Racing - June 4, 2013 @TuesdayTheRent

Today ended up a bit off kilter. Junior normally goes to daycare at about 12:45 PM, which really means about 1:00 PM because inevitably something happens and it takes a bit of time to get out the door. Today was unusual because Junior's 8 or 9 AM nap started at 12 noon. At 12:45 he was sound asleep, and at 1:20 PM I called the daycare and let them know that we'd be a bit late.

Of course he woke up about 5 minutes later and off we went.

I had two types of tasks to do today before the race. First I had to get my bike in race shape. Second I wanted to get the Expedition sort of pre-prepped for the trip down to the White Plains Crit on Sunday. I'll be working registration and the photo finish along with three of the crew that normally helps me at Bethel. I wanted to pre-load the Expedition partially so I don't forget anything but partially to see how it'll all fit. The Expedition part went fine.

The bike was quick too, but there were a number of things I wanted to do. First I had to fix the chain - after Limerock's disaster, where my chain was jumping in every gear, I found that a link had twisted. I didn't take a picture of it then but I did today.

Twisted link. DA chain.

I replaced the chain with a KMC XL10S or something like that - some extra light 10s chain. I bought it on a lark but when I went looking for another trusty Dura Ace chain in the basement (I bought a bunch of them) I realized that I'd used them all already. The KMC, which I really avoided using, was the only one left. Remarkably it's a bit lighter than the outgoing DA chain. I think the difference is about 50g but I don't know, it's enough to feel lighter though.

KMC chain on the bike.

KMC chain. Note hollow pins and cut out side plates.

Whatever, the important part is that there's no twisted link in the chain. The bike shifts a bit slowly so I need to check to make sure there isn't any excessive friction in the cable/housing. If it's not that then the KMC chain is a bit more flexible than the DA - I'll have to adjust the derailleur to get the pulley even closer to the cogs than they are now.

Next I had discovered that my headset was loose. I tightened it up.

A third thing was that I wanted to redo the tape on the downtube. I slapped three pieces of tape on the downtube to hold my SRM cable but it looked horrible. I simply rearranged the tape so it lined up at the top of the tube. Now it's actually a bit hard to see the tape.

Note there's some tape running along the top of the downtube.

A fourth thing was that the bottle cage was a bit loose. I try not to overtighten bottle cages on aluminum frames because the threaded part in the frame are inevitably made with rivnuts. Those strip if you overtighten the bolt. I was a bit too conservative with the torque so the cage got loose. I tightened it up.

The fifth and final thing was that the bolts on the Thomson post are a bit off in length. Instead of two 25mm bolts I need a 40mm and a 20mm, due to the somewhat steep seat tube angle on the Tsunami (75.5 degrees). I replaced the rear bolt for now, skipping the front as it's okay (5mm too long isn't a problem, at least not right now).

The bike, as raced.

With the weather absolutely ideal - 75 degrees, relatively dry at 35% humidity, blue skies, some clouds - I brought the tall Stingers, the Stinger 9 rear and the Stinger 7 front. I had the Stinger 6 front as a spare and the Bastogne rear for the roof rack. I've watched a bike float around in the rack with a carbon rear wheel in place - 75 mph winds can really move a bike around - so I prefer to put a short height aluminum wheel on the bike when it's up on the roof.

I headed out to Rentschler Field a bit behind schedule. I got caught in unexpected traffic - I checked the Verizon Navigator for traffic (in Navigator go to Layers and the first one is traffic - green is good, red is bad) and listened to the radio. Unfortunately something just happened (a car ran into a school bus pretty hard) so traffic slowed to a crawl.

I decided I should call the Missus, who went and picked up Junior and who would meet me at the race. Before I could dial the phone rang.

"Hey, you're 9 cars in front of me on the ramp!"

I looked in the mirror. I saw the Golf with the cool Enkei rims. Heh.

"Hey, I see you!"

No stress - we were early so we had plenty of time, and neither of us would worry about the other in terms of "where are they" kind of thing.

Junior was a bit groggy at first.

The race itself was interesting. I heard through the grapevine (i.e. Facebook) that local hero Ben Wolfe would be at the race. He signed with Jelly Belly Pro Cycling this year, the only pro team that I've seen outside of a race. They impressed me with their professionalism when I met them so I was really happy to see Wolfe sign with them.

A local kid Austin also showed up - he's the current Junior National Crit champ. Fast. Strong.

Some Clif Bar guys showed up too, one regular age racer with two Juniors in tow. I didn't realize the regular age racer was former US Pro RR champ Frank McCormack.

