Racing - Chris Hinds Criterium, March 30, 2019 - 4th and a great day with Junior

Chris Hinds (and a blog post). I don't think I'll be posting a lot but I'd like to do race reports and some misc stuff this year. I want to do some race reports for the Frozen Four but have to gather cam footage and such.

I also want to make a race clip out of this one but I have to get a working Mac first! We'll see when I can make that happen.

Anyways...

This is a race that I've skipped for forever for two reasons. First, while I was running the Bethel Spring Series, this race was on a day I spent prepping for the following day's Bethel race. On the rare occasions there was no Bethel race the following day I often skipped it out of sheer fatigue. Second, after Bethel ended, meaning the years 2016-2018, I skipped it because I was sorely out of shape at that time. It being a 2 hour drive, I didn't want to drag the Missus and Junior along if I was going to do just a few laps. The final reason is that it's during tax season, and the Missus can't come to the race. I try not to race much with her not there.

This year is the first year I've had some fitness since 2015. I did a few days of intervals, have been riding to keep my sanity, and managed to stay at a high reasonable weight. I've stayed in the 170s, instead of 180s, which isn't terrible for me. As a reference point I dropped to 158 lbs in 2010 and slayed it in the races, and in 2015 I was 163 for a bit and won once and got third three times. If I can drop below 170 it'll be fantastic, and if I can get below 160 that'll really change my racing. The reality though is that the 170 mark is my realistic target.

With tax season keeping the Missus busy, I relied on my teammate Joel to look after Junior while I raced. We got to the race a bit early to watch Joel race but only caught the last two laps. Then Junior rode his bike for at least an hour while I chased him around on foot. We tried without training wheels for a bit, but my back and his patience ran out. Reinstalling the training wheels, he zipped around pretty much the rest of the day.

With Junior in Joel's care (complete with a packed lunch courtesy the Missus), I kitted up for the race. I was feeling decent for the race, just wondering if my fitness was up for it. I had my trusty bike with my trusty race wheels.

My bike, Junior's bike.

Race wheels on my bike, training wheels on Junior's. Heh.

Number

I had to re-pin the number. I initially pinned it to a wind vest, with the wind and all. But then as the sun cut through the clouds I realized I'd be hot in the vest. I raced with the number pinned to my jersey.

M50+ start - a huge field

The first race I ever finished was at Ninigret. I realized while on the drive down that in a few years it'll have been FORTY YEARS since I started racing. And, back in 1983, I finished the Junior race at Ninigret.

It's not 40 years yet so don't get that stuck in your head. It's only been 37 years.

A lot has changed here over the years. The course used to be all the black pavement, WW2 airfield stuff, with tires lining the course. They'd stack four or five tires at the apex of the turns - you'd sometimes rub against them during the race. If you got shoved it was bad, you had to navigate between tires else you'd flip over the bars.

And you really, really, really didn't want to flip over the bars. The airfield asphalt was like sticky pavement, just grabbed you if you fell. There was no sliding at Ninigret, even in the rain, and the pavement really tore you apart if you fell.

Now it's paved in regular pavement, with grassy borders. You slide if it's wet. The low bushes near the second last straight that used to obscure the riders' hubs are now 10 feet tall and impossible to see through.

But some things haven't changed. It's windy here, always. It punishes those that can't corner or draft. And, for the sprint, it generally rewards those that start the sprint near the front.

Strung out bit.

Within a few laps the race was strung out. The single file laps are the hard ones, and this race had maybe 5 laps like this. I think if there were another 5-8 laps like this the race would have blown apart. But before the strong riders could shatter the field they shattered themselves, and the race calmed down.

Accidentally near the front of the group.

At some point I accidentally went way up front, seeking shelter. The main straight had wind hitting from the right so you have to be left of the wheel. I got stranded on the right and moved up to find shelter, finally giving up when I was at the front. I quickly eased, let riders pass me, and got myself buried in the field where I belong.

5 to go.

At five to go I was still there, and, if you'll notice, just to the left of the rider in front. Sheltered in the field, things seemed okay.

2 to go. Lots of riders ahead.

