Helmet Cam - 2013 NE Masters Crit Champs, M35+

A surprising race for me, riding well beyond my expectations, riding with 4 much stronger Expo Wheelmen teammates, and then getting a little help at the end from a friend and Bethel Spring Series Clinic instructor Shovel. Race report is here, but watching is probably easier.

 
A still picture for thumbnail purposes  

Enjoy!

Racing - August 18, 2013 Bob Beals M35+ Race Report

I'm going out of order here so I'll have to figure out how I'll deal with that. I haven't written a race report since forever, and in the meantime I've not only done a race but I've even worked one. Then I got sick and yada yada yada and now here I am.

So Sunday August 18th was the Bob Beals New England Masters Championships. They're usually at around this time of year and it's usually a solid group of racers, experienced and savvy. Last year I had a blast doing the race, even though I didn't do that well.

This year I expected worse. In my race on August 10th I lasted all of 9 minutes. I'd worked some crazy hours that weekend, then dealt with a sick Junior and taking care of some stuff for my family. I myself got sick and started rapidly consuming our stock of Dayquil just to get through the day.

Coming up to the weekend I felt pretty pessimistic. I was so pessimistic that I even let my teammates talk me into doing the M35+ race, not the (typically slower) M45+ race. My pessimistic thought process went something like, "Well, if I'm going to get shelled in 10 minutes in a race, I might as well line up with some teammates."

With that in mind the Missus, Junior, and I headed down to the Rhode Island shore, to one of the stalwart course of the area, Ninigret Park. A figure eight loop it's flat, sits on a former WW2 airfield, and, over 30 years ago, it was where I finished my first race.

On this day I'd line up with my regular teammate and friend, SOC, just like last year. However we would be joining a trio of leg breaking strongmen - Dave, Todd, and Stan. Dave typically attacks until he drops, doing fun stuff until his legs go. He's managed to win races doing this so it's not like he just blows himself up, sometimes his efforts take him to the line first. Dave is a Cat 2 so normally we don't race together.

Todd is another confirmed legbreaker, with some very good rides to his credit. He's mainly a 'cross racer, and a Masters National Champ at that, so in crits he does them "just for training". He's either a Cat 1 or Cat 2 so, again, normally we don't race together.

If only I could go so well "in training".

Stan would be our wild card. A superbly aggressive racer, Stan has won sprints but prefers to get into breaks. He won the Plainville Cat 3-4 Series this spring and has been on a roll this year. We've raced a few times but I've been usually off the back so, yeah, whatever.

With teammates like these SOC and I would be (happily) relegated to domestique duty.

Before the races, during our warm up, we got together a few times. For me, as someone with 10 minutes expectation in my head, I didn't mind what they discussed because I wouldn't be there at the end. The progression of thought made me smile though - you could sense the collective excitement grow as time went on.

First it was the, "Okay, guys, we're just here to race. We don't want to dictate the race. We'll let the other guys attack, we'll follow, and if something works out then it works out."

Five minutes later it changed a bit. "Hey, I think what we'll do is we should be able to get a couple of us off the front. Dave and Todd will be the leaders, Stan will be the wild card, and you and SOC cover."

Then just before the start we got together one more time. "Okay, guys, we're going to try and get Dave, Todd, and Stan in a break. You and SOC cover the field, help get us away. If we miss a move then we need to ride hard to bring it back, steady, not a lap then blow. Got it?"

You can see the progression from "We're just racing" to "Okay we're going to deliver a knockout blow."

We lined up, got our final instructions from the chief ref, and we were off. Crits start either slow or fast and today it was slow. I immediately moved to the front so I could participate in my 10 minutes of racing. Look, if I'm going to get shelled, I at least want to get in an effort or two. So to the front it was, totally unlike my normal tactic when I race for myself.

From left, in red/black Expo kit, Dave, Todd, and Stan.

Dave was most alert of the trio of leaders and he responded to a few digs right away. Todd hung around in the vicinity, following any secondary moves, and Stan sat a few wheels back, watching and waiting. SOC was getting his legs warmed up so he sat back for a bit.

"What just happened?"

Early in the race I moved up the right side just before someone way over on the left did something. The field swerved to their right, toward me. A guy I just passed, in an orange kit, ended up getting something in his front wheel, probably a skewer or a derailleur. His wheel almost totally disintegrated, he somehow managed to roll his bike to the grass.

