Racing - Boycott?

A few weeks ago I started thinking about permitting the Bethel Spring Series for 2013. This is later than normal - I've been a bit preoccupied with Junior and, honestly, I let time slide by before I put in my official request for permission to hold the race. At that point I'm waiting for the town to sign off on the races and then I'll start the rest of the process. I feel it's too presumptuous to go ahead and start working on stuff before hearing from the town.

Plus, in my eye, it's bad karma to start work on something before I know I'm allowed to do it.

All this stuff made me think of Greg Lemond's open letter to the UCI. He says many things but one thing in particular affects me - boycotting USA Cycling. He asks everyone to boycott USAC and not get a license for 2013.

This isn't like me skipping a year when licenses were good for 13 months, and where I could race for a year without actually paying for a license.

This is like not racing USAC for a year.

I've always believed in the system, forcing change through involvement rather than open rebellion. I don't know why but that's the way I am. I told other promoters that asked me about this that they should permit their races through USAC. If they really felt strongly about how USAC should be run they should run for the board of directors of NEBRA (or whatever local association serves their region) and, eventually, apply for a position in Colorado.

Other promoters have tried to hold races without USAC backing. Curiously enough they use USAC officials, USAC forms, and USAC rules. I attended one race that had always been USAC but, to my surprise, in 2012 the promoter went the non-USAC route.

It seemed a bit wrong - asking for my USAC license (why? what good is that in a non-USAC event?), using the same (USAC) officials as the other weeks, running by the same (USAC) rules...

For a moment I wanted to say that I wanted to do the Cat 3 race and I didn't have a USAC license with me. What would prevent me from racing without showing my license? What would prevent me from entering the Cat 4 race. Or a Pro/1 race for that matter?

I decided not to make waves and raced my race, somewhat unsuccessfully.

Apparently I wasn't as firmly entrenched in my support of USAC as I thought because I did that race. Generally speaking I wouldn't have attended an event that wasn't USAC permitted, but in that case I didn't realize they went non-USAC, it's a long time race (I think I did it in 1983 for the first time), and, although not necessarily the same one from '83, I wanted to support the promoter.

In fact I raced twice that day, paying the day-of fee for the first race. When someone at registration pointed out that I could have saved myself the day-of fee by registering online I pointed out in return that I would give more money to the promoter by registering on the day of the race.

Therefore that's what I generally do.

So anyway, that's sort of my thoughts on USAC vs non-USAC in a nutshell. I prefer USAC races, I generally don't do non-USAC ones, but I want to support the good people behind the races first and foremost.

This brings the topic back on track, to the Lemond's boycott letter. A while back I read the NYVelocity's posting of Lemond's letter, looking for other racers' and promoters' thoughts. Unfortunately I mainly found people sniping at each other. I didn't see many comments of substance.

In my family I was brought up to value the system more than the individual. I suppose it's my culture, infamous for cohesiveness and solidarity (the only looting that anyone could find after the tsunami in Japan was done by foreigners) but also known for its rigidity and inflexibility (failure means shame and shame means life is no longer worth living).

Although not as extreme as the second thought above, I still have this loyalty to USAC. To me USAC is not a faceless organization. It's not an evil board suffocating any hint of bad news. I don't know the board, I don't know what they do, I've never spoken with them.

However I do know some of the staff. I've spoken to at least three different people in Colorado, one regularly, and I speak with our more local Massachusetts-based NEBRA rep regularly but infrequently. In our conversations I've learned more about some of them than I know about some of my teammates.

There's also an infrastructure local here in Connecticut. There are officials that I work with regularly, folks I consider friends. They're about as anti-doping as anyone out there. Boycotting USAC would mean boycotting them.

I consider all those USAC staff and the local officials friends of mine. I don't want to do anything that would hurt them.

Mind you, I'm still trying to keep an eye on the prize here, the anti-doping efforts, the attempt to cleanse our sport. Unfortunately the staff members I know are sort of like the civilians in the doping war, innocent bystanders in the battle for clean sport. They're not in the news defending dopers or deflecting inquiries. They help promoters like me get their races to start on time, insured, with a reasonable infrastructure behind the promoter so that things work.

Casualties in the staffing folks would be, at best, difficult to justify.