I did a couple laps on the other side of the stadium for warm up and then headed to the most popular spot before a race - the portapotty. Ben and some of his crew were there - he was talking about there being some good guys at the race tonight.

I laughed to myself. Ben was the good guy at the race tonight - he was the only actual pro there. If he says there are some good guys there then there were some really good guys there.

Fitness-wise I wasn't sure about my form. I mean, I know it's bad, but I was hoping to push through some wall today, progress a bit.

Part of this was mental - isn't it always - hence the aggressive wheel selection. With big powerful pros and high level Cat 1s in the race it'd be fast, really fast, and aero would trump everything.

I managed to hold my own for a bit. I really enjoyed the race itself. I felt I made several minor mistakes, mainly with cornering lines relative to others, but everyone was so fluent at pack handling that none of my mistakes made any waves.

In fact I found myself in much closer quarters than normal. I think two factors really pushed this. The first was the high pace - everyone needed shelter because when some top domestic talent hits the front it really hurts. The second was that everyone in the race knew how to race. No real sketchiness, no big bobbles, just good, hard, solid, steady speed.

For me it was just a little too good, a little too hard, a little too solid, and a little too steady.

After 20 minutes of relentless effort my heart rate had inched up into the "I can't really focus really well" zone. I was making more mistakes, I was starting to have difficulty with cornering because I had a hard time seeing the corners clearly, and I started getting really uncomfortable.

In a different race I might have kept pushing, but today it wasn't worth it. After two laps deep in the red I called it quits and sat up.

I knew I had pushed hard when I had absolutely no desire to jump back in, and in fact I never tried.

I got distracted a bit too. Teammate Joel hit the deck in the third turn. He'd gotten further than me because he fell shortly after the field lapped me yet again. I helped him deal with some of the road rash using my own experiences. If you ever get road rash check out the written post and the one with pictures.

The finish.

After the race I went to congratulate Ben on his pro contract. I only know him from seeing him at races and at CCNS, but I never got to properly congratulate him. I'm really happy for him for his success, just like I'm happy for Austin who won Nationals.

As they were getting ready to pack up Ben turned a bit. I noticed something - he used a LOT of pins. Well, maybe not as many as some others, but more than the minimum of four.

"Hey, can I take a picture of your number?"

Ben obliged.

This is a pro pin job. Because a pro pinned it.

The pro showing off his pro pin job.

A pro! Incredible. So awesome.

I've gotten some good humored flak related to my high-pin-count pin jobs. I usually use at least 6 and on "big" days have used as many as 18 or more. To see a pro use a bunch of pins vilified me.

Today I brought my own pins after last Sunday when I ran out of the treasure hunt pins in the car (the ones in the various door pockets left over from other races). I grabbed a few out of the box - 13 to be exact.

Since I didn't want to leave any pins laying around I used all 13.

Cat 3 pin job.

It takes more than pins to go fast. I have the pace for 20 minutes - that seems to be the magic number before I pop. If I can increase that number I'll be okay. For now, though, it is what it is.

Racing - Ben Wolfe Interview

No, I don't have a story about Ben other than he lapped us twice the night before he won the pro race in Beverly, MA. Or that he's been winning everything around here. Or that I screamed myself hoarse cheering him on at this year's Nutmeg State Games. Or... yeah, the list goes on.

However I have an affinity for the Jelly Belly Cycling Team and he signed with them!

PezCycling News caught up to him. Here's the interview.

Racing - 2012 New Britain Crit, M45+, Cat 3s

Ah, another New Britain race. It's a course I've been doing long enough that I did it the last few years before they reversed the course direction to its current counter-clockwise rotation. The reason for reversing the direction isn't very good, but it has to do with a femur, a big rock, and a fast curving S-curve.

Suffice it to say that the counter-clockwise direction is really good.

This last week's been pretty hot, not as bad as most of the country, but still, here, it was hot. With temps forecast in the mid-upper 80s, along with sun, I figured that I'd be racing a bit hot.

Therefore my preparation began the day before when I filled a bunch of insulated bottles (Podium Ice and Podium Chill) with ice cubes and left them in the freezer. They're not very flexible so I didn't want to fill them with water first - the expanding water would probably break the bottles. I did this so the ice cube box would empty out a bit and we would have more ice cubes the next morning.

I also fixed up my bike a bit. The tape I had looked and felt pretty ragged so I quickly rewrapped the bars (I hollered upstairs that it'd be 10 minutes - it took me about 13 all told). I found some Cinelli cork in a bag of spares so I just threw that on.

I also swapped my pedals and adjusted the front derailleur. After my unclip/derail scare at Gimbels I wanted to avoid this. My front derailleur was so far off I wondered to myself if I ever adjusted it when I put the 53T ring on.