Against all the "rules" we all looked to see what happened - that's the picture above. Normally if something happens you keep your eyes forward because you don't want to be part of a secondary crash - it's like the rubber necking crash on the other side of the highway from the "actual" crash. In this field though I guess everyone felt comfortable looking.

The consensus after the incident is that the disintegrating-front-wheel guy did an awesome job staying upright. No one else got caught up in the incident and the race went on normally.

Legs are breaking!

Note single file and the gaps. You have to imagine the pain.

About a third of the way into the race our trio started doing some damage to the field. Stan had countered after a flurry of failed attacks. Taking advantage of the field taking a collective breath, he launched on his own. He can do that too, not like me and my one lap escapades.

After a lap or so a couple guys went after him. Then, with the three clear, Dave followed a move then counterattacked when the rider in front eased. Todd had followed other racers so he was in the select group on Dave's wheel. Suddenly seven more riders were going clear.

All of the Expo leaders were in the break.

SOC and I went to the front to cover moves.

Break is to the right of the picture, they've just exited the backside right turn.

SOC was much more active than me. The move that pulled the seven chasers clear really hurt me and I was struggling just to stay on wheels. Once the break got away and the immediate chasers all eased I moved to the front to see if I could help.

Ultimately SOC did much of the marking until the break had a good half lap on us. I marked a move or two but that was it. After that I hid in the field, tried to do one more lap, one more lap, one more lap.

The break is to our left, half a lap up.

The nightmare is that we have three in the break of ten and they work too hard and don't do well. I tried to see what was happening in the break when we passed each other on the two main straights (front and back straight). I felt a bit worried when I kept seeing non-Expo riders riding away from the group, Expo guys chasing hard. The non-Expo guys realized the threat our trio held so they tried to break the group into smaller pieces.

Once the break got half a lap ahead SOC did a one lap pull, to be nice to the others. I don't think it helped make them feel better but one rider did comment that "we're finally in a good rhythm" when SOC did that pull. SOC wasn't about to tell him that his plan from there forward was to sit at the back with me and wait for the finish.

When I heard 7 to go I realized that, okay, I may have a chance at finishing this race. I didn't feel absolutely stressed, no cramps, no weirdness, no emptiness in my legs. A glimmer of hope lit up inside of me.

At 5 to go I thought it a possibility.

At 2 to go I knew I'd make it. Now I had to deal with positioning and all that - the good stuff in a crit.

Shovel, to my right, finds me inside 2 to go.

We're both a few seconds behind the front of the field.

As we came around to the back straight I noticed someone on my right. I looked and looked again - it was Shovel. He rolled up, looked over, caught my eye, and started rolling hard.

I got on his wheel.

Just before we got the bell I chose to go right when the group scattered a bit. Shovel, overlapped to the left, was stuck out there. I felt the right/middle to be a better spot so I went there, and I hoped that Shovel would be back.

Shovel, now with half a lap to go, finds me again.

He didn't disappoint me. He found me in the same spot on the course and this time didn't even bother looking. He rolled by, glanced to make sure I was there, and kept going.

Dead Zone - Shovel starts to go.

When we got into the Dead Zone, the bit of course totally obscured by trees and bushes, he pushed a bit harder, getting into his Cane Creek mass-start legal aero bars.

I followed.

Final two-part bend ahead.

White speck about to go out of view is Kyle, who was away for a couple laps.

I didn't see Kyle at this point - I didn't know anyone was ahead of the field except the break. I did know that I always get nervous, expecting to be swamped, and so I decided I'd jump as early as I dared.

Just as we rounded the first part of the two part final bend I glanced back, saw the left was clear, and jump hard.

Arg!

My HR was 172 when I jumped - I had no idea it was so high. I prefer jumping at under 165 bpm.

Overgeared, pedals turning in slow motion, I looked up and thought, "Wow, I went waaaaay too early". I looked down, tried to see if anyone was about to blast around me, and saw no one. I looked up again. The finish line didn't look any closer. Down. No one coming around. Up. Jeepers the finish is still so far away. And is that Kyle in front of me?

I eased just before the line because I didn't see anyone sprinting so I thought maybe I was committing a faux pas. I saw Kyle too, looking intently to make sure it was him - Specialized jersey, bike, the white or silver helmet. Yes, it was Kyle. He'd been in the field so he must have made a big move at least a lap ago, maybe two laps or more before the finish.