Lemond's letter addresses racers, and I'm one of them. Unlike many racers I'm also involved in USAC as a promoter. If I stay with USAC and take out permits, and Lemond manages to convince 50k racers not to take out USAC licenses, I stand a big chance of having racers boycott my race simply because I took out USAC permits.

I, too, would become a "civilian" casualty, as would any promoter that looks to USAC for protection from litigation, for guidance on promoting a race, for a system that, at least for race promotion, seems to work well.

To me that doesn't seem fair.

On the other hand I'm a bit tired of the doping bombshells, the suspicious performances, the unfounded rumor talk.

I guess, in some way, I support USAC but I don't support the UCI. Is that possible? I believe in USADA absolutely (I was a chaperone a couple times) and that tempers any negative thoughts about USAC.

I have to admit that unlike other organizations USADA seems to do its antidoping work pretty well. We don't hear of positives before the rider learns about it. All the announcements have to do with races from months ago, not from two or three days ago.

If USADA keeps doing their thing then USAC will fall into their place. I don't see a problem there.

With that in mind I've decided to do is to go ahead with the USAC permitting, once I get word that the race is a go. I'll renew my USAC license.

In all fairness I'm going to post Lemond's full open letter. I've lifted it from NYVelocity, from here, in full.

Open Letter to Pat McQuaid from Greg LeMond

Thu, 10/25/2012 - 2:31am by Andy Shen

Greg LeMond posted this to his Facebook timeline this evening. Please pass it around. If you have a blog or a site take the copy and post it.

Can anyone help me out? I know this sounds kind of lame but I am not well versed in social marketing. I would like to send a message to everyone that really loves cycling. I do not use twitter and do not have an organized way of getting some of my own "rage" out. I want to tell the world of cycling to please join me in telling Pat McQuaid to f##k off and resign. I have never seen such an abuse of power in cycling's history- resign Pat if you love cycling. Resign even if you hate the sport.

Pat McQuaid, you know damn well what has been going on in cycling, and if you want to deny it, then even more reasons why those who love cycling need to demand that you resign.

I have a file with what I believe is well documented proof that will exonerate Paul.

Pat in my opinion you and Hein are the corrupt part of the sport. I do not want to include everyone at the UCI because I believe that there are many, maybe most that work at the UCI that are dedicated to cycling, they do it out of the love of the sport, but you and your buddy Hein have destroyed the sport.

Pat, I thought you loved cycling? At one time you did and if you did love cycling please dig deep inside and remember that part of your life- allow cycling to grow and flourish- please! It is time to walk away. Walk away if you love cycling.

As a reminder I just want to point out that recently you accused me of being the cause of USADA's investigation against Lance Armstrong. Why would you be inclined to go straight to me as the "cause"? Why shoot the messenger every time?

Every time you do this I get more and more entrenched. I was in your country over the last two weeks and I asked someone that knows you if you were someone that could be rehabilitated. His answer was very quick and it was not good for you. No was the answer, no, no , no!

The problem for sport is not drugs but corruption. You are the epitome of the word corruption.

You can read all about Webster's definition of corruption. If you want I can re-post my attorney's response to your letter where you threaten to sue me for calling the UCI corrupt. FYI I want to officially reiterate to you and Hein that in my opinion the two of your represent the essence of corruption.

I would encourage anyone that loves cycling to donate and support Paul in his fight against the Pat and Hein and the UCI. Skip lunch and donate the amount that you would have spent towards that Sunday buffet towards changing the sport of cycling.

I donated money for Paul's defense, and I am willing to donate a lot more, but I would like to use it to lobby for dramatic change in cycling. The sport does not need Pat McQuaid or Hein Verbruggen- if this sport is going to change it is now. Not next year, not down the road, now! Now or never!

People that really care about cycling have the power to change cycling- change it now by voicing your thought and donating money towards Paul Kimmage's defense, (Paul, I want to encourage you to not spend the money that has been donated to your defense fund on defending yourself in Switzerland. In my case, a USA citizen, I could care less if I lost the UCI's bogus lawsuit. Use the money to lobby for real change).

If people really want to clean the sport of cycling up all you have to do is put your money where your mouth is.

Don't buy a USA Cycling license. Give up racing for a year, just long enough to put the UCI and USA cycling out of business. We can then start from scratch and let the real lovers in cycling direct where and how the sport of cycling will go.

Please make a difference.
Greg

Comments appreciated.

