a Cat 3 race on an average course (not too much wind, sort of flat), I'd expect a good leadout to hum along at 35-37 mph at the start, accelerating to perhaps 38 to almost 40 mph. With leadouts in the low 40's I for one have problems hanging on for more than a couple hundred meters. This is where a Cancellera can do a bit of damage and ride away from everyone for a spectacular stage win.
If you were stuck 10 spots back and the pace suddenly hotted up to 38+ mph, you can imagine how hard it would be to try and move up. Conversely, if you were the Sprinter and you were sitting 3rd wheel, you can imagine what sort of advantage you'd have if you got launched from such a leadout at 150 meters to go.
The problem with leadouts is that everyone knows what's happening and so everyone makes a huge effort to get into a good spot. If the leadout is going less than a zillion miles an hour, the leadout racers will get swarmed by rival sprinters and leadout racers looking to use your leadout to their benefit.
It's absolutely critical to leadout in such a way that all anyone can think of is just to hang onto the wheel in front. If they're thinking like that they're not thinking of blasting past your sprinter.
Twice I watched a very strong and numerically superior Pro/1 team annihilate themselves to lead out their sprinter for a number of laps (5 or more), only to see a rival team pop up with 500 meters to go and take the win. In those Pro/1 leadouts, the teams only held 35 mph or so - and you could see the swarm of opportunists waiting to pounce.
The ones that won those races? When they went, they were going so fast that they virtually gapped the field with the leadout. The sprint was a mere formality - the race was won with the leadout.
Controlling the race for 5 laps in a crit may be really cool for advertising pictures but it doesn't get you wins, not unless you're also going so fast that no one can move up. It's better if you simply have a "fast as greased lightning" leadout guy who can peg the cyclometer for 300 meters.
There are lots of little things that help make leadouts work. Keep in mind the Leadout has to know the Sprinter is okay - otherwise the Leadout will not know what to do. And oftentimes the efforts generated by both are such that superfluous talk is out of the question.
With that in mind, here are some tips:
- Back in the day I wrapped some tape around my fork just above the dropouts - orange or pink or some bright color. My Leadout would look down to see if my forks were there. If not he'd ease and try and find me (or let me find him).
- The Sprinter is the director. The Leadout guy does what the Sprinter says. Once the Sprinter is on the Leadout's wheel, the Sprinter dictates what happens. If the Sprinter sees a surge coming up the left side, he should yell "LEFT!". And the Leadout starts to move left (not cut across the road but look and start moving in anticipation of either sitting on the surge or closing the door on the surge).
- The Sprinter should have a bailout call, i.e. when he loses the wheel. "STOP" or "MIKE" (my first leadout guy) something like that works.
- Sprinters are usually not as strong as their leadout men. I've been close to dropped by my leadout guys. I'd have to tell them to "EASE" at times. But then when it's 400-500 meters to go, I have to tell them to "GO GO GO" and really crank the pace.
- The Sprinter should also have a "keep going" call. Just because you have a leadout doesn't mean you have to have the Sprinter on the Leadout's wheel. This is especially true in the Cat 3-5 as a leadout can get swamped if it's not fast enough. A slower leadout (i.e. only first 6 or 8 are single file - typically under 35-37 mph) means the sprinter may have to sit 3-4 back in order to get protection as the front 6 or 8 guys are eating a lot of wind even on other racers' wheels. The slow leadout means there's a high chance the leadout will fail - in which case the leadout is really more of a "string the field out so it's easier for Sprinter to keep his spot." In this case the sprinter should have another call "GO GO GO" or something like that. Don't use the same words in different calls - "Mike, Stop" and "Mike, Go" can sound the same to a oxygen-bankrupted brain.
- All this is great planning and all that but you have to practice this in the heat of the moment. You can rehearse having sex all you want - but there's nothing like having sex for the first time to wake you up to the realities of what is involved. Leadouts can be practiced in theory but there are only two places you can really work on them - in competitive group rides and in races. Competitive group rides means there are other sprinters (and possibly leadout men) who really want to beat you and your sprinter to the line - so they'll use your leadout, take the sprinter off your wheel, box him in, etc etc etc just like a race.
- Ideally the Sprinter should have a Sweeper on his wheel. The Sweeper "sweeps" the back wheel of the Sprinter, preventing things (like other Sprinters) from sticking to it. The Sweeper should ideally be a tactically astute racer (probably a sprinter) who has elected to help the cause instead of trying for a top finish. That's a whole different post but sweeping, done right, is safe for everyone and extremely effective when used with a proper leadout.
- The Leadout should anticipate sprinting to an imaginary line before the finish, probably 150 meters before it (on a finish that heads uphill, the leadout might end earlier as it's hard to accelerate uphill). If the Leadout is slower than an all out sprint, everyone else can sit on and benefit. If the Leadout is very fast, i.e. 37-40 mph in a Cat 3 race, it will have eliminated all but one or two rivals by the time the sprint actually starts.
That's the whole point of a leadout - reducing the odds. A talented and smart sprinter will still be able to beat your leadout but it'll be tough to lose to a more generic sprinter if you lead your sprinter out well. A 32-35 mph leadout is an invitation to the sprinters 10-15 back to come smash your sprinter into a tiny pulp as they pulverize him with their 11 tooth cogs. As a racer who mainly races on his own now, a 32 mph leadout is perfect for me. I don't have to fight to get particular wheels, I just wait 4 or 5 riders back and go from there. If the various teams upped the pace a bit, I'd be forced to ride a lot harder going into the sprint. This wouldn't bode well for my chances in the actual sprint.
- The Leadout rider has to be a good sprinter to know where to go, what to do. It's no good leading your sprinter up the left side if the wind is hitting your left shoulder. It's also no good to go too early or to get boxed in. The Leadout has to understand how to protect and shelter the Sprinter without losing advantageous position, without losing bearings on the field. Finally the Leadout needs to know how to get through gaps that the Sprinter can but perhaps no one else can get through.
For various reasons I have never won a summer race - but I've gotten second more than a couple times. Virtually every single time I was beaten by a much stronger racer - but without a leadout, I'd probably be buried a bit deeper in the field. And in the Spring races - well, four and five man leadouts basically handed me win after win for a few years.