I also swapped out the Keo Carbons for some Keo Classics. The only difference between the two were the clamp force - the Keo Carbons were supposed to be good for

With an early start and all the gear to pack in the car (Junior's stuff plus mine), I totally forgot about my ice cube tactic. Oops.

We set out in the fully loaded car. I had two bottles for each of the races plus a couple dump bottles and a 2 liter bottle for rinsing. In a pinch we could use the 2 liter water to help feed Junior too.

With not much time before the start of the race, I found myself still pinning my number at the 2 minute warning. With other riders lining up I figured I better get a move on. Warming up on a hot day is overrated anyway.

Les than 2 minutes to start.

One Podium Ice bottle for this race.

M45s

The first race was the M45+ race, the state championships for CT residents. I wouldn't refuse a medal here but I had no idea how the race would unfold and therefore I limited my goals.

Win gold.

That's pretty good, right? It's a clear goal, it has a solid desired result, I can formulate a plan, and work on executing it.

When I turned 35 I tried a couple Masters races and got shelled pretty hard. I wasn't necessarily out of shape but I was entering races because there wasn't another race I could enter (like Somerville before they gave the 3s a race). Such races were hard anyway, and mixing it up with the elite of the M35s didn't do me much good. I stuck with doing Cat 3 and P123 races for the next ten years (although I did a few M35s in the last few years and I'm sure one or two others I forgot about). This meant that a lot of people didn't know how old I really am.

As someone I've known for about 20 years asked me during the race, somewhat rhetorically (since I was in the race), "You're 45?!"

Yep.

The M45+ race seemed a bit more controlled than what I'd normally see in the 3s. They race a bit more tactical, a bit less chaotically. I had told the Missus that my plan was to sit in, conserve, and sprint. Hopefully in the second race (the 3s) I'd have some gas left over - last time I did this I was a non-factor in the second race because I started cramping.

Therefore I sat in, watched breaks go up the road, watched others chase down the breaks, and waited for the race to wind down. I glanced at my heart rate a few times to see if the numbers seemed out of line - it seems my heart hasn't wanted to go over 160 recently, so to see upper 150s pretty much right away and then low 160s as the race went on, that was good.

I mean, okay, it's a bit high, but it's okay. It's better than seeing 148 and struggling, let's put it that way.

I figured that I'd move up with a few laps to go. My last lap surges don't work so well when I'm not fit so I wanted to give myself some time to recover once I got towards the front.

As we approached 3 to go I saw an opening, my legs felt frisky, and I rolled up the outside. I looked over as I moved up and I saw a lot of suffering faces. Downcast. Sitting up. I knew that the field had been making efforts and now they were just starting to sit up, take inventory, and prepare for the last few laps.

Ahead, almost forgotten, were two riders, Mike M (from the Nutmeg break) and another rider that was very tall.

Tall riders, as you all know, time trial well. That's my stereotype anyway. Plus no one would go off the front at 3 to go if they were a sprinter, right?

Right.

I rolled up to and kind of off the front. Then, with the field gifting me a gap, I rolled up to the break by myself. I carefully slowed to get on their wheels instead of blowing by them (which discourages them from getting on your wheel). They were already off the front so they were a bit tired - I suspect the field was chasing them and trying to bring them under control, and when the field got within 20-30 meters the field sat up.

That's when I rolled across the gap and injected some new hope into the break.

The field, knowing I can't time trial, knowing what happened last time I tried this, let me go. I looked back as I followed the other two around the first turn and the field really had sat up.

The Tall Guy wasn't pulling very hard, Mike wasn't too keen on pulling until he saw what I'd do, so I pulled my heart out when we hit the very beginning on the backstretch.

I worried a bit when I got to the hill - all too often I've pulled up a hill and blown myself up, so I tried to take it fast and then Mike (as it ended up) did a short pull on the slight downhill. Tall Guy was cooked I think and had let Mike through already, then left a gap behind Mike.

Whatever, it was okay. I slotted in behind Mike and hit the front before the final turn. Another long pull for me, to the start/finish sort of, and I was cooked.

I didn't know it until I downloaded the SRM but my heart rate had rocketed up to the mid 170s, numbers I haven't seen since 2010 (and at that point I couldn't sprint).

I begged death and didn't pull for the next half lap, as we slowed down. Mike wasn't about to pull us both and Tall Guy didn't have much gas left. At the top of the hill Tall Guy left a gap, I couldn't think about closing it, and the field rapidly approached.

I poured ice cold water on myself, preparing for the catch. I hoped I'd have something left for the sprint, and I hoped that the chase had hurt a few guys in the field as much as the attack hurt me.