On our cool down lap Dave rolled by SOC and me. He gave a thumbs up, and Stan later confirmed that Dave had won the race. This made SOC and me smile because, really, that's the way we'd hoped it would work out.

Thumbs up. Yes!

Shovel's leadout got me the field sprint, if you count Kyle as being a chaser off the front for a couple laps. That was enough to get me second, and, 

Here's a view from Mrs SOC:

(Video from SOC)

Ends up I was 12th in the race - 10 rider break, Kyle, then me. SOC, who totally sat up going into the sprint ("nothing to sprint for") finished 44th officially. He grinned when he learned that I got 12th - he'd been a few wheels behind me and he'd killed me in most of the sprints we've done on our own. I think next time he'll be sprinting.

Overall a good day. Going in with zero expectations, hoping to last more than 10 minutes, and winning the field sprint (I'm going to say Kyle was a chase/break rider)... it was all good.

As a bonus I had Strava'ed the race. I saw something about second best time on the final sprint, a segment in Strava. When clicked through to the segment I saw my rank as 4th.

4th?

Ends up that last year, in my surprise good-sprint where I had to sprint early and then passed a bunch of the field, was a 12 second sprint, 41.7 mph Strava says. Three riders have done that same sprint in 11 seconds. In this race I did the final sprint in 14 seconds, the second fastest time I've done it.

That was a nice thing to see. Of course now I want to do a 10 second sprint. Haha. We'll see.

Racing - Aug 18, 2012 NE Masters Crits

Anyone that's been following my posts or seen me at the races knows that this year my fitness is pretty low, even for me, and that I struggle simply to finish races. I had a few reasonable races in the spring, at Bethel, but that almost doesn't count - it's my home turf, so to speak, and the course is about as optimal for me as it can get.

Last week was about as bad as it gets. In less than 5 miles I warmed up, started the race, got shelled, let the group lap me twice, jumped back in, sat up, and rode to the car.

That's a lot of nothing in 5 miles.

It's only natural that I felt a bit leery about this Sunday's race, the New England Masters Criterium Championships. Granted I had a reasonable race here back in May or something, but that was May or something. It was also an M45 race, not an M40. Back then I was still okay on the bike. Now I'm worse than I was back then.

Nonetheless we headed out. The Missus has some good friends that come to the races, everyone likes Junior, and I'm okay with getting shelled if that's what I'm meant to do.

I drove to the race this time, skipping sitting in the back seat. I didn't want to spend a couple hours back there, get to the race really queasy, and not be able to race (I think that was a huge part of last Tuesday's debacle, along with incredible fatigue). A good night's rest on Friday, a pretty tame Saturday, and a good night's sleep on Saturday helped tilt the odds in my favor.

Of course I didn't ride at all since Tuesday so my legs would be very, very, very fresh.

That's how I describe it anyway.

 Before the race.

I brought a bike bag for Shovel so he could bring his bike to Nationals. He returned some loaner wheels. Normally I don't bring so many wheels.

I got to the race with plenty of time before the start of the M40+ race. I registered, making sure that the check was made for the right amount. The registration folks noted that there was a $10 day of race fee. I told them I prefer to register day of race so I can pay the promoter more money.

(It's also nice because the promoter can count on pre-reg and day-of becomes a bonus.)

I guess that surprised them. For most races this holds true. I'm lucky that my fields don't fill; I sometimes pre-reg to assure myself a spot in the field.

They offered pins. I declined. It's a small thing, promoters paying for pins. It's $15 for 1440 pins, but it's still $15. I try to bring my own (this year I've been really good about it). I figure I got pins from 3 races. They get rusty so I have to unpin right away. I toss any rusty pins because they ruin your jersey at the very least, give you strange diseases at worst.

Number in hand I returned to the car. The Missus knew I needed to actually warm up a bit. With no ride since Tuesday's paltry race I'd need to ease my legs back into racing efforts. A leisurely warmup would help me immensely.

She made me promise to actually warm up, not to talk too much with the inevitable friends and people I see. After pinning my number, getting my race wheels up to pressure, and my electronics all straightened out (Sportsiiiis on but no HR strap - missed it somewhere), I rolled out.

And of course started talking with random riders warming up or cooling down.

I managed about 30 minutes of easy spinning, one minor jump to test the legs (they felt very, very, very fresh to put it politely), and a minute or two with SOC who wanted to make sure his rear tire was okay (it was).