Leadouts, when they work well, are great. Working together like that creates bonds which are hard to break. One of my teammates sacrificed his chances for me on a regular basis, even when I was feeling iffy, even when the odds were stacked against us. And occasionally things worked out pretty well.
There was one Prospect race (a 1/2/3 race) where a sizeable break went up the road and disappeared. One strong teammate managed to make the break so the rest of us sat in and groveled under the Cat 2 hammer blows. With one 3 mile lap to go the break had come back a bit - to about 45-50 seconds if I remember correctly.
The chances of closing that were nil but the guys on the team instinctively gathered to do a big leadout. They started lining up at the front, I tucked in behind the designated Primary Leadout guy, and the boys started to ease on the pressure. We started up the hill when out of nowhere our break teammate appeared up the road at a virtual standstill. The break attacked itself on the hill and he got shelled.
He saw us in formation, dug deep, got in front, and rode his heart out to pull us over the climb. He pulled off, completely spent. My next teammate buried himself, went super hard, blew, and pulled off. I had two guys left and the second last one of them fried himself too before pulling off.
Only my Primary Leadout (PL) left. And way over a mile to go.
I sat on his wheel as he did his best impersonation of Sean Yates. Or, as the case may be, Gian Matteo Fagnini. We flew across the flats to the top of the descent, his deep carbon wheels humming. Just before the descent a very good sprinter (Cat 1, I think a former pro) and his leadout man pulled up next to me. The leadout guy looked at me questioningly. I let him in and his sprinter tucked in behind me.
Now we had two leadout men and I had a very antsy sprinter on my wheel. The fact that such a respected sprinter trusted my leadout says a lot about the leadout's speed.
We started flying down the hill. I couldn't believe PL spun his pedals so fast without blowing up. I don't know how fast we went down that hill but when we slowed down were were going 45 mph. He managed to hold the speed in the low 40's for a couple hundred meters on the flats afterwards. He was going so fast he was almost gapping the second leadout racer with such high speeds.
Then, incredibly, for the first time in perhaps 30 or 40 minutes, we could see the break. This was like the pros! PL buried himself for his final effort. His shoulders started bobbing and weaving and his wheels started to slalom a bit. I know what that's like - remember my attempt at a leadout?
He finally pulled over and to let us by. We instantly slowed. The other sprinter's leadout guy did his best to pull but he simply didn't have the strength or speed to maintain the pace. Nevertheless we caught the break at about 300 meters to go and everyone in the break started yelling and screaming in surprise. The sprinter behind me decided it was time and bounded away from us. I jumped super hard to latch onto his wheel.
I never quite got there and so there we were out of the saddle, sprinting one behind the other, with a few hundred yards to go. Too far for a true sprint but the leadout was so fast no one was coming up behind us. The disintegrating break helped filter the field too.
A few of the break had jumped hard for an early sprint. We came up on one of them, a pretty strong Cat 2, sprinting like mad on the left side of the road. There's a joggers lane on the left side that the racers can't enter, and he had left a gap to the left. Just over a foot of road to his left - a fatal error in this sprint. The Cat 1 sprinter had already gone right. I came up to this fading Cat 2's wheel and dove left.
He lifted his rear wheel and planted it about a foot to his left.
His wheel sounded like it was going to explode it landed so hard. I thought he lifted his wheel when he jumped (I've done this by accident) so I slammed on my brakes, waited for him to straighten things out, and went again.
He kicked his wheel over again.
That Dirty F***er. He'd intentionally left the door open, waiting with his wheel to slam it into whoever tried to go through it.
I jumped again and he kicked his wheel over again. Screw this. I decided I'd go over the line as I couldn't go right (I think someone was there by then). I dove left and just barely missed an official standing on the white line, keeping an eye out for just such a move. The stunned official, eyes wide open, couldn't get a word out as I sprinted by on the left, Dirty on the right. As soon as I passed Dirty he gave up.
Ultimately I blew before the line and just couldn't catch the guys in front of me. The really good sprinter whose leadout man tucked in front of me won the race. I guess that's what makes a good sprinter. I got 6th.
Our dinky Cat 3 team had pulled off a pretty impressive result. I've never done as well since, but then again, I'd never had such an incredible leadout again either.
I mentioned how working together in races builds bonds between racers. My leadout guy from that day will be my at my wedding.
But not with the title Primary Leadout.
That day he'll be Best Man.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Experience > Lab
I post somewhat frequently on a couple cycling forums. Typically I avoid the "he said she said" threads where a new response pops up every 4 seconds. On the other hand, if I have something I think might be of interest to say, I'll say it.
A while ago I posted something on Spinergy Rev-X wheels. You probably know of them - the 4 pair carbon spoke aero wheel.
I pointed out that the X-Beams, little H shaped plastic pieces which stick into the V of the spokes (making it into an A), help increase stiffness.
Someone promptly posted that this is not true according to Damon Rinard's site. I was thinking of posting but then decided that would create a "he said she said" thing. So I refrained.
I had dismissed the counter-claim because I felt the X-Beams helps increase Rev-X wheel stiffness. I've ridden the wheels a lot - from the first generation on - and even took part in a user feedback program. I even had some experience with the wheels in a semi-controlled environment. I was raced the same bike with the same tires on same course and did the same sprint for many weeks in March and April. Although week to week smaller variables changed (wind, temperature, etc), I noticed a radical change in the firmness of the bike's handling when I put the X-Beams on my wheels, especially the front wheel. It made the bike easier to track using my aggressive side-to-side sprint, the rim didn't hit the brakes, and the bike seemed stiffer laterally.
However, I didn't quantify this in an objective manner. I simply jotted down in my training diary that the X-Beams helped stiffen up the wheel.
So who's right? Is Damon (whose work I respect - and in fact I still use his spoke length calculator) correct and I'm smoking crack? Or did Damon miss something?
I have two illustrations of why either question might be answered a resounding "Yes".
Spinergy, with their Rev-X wheels, sponsored a lot of pros back in the day, but one stood out above the rest - Mario "The Lion King" Cipollini. His astounding take of Tour stage wins (along with his PR antics) meant front page pictures for the fledgling wheel company.
Naturally the King required wheels which complemented his megawatt sprint. Likewise, an outfit like Spinergy was able to accommodate him by building custom wheels.
Virtually his only complaint was that the wheels weren't stiff enough. So Spinergy, looking to please their star racer, promptly sent out some X-Braces with instructions on how to install them.