Racing - Helmet Cams USAC Legal for 2010!

After proclaiming possible gloom and doom in 2010 with a potential helmet cam ban, I'm glad to say that USAC has NOT carried out the ban.

Yay!

In other news, I've renewed my license, with my new team listed as "Exposition Wheelmen".

I've also renewed Carpe Diem Racing (aka CDR), the team/promoter of the Bethel Spring Series.

I know a few CDR team riders from years back have registered with the team. Since CDR has no kit, no meetings, no nothing for its members, it can be used as a bookmark team for those who will be without a team in 2010.

However, if you are involved in the local race scene, not just taking out a license to support USAC, then I'd strongly recommend joining up with a local team. The whole grassroots racing program gets its strength and power from local clubs and the people that help out within them. Please join a local club if you feel a club is worth supporting.

If you're thinking of a club but can't make a decision, don't select a club for a month or two. I think it's a pain to switch licenses when you switch club membership.

Now to go for a ride.

Story - Experiencing the Belgian Kermesses

In early 1992 I went out to race in Belgium, sort of on a lark. My family lived there, they had a car. I figured I could take advantage of an "already in place" support system, one that could provide hard-to-get things like transportation, food/shelter, and English speaking people.

I brought my bike, spare wheels, spare rims (and spokes), a roof rack, 50 Power Bars, my tool box, everything I thought I'd need for a 3 week, 9 race campaign. My bike box weighed over 46 kilograms - about 102 pounds! Over the course of a few months my mom had gotten information on local races, learned which publications had race info (remember this is pre-Internet as we know it), and I got a letter from the USCF saying I could race in Belgium (and Holland, just in case). Finally I got myself an International License with my picture on it.

I felt like I was going into a Twilight Zone episode. It seemed so unreal.

Me: Cat 3, reasonably fit, good sprint, terrible TT/climber. Them: one step below the best pros - some winners earlier signed with the big teams in the area - PDM, Buckler, Tonton Tapis, etc. Guys trying to break into the pro field.

I trained a lot leading up to that trip - a winter of two 100+ miles days each week, getting fit/lean/etc. We'd usually ride from Ridgefield, go up past the center of Kent, and do the steepest hills we could find using a topographic map of the area. We did some fast riding during those days too, cruising down Route 7 with my teammate John at 28 mph. I'd never felt so at ease on the bike. We felt strong and cocky.

One climb, off of Route 7, was horrible - after about 40 miles of riding we'd hit what amounted to the second big climb of the day. The first time I did it I was in my bottom gear, 42x26 (I'd switched out the 21T), and weaving back and forth like a drunk. A couple months later, on the same climb, I scampered away, turning something like a 42x17, and got to the top with enough time to get off my bike, lay down on a rock wall, and pretend I was sleeping before John got there.

I got a new bike over the winter, a Cannondale equiped with the innovative Campy Ergopower levers, 8 speed cassette, and a host of goodies. I built up the wheels with light FIR Isidis rims (approx 330g box section tubulars), alloy spoke nipples, double butted 15 gauge (1.8mm) spokes. The bike was really light, really responsive.

I rode a 50 cm Cannondale with a couple inches of post showing. John rode a 66 cm Cannondale with a 400mm mountain post at max height. We must have looked quite a sight. Cannondales were an anomaly in Europe - most people had not seen one before. The fat tubes, the cantilever dropout, my Aerolite pedals, all were "American" and many, many people picked up my 17 pound bike and expressed doubts about its reliability.

The knowledgeable ones questioned my choice of a "climbing" rim as opposed to their sturdy 400-450g choices of a "reliable" rim. They were curious about the Ergo levers, the first generation, the first available. For these starving wanna-be-pros and their (usually) dads, they were a great luxury and everyone checked them out.

Most of them were riding old Campy, downtube, friction, with 32 hole GP4's. A standard racing bike, no frills. Not light but who needs lightness when your altimeter barely registers a few feet a race? I realized the downtube shifters were appropriate later - they just put it in the 12T and go.

First race (and every race - for the 9 races I did) were on 5-7 km lap courses, 20 or so laps. Flat. Some wind, not as much as I'd expect. Maybe 1/4 cobbles. Due to our international licenses, we could only do international races (i.e. cat 1 level probably). We were both middling Cat 3's and seriously out of our element.