With that we lined up for a smallish field, maybe 40 riders or so. M40+ so kind of appropriate. Some riders had just finished the 50+ so there would be some tired legs, but like the Leg Breakers at the Rent, these guys weren't too put off with the prior race. Me, I'd be thinking about rolling to the car. They were just getting warmed up.

Everyone looking down. Clipping in.

I discretely motioned to SOC, straddling his bike to my left. I wanted to point out some danger riders.

"That guy there (I point to my right) just won solo."
"Oh."
"That guy up there is one of the brothers."
"Oh."
"That's K."
"Oh."

Our plan went from "let's see what happens" to if the move goes and he felt okay, he should go. If not then we'd focus on the field sprint for whatever place.

I already met my goal of riding more than 5 miles, even if it was while I chatted with others. More honestly I wanted to not get too embarrassed, make it at least for a bit. If I could finish the race that would be great.

Anything more would be a bonus.

We started off and the field immediately strung out. The wind, so prevalent at Ninigret (a seaside former airfield), felt almost absent. That meant a reasonable tailwind on the finish stretch but the cross vectors worked out so that there wasn't really a massive crosswind anywhere.

The field, single file. Literally.

A few times a break would get a bit up the road but the reaction would pull everyone elastic-like back together. Finally, about halfway into the race, the proverbial break seemed to have gone up the road. I saw some good riders up there.

The gap, though, held steady at about 20 or so seconds. If I could get up to SOC and launch him off the front, I might be able to close half the gap before he'd see the wind. If that was the case he might be able to bridge.

I looked for an ally too, hedging on our move. I went up to Shovel, a good 55+ racer. Unfortunately he'd just done a huge turn at the front and he seemed a bit out of sorts. He didn't hear me and I really didn't hear him.

I asked him, "Do you want to bridge?"
"Grubumpiorhispts."

Water from his bottle streamed out of his mouth, his face looked red from effort, and he wasn't looking very enthusiastic about making another huge effort.

I took that to mean "no" so I moved on.

After the race he asked me what I asked him. Apparently this is what he heard:

I roll up to him, turn my head to him.
"Grubumpiorhispts?" I ask.
"What did you say?" he replies.
By then I'd rolled away.

I got to the front two laps later than I should have, but my tactical wants and my legs' power didn't match each other. The tactics had to wait for two laps while I first gathered my breath to move up, then move up, and finally get near the front.

I saw SOC and called out his name. Apparently when I want to be discrete I'm yelling in my head but whispering out loud. I'm not sure he heard me because he basically ignored me.

I slapped my hip, the universal sign for "get on my wheel".

That he saw. He pulled out of the line of riders at the front and moved over to my wheel.

My view when SOC got on my wheel.

I gunned it.

Normally I don't like moving from very far back because I use half my attack just getting to the front. In this case it wasn't as critical - I wasn't going to be doing the actual bridging. More importantly the break had a couple more laps of freedom than I thought prudent - I knew the gap would be very hard to close.

The front is a bit splintered, with gaps here and there. This means it's a good time to go.

I went wide around the last turn because I didn't want to be too close to the others - I didn't want to bring everyone, just SOC and maybe one or two others.

Wade looks over as we go by. "Really?"

I looked back and saw that I'd gapped SOC just a bit; I eased just a touch.

Once we hit the straight I looked down and saw SOC's shadow directly behind me. I drilled it. I consciously moved my hands to the hoods, hoping this would give SOC a bit more draft.

I looked up to focus on our target.

Oh.

I circled the break in the picture. It feels about as close to us as Curiosity is to Earth.

I shifted up, went harder, went faster. I had to get SOC within 10 seconds of the break before I blew up, so maybe 120-130 meters. If I dropped him off too far he'd blow up before he bridged.

I only made it down the main straight before the booster rockets ran out. I guess that run up the side for the whole straight before ate up some of my very limited "boost". I swung left to let SOC go but he had moved left also. A little misstep in the dance but he got going.

SOC going. The break is just going off-picture to the left.

We're not 100m away, more like 200m.

I looked to see where the break was relative to us. We were much too far. SOC would have a good 14-15 second gap to close. I figure a rider is good to close a 10 second gap solo. 15 seconds starts to push it so this would be touch and go.

I tried to recover before the field caught me. A good sign of our gap was that after SOC went I still managed to get around two corners and basically reach the third one before the field came by me. Some riders launched some belated counterattacks but it was too late - the last train had left the station, and it had one passenger: SOC.