I slotted in fine when the group rolled by on the slight downhill, and on the main straight we passed a totally cooked Mike. Ultimately I couldn't sprint so I rolled in behind the first group. I have no idea how I placed but I was out of the top 6 or so and therefore my place was irrelevant.

Intermission

With a couple hours between races and the temperatures starting to climb, I tried to stay cool, hydrate, and eat a bit of something. I couldn't eat anything solid (the Missus had meticulously prepared some food for me) so I got by with some gels and such. I also managed to drink quite a bit of water, enough so that I started running out and thought I'd have to start with one bottle in the Cat 3s.

If you look carefully you can see Junior.

I salvaged a second insulated bottle by filling it with ice and water from other bottles so I had two bottles for the 3 race, the primary (meaning what I thought I'd need) and the secondary ("extra" in my mind). I'd use the extra until it was gone, then I could be generous with my primary. It's just water - if I want sugar I'd had one gel in my pocket.

Cat 3s

The 3s raced a bit more aggressively. SOC and I had our plan. I thought that SOC had a chance of making a late break, and I knew my only chance would be the field sprint. Easy cheesy.

We both hung out at the back for a while, trying to save our reserves for our respective moves. I had this notion that I could help SOC launch but the reality was that I was in trouble early in the race. I started using up the extra water quickly, running out of a large bottle within 8 laps (of 20). With just a small primary bottle left I had to take it easy on the water. I started to twinge a bit and rolled over to SOC to tell him just that.

He took it to mean I was dropping out, so when I rolled up to him a bunch of laps later, he couldn't help but blurt out, "You're still here!"

I was but I couldn't get far enough up the field to help SOC. I glanced down at my heart rate and saw 160 a couple times, so things were well within parameters. The heat and long day had started to affect me but otherwise things were fine.

On the backstretch coming up on 2 to go SOC launched his planned attack. Another guy had attacked at the start/finish a half lap earlier but unfortunately SOC wasn't in a position to react. With two guys up the road the field started to organize. A local team, promoters of the New London Crit, put three guys at the front and whipped up the pace.

For a lap it looked possible, but the field really started to ramp up the speed and the sun and heat cooked SOC until he turned crispy fried. We rolled by him coming up on the bell so quickly I never saw him, and I optimistically looked up the road for him with half a lap to go.

He wasn't there, of course, so I tried to move up for the sprint. Although I followed an aggressively moving duo I couldn't translate that into a good sprint and I rolled in, again, behind the group fighting for bragging rights.

I glanced down to see if I had a heartbeat and the SRM showed me 180 bpm. Wowsers! I haven't hit that in forever, maybe for 10 years or more. I hit 187 in the late 90s and held 198 (running) just before that, but 180, wow. Hey, at least I worked hard.

Post Race

We debated staying for the P123 race, especially after a funny siting (and for some reason these seem to happen at New Britain). I saw some guy roll towards us in a Jelly Belly kit.

"Who's this guy in the full Jelly Belly kit? What a doo.... on a team issue Focus bike... that's a real Jelly Belly pro!"

It wasn't Jeremy Powers although he rolled by shortly after. I'm sorry to say (apologies!!) I didn't know who the other guy was but it's always a thrill to see that level pro at a local race.

(The last time I mistook a pro for a Cat 5 was at New Britain when the last race of the day was the Cat 5s or Citizen race. I think it was Jim Copeland who was sporting the Chevy LA Sheriff's kit, and while I was warming up for the race I thought, jeepers, this Cat 5 is sporting a full Chevy LA Sheriff kit. The real pro romped around in the race but a very strong Charlie Issendorf soloed in for the win. I was next to Issendorf at some point in the race, looked at his Scott Rakes and decided he was going for the solo move. I watched him attack but I couldn't respond. I guess no one else did either so that wasn't a bad thing.)

The heat, Junior's fatigue, and my hunger made me vote to leave early, even though I'd have liked to watch the pros.

A good day again. Hot, okay, but good. I tried to make something happen in the M45s and I set out with a plan in the 3s. I suppose a lot of this is what a new racer goes through - you want to try all sorts of moves because it's hard to tell what will work for you and what won't. I'd go at the bell, two laps before, half a lap to go, all sorts of stuff. Even when I sprinted I'd jump early or late, mixing things up to see what worked for me.

Ultimately I found the proper formula. For me it's a bit boring - sit in, be near the front at the bell, and sprint. For hard races I used to start moving up at 10 to go, for easier ones at 5 to go. Then as I got older and slower I started reducing the numbers. 7 to go and 3 to go. 3 to go and 1 to go. At one race I was at the back with a friend as we passed the bell. My friend sat up - he was satisfied with his training in the race. I looked at him, grinned, and said, "It's miracle time," and started moving up.