Word filtered back from the Boot country. "Better. Want stiffer."
Spinergy decided to go a bit deeper. They built some wheels with double the carbon in the spokes (eventually they'd sell this version as Super Stiffs) and air shipped the wheels to the Lion King.
The wheels came back.
"Stiffer."
The Spinergy engineering crew was at wits end. There really wasn't anything else they could do to make the wheels stiffer without compromising some other aspect of the wheel - production, aerodynamics, etc.
In a fit of desperate genius, they painted the wheels red, put "LION KING" on the side of the rims (four times on each side), and sent the wheels back.
The response from Italy?
"E fantastico!"
Or something like that. I don't know what Cipollini actually said (I don't even speak Italian) but he was happy. He put the wheels on his Cannondale. And went out and won a stack of Tour stages.
So that last "modification" didn't make a stitch of engineering difference. The red paint wasn't made with carbon paste or anything, they didn't change any material thing in the wheel, but the rider's feedback indicated that the wheels were better.
That's the story that would show that a laboratory can illustrate when perceived differences are in fact illusion.
But let me expand a bit.
That same company had a ferociously dedicated engineer who tested and analyzed things to extremes. He eventually left the company and now analyzes products on his own, helps run wind tunnel tests for certain really big teams, and the whole time insists on complete anonymity - no pictures, his name is not to be mentioned, etc etc. To respect that I'm not naming him or his last name or anything.
Such is his dedication to the whole sport of cycling that he stood on some very cold pavement, only his bike and backpack for company, for something like five hours and helped marshal a race in a little town called Bethel, CT. This after riding a couple hours up to the course - and looking forward to an equal ride back.
Then he hopped on his bike, raced the Pro/1/2/3's, and proceeded to tear the legs off everyone out there.
He is the reason why I use Ritchey WCS (and regular) aluminum stems - in the course of testing he found a lot of weak stems but discovered the Ritcheys were particularly well made.
Does your stem ever slip? Has it cracked? My Ritcheys have not. 'Nuff said.
He found that certain rim characteristics had less to do with aerodynamics than, say, the seam between the tire and the rim. (Incidentally T-Mobile seems to agree as they put some stuff there between the tires and rims on their TT bikes.) That the way they shaped the trailing edge of the aero rim made a huge difference. He found that perception (of things like wheel bearing friction) could not be duplicated in a controlled environment - but they still got "faster" bearings (lacking dust seals) because that's what the shops craved. Inside though Spinergy knew that the bearings weren't any faster - it was the red paint and decals all over again.
This engineer's engineer tested and signed off on the X-Beams and the double layer of carbon on the spokes. And not for marketing purposes - he's one that would not have compromised his integrity for marketing purposes. So I feel like I have some technical backing in my very amateur "Hey X-Beams make Rev-Xs stiffer" statement.
I have a car which I enjoy driving a lot - apparently it's the first production car that came with suspension braces front and rear. Basically the manufacturer uses a big piece of metal to bridge the gap between the left and right wheels. Normally cars are made which resemble a big U if you looked at them from behind - the passengers, drivetrain, and luggage sit in the U, the wheels, sheetmetal, etc., side on the outside of the U.
The problem is a U wants to get squished until the tops touch. I'd type the letter but I can't find anything resembling a squished U so you'll have to imagine it. Riding in a convertible is usually illustrative of this idea - the lack of a roof makes the car more flexible. If you put a cross piece on the U (and made it into, say, an O) it would be a much stronger, err, letter. Or if you put a hard roof on a convertible, the chassis stiffens up.
Likewise, when you put a brace on which link the left and right wheel of a car, it stiffens up the car's chassis. This makes it easier to engineer the suspension geometry, shock and spring rates, and makes the car more predictable to drive when going over uneven pavement.
Of course at some point someone had to ask on a forum, "Does the brace really make a difference?" After all, it might be all marketing hype.
No one really came back with a solid answer until someone wrote about their experience when installing something in the engine compartment. They had to unbolt the brace to install it. When they finished up, they forgot to tighten the brace bolts on one side.
If the brace didn't do anything, nothing would have happened.
But when they went out driving, every time they went around a hard turn, the front end of the car clunked. It was the brace (with its loose bolts) hitting the mounting studs.
This indicated that the frame was flexing enough to move the bar around. And if the brace was tightened, well, either the brace flexed, the frame flexed less, or (what's probably the case) some combination of the two.
Regardless, there was some empirical proof that the brace actually contributes to making the car stiffer.
Back to the X-Beams.
They stick in place. There's double stick tape, you clean the inside of the carbon spoke, and you stick it on.
Sometimes it got dirty or unsticky or some rubbing alcohol was still left on the inside of the spoke. The result - the X-Beam got unstuck.
And when it did you'd get this awful racket whenever you sprinted or rocked the bike aggressively from side to side. It sounded like someone jammed a screwdriver into your front wheel.
It was simply the X-Beam, stuck on one side, trying to stick to the other side. And not succeeding.
The racket clearly indicated that the spokes were moving more than they were before (or that the X-Beams really stretch a lot when properly installed). Therefore the X-Beams must be doing something.
A second bit of evidence - if you put the X-Beam in crooked, it would bend quite severely. It's apparent that the X-Beam is holding a lot of force in its thin crossmember.
I'd also notice the rim would rub the brakes without the X-Beams. The rim was so stiff that the whole rim would tilt around the hub (instead of simply flexing the lower part of the rim). And this is where the lab test comes into play. Damon's test was based on the rim flexing down away from the hub. He didn't measure if the rim rose on the other side. And that's what causes the perception that the wheel is flexy. If you rub your brakes on every downstroke you're not going to be really happy whether your a Cat 3 or the Lion King. X-Beams don't necessarily help the rim flex less between the hub and the ground. But the rim stays better centered between the the brake pads above the rim.
Therefore X-Beams make a difference.
And that's that.
Well until a better Rev-X expert says something...
A while ago I posted something on Spinergy Rev-X wheels. You probably know of them - the 4 pair carbon spoke aero wheel.
I pointed out that the X-Beams, little H shaped plastic pieces which stick into the V of the spokes (making it into an A), help increase stiffness.
Someone promptly posted that this is not true according to Damon Rinard's site. I was thinking of posting but then decided that would create a "he said she said" thing. So I refrained.