At two to go it was still together but guys had been moving up all over the place. I was near the back of the field and realized I really needed to move up. I didn't want to be clawing my way from the back on the last lap.

2 to go - I'm pretty far from the front.

Unfortunately the race strung out and I rode too politely. I waited for someone entering a corner, got on their wheel, and then.. they left a gap! I had to close it with a bit of effort.

Bell lap. Ugh.

At the bell I was much further back than I'd planned. The little dig on the backstretch used up my allotted reserves for that lap and now I had to do exactly what I didn't want to do - claw my way to the front from deep within the field.

Rider to the right was dropping anchor, rider from the left swooping in.

The first few turns were kind to me, the back stretch okay, but as we entered the right turn off the back stretch, things got about as wiggly as it got during the last lap. The guy to my right slammed his brakes on, trying to avoid grass surfing (on a prior lap about 8 riders took to the grass). At the same time the rider to my left (orange/yellow) was diving in, much tighter than the rider in front of him (in blue/black).

Very close to the rider on the left, probably an inch or so to his wheel.

The rider in the orange/yellow ended up just barely touching my wheel - I was doing some hip swaying, bar pushing, etc, to avoid contacting him. It worked out, I got on his wheel, and it was good.

Second last turn, still too far back.

Going into the second last turn I was on his wheel, still uncertain about the guy to my right. I briefly tried to stay on orange/yellow's wheel but decided to let him have it, but then he didn't get on the wheel. We were both a bit stranded.

Second last stretch, wind from right, need to go left.

As we exited that second last turn, the wind hit us from the right. I wanted to go left but I was afraid of committing myself too early. In hindsight I probably should have moved up a few spots, maybe 2 in front of the orange/yellow, but at that moment I wanted to wait a bit.

Last turn, no real room to sprint, want to jump toward left.

My punishment for waiting was to get boxed in by riders moving up on the left. We went into the long, two stage last turn, and I had riders to both sides of me. I had a jump, I wanted to use it, but I needed some room before I let the nitro explode.

Onto the final straight, no room still.

As the riders hit the straight I expected them to stay to the left, to deny riders behind shelter. Instead they moved right. I just needed an opening to go.

Left side opened up, boom, jumped hard.

Then the rider to the left went a bit more left than everyone else. It opened a gap, I took it, and launched as I shifted up. It felt pretty good, but the numbers don't lie - I barely managed to break 1100 watts.

It wasn't a very good jump.

Legs failed at this point, wattage plummeted.

Kicker is that the race winner is right there and I closed half the gap to him in a few seconds.

Worse yet was within five seconds my legs were done. I'd averaged 991 watts for 5 seconds, and about 850 watts for 10 seconds. With a 13 second sprint, my average power was down to about 825w.

In contrast, couple weeks prior, I averaged 1030 watts for 5 seconds and sustained almost 1000 watts for 10 seconds. So compared to that other sprint earlier this year, I really faltered in this one.

Managed to pip Dave at the line, and barely beat a guy to my left.

HR is high for me, 171, and it probably climbed after the sprint finished.

Earlier in the day Junior asked me if I wanted to beat one of the riders hanging out before the race. Taken aback, I thought about it. I realized that I don't go into a race wanting to "beat someone". I start a race wanting to do the best that I can do, no regrets.

So as my legs fell away in the sprint, I kept pushing, because I didn't want to tell Junior after the race that I gave up. I didn't want to think back at this race and wonder what would have happened had I kept pushing. So even though my wattage fell off a cliff, even though my legs felt like they were stuck in molasses, I kept pedaling. And, eventually, after an interminably long sprint, I managed to cross the line in fourth. I had no idea, and in fact I was hoping I was within the top 10 so - I thought everyone passed me at the line.

Some numbers for the day:
Peak: 1122w
5s: 991w
13s: 827w (sprint length)

Avg: 178w (race - pretty high for me)

Strava link (power data is not on Strava)

Junior approaching the line on his bike

As the course opened for a few minutes Junior asked if he could do a lap. We started out well, the next field lined up, but I realized that we'd run out of time - we'd be finishing the lap as the racers hit the main straight. So we turned left onto the grass, waited for the racers to pass, then he hit the course for the final 50 meters to the line.