We changed in the car but I learned at the last race that this is illegal. Race listings (in Flemish) list a something ("changing location", a restaurant/bar with all the chairs pushed to one side) and a something else ("registration location", another restaurant/bar but they set up a row of tables for you to register, sign, pick up a number, and stuff like that).

You go to the registration bar, inevitably filled with old men smoking up a storm. It seemed like they were discussing the odds of various racers winning - apparently racing is also a betting sport. An old lady (usually - I don't remember a guy doing this) types up the number, name, and team on a manual typewriter. Clack clack clack. They make copies and sell them for 10 francs to the bettors and spectators. You'd see people walking around with them, checking off names as they dropped, talking about the unchecked names excitedly.

Registration was 100 francs but you got 90 back if you returned your very sturdy number - usually a very nicely painted number (think Sesame Street numbers) on the back of what looked like a vinyl coated tablecloth. Sometimes they didn't have change so they'd give you the full 100 francs, especially since I got shelled so quickly.

That's a foreshadowing hint by the way.

They pull you if you're more than three minutes behind. They stop pulling racers when the remaining racers all have place money - 20 or 40 places in the races I did. The prizes are paid for by the Belgian Federation. Therefore race costs were minimal. However, at that time, a Belgian license was over $300 annually. The best thing to do would be to get a $30 US license and race in Belgium - but only if you were really, really good.

Most of the fields were 195-210 racers. No field limits but I learned that field limits wouldn't have changed things.

First race I figured they'd go easy for 30-50 km and then put the hammer down. I casually warmed up, rolled around a little, and lined up. It was a "shorter" course, perhaps 5 km in length. There was a long, slight uphill stretch to the finish - perhaps 1% grade, maybe 800+ meters in length. I optimistically counted pedal revolutions to the finish to gauge where to launch my sprint. We got all set, they lined us up, and we went.

I got pulled after one lap.

My max speed that lap was over 70 kph. That's 44 miles an hour. On a flat course.

And I got dropped on that lap!

I got dropped so bad I couldn't see anyone in the race on the long finish stretch. I got pulled off the course by the officials and everyone pointed at the American on the really fat light bike that is too light and stiff for cobbles.

I approached races differently after that. I had no illusions of making 100-120km. I wanted to do just 5 km. Therefore I started warming up to do a 5 km sprint. Heat rub. Jettison water. Lightest wheels. Highest pressure. Anything to buy me 5 or 10 kph.

Every race was the same. My legs were screaming from all the Atomic Balm I had on (and back then, it came with turpentine - to help penetrate skin). I was doing hard jumps to prepare for the launch off the line. And we were training by doing very fast sections separated by spinning - trying to improve our speed.

And every race (Sat, Sun, Wed) was the same. We'd get pulled after the first lap.

There was one point to point race we were thinking of doing in our pre-trip planning. My mom had sent us a bunch of VeloNews equivalents with race dates, locations, and registration information. The point to point was a long race, something like 150 or 200 km. But when we realized how bad we were, we chickened out. Plus I was sick. Good thing - we saw the race on TV (!). Phil Anderson and Dag-Otto Lauritzen, both top pros for Motorola, were putting the hurt on the locals. I think Lauritzen won. His other palmares includes a mountain stage in a race you might know - the Tour de France. Anderson is not shabby either - stages wins in the Tour, many days in the Yellow, and a host of smaller wins and close calls in the Classics.

I was sort of glad I was sick that day.

My teammate left a couple days before I did so I had one race to do on my own. 7 km course - long. Two more kilometers to hang on. I changed in the car (that's when I learned it was illegal to do that). Atomic Balm. Warm up. Check out the first couple kilometers of the course (as opposed to checking out the finish - I knew my place). I just wanted to make a lap and this was the last chance I had.

We lined up as normal on some small town road. Cobbles, sidewalks on both sides. The announcer yelled something. I must have looked lost - the guy next to me said in accented English "he's saying don't ride on the sidewalks". I don't know how long the race was - my goal was 7 km. 40 places. 200+ racers.

And then they sent us off.

Everyone immediately bunnyhopped onto the sidewalks, scattering spectators, causing a lot of ruckus at the start area. I found a concrete gutter and rode in that. 55-60 kph, 35-38 mph, situation normal. Everything was fine. It was the 65-70 kph, 40-43 mph sections which killed me. We narrowed into single file for some turn, went even faster. Wondering who the eff (in capitals) was at the front.