I had dismissed the counter-claim because I felt the X-Beams helps increase Rev-X wheel stiffness. I've ridden the wheels a lot - from the first generation on - and even took part in a user feedback program. I even had some experience with the wheels in a semi-controlled environment. I was raced the same bike with the same tires on same course and did the same sprint for many weeks in March and April. Although week to week smaller variables changed (wind, temperature, etc), I noticed a radical change in the firmness of the bike's handling when I put the X-Beams on my wheels, especially the front wheel. It made the bike easier to track using my aggressive side-to-side sprint, the rim didn't hit the brakes, and the bike seemed stiffer laterally.
However, I didn't quantify this in an objective manner. I simply jotted down in my training diary that the X-Beams helped stiffen up the wheel.
So who's right? Is Damon (whose work I respect - and in fact I still use his spoke length calculator) correct and I'm smoking crack? Or did Damon miss something?
I have two illustrations of why either question might be answered a resounding "Yes".
Spinergy, with their Rev-X wheels, sponsored a lot of pros back in the day, but one stood out above the rest - Mario "The Lion King" Cipollini. His astounding take of Tour stage wins (along with his PR antics) meant front page pictures for the fledgling wheel company.
Naturally the King required wheels which complemented his megawatt sprint. Likewise, an outfit like Spinergy was able to accommodate him by building custom wheels.
Virtually his only complaint was that the wheels weren't stiff enough. So Spinergy, looking to please their star racer, promptly sent out some X-Braces with instructions on how to install them.
Word filtered back from the Boot country. "Better. Want stiffer."
Spinergy decided to go a bit deeper. They built some wheels with double the carbon in the spokes (eventually they'd sell this version as Super Stiffs) and air shipped the wheels to the Lion King.
The wheels came back.
"Stiffer."
The Spinergy engineering crew was at wits end. There really wasn't anything else they could do to make the wheels stiffer without compromising some other aspect of the wheel - production, aerodynamics, etc.
In a fit of desperate genius, they painted the wheels red, put "LION KING" on the side of the rims (four times on each side), and sent the wheels back.
The response from Italy?
"E fantastico!"
Or something like that. I don't know what Cipollini actually said (I don't even speak Italian) but he was happy. He put the wheels on his Cannondale. And went out and won a stack of Tour stages.
So that last "modification" didn't make a stitch of engineering difference. The red paint wasn't made with carbon paste or anything, they didn't change any material thing in the wheel, but the rider's feedback indicated that the wheels were better.
That's the story that would show that a laboratory can illustrate when perceived differences are in fact illusion.
But let me expand a bit.
That same company had a ferociously dedicated engineer who tested and analyzed things to extremes. He eventually left the company and now analyzes products on his own, helps run wind tunnel tests for certain really big teams, and the whole time insists on complete anonymity - no pictures, his name is not to be mentioned, etc etc. To respect that I'm not naming him or his last name or anything.
Such is his dedication to the whole sport of cycling that he stood on some very cold pavement, only his bike and backpack for company, for something like five hours and helped marshal a race in a little town called Bethel, CT. This after riding a couple hours up to the course - and looking forward to an equal ride back.
Then he hopped on his bike, raced the Pro/1/2/3's, and proceeded to tear the legs off everyone out there.
He is the reason why I use Ritchey WCS (and regular) aluminum stems - in the course of testing he found a lot of weak stems but discovered the Ritcheys were particularly well made.
Does your stem ever slip? Has it cracked? My Ritcheys have not. 'Nuff said.
He found that certain rim characteristics had less to do with aerodynamics than, say, the seam between the tire and the rim. (Incidentally T-Mobile seems to agree as they put some stuff there between the tires and rims on their TT bikes.) That the way they shaped the trailing edge of the aero rim made a huge difference. He found that perception (of things like wheel bearing friction) could not be duplicated in a controlled environment - but they still got "faster" bearings (lacking dust seals) because that's what the shops craved. Inside though Spinergy knew that the bearings weren't any faster - it was the red paint and decals all over again.
This engineer's engineer tested and signed off on the X-Beams and the double layer of carbon on the spokes. And not for marketing purposes - he's one that would not have compromised his integrity for marketing purposes. So I feel like I have some technical backing in my very amateur "Hey X-Beams make Rev-Xs stiffer" statement.
I have a car which I enjoy driving a lot - apparently it's the first production car that came with suspension braces front and rear. Basically the manufacturer uses a big piece of metal to bridge the gap between the left and right wheels. Normally cars are made which resemble a big U if you looked at them from behind - the passengers, drivetrain, and luggage sit in the U, the wheels, sheetmetal, etc., side on the outside of the U.
The problem is a U wants to get squished until the tops touch. I'd type the letter but I can't find anything resembling a squished U so you'll have to imagine it. Riding in a convertible is usually illustrative of this idea - the lack of a roof makes the car more flexible. If you put a cross piece on the U (and made it into, say, an O) it would be a much stronger, err, letter. Or if you put a hard roof on a convertible, the chassis stiffens up.
Likewise, when you put a brace on which link the left and right wheel of a car, it stiffens up the car's chassis. This makes it easier to engineer the suspension geometry, shock and spring rates, and makes the car more predictable to drive when going over uneven pavement.
Of course at some point someone had to ask on a forum, "Does the brace really make a difference?" After all, it might be all marketing hype.
No one really came back with a solid answer until someone wrote about their experience when installing something in the engine compartment. They had to unbolt the brace to install it. When they finished up, they forgot to tighten the brace bolts on one side.
If the brace didn't do anything, nothing would have happened.
But when they went out driving, every time they went around a hard turn, the front end of the car clunked. It was the brace (with its loose bolts) hitting the mounting studs.
This indicated that the frame was flexing enough to move the bar around. And if the brace was tightened, well, either the brace flexed, the frame flexed less, or (what's probably the case) some combination of the two.
Regardless, there was some empirical proof that the brace actually contributes to making the car stiffer.
Back to the X-Beams.
They stick in place. There's double stick tape, you clean the inside of the carbon spoke, and you stick it on.
Sometimes it got dirty or unsticky or some rubbing alcohol was still left on the inside of the spoke. The result - the X-Beam got unstuck.
And when it did you'd get this awful racket whenever you sprinted or rocked the bike aggressively from side to side. It sounded like someone jammed a screwdriver into your front wheel.