The official was understanding enough to let us ride to the line, even with a race underway. Little judgment calls like letting us cross the line makes a huge difference in the impression racing leaves on a kid, and I managed to capture the following because of it.

Bike throw with Junior!

My favorite bike throw of the day. I tried to time it perfectly so he'd pip me at the line, and so he did.

It'll be a few weeks before I can race again, maybe even May, but so far the season has been good. I'll have to pick and choose my races but that's normal. My goal will be to do well at New Britain, and try to partake in some of the Tues night races (instead of just hanging on).

We'll see how it goes.

Racing - 2017 Nutmeg State Games, June 4, 2017, M50+

Where to begin... Last year I was looking after my dad. It was the first season in 34 seasons where I didn't race a weekend race. Frankly I had more important things to do, and I wouldn't have traded it for the world. My dad passed in October, and my life, temporarily so set in its priorities, suddenly changed.

Like last year, this year has been a non-cycling year for sure. I started a job that I love, working at a Firestone, but the standard 12 hour days have been tough on my non-work life. I miss Junior's bed time a few nights a week, sometimes missing something like 5 nights in a row. It's precious little time that the Missus and I talk, usually me telling stories about work, sometimes her telling me stuff about her work. Other than eating and a little bit of the stuff that parents talk about (I always wondered what my parents were mumbling as I drifted off to sleep), my work days have very little to them.

When I do have some time off I have a lot of things I'd rather do that don't involve riding my bike.

That's bike riding.

Then there's bike racing.

To clarify a point, I love racing.

Love it.

I generally ride my bike only because I want to race it. I can't race it at all if I don't ride a minimum amount of training, because no fitness means getting shelled a lap into a race.

That's no fun, no matter how much I like to race.

My training, therefore, is geared to getting me fit enough to race. Doing long rides, sprints, whatever, all that is me trying to get fit enough to finish a flatter/easier race. Yes, there's an element of pleasure/meditation/etc when I'm doing some of those rides, especially the ones out in SoCal, but in general not so much.

To emphasize the not-cycling-so-much thing, I even took one Tuesday off to go karting with a coworker, his friend, and a bike racer (who karts) and his friend. It was a ton of fun.

My bike racer friend also races karts for real, so for him this was like doing a group ride vs doing a race. Any time we both drove similar karts he did better - inevitably I'd make a mistake, slow too much, and have to let him by. Karts are about not making mistakes as much as it is to drive properly, and in my newbie status I kept making mistakes.

My coworker and his friend are car nuts but even newer than me to karting. I tried to teach them how to do certain things because karts do not respond like cars. Their goal was to qualify for pro-karts, which requires dropping below a minimum lap time at least twice (in separate heats). I told them they could do it and I went not only to drive but also to give them on-site tips to help them hit their target lap times. I even downgraded to the regular karts for a number of heats so they could follow me through some of the corners.

I gave them some major tips, akin, I hope, to some of the bike racing tips I've shared on this blog. I'm pleased to say that both friends qualified for pro-karts, driving just 5 or 6 heats.

And me?

I got, until a superb driver showed up for the last couple heats, best time of the day, 9th best for the week, and 22nd for the month. Since it was May 30th it meant that most of the month had gone by, which lends more weight to my lap times. I dropped one spot in all of the above after that one driver showed up. Nevertheless I was pleasantly surprised with how quickly I learned the new layout, my experimentation with new lines, and, of course, my lap times.

That night I had some problems with my glasses falling forward, leaving me essentially blind for several laps (and most of the last heat). I might describe it as driving in the rain without using your wipers, or, maybe riding in the rain with water on your lenses. It was enough to cause me to miss turn ins, apexes, and even making mistakes that slammed myself into the wall a few times. Although I could still manage 34.x second times without seeing really well, for next time I'll have to figure out the glasses thing better. I was even thinking contacts would be better.

So... you can see how I have some distractions tugging at my limited free time.

As far as cycling goes, I started racing my bike in May, at my favorite CCAP Tuesday Night Race. Unfortunately I lasted just a few laps in the first couple races. At that point I had about 35 hours on my legs for the year. Apparently that wasn't enough to last very long in a race, even for me.