Right, he's probably trying to impress Peter Post or Jan Raas or some other Pro team director.

Blast around turns. One road was about 5 feet wide with overgrown hedges on one side and a brick wall on the other. The hedges narrowed it down even more. Lifesaver. No wind, single file, no one can pass. Everyone had to wait behind me. I didn't open a gap but on a 1 km stretch like that normally 30-40-50 racers would fly past me at 70+ kph.

Instead, due to the hedges, no one did.

Fast turn. Dirt inside. Everyone coasted. I pedal frantically in the dirt, through the turn, blast by about 15 guys, they all yell at me. Crazy American with the fat light bike, the weird pedals, using rims that will fall apart after a week or two of racing.

The strong riders let their legs do the talking on the straights. If you have to pull moves on corners they yell at you.

I'm not strong so I pulled those moves.

The last bit leading back into town is a curvy road, lined with ditches and electric cow fences. I actually saw the lead car once, probably due to my cornering antics. But I fell back as we hit the cobbles. I could maintain 55 kph but everyone else - 60-65 kph. I got into a concrete gutter, smooth as silk after cobbles. And the guys behind would ride around me, opting to go over cobbles instead of sitting on my wheel.

And they'd fly past me.

Their strength was simply astounding.

I focused on holding the wheel in front. I kept hunting gears, trying to find something bigger than my 12T. After a bit of this I looked up when I heard some yelling. I was at the start/finish! I finished a lap! I'd made my goal.

But the race had another 100 km or so. I kept going, I felt good, fast, spinning ridiculously high gears.

Through the hedge section. My legs were screaming. Suddenly I hated the smooth road - it meant the others went that much faster. I like the cobbles better. At least I could say, "well, they dropped me on the cobbles." Sounds reasonable. And no one here would know what that meant.

I could barely hang onto the wheel. I was dying. Next section I was done.

Everyone went by me. The follow car stayed behind me briefly but the driver, probably an astute ex-racer, saw my massive difficulties and went around and rushed up to the tail end of the single file field. I slowed to a mere 50 kph, gasping, wondering how these guys do it.

As we hit the cobbles after the curvy cow section, a racer trundled by, his wheel thrumming on the cobbles. He was spinning a tiny gear, perhaps a 53x16, going 55 kph or so. I got on his wheel, and now I was going 55 kph. I started wondering when I'd come off. But his spinning was maxing out his aerobics. I was thinking of telling him to shift up but I don't know Flemish. I actually pulled through, churning a 13T or so, and after 20 or so pedal strokes, let him pull for another kilometer.

We flew past the start finish area. Two laps! This was incredible.

But, realistically, it was my last lap. Way behind the field (but not 3 minutes!). And one guy for company.

We went through the hedges. He kept spinning ridiculously fast. And when we got the curvy cow section, he started to ease. He knew I couldn't really pull. So he was stuck on his own. Why fight the inevitable?

I eased too and we rolled up to the start finish at some sedate speed, perhaps 45 kph. The officials blew the whistle and pulled us over.

I got to my car, dejected. I wanted another lap. I wanted another chance with the field. I wish I could do this for a whole year. I'd be in amazing shape.

I thought about this in the car. I decided not to change in the car as I had learned that morning that it's illegal, big fine, bad things. I didn't want to get arrested for flashing someone - how would I explain that?

I got my bag and went to the Changing Bar. The previous times I entered one it'd been empty, a chair or two in the middle, a guy with a small bucket type thing of water, wiping himself down, his dad or girlfriend or coach sitting with a mournful look. Usually those guys had crashed, hence they were out, and they were nursing their wounds.

Today was different. Gloriously different.

I opened the door and got hit by a wall of noise. I walked in. The place was packed. A couple hundred people were there. The racers were obvious - they were the naked or half naked men, the ubiquitous bucket at their feet, wiping down the cow manure and dirt thrown up from the road. Around them, helping, jabbering, motioning, complaining, encouraging, crying (really!) were their supporters. Moms, Dads, girlfriends, coaches, teammates, friends. There was no concept of privacy, no segregation of sexes. Racers stood naked, trying to clean up, surrounded by their male and female supporters. Their buckets had hot water (I hadn't caught that before) and everyone took mini towel baths using that water.