It was simply the X-Beam, stuck on one side, trying to stick to the other side. And not succeeding.
The racket clearly indicated that the spokes were moving more than they were before (or that the X-Beams really stretch a lot when properly installed). Therefore the X-Beams must be doing something.
A second bit of evidence - if you put the X-Beam in crooked, it would bend quite severely. It's apparent that the X-Beam is holding a lot of force in its thin crossmember.
I'd also notice the rim would rub the brakes without the X-Beams. The rim was so stiff that the whole rim would tilt around the hub (instead of simply flexing the lower part of the rim). And this is where the lab test comes into play. Damon's test was based on the rim flexing down away from the hub. He didn't measure if the rim rose on the other side. And that's what causes the perception that the wheel is flexy. If you rub your brakes on every downstroke you're not going to be really happy whether your a Cat 3 or the Lion King. X-Beams don't necessarily help the rim flex less between the hub and the ground. But the rim stays better centered between the the brake pads above the rim.
Therefore X-Beams make a difference.
And that's that.
Well until a better Rev-X expert says something...
Monday, July 09, 2007
Racing - New Britain Criterium
So about a week ago we realized that we lost the key to the PODS lock. Actually, I realized I lost the key. In trying to recreate our last moments with the key, the future missus pointed out the last time we entered the PODS was May 19th, the day before our fun Bloomin Metric tandem ride. It's been driving us nuts not to have the key now and I think we're ready to try and break into our own PODS.
In the meantime, there was a race over the weekend. It's called the Tour de France and it started in London...
Oh wait. That's the race I read about. And it doesn't end for a few weeks. The race I did is something a little smaller in scale.
Sunday was the second race at New Britain for 2007. The first one, the Nutmeg Classic, gave me, as a Tour pro might say, "good feelings in the legs", and a big stack up during the sprint distracted me so much I stopped pedaling for the last bit of the race.
And still got 11th.
It seemed natural that if I pedaled to the line I might improve that 11th. And it wouldn't hurt I rode just a little more than a day a week like I had leading up to that race. Properly motivated, I started doing a lot of training sessions, sacrificing quantity for any amount of riding time. Typical daily sessions were 20-30 minutes long - so even riding four or five days a week only netted me an extra hour or two of training.
A couple 1.5 to 2 hour sessions meant I managed to get some quantity in as well - and since they were rides out to my sprint course and back, I got quality in there too. Things seemed to be on an upswing.
However, the biggest thing I did was to finally get my spin bike set up. I'd bought cranks and a bottom bracket a while ago, really in prep for the Nutmeg Classic, but I never had time to install them. I finally did, and I had some extra pedals to boot, so I got the set up together.
And last Tuesday I rode a fateful twelve minute training session.
It completely annihilated my legs. The fixed gear flywheel made me use muscles I haven't used since, well, the last time I rode the thing, probably over a year ago. Back then it had a bent crank so my knee bothered me enough that I cut my session short after a couple sprints. I didn't get too sore and I decided not to ride it until it had proper cranks.
Well, it's early Monday morning now, almost six days after my twelve minute session, and I am still gingerly protecting my sore and about-to-cramp-whenever-I-sit-down hamstrings. Although I thought I was recovering nicely for Sunday, my easy spins (max wattage typically 200-230 watts) were too easy to properly gauge my recovery.
My race day warm-up, subdued by high temperatures in the low 90's, ended up an all too easy spin, again camouflaging my sore legs. I also experienced a surprising shortage of water. I thought I brought enough but was short perhaps a half gallon of dump water and another half gallon of bottle water. Prior to the race I drank a quart of Gatorade, over a quart of water, and some Rockstar, literally emptying my cooler of all the water I had brought. We even bought the Gatorade and soda on the way to the race. I realized after the race I should have brought at least one more bottle in a jersey pocket, perhaps a second dump bottle for pouring on my head, and it would have helped immensely to douse myself at the start with an additional bottle of water.
These are all things I've done in the past and simply forgot to do Sunday. It's disappointing not to do well in a race that I enter with high expectations. It's frustrating when I forget to do things that I've been doing for umpteen years.
The first lap of the race put me in deep trouble. I couldn't move up, I realized I was already hot, and my legs felt like they were encased in cement. No fluid spin, no snap, no eagerness to jump around. Instead it was an effort simply to keep pedaling.
Not good.
I never really moved up and hung out at the back of the field. After about 10 laps I was counting laps. The race was only 20 laps, not the 30 of the Nutmeg Classic, and although I initially thought the race was too short, I realized I was in trouble halfway through.
The death knell was an unusual wind pattern - a relatively strong cross headwind on the main straight coming at you from the left front. This meant it was easy to pull on the right side of the race and prevent others from getting a lot of shelter. It also meant having to move around on the backstretch hill - it was better to be on the left at the bottom, right at the top.
I managed to do that for a number of laps but simply forgot to do that for others. My power chart tells the painful story - it's those laps that put me into the red. Other wind mistakes meant my normally (wind) sheltered racing life, spoiled as a trust fund baby, ended up the racing equivalent of being thrown into the streets with only the clothes on my back.
Predictably, I faltered.
The cumulative errors, starting with a badly timed sprint workout, compounded by a lack of (and therefore some rationing of) water, and finally topped off by some poor riding (in the wind) on my part, put me over the edge.
About 13 laps in, I dumped a bit of water on my head. I wanted to save it for the finish but I wasn't going to make the finish at the rate I was going - and I started to sacrifice reserves in order to get to the end of the race. It felt good but I only had another squirt like that left and I wasn't even at 5 to go.
By then not only was I hanging out at the back of the field, I was literally the last guy in the race. I had a hard time closing gaps. And I didn't move up when things slowed. I just stayed at the back.
And when the guy in front of me had a moment of inattentiveness and closed a gap he opened up in front of himself, I had nothing to give. I watched him ride about 30 feet away from me and my legs simply would not respond.
Somehow, I'd managed to remove any semblance of speed out of my legs. A max speed of 33 mph tells the story - and I hit that in the first lap of the race. I also hit about 900 watts in the first and second laps of the race - and never went that high again. In fact I rarely broke 425 watts for much of the race.
Gapped and unable to jump across the gap, I had to churn along at about 28-30 mph, catching the group as they slowed on the backstretch hill. As soon as they accelerated over the top, my diesel legs refused to accelerate.