That day I think I got second, maybe I won. My friend couldn't believe it, and, to be honest, neither could I.

Those days are gone though. I'm much slower in the sprint, by a huge margin. My prior strong point is now just average. This means going back to the drawing board and experimenting once again. It makes racing interesting and fun and all that - it's like being a kid again.

Now let's hope for a nice night on Tuesday so the races at the Rent go on.

Being a Pro, Danny Pate style

I read on some forum or blog on one person's view on what being a pro is about. Although I've never been a pro, I imagine that since it's a job, your first duty is to fulfill your employer's wishes. And although it's nice to think that these guys race bikes for fun, I've heard one former top racer (a "friend of Lance" and a former Tour teammate) admit to another pro that "He had been in it only for the money".

To be sponsored is a privilege.

Someone else is giving you something for free. Whether it's a discount (they're giving you their profit margin, essentially giving you money out of their pocket), free product, or, the Holy Grail of sponsorship, money, your sponsor is giving you something of theirs for free. In return, they expect you to do certain things. Very few teams have actual contracts (all pro ones must, and some amateur ones too). But this shouldn't be necessary.

A decent racer respects his sponsors and does everything he reasonably can to promote their business.

I guess this is old school.

Winning Magazine, now gone, used to publish a series of stories under the section "The Bike Shop". In it they had some funny stories, some lesson-type stories, and some sad ones. One that struck me was the story about the shop that whole heartedly sponsored a local team only to have the team riders patronize either other shops or (at that time) mail order.

Granted, there are some differences now with the Internet, 24 hour stores, and instant gratification. Back then things were a bit different - you had to either read the paper for Tour results, and if you were lucky, they'd appear in the Sunday issue. The hardcore racing fan would travel into the city to buy L'Equipe or the pink Giro paper (I forget the name, Regazatta or something like that). TV - well, when CBS broadcasts Paris Roubaix the week before the Tour starts, you know that "timeliness" wasn't a priority. Now, with world wide connections, you hit "refresh" anxiously even though you just got an update a minute ago. Or watch on live feed.

A professional attitude gets you sponsors and keeps them coming back. The professionalism might be quite serious - listen to almost any foreign rider in an English interview - or in a light hearted way. Some of the pro's antics are not "professional" but they are a reflection of the times, in this case a parody, and sponsors decide whether or not to keep them after their stunts.

I posted the picture of the Jelly Belly Team shot because of some of the conversation that went on before and during the picture. Danny Pate, it must be said, is one of the most thoughtful racers a team could hire. If you look carefully, you'll notice that he's wearing full finger gloves. He intentionally found them and put them on, even though he had just been on a very wet training ride with the same gloves on. So there he is in the picture, soaking wet gloves on his hands, and why? Because, as he mumbled to himself when he dug them up, "Someone should be wearing long finger gloves in the picture."

He wants someone like me, who pores over cycling pictures and studies them to no end, to say, "Wow, those are cool gloves, I want to buy a set."

I remember laughing to myself while he was trying to pose himself for the team picture. You see how he has his arm up on the Lexus? He was trying pretty hard to keep from covering the small decals on the rear pillar of the Lexus. First he scooted over so you could see them. Then he had to figure out what to do with his arm. He kept moving it around, one spot, then another, all while trying to look "natural" or at least like a "pro".

Pate's a pro, what can I say.

While in the team presentation meeting (a different but just as rainy day), the racers were duly introduced to the companies putting up the money and resources that would pull the team through the year. Afterwards, the racers looked over what they were getting - after all, the products were new to some of them too (a few weren't even there yet).

Pate and some other "rouleurs" were flexing the soles of different shoes. Apparently, compared to some of the stiffer soled shoes, the shoes on display were on the flexible side. One rider asked Pate if he was going to change shoes. Pate replied with a negative mumble. The rider then piped in, "Oh, right, you're still using the pedals too." Pate replied that, yes, he was giving them an honest shot. Pate didn't want to use other equipment - he was determined to use the sponsor's gear as long as it didn't injure him. Because they sponsored him. They paid him. Because it was his job.

4 months later, at Philly, he was still on the pedals and using the shoes. And did pretty well for himself.

Another professional (hence his position) is Jelly Belly team director Danny Van Haute. He's been through the system, racing for 7-Eleven, Schwinn-IcyHot, and directing this team for a while. In the photo shoot above he had everyone move to uncover the vehicles' door panels. He wanted to make sure that the bikes in the shot had the sponsor's pedals on them (I think they had one which didn't). He wanted the helmets in the shot. Caps. Jerseys pulled snug. Logos lined up. Gatorade bins visible.