In the Friday night CCAP Kermis it was even worse. I was pretty unfit, okay, but to add to it I adjusted my too-tight front brake frantically after the first hairpin, not realizing that I was tightening the brake (my black bike brakes work opposite from my red bike brakes). I managed to push my way through the second hairpin with my brakes basically locking my front wheel, loosened the brake on the following straight, but I was done and off the back. I don't have a working powermeter (it's sitting in a box next to the computer right now) but I'm curious what I was pushing with the brakes dragging. I'm guessing it was in the 500-800w range, if not more - it was a 100% seated effort for me.

I managed to finish the third Tuesday Night race I entered, a rare night with zero wind. I felt like I'd turned a corner in my fitness, getting over the minimum required to hang onto a field in a flat race. My powermeters, both of them, are dead from lack of maintenance, so I don't have power numbers, but I'm guessing that I wasn't averaging more than about 160w in each race. For sure on Zwift I have problems maintaining 200w for any length of time, and 250w, my old VO2 max interval number, was incredibly hard.

Now that's not so bad because other things have been going well in my life.

Junior has been making strides. He surprised the heck out of me by reading words on his own the other week. He's been more independent, and, to be honest, a bit more dependent also. He misses me when I'm at work, I probably miss him more. Tonight he kept holding my hand while he was falling asleep, pulling my arm over him, and then snuggling up to me.

I treasure the time I have with him.

Work is great also. As we rolled into June I had some great days at work. We managed to help a couple people who were super grateful we were there for them. I was psyched we could do that, went home all happy, got on the bike, and basically fell flat on my face. In terms of doing a good job I think I'm doing it. I got a random fist bump from a customer in a supermarket so that was nice, and I even had a picture drawn of me by a good customer's kid (who I'd met just once at that point).

The red "F" thing is the Firestone sticker I gave him.

My hand is blocking his last name.

With things going well everywhere else, I hoped that the race at New Britain would go okay at least. This would be, get this, the first Sunday race for me since August 2015, so almost two years.

The first Sunday race in almost two years!

The M50+ race (I'll be 50 this year!) wouldn't be as manageable as a windless Tuesday Night Bs so I had low expectations. I figured I'd make it a few laps, get shelled, we'd go home, and as a family we'd hang out.

Sounds like a plan, right?

Well, as the saying goes, best laid plans...

We arrived at the race with a lot of time, enough time for me to roll around a bit, adjust my very finicky rear derailleur (something is bent and I haven't bothered fixing it), finally getting the bike so that I could shift up in a sprint without the chain skipping and throwing me over the bars.

Because shifting any time else really didn't matter, even with my non-legs.

A crash delay meant that I started getting a bit bonky before the start, as I was already stretching my eating schedule to make the race. As it was I'd woken up not feeling hungry and a lump in my throat, didn't each much for breakfast, and I was a bit worried I'd bonk. The Missus had some banana bread stuff that was great, I chowed down, and I went to the start feeling a bit better.

The start.

I'm about halfway back in the field I think.

We started out casually enough, to my relief. I think the big guns were all at Nationals, the NY ringers were at White Plains, and so it was a bit more of a CT representation instead of a few CT racers lost in a sea of area racers. Incredibly the race started even tamer than a pace lap on a Tuesday Night B race.

Talk about an ideal race for me.

I had some problems following wheels though. When a few riders noodled off the front, I couldn't go. I had to leave it to my good friend David to close the gap, which he did with some vigor. I felt bad for making him close the gap but he happened to be next to me when my legs folded.

Letting a big gap go. That's a big gap.

David is just about to pass me.

After that gap fiasco I tried to stay out of the way of the racers actually racing the race. I sat mainly in the back, uninvolved. There was just one exception - I'd move up when it got easy to get some "drift back" room. This way I'd have some cushion if someone launched an attack - it might be a solid 15 or 20 seconds as the field filtered by me, enough time for me to get going.

More than a few riders commented on my "attack" near the end of the race. I remembered the move because it was a perfect storm of doing nothing and everyone else just slowing. I wanted to illustrate how even the most conservative riding can result in an "attack".