I almost dropped out of the race but I grimly hung in there, the Dark Place, hoping the suffering would ease. I went into a tunnel vision place, a place I hadn't visited in a long time. I could only see the bikes immediately in front of me, the back half of them at that. I couldn't see beyond that - I was in that position that if people started stacking it up in the front I'd be tumbling over them a few seconds later.

I'd just lectured a newer racer about the importance of looking up so I tried to follow my own advice. I looked up when I could, to be more aware of what was happening in front of me. At least three times, though, I looked up and realized that I had no clue what had just happened beyond a 5 foot radius around me.

Finally I returned to some kind of normal discomfort. I managed to actually look around. I looked up the road for SOC. He dangled precariously off the back of the break.

Riders started congratulating me on making a good move, a smooth launch. They assumed that SOC bridged immediately. I deferred, pointing out that SOC had to bridge and sort of recover before I could call it a successful move.

I kept looking as we rounded corner after corner. SOC got within 5 or so seconds of the break but faltered. They were too steady, too fast, and SOC dangled tantalizingly out of reach until his legs went. That extra straight in the wind, before we went by the front of the field, probably cost him the bridge. If I had ridden a bit smarter or, more accurately, had a bit more gas, I could have brought him another 4-5 seconds closer and he'd have bridged. But I didn't and he didn't.

A few laps later he rolled backwards into the field.

No one said anything.

After he came back from the Dark Place (he too almost got shelled when he got caught), we both went about trying to do some kind of a sprint at the end of the race.

I did manage to slam my pedal to the pavement at some point. I remember SOC quickly rolling past after, kind of like what you do when a teammate makes a mistake and you really don't want to be around him, so I asked him if I'd caused any problems with my pedal dig.

"No, it didn't faze you so it didn't faze anyone else."

Some more resin donated to Ninigret Park.

I didn't want to use any of my reserves moving up, choosing instead to sprint from pretty far back. Problem was that a bunch of guys, their teammate/s in the break, sat up with half a lap to go. Three of them happened to be in the center of the group. The front half of the group ride away from us. The back half... that's where I was sitting.

A couple riders rolled by, I tagged along, but we hadn't made contact by the time the sprint started.

That group ahead is just starting to sprint.

Yeah, oops.

I never really jumped per se (1140w max), I just rolled hard all the way to the line. It was a much longer effort than a normal sprint - I'd have waited until after the turn to sprint, instead of going 100-150m before that turn. Nonetheless it was okay.

End of sprint.

In the end I probably got 20th or so (that's my generic guess whenever I'm not in the top 6 or so but not dead last).

In the medium picture, compared to last Tuesday, this race went super well. I finished, I did one (exactly one) move, and I had a medium sprint. Without much on the line it wasn't a super intense one, and I even stopped pedaling about a second before the line, but hey, it's all good.

I rolled for half a lap cool down then returned to the Missus and Junior. SOC had some unexpected news when they announced his name. Apparently on the lap we went they rang the bell for a field prime. We joked afterwards - we had a bigger goal in mind so we'd launched like we meant business. We could just hear the conversation in the field behind us.

"Wow, those guys want it bad. Man, for $10? If they need it that bad we should let them have it."

Apparently as surprised as we were the guy that thought he won it was even more surprised. When he crossed the line, thinking he had the prime, SOC was already a good 15+ seconds ahead.

We camped out for the final race, the M30+. It had a feel of the Rent when Max and Tim jumped away to an early lead. At one point gaining 25 seconds, they got caught by four others and that break won the race. Just like a Rent.

I was distracted by Junior and had to take a few pictures of him. He's a bit over 5 months old now, and weighs probably more than any one of our cats (our biggest is about 15 lbs). Junior can't crawl, really doesn't like to roll back onto his back, but he readily rolls onto his stomach and then kicks away with his feet like one of those army guys.

Well not really, the army guys actually crawl forward. Junior just kicks. We need to get him a kick board, he'd probably get going on one of those.

 Kicking but not going anywhere. Yet.
Very intent look on his face.

With the races over I finally packed up the car and unpinned my number, tossing the pins in the door side pocket. For the next race.

The Pin Job. No Flapping Allowed.

We headed out for a well earned meal, some conversation, and relaxation. Junior started to melt down so we had to head home a bit early, but it was all good.

Good weather, good race, good company.

Good times.

*edit some Strava screen shots from that day:

Finish/sprint screen shot

Fast lap screen shot (launch the chase)

SOC's chase (3rd)

My overall Strava day