Pro.

A few months earlier, at the annual Interbike trade show, he appeared at the booth where the JB vehicle sat, whipped out some decals, and started applying them to strategic points. He had just signed a new sponsor and wanted to make sure that they got the exposure they wanted even at this early stage of the season. He appeared happy (new sponsor!) and serious (job to do) at the same time. He looked over at me and whoever was around me. "You never know when a photographer will show up." Or something like that.

When you're a pro, you're being paid to market your sponsor's products and services. This means you use them and tell everyone they're the best thing since sliced bread. This doesn't mean you go and sell them on eBay and use the money to buy the shoes or pedals or whatever cool gizmo you've been eyeing for the last few months. You don't badmouth them if they don't extend your contract. The next year, when you have your new bike, you say "I love my new bike. It feels really fast. I'm really looking forward to racing at Ronde Van Ris Flanbaix Remo Liege Flanderarden race."

Remember the pro's job - to market and sell the sponsors goods and services.

And though it's pretty clear that a Cat 3 (like me) is not a pro, sponsorship, to me, is always pro.

What would Pate think in your position?

It's a privilege.

Treat it as such.

California - Day Eight - Old School, or how things should be

A quick preview:
1. One pro siting.
2. Ride with a guy who last changed the world of road cycling.
3. No Palomar.

I had set today aside as a Palomar assault day - sunny skies at 8, no rain forecasted, and legs that were (hopefully) fresh. I packed up gear for the expected cold descent (jacket, vest, knee warmers) and set off in shorts and a long sleeve setup.

Within a few miles I was passing multiple rose stands. At home there are a few here and there but in California... well, put it this way - if the woman asks for roses and the guy doesn't deliver, there's no excuse. Anyway, after passing about 10 of these stands at one intersection, I realized something - my fiancee was working from home today due to the severe weather in Connecticut. And the roses I ordered are being delivered to her office.

Doh.

I called her and explained that, in so many words, she wouldn't be getting anything today. She laughed and said she figured that would happen but that she understood. I guess that's why we're engaged. We chatted for a while until I pointed out I was working sort of hard on a climb and should go.

At the top, a guy caught me at the light. He asked if things were okay since I was going so slow. Slow? I mean, okay, I wasn't rocking and rolling but I wasn't going that slow. Was I? Well, I was. He closed a few minutes on a relatively short climb.

When he found out I was going to Palomar he asked if I'd like to join his group - their route would pass close to the base of the mountain. I didn't want to cause problems though (if they all climbed like him I'd be severely slowing the group) but he waved off my concerns. He called this guy Jim (Pete doesn't have a cell phone) but they were on the climb up to the intersection where we stood so they didn't answer the phone.

"So who are these guys?", I asked, concerned they'd be, say, some hotshot Masters team.
"Oh, it's a good bunch. Pete Penseyres is one of them."
"Pete like RAAM?"
"Yes."
I motioned the aero bar position.
"That Pete?"
"Yes."

Okay, screw Palomar. Pete Penseyres is the last guy to radically change the world of road cycling. Since 1984 there have been four major innovations in road (and track) cycling - clipless pedals, disk and aero wheels, brake-shift levers, and the aero bars. Pete made the first set of aero bars ever in March 1986 for the 1986 Race Across America. He ended up winning with a record time that still stands. Three years later, Greg Lemond used a many-generation removed version to win the 1989 Tour de France with much of his gains resulting from powerful time trial performances using aero bars.

His invention is more significant than brake-shift levers and just as significant as aero wheels and clipless pedals. Think about what you can downgrade on a current bike and still perform.

Aero wheels save time and you'd be at a huge disadvantage if you took them off. I give them props.

Ergo or STI levers? Not a huge difference. I know because I only lost some of my sprint advantage when they came out. This is because I used a bar-end shifter and could sprint while shifting without Ergo or STI levers. Now everyone expects to be able to shift without taking their hands off the bars. No props.

Clipless pedals? Aside from the safety factor, they are a lot more comfortable. However, their ultimate reliability is sometimes suspect. Take a look at some recent track events to verify this. So mixed props for the pedals.

Aero bars? Tell a time trialist he can't use them. It would destroy his chances against those so equipped. They're so effective they've been banned from mass start races. And the new Hour Record forbids the use of aero bars, again because they're so effective. You want a cycling revolution on your hands? Forbid aero bars completely.

Anyway, being able to meet Pete Penseyres was a great honor so I nixed my other plans for the day. Like I've said before, you have to be able to adapt.