Strung out. Note that I'm not on the wheel, due to being under extreme pressure.

Sitting behind "red bike with a Generic Jersey".

He was part of a 2 man break that won the M60 race so I'm guessing he was a bit tired.

Just before my "move" a few riders had just made some efforts. The field was strung out going into the wooded area. I was struggling to hold wheels and hoped that they'd sit up soon; if they'd kept it up for a lap I'd have been off the back.

Bunching up, I moved to the left of Generic Jersey.

Luckily for me they did sit up at the front. Seeing as I was in so much trouble trying to stay on the wheel, I decided to pedal a few extra revolutions and try and move up, to buy myself some drift back room. I moved left because it was open; I'd overlapped a bit to the left of Generic Jersey.

The path is now visible.

I'm coasting/soft pedaling but going much faster than everyone in the picture.

When I got there I realized there was a "Moses and the Red Sea" path to the front, that chasm visible in the picture above. I was coasting and soft pedaling and still going faster than the field so I let my bike meander into the gap.

And guess who attacks?

As I got through the gap I figured I'd just sit up, but then someone attacked. It was Generic Jersey. He'd gone right, I'd gone left, and we both passed the group. I did about 2 or 3 pedal strokes to follow him, declined pulling through, and we were back in the fold at the top of the hill. My non-attack and non-work meant that by the top of the hill I was fully recovered from the surge, just behind the front, and ready to go again.

So that was my non-attack.

Bell Lap

My races always come down to the bell lap, because, you know, Sprinter Della Casa.

Bell Lap.

Note that you can't see the rear wheel in front of me - that means I'm on the wheel.

As the laps counted down I started thinking that I could actually do this. No one was racing hard - the attacks were short, into the wind (not into the cross/tailwind), and therefore ineffective. The field was stacked with "sprinters" so they all jumped on moves as soon as possible, and the historically strong time trialers were either not here, not ultra fit, or fatigued from doing the race just before the M50+.

So as we hit the bell I started daring to hope for a good result.

Backstretch, bell lap.

Note again, rear wheel not visible.

I had three possible sprint scenarios. I visited all of them numerous times during the race, probably cycling through them a dozen times in the last couple laps. The wind was hitting us from the left on the sprint straight, making the right side a bit more desirable than the left.

Plan A

The first plan was to move up after the top of the hill, hit the turn near the front, jump right on the main straight if possible (sheltered from the wind), and go pretty early if I was jumping first. Ideally I'd be first through the last turn, I'd jump hard on the right curb, there'd be zero shelter on my wheel, and if I could do a 15 second sprint I'd win the sprint.

Let's rate the potential of the move using these parameters:

1. Risk level, meaning how risky would it be from a tactical point of view. How easily could I get boxed in? Lower is better.

2. Minimum strength to do well, meaning how much gas would I need to make the move work well. The more I needed the higher minimum strength I'd need. Lower is better.

3. Possible top 3, meaning what would be my chances of getting a top 3 placing? The higher the chance of a top 3 the better.

So for Plan A this was my analysis:

Risk level: Low - no one in front to box me in

Minimum strength to do well: High

Possible top 3: Low

This was a low risk tactic but relied heavily on me doing a good sprint - a good jump followed by a very solid, high output sprint. If I blew then I'd get swarmed and not place at all. In my condition this wasn't a great choice.

(Sam won his race basically doing this. As a very fit rider with a very good jump, this validated my tactical theory.)

Plan B

An alternative was hoping that the sprinters would go left (because the leadout rider would naturally hug the right curb to deny everyone shelter), there'd be a gap to the right because they'd give the right side rider some room, and I could slip through the right side gap in the sprint.

Risk level: High (of getting boxed in)

Minimum strength to do well: Low

Possible top 3: Very high or very low.

That was a high risk move since virtually every sprint up the right side at New Britain gets shut down. On the other hand sprinting on the sheltered side would make winning the sprint much more likely. This was an all or nothing move. The odds worked against me and I'd only choose this option in very specific situations. I kept this option in mind if things unrolled in a specific way, but unless there was a massive move up the left side of the road, this option is almost always off the table.