The field gently rolled away. I popped. Sat up. And that was that.
My race schedule really winds down now. A couple Prospects. And not much else. Perhaps a Gimbles. The CT Coast Crit August 26th.
I should look on the positive side. First, I had a couple Carpe Diem Racing teammates show up. They were good enough that they were in the race longer than me - and both offered to give me a hand if they could. I'm used to racing on my own now, having weaned myself off of racing on a relatively big team, but it's always nice to see friends in matching kits in a race. So thanks to Bill and Sean for making an effort even if I couldn't make it to the finish.
Another good thing is the PowerTap wheel I built works fine. It's reasonably light, the wheel didn't collapse after I built it, the tire stayed on, and miracle of miracles, the tire is even very straight. I haven't forgotten how to build a wheel.
I raced without the helmet cam for the first time (in good weather anyway) and so have a great excuse not to put up a clip of me excruciatingly detailed video of me crumbling in a race. This saves me time to do things like edit other helmet cam clips I haven't edited.
My racing focal points are done - Bethel and New Britain. I manage decent rides at Prospect but I don't like the sprint that much. The CT Coast Crit ought to be interesting - not only because I'll be helping promote it but also because it's Bethel one last time for 2007.
Now to look for that PODS key...
In the meantime, there was a race over the weekend. It's called the Tour de France and it started in London...
Oh wait. That's the race I read about. And it doesn't end for a few weeks. The race I did is something a little smaller in scale.
Sunday was the second race at New Britain for 2007. The first one, the Nutmeg Classic, gave me, as a Tour pro might say, "good feelings in the legs", and a big stack up during the sprint distracted me so much I stopped pedaling for the last bit of the race.
And still got 11th.
It seemed natural that if I pedaled to the line I might improve that 11th. And it wouldn't hurt I rode just a little more than a day a week like I had leading up to that race. Properly motivated, I started doing a lot of training sessions, sacrificing quantity for any amount of riding time. Typical daily sessions were 20-30 minutes long - so even riding four or five days a week only netted me an extra hour or two of training.
A couple 1.5 to 2 hour sessions meant I managed to get some quantity in as well - and since they were rides out to my sprint course and back, I got quality in there too. Things seemed to be on an upswing.
However, the biggest thing I did was to finally get my spin bike set up. I'd bought cranks and a bottom bracket a while ago, really in prep for the Nutmeg Classic, but I never had time to install them. I finally did, and I had some extra pedals to boot, so I got the set up together.
And last Tuesday I rode a fateful twelve minute training session.
It completely annihilated my legs. The fixed gear flywheel made me use muscles I haven't used since, well, the last time I rode the thing, probably over a year ago. Back then it had a bent crank so my knee bothered me enough that I cut my session short after a couple sprints. I didn't get too sore and I decided not to ride it until it had proper cranks.
Well, it's early Monday morning now, almost six days after my twelve minute session, and I am still gingerly protecting my sore and about-to-cramp-whenever-I-sit-down hamstrings. Although I thought I was recovering nicely for Sunday, my easy spins (max wattage typically 200-230 watts) were too easy to properly gauge my recovery.
My race day warm-up, subdued by high temperatures in the low 90's, ended up an all too easy spin, again camouflaging my sore legs. I also experienced a surprising shortage of water. I thought I brought enough but was short perhaps a half gallon of dump water and another half gallon of bottle water. Prior to the race I drank a quart of Gatorade, over a quart of water, and some Rockstar, literally emptying my cooler of all the water I had brought. We even bought the Gatorade and soda on the way to the race. I realized after the race I should have brought at least one more bottle in a jersey pocket, perhaps a second dump bottle for pouring on my head, and it would have helped immensely to douse myself at the start with an additional bottle of water.
These are all things I've done in the past and simply forgot to do Sunday. It's disappointing not to do well in a race that I enter with high expectations. It's frustrating when I forget to do things that I've been doing for umpteen years.
The first lap of the race put me in deep trouble. I couldn't move up, I realized I was already hot, and my legs felt like they were encased in cement. No fluid spin, no snap, no eagerness to jump around. Instead it was an effort simply to keep pedaling.
Not good.
I never really moved up and hung out at the back of the field. After about 10 laps I was counting laps. The race was only 20 laps, not the 30 of the Nutmeg Classic, and although I initially thought the race was too short, I realized I was in trouble halfway through.
The death knell was an unusual wind pattern - a relatively strong cross headwind on the main straight coming at you from the left front. This meant it was easy to pull on the right side of the race and prevent others from getting a lot of shelter. It also meant having to move around on the backstretch hill - it was better to be on the left at the bottom, right at the top.
I managed to do that for a number of laps but simply forgot to do that for others. My power chart tells the painful story - it's those laps that put me into the red. Other wind mistakes meant my normally (wind) sheltered racing life, spoiled as a trust fund baby, ended up the racing equivalent of being thrown into the streets with only the clothes on my back.
Predictably, I faltered.
The cumulative errors, starting with a badly timed sprint workout, compounded by a lack of (and therefore some rationing of) water, and finally topped off by some poor riding (in the wind) on my part, put me over the edge.
About 13 laps in, I dumped a bit of water on my head. I wanted to save it for the finish but I wasn't going to make the finish at the rate I was going - and I started to sacrifice reserves in order to get to the end of the race. It felt good but I only had another squirt like that left and I wasn't even at 5 to go.
By then not only was I hanging out at the back of the field, I was literally the last guy in the race. I had a hard time closing gaps. And I didn't move up when things slowed. I just stayed at the back.
And when the guy in front of me had a moment of inattentiveness and closed a gap he opened up in front of himself, I had nothing to give. I watched him ride about 30 feet away from me and my legs simply would not respond.
Somehow, I'd managed to remove any semblance of speed out of my legs. A max speed of 33 mph tells the story - and I hit that in the first lap of the race. I also hit about 900 watts in the first and second laps of the race - and never went that high again. In fact I rarely broke 425 watts for much of the race.
Gapped and unable to jump across the gap, I had to churn along at about 28-30 mph, catching the group as they slowed on the backstretch hill. As soon as they accelerated over the top, my diesel legs refused to accelerate.
The field gently rolled away. I popped. Sat up. And that was that.
My race schedule really winds down now. A couple Prospects. And not much else. Perhaps a Gimbles. The CT Coast Crit August 26th.