We're standing there and suddenly, swoosh, a Jelly Belly pro goes by. Turns his head, waves Hi. At least he waved and looked. Gone. He's flying. Pro Siting number 4.

Pete, his brother Jim, and a few others showed up. I cautiously rode behind the front group, trying not to make waves. After all, it would be in poor form to be the one to take out Pete Penseyres.

He ended up introducing himself to me. Although I had no expectations either way, he ended up being a great guy. Friendly, smart, and pleasant to be around. No attitude, no snobbiness, nothing like that. It brought me back to when I was 14 and learning how to ride in a group. I was surrounded by riders anxious to teach me how to ride the right way, without attitude, with respect for those around.

Old School.

Bicycles, although vehicles in their own right, should not impede on others. So he'd tell people to clear a driveway so someone (picking up roses) could pull through. He'd recommend getting off the road when changing a flat, instead of standing on the shoulder. He pointed at things in the road. He waited at the top of all the climbs - and since he can climb, he had to wait every time. If the road was narrow and there was traffic behind, he'd call out to "Single up!"

It was an absolute pleasure riding in a group like that. No swearing, no gesturing, just getting along with everyone else.

That would have been enough for me. But it went further. Everyone in the group chatted with me, asked me where I was from, asked about work, etc. Nothing too bike-centric like "How do you like those bottle cages?" or "I tried those wheels and hated them." Nothing too snobby like "Oh, just a Cat 3?" No racist jokes, nothing unpleasant. Just good, whole hearted topics.

The one time they asserted themselves was when we reached the jump-off point for Palomar. One guy (Ves, the one who flew up the climb to me) looked out at the distant peak.

"You should ride with us. The peak is covered in clouds and it will be cold and raining. Perhaps snowing since it's cold down here."

Mind you, it was 65 degrees and I was in shorts. So I didn't think it was cold. But I heeded his advice and stayed with them.

They took me all over the place. Rice Canyon, some Kruse Canyon or something, a two mile climb on Lake Wolford-ish Road, nice, meandering, quiet roads.

We were carving some nice arcs on a descent when I rounded a curve and felt the rear wheel slide about a foot.

Flat.

I slowed, raised a hand, and yelled "Flat!".

They stopped. How cool is that!

Pete (or Jim, his brother) said "I saw you move sideways and thought, 'That's not like him' ". Heh. The translation is "You ride a bike reasonably well so a move like that was unexpected."

I changed the flat and we dropped into the fastest, curviest, most fun descent I've been on. I'm sooo glad I didn't flat on that bit because I'd have done a header into the cliff or taken flight off the edge. That was the Kruse Canyon road.

Another highlight was when I actually pulled up a reasonably long climb and no one went around me. I didn't want to pull hard enough to hurt people, I just wanted to maintain a pace consistent enough so I would have less distance to make up at the end. It didn't work out that way though - it ended up being good enough so the others were content following and I had zero distance to make up.

The final great part of the ride was riding back to the house with Lance, a guy who happens to live in the area. He guided me back to the area for a while, passing the rose stands which started the whole day for me.

There are only a few times I've called my fiancee when I've barely gotten off the bike. The first time (and the time that I realized that perhaps she could be my fiancee) is when I won the 2002 Connecticut Criterium Championships.

This was the second time.

It was that great of a day.

California - Day Two - Palomar attempt #1

So a few stories from today but the main goal, doing Palomar, remains unmet. I started off a bit too late (due to some stomach issues in the morning, buying chainring spacers, and some misc errands) and had to turn back about 8 or 9 miles short of the summit. I did some glutes and hamstring work, hit only 49.7 mph on a 9% descent (couldn't tuck comfortably with the headlight on the bars), let a truck pass and then chased it down (that was fun), and remembered that climbing Palomar is a total struggle.

I sometimes have a hard time understanding what people feel when they say certain things. I mean I hear what they're saying but I don't feel the feeling. Let me explain. I'd like to think I understand how, say, our cats feel about getting massages. Cats have some instinctive protectiveness but if you get past that, they can relax and enjoy something like a foot massage, a shoulder massage, or the classic scritch. Same with babies - they love foot rubs, even ear rubs (I figured that out after I realized the cats like ear rubs).

So I seem to understand non-verbal cues (sometimes). But when someone says "that's too fast" (my fiancee when we're on the tandem and drafting a truck going 45 mph) or "My goal is to finish that ride" (pretty much any non-racing cyclist), it doesn't register.

Now it does. I started getting nervous on the bike once I hit 45 mph. It didn't used to be that way but I think the steep hill, the 200 or 300 foot cliff on the other side of the guard rail, and the very rough looking pavement dropping down in front of me had something to do with it. So now I understand that going too fast for comfort is, well, uncomfortable.