One older non-racing guy was yelling a lot. He couldn't believe his guy (probably his son) got dropped. Someone said something to him. He started yelling again, to no one in particular. Apparently we'd done 1:07 kilometers for a lap or two, with the cobbles, wind, everything. He kept yelling that number over and over, shaking his head in disbelief, swearing (I know one swear in Dutch and he used it a lot).

I realized something.

Everyone was here.

Okay, not everyone. But everyone who wasn't in the top 40 was in here.

I changed and went out to watch the race. I took pictures. Counted racers. And timed the gaps.

There were a few groups on the road. The last big one, perhaps 10 or 12 riders, was at least three minutes down. But they were in the top 40 and so they'd be left in the race.

It hit me then. I was the same as all the other "Can't Be Pros". I'd gotten pulled just like the 160+ others in the Changing Bar.

I got back to my car, tired, elated.

I was a racer. And although it took me a few weeks of intense suffering, I'd elevated myself into the bottom of the elite amateur rung. The very bottom, I have to admit. But I was there.

I returned to the US and didn't think too much would change.

I was so wrong. I placed in virtually every race I entered. I did a hilly road race - and since I didn't know the course (I never do road races), I didn't take it out of the big ring, even on the "tough" climbs. I cramped a couple miles from the end - I had also refused to drink water out of my "tough guy just-came-back-from-Belgium" ego.

I was strong though. Insanely strong.

My new favorite tactic was to go at the gun, pull whenever the pace dropped below 33-34 mph, and see who was left after five laps. At one race, with about 10 laps remaining, I went to the front simply to ride everyone off my wheel. It took two laps of 28-35+ mph speeds but I finally rid myself of everyone on my wheel. I did another half lap to prove that my speed wasn't a fluke, looked back at all the suffering racers, then sat up and waited another half lap for everyone to catch me. I sprinted late and got fourth but I didn't care. I could ride riders off my wheel at will.

The last race of the year I did the same thing. For the first four laps I was either pulling or sitting on the lead guy. We were going 35 mph on the straights. I got tired after four laps and looked around. I didn't realize it but I'd dropped my faithful teammate Kevin. With no one to chase down breaks I monitored the front for much of the race.

At 8 to go I launched a probing attack. No one came with me. In two laps I'd built up a 20 second gap. I thought about what to do. 6 laps on my own? If this was a movie, I'd have put my head down and went for it. But my paltry 28 mph pace seemed too slow, especially compared to the 40+ mph surges the fields in Belgium dished out. I knew I could sprint. So I eased and recovered for a lap while the field chased me down. I slotted in at the front and waited too long in the sprint. Fourth again. I swore I'd do better "next year".

I never had a year like that again.

But I know to what I can attribute my form. The Belgian Kermesses. The killer pace.

The breeding grounds for the toughest pros around.

Addendum:
Pro Sitings
Pictures

Refund?! Refund?! REFUND?!

Okay we are not trying to push the Corvette on you like Dave Stoller's dad in the classic movie "Breaking Away". But there is someone concerning refunds that should concern any racer out there.

Every year, rules are proposed, reviewed, and if accepted, adopted into the USCF rulebook. Some are fixes of muddy definitions - for example, specifying that an official has to be 18 years old versus "not a minor". They occasionally change the Junior age grouping, gear limits (that's on the table this year), and things of that nature.

But sometimes they come up with real doozies.

One of the proposed rule changes for 2007 is the guarantee that racers will get refunds for entry fees if requested. The person paying the refunds is the promoter.

This is how it breaks down:

1. Two weeks prior to the race, a racer can get 90% refund, guaranteed.
2. One week prior, 80% refund, guaranteed.
3. One day prior, 60% refund, guaranteed.
4. Day of race, no refund required by promoter unless promoter does not fulfill their promotion duties (i.e. have a course, officials, things like that).
5. Racers who are disqualified cannot get refunds.

If you're a racer, and most of the USCF members are racers, this sounds like a great idea. You can register for all races and use the following strategy. First, two weeks before the race, if you just don't feel like doing the race, just ask for your money back. Then, with 10 days to go, check www.weather.com for the 10 day outlook. If you want the latest weather hedges, wait till a week to go, and if the weather looks kinda iffy, just ask for your money back.