I should look on the positive side. First, I had a couple Carpe Diem Racing teammates show up. They were good enough that they were in the race longer than me - and both offered to give me a hand if they could. I'm used to racing on my own now, having weaned myself off of racing on a relatively big team, but it's always nice to see friends in matching kits in a race. So thanks to Bill and Sean for making an effort even if I couldn't make it to the finish.
Another good thing is the PowerTap wheel I built works fine. It's reasonably light, the wheel didn't collapse after I built it, the tire stayed on, and miracle of miracles, the tire is even very straight. I haven't forgotten how to build a wheel.
I raced without the helmet cam for the first time (in good weather anyway) and so have a great excuse not to put up a clip of me excruciatingly detailed video of me crumbling in a race. This saves me time to do things like edit other helmet cam clips I haven't edited.
My racing focal points are done - Bethel and New Britain. I manage decent rides at Prospect but I don't like the sprint that much. The CT Coast Crit ought to be interesting - not only because I'll be helping promote it but also because it's Bethel one last time for 2007.
Now to look for that PODS key...
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Equipment - Power Tap Wheel, Part 2
The last day or two I've been thinking about my PT wheel rebuild project.
I optimistically chose normal shipping for the 380 gram Mavic rim (I ordered it online as the local shop I patronized is closed for the moment). Problem is that it wasn't scheduled to show up until Monday.
Not good for a Sunday race.
So I thought about rim things. Made notes on my daily meeting agenda printout. Put miscellaneous notes into my (Windows) phone. Hemmed and hawed. And finally I bought another rim. When I checked it out I learned that it is a bit heavy. Of course I learn this after the fact. Great for Paris Roubaix. Not the rim I want for a criterium.
I guess if I ever do 'cross, I have the tubular rims for whatever bike I get.
With the (not 'cross) race rapidly approaching I had to look at what I already own.
I reassessed my wheel inventory, looking for any reasonable weight 32 hole tubular rim. I found a few other other 32 hole tubular rimmed wheels. I have a few so I checked some weights online as I thought they were light - but they weren't, most of them 400 grams or more. I do have a few low (or sub) 300 gram rims but they're all 28 hole - can't use that with my 32 hole PowerTap hub.
You know that SRM is looking mighty appealing - just slap my fave Reynolds wheels on and go...
Then I looked at my track bike. It's supremely overbuilt - a 7 pound frame and fork (staight gauge steel), 32 hole Superbe Pro track hub, 14 gauge straight spokes in the rear, brass nipples, and...
A 32 hole Sun M17A tubular rim.
330 grams or so. No eyelets but I have DT washers for such a rim (0.1 grams each washer). 17 millimeters wide. And I have a brand new 18 mm tubular tire glued to it. Already stretched, already aged, already pressure tested.
Not the best training setup. Wouldn't corner too well either. But man it would fly in a race. And New Britain (and the two Prospects right after) are all on kidney shaped courses - no real turns.
So I'd unlace the track wheel, pull the rim, save the hub. Said rim would be built into a wheel around the PowerTap hub with some nice DT Revolution spokes, alloy nipples, and the DT washers for non-eyeletted rims for durability.
That would leave me with the track hub and a track bike with no rear wheel. With only one track wheel to my name, that'd leave me without a track bike (not that I've raced on the track since 1991 or so but that's a different story altogether). I figured that it'd be a perfect excuse to lace up a 24 hole Zipp 440 to the 32 hole track hub as the track hub is a lot more tolerant of odd spoke patterns than my PT hub. The track hub doesn't care if the spoke count is consistent left-right or if there are crosses or not.
Since I have very few races left this year, I may build the PowerTap M17A wheel to use just for the next month or so. Then rebuild the wheel using a normal clincher rim.
Or maybe find a 28 hole PowerTap hub and do up one of my 300 gram tubular rims on that. Hm. House stuff may take precedence over that. Whatever, I can revisit later.
I figured that I'd quickly pull the M17A rim, quickly unlace the PT hub. Quickly because we were going to my dad's last night. I would bring the stuff to lace and true the wheel to my dad's house where we're having a continuation of our July 4th family get together.
I hoped that when I got home, I'll be holding a new M17A PT wheel complete with a newly glued Conti tubular.
I wrote all that stuff and then guess what? The Mavic rim came in. So I brought that to my dad's, laced it up while everyone played cards, glued on a nice new CX, and brought it home.
So today I'll be testing my new Mavic rear wheel and see how it goes. It feels heavy when I pick it up so I'm not sure I'm too keen on it. It's the same rim used in the discontinued Heliums - the Mavic wheels I thought were so slow I abandoned them after one race.
So tomorrow if you see me on my Reynolds rear wheel, well, you'll know how it went.
I optimistically chose normal shipping for the 380 gram Mavic rim (I ordered it online as the local shop I patronized is closed for the moment). Problem is that it wasn't scheduled to show up until Monday.
Not good for a Sunday race.
So I thought about rim things. Made notes on my daily meeting agenda printout. Put miscellaneous notes into my (Windows) phone. Hemmed and hawed. And finally I bought another rim. When I checked it out I learned that it is a bit heavy. Of course I learn this after the fact. Great for Paris Roubaix. Not the rim I want for a criterium.
I guess if I ever do 'cross, I have the tubular rims for whatever bike I get.
With the (not 'cross) race rapidly approaching I had to look at what I already own.
I reassessed my wheel inventory, looking for any reasonable weight 32 hole tubular rim. I found a few other other 32 hole tubular rimmed wheels. I have a few so I checked some weights online as I thought they were light - but they weren't, most of them 400 grams or more. I do have a few low (or sub) 300 gram rims but they're all 28 hole - can't use that with my 32 hole PowerTap hub.
You know that SRM is looking mighty appealing - just slap my fave Reynolds wheels on and go...
Then I looked at my track bike. It's supremely overbuilt - a 7 pound frame and fork (staight gauge steel), 32 hole Superbe Pro track hub, 14 gauge straight spokes in the rear, brass nipples, and...
A 32 hole Sun M17A tubular rim.
330 grams or so. No eyelets but I have DT washers for such a rim (0.1 grams each washer). 17 millimeters wide. And I have a brand new 18 mm tubular tire glued to it. Already stretched, already aged, already pressure tested.