I also realize that just finishing a ride is a noble goal. I have to since it's become my main goal for the whole trip. "Do Palomar".

On to the stories.

So the first story, not a pleasant one. I was carving some turns on a nice descent and came around a bend at about 40 mph. A pick up truck was waiting to pull out of a driveway to my left. The driver looked right at me and pulled out about 50 feet in front of me. I paused and prepared to hit my brakes but it looked like he'd made a good left and there'd be room on the right for me to use till he got up to speed. So I kept coasting, rapidly closing the distance to his truck. He looked in his rearview mirror for a good second and then jerked the wheel over, tossing the truck into the shoulder. I slammed on my brakes to avoid having a taillight implanted in my forehead.

And when I recovered, I gave him the finger.

Now I normally don't do such things. But two intentional actions (pulling out right in front of me and then veering hard into the shoulder) meant this guy wasn't checking to see if my front rim was a box sectioned 32 hole (which it is). Whatever. He promptly took off.

Second story, I had just finished descending a 3 mile, 9% "hill" (at home, we'd call that thing thar a mountain) and was stretching and trying to get the "tuck" (as in aero tuck) out of my back. Suddenly I heard the distinctive sounds of a "rally" crash. That's different from a "car" crash because car crashes involve two metal objects smashing into each other. A rally crash is one car hitting something like a tree or wall.

This time, it was stones of some sort. I looked up to see a car going about 30 mph ungracefully straddling a foot-tall stone wall which separated the road from an orange grove. It kept tipping from one side to the other. With a flat front tire, the car looked hard to control and it slithered around. It didn't help that the chassis of the car was high enough that the other tires only hit the ground sporadically. As I watched, the car slid left back onto the road, pieces of rock wall flying, almost spinning in the process.

The driver definitely had his hands full. I realized it was a first generation Integra, and I was thinking "what a dope, he lowers his car so much when he has a flat the chassis hits". He slithered enough that, even though he was about 100 yards away, I started mentally preparing to jump the wall to my right to escape a possible out of control car.

His car would slide every time the wheels hit a little bump. This meant he had no suspension movement - which implied he lowered the car by cutting the springs, another Einstein move. Another red flag. I starting thinking about unclipping a foot.

I couldn't resist watching this guy though. I noticed something and looked closer. His other front tire was flat. Doh. No wonder he couldn't steer - he had no tires up there. Try riding a flat front clincher - now imagine your car like that.

He passed me, smashing the wall regularly but keeping his wheels mostly turned right - driving kind of like the old Tyco slotless car sets I never had. He was sawing away at the wheel, the seat was pretty low, then I realized something.

BOTH his back tires were flat. He was driving on his rims!

I actually looked around for the police chopper that should be chasing this guy but no such luck. I kept riding and the guy eventually turned off the road.

On the way back, I saw the wall damage from his "Integra Grind" move, then a lot of oil on the ground in staggering type pattern - like a bleeding animal (and this bleedout was probably terminal for the engine). The trail led... to the farm's driveway.

That's when it dawned on me. The Integra was an NFR - Not For Road use - a farm vehicle. The driver (probably a kid) was driving this thing around the orange trees when he lost control and bashed over the dividing wall.

Still, it doesn't explain the four flat tires.

Third, I had my first pro siting - the Jesus Christ guy from Jelly Belly (the guy on the left). I call him that because he looks just like the image the movies and books use to portray him. He, alas, was going the other way. If he wasn't, I'd have kicked his butt. Haha. Not a chance. Apparently they just had their training camp in San Marcos. That happens to be, oh, say, about 3 miles from where I'm staying. They also think knowing about cornering lines are important because they did another kart session in Carlsbad.

Finally, in continuation with my rediscovery of road speeds, it seems that in a pursuit type effort (well, maybe more like a kilo effort) I can sustain about 94-96 rpms in a 53x12 - 34 mph. This was 65 or so miles into my ride so it wasn't like I was doing it fresh. The only catch was I couldn't hold it very long.

I arrived back after about five and a half hours of riding. Consumed three bottles of water, one bottle of PowerAde (I wanted Gatorade in deference to the current National Football Champs but the moronic store has the shelves jammed so tight together you can't tilt the bottles at all so they won't come out of the fridge thing). No food, no gels. Incroyable. A fat burning ride I suppose. My legs are pretty sore.

Tomorrow is an easy day - like a transition day but way easier. I hope to run an errand or two.

Finally, we just checked - my friend has a Mac with firewire something and my camcorder has firewire. So hopefully I'll be able to show a tape of what I see, rather than trying to describe it.

Now for some much needed sleep.