I mean we all talk about lactic acid and thresholds and stuff, but, rain? Forget it. Finally, if you decide you really don't want to race (maybe the 15 beers Friday night are still with you) then ask for your money back. Now you can be recovered, dry, and safe for next week's race. Oh, pending checking the weather first. And seeing if maybe you hang with the group on Thursday night, because otherwise racing Sunday wouldn't be a good idea. And on and on.

Gee, what a great idea, right?

Wrong.

The reason it's not a great idea is that this policy hurts the promoters, especially the smaller ones with fixed costs that have to be paid out. Promoters need to line up things like portapotties, police, finishline cameras, pay for permits, maybe a few "upgrades" in their online registration site of choice, course marshals, trophies, etc. I would never have become a promoter if this was a rule back when I started. The Series I promote struggled through making, on average, less than $30 a week at the beginning. If you consider all the volunteers, the time spent trying to convince the Town Selectmen that, no, we don't make a lot of noise (that seemed to be of great concern), sweeping the course with brooms, $30 would break down to about, what, like a dime an hour? Not worth it.

If you are a racer, think back a few years and list all the races that you had raced before that no longer exist. For me, I can name a lot, and some are national classics. Tour of Nutley (in 1983, it was the National Crit Championships - and my first race I ever watched). Oyster Bay Crit. The New London Crit. The Cheshire Crit (okay, it was more a circuit race). The different iterations of the Wallingford Crit. Putney RR (I think that's what it was called). The Barkhamstead Road Race. Heck, the Killington Stage Race. Salem Crit. Boston Downtown Crit. Mahwah. Peekskill. West Hartford. Bloomfield. Manchester (Great American Mall Crit). Andy Raymond's Firecracker in Middletown (my first race). The list goes on and on.

These races all disappeared for one reason or another. Money, time, energy, something. Putting on races is not easy. It requires a lot of time and commitment, and it's often done by only a couple people, with a few more people's help. I've been promoting a race series for about 15 or so years, and each year about 20 people actually help put on the race over six or seven weeks of races. This includes the guy that holds up a corner of the tent while we open it up and does nothing else to help for the rest of the series (but let me tell you that help is really appreciated!). A rule requiring refunds just makes the promoter's job harder.

A rule that requires promoters to refund entry fees is so ludicrous I can't even imagine who proposed it.

Perhaps if USA Cycling guarranteed refunds for all the expenses the promoter incurs, then the rule would be reasonable. For example, if a negative weather forecast persuades a lot of racers to ask for a refund and in turn causes the race to be cancelled, the promoter should be able to go to USA Cycling and ask for contingency funds to cover the expenses necessary to cover the promoter's commitments. So a promoter would be able to recoup the money already paid to do things like secure the course, the facilities, and the official stuff (permit fees, etc). I guess all the time, energy, and stress put in by the promoter would be a freebie.

Then next year the promoter can try once more with the race. Of course racers won't sign up since they'll say, "Well, last year the promoter cancelled for no good reason, so I'm not going to bother to register". And then the race will be cancelled again, this time for lack of funds, interest, etc., and the racers will say, "See? I told you this promoter is a loser!". Great. Another race down the tubes.

You know, we don't need doping to kill bike racing. This rule would undermine the foundation of all bike racing in the US - the grassroots promoter that feels that it's their mission to provide races for racers. No more Floyds, no more Danielsons, no more racers saying, "Yep, when I was doing that dinky crit in Nowheretown, USA, I was dreaming one day of racing here at the Tour/Roubaix/Flanders/Worlds/wherever. I can't believe I'm here, it's a dream just to compete against my heros."

You can do something about it though.

If you are a USCF member and you appreciate the various race promoter's efforts to put on a race, contact USA Cycling. You can get a list of the Trustees here. Email them, call them, write them, and tell them that you think refunds should be handled by the promoter, not the USCF.

Do it before this coming weekend, October 28th, because that's when the rules are accepted or rejected.

By the way, in case it wasn't clear before, I promote races. Our race welcomes pre-registrants. And if you email or call, up to the day before the race, and make up a good story, we'll gladly refund 100% of your money. If you want the (cheaper) pre-reg price applied to a later race, we'll do that too. 100% of it. We just don't do refunds after race day (we've been asked and said no).

All it takes is a reasonable promoter and a reasonable racer to work out these things.

You know what?

They're the ones we want to keep anyway.