Not the best training setup. Wouldn't corner too well either. But man it would fly in a race. And New Britain (and the two Prospects right after) are all on kidney shaped courses - no real turns.
So I'd unlace the track wheel, pull the rim, save the hub. Said rim would be built into a wheel around the PowerTap hub with some nice DT Revolution spokes, alloy nipples, and the DT washers for non-eyeletted rims for durability.
That would leave me with the track hub and a track bike with no rear wheel. With only one track wheel to my name, that'd leave me without a track bike (not that I've raced on the track since 1991 or so but that's a different story altogether). I figured that it'd be a perfect excuse to lace up a 24 hole Zipp 440 to the 32 hole track hub as the track hub is a lot more tolerant of odd spoke patterns than my PT hub. The track hub doesn't care if the spoke count is consistent left-right or if there are crosses or not.
Since I have very few races left this year, I may build the PowerTap M17A wheel to use just for the next month or so. Then rebuild the wheel using a normal clincher rim.
Or maybe find a 28 hole PowerTap hub and do up one of my 300 gram tubular rims on that. Hm. House stuff may take precedence over that. Whatever, I can revisit later.
I figured that I'd quickly pull the M17A rim, quickly unlace the PT hub. Quickly because we were going to my dad's last night. I would bring the stuff to lace and true the wheel to my dad's house where we're having a continuation of our July 4th family get together.
I hoped that when I got home, I'll be holding a new M17A PT wheel complete with a newly glued Conti tubular.
I wrote all that stuff and then guess what? The Mavic rim came in. So I brought that to my dad's, laced it up while everyone played cards, glued on a nice new CX, and brought it home.
So today I'll be testing my new Mavic rear wheel and see how it goes. It feels heavy when I pick it up so I'm not sure I'm too keen on it. It's the same rim used in the discontinued Heliums - the Mavic wheels I thought were so slow I abandoned them after one race.
So tomorrow if you see me on my Reynolds rear wheel, well, you'll know how it went.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Training - Soreness Part 2
Alright I admit it.
My legs are sore.
I've been dropping into my car seat when I get in - because I can't support my body with my legs. I've been lifting my legs with my hands just to get out of my office chair. Rolling over in bed requires planning, pre-rollover maneuvering, and finally a painful execution . Even going to the bathroom has been an adventure as I can't control my descent when I sit.
It's starting to improve. For example, this morning was the first time I could walk up the stairs without wincing. Well not on every step anyway.
Perhaps the Olbas Sports Massage Oil helped last night. That and a mini-massage. And a lot of ribs on July 4th (protein).
I know that the fixed gear bike works different muscles. If it didn't I wouldn't be sore. What I notice is that I have a hard time lifting my legs - hip flexors, hamstrings, that stuff. I can push reasonably well - my "push" soreness disappeared after a half day. My "lift" soreness - well, it's all still sore.
The fixed gear bike forces me to "reverse thrust" to slow down from my 200+ rpm sprints. And I never do that on a regular bike. I simply coast. The backpedaling pressure seems to work my leg lifting muscles.
I feel this is significant. I pull up on the pedals aggressively when I sprint. I know when I'm going well because my abs get really tired from fighting the leg lifting motion and I feel my hip flexors working like mad. And a while back I realized that I haven't felt that fatigue in a while.
When I thought about my best every sprint days, I realized that I had a DX-900 (my spin bike) at my disposal. The guys at the shop would gather around it every few hours and everyone would try and beat each other's top rpm. After the first day we had to rest for something like a week as we were all limping around like we'd just run a marathon. But within a month we'd do these "spin-outs" daily with no problems.
My record back then was 286 rpms and I could sprint in the mid 40's at will.
Now I struggle like mad to break 240 rpms and I struggle to sprint past 40 mph.
Coincidence? I think not.
In the meantime, I have this soreness problem. My legs are sore.
I got to ride a bit yesterday (20 minutes) and a little today (less than 20 minutes), both times on the trainer. Better than nothing. I think with some serious eating today, some leg rubbing while I work (I brought some Olbas to work and my desk area smells like... Switzerland, I guess), and some nice recovery tonight, I'll be recovered tomorrow.
Just in time to do a warm up ride for the race on Sunday.
Woohoo!
My legs are sore.
I've been dropping into my car seat when I get in - because I can't support my body with my legs. I've been lifting my legs with my hands just to get out of my office chair. Rolling over in bed requires planning, pre-rollover maneuvering, and finally a painful execution . Even going to the bathroom has been an adventure as I can't control my descent when I sit.
It's starting to improve. For example, this morning was the first time I could walk up the stairs without wincing. Well not on every step anyway.
Perhaps the Olbas Sports Massage Oil helped last night. That and a mini-massage. And a lot of ribs on July 4th (protein).
I know that the fixed gear bike works different muscles. If it didn't I wouldn't be sore. What I notice is that I have a hard time lifting my legs - hip flexors, hamstrings, that stuff. I can push reasonably well - my "push" soreness disappeared after a half day. My "lift" soreness - well, it's all still sore.
The fixed gear bike forces me to "reverse thrust" to slow down from my 200+ rpm sprints. And I never do that on a regular bike. I simply coast. The backpedaling pressure seems to work my leg lifting muscles.
I feel this is significant. I pull up on the pedals aggressively when I sprint. I know when I'm going well because my abs get really tired from fighting the leg lifting motion and I feel my hip flexors working like mad. And a while back I realized that I haven't felt that fatigue in a while.
When I thought about my best every sprint days, I realized that I had a DX-900 (my spin bike) at my disposal. The guys at the shop would gather around it every few hours and everyone would try and beat each other's top rpm. After the first day we had to rest for something like a week as we were all limping around like we'd just run a marathon. But within a month we'd do these "spin-outs" daily with no problems.
My record back then was 286 rpms and I could sprint in the mid 40's at will.
Now I struggle like mad to break 240 rpms and I struggle to sprint past 40 mph.
Coincidence? I think not.
In the meantime, I have this soreness problem. My legs are sore.
I got to ride a bit yesterday (20 minutes) and a little today (less than 20 minutes), both times on the trainer. Better than nothing. I think with some serious eating today, some leg rubbing while I work (I brought some Olbas to work and my desk area smells like... Switzerland, I guess), and some nice recovery tonight, I'll be recovered tomorrow.
Just in time to do a warm up ride for the race on Sunday.
Woohoo!
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