Plan C

The third and most likely alternative was to be sheltered going into the sprint then jump super hard on the windy left side. A strong jump can gain a lot of distance, especially in a slower, wind-swept sprint. Starting from further back I'd have to make up a lot of ground. However, having been sheltered more, I'd have spent less energy up to that point and therefore I'd have the most jump left in my legs.

Risk level: Low

Minimum strength do do well: Medium

Possible top 3: Low/Medium

This was the highest probability tactic, meaning I'd consistently get a higher placing. However it would be very, very difficult to win the sprint. It was the safe move but pretty much put me off the podium due to the extra work I'd have to do in the sprint. I might be able to salvage a top 3, meaning 3rd, but realistically not much better than that.

Being risk averse as I am, I chose the third option, the safe move.

Top of hill, bell lap.

Marty is just to the right of the back of the sign.

At the top of the hill I wasn't in major trouble. Through the winter I'd managed to keep my weight somewhat sane, in the 170 lbs range, which is just about where I was in the latter half of my stronger 2015 season. At 180-190 lbs I'd have been struggling, but at 170 I was okay over the hill. If I was 160 I'd be flying. For example, in 2010 I was under 160 and upgraded to 2.

It helped, of course, that no one really made a move. Marty, a former teammate from my collegiate days, went early, but with an immediate surge in pace in the field it didn't look good for him.

Last turn, bell lap.

Marty is leading through the turn.

I moved up on the slight downhill between the top of the hill and the last turn. I didn't realize it but Stephen, another former collegiate teammate of sorts (he was a 2, I was a 3, so we never actually raced the same events), had launched an attack on the left side. A danger man, others responded immediately. I was focused on following John M, a friendly rival that I battled for decades at Bethel. He's a rider a lot like me in that he sits and sprints. I thought he'd be a safe, solid wheel to sit on.

Problem was that the last little surge before the last turn caused some gaps to open up. John wasn't himself as he told me after, and he was also caught off guard by Stephen's move. The gap opened uncontrollably through the turn, as it's difficult to jump while going through it. As we exited the turn I looked around him and was surprised at the size of the gap in front of him. In reviewing the video it's clear that the riders in front had much higher entry speed into the turn and he simply got caught out by the surge just before the turn.

With the gap already there I had to jump immediately.

Note I'm going to the sheltered right; low risk, high benefit move at this point.

This meant that I had to jump just to get across the gap, and then try to do another jump/sprint for the line. I had room to go on the sheltered right side of John so I did, jumping to his right. I quickly closed the gap to Dave the Horst rider and started debating, right or left.

At this point Marty was toward the right side blowing up, Stephen went way left, and everyone followed Stephen. If I'd been good I'd have blazed into that huge gap on the right and risked going up the sheltered right side.

Getting to first group in the sprint, going a few mph faster than everyone else.

Left or right? I went left, and I realistically should have gone right.

Instead, to play the odds of placing well (safest odds) vs getting boxed in (and either winning or potentially not placing at all), I went into the wind, to the left.

It was the safe, sane choice.

I'm pretty sure it was the wrong choice.

I jumped hard to the left, trying to get around everyone so I could move more right before the line. We still had a solid 8 or 9 seconds of sprinting left and I thought I could get around everyone before the right bend. Although I went the long way I actually wanted to shorten my line as much as possible. I did a similar move in 2014 but I jumped much earlier that year. The reality was that, in 2017, with my lack of training, I lacked the punch to repeat that 2014 move.

This year I'd have to stay left all the way to the line.

I go left to pass.

David in orange, Stephen in black, Marty in green/black.

Dave's hand is visible.

As I went left I could feel the wind hit me. On the camera it's much more obvious, the wind noise is significant. My legs felt okay but I knew that the fuse was lit and I was going to blow, I just didn't know when; I figured I'd get to the line but I'd lose some speed approaching it.

Moving to the right became a pipe dream.

I kept going.

My legs still had some power. I had about 40 meters to go and I thought things were going really well. This morning I'd never have put myself in this position, where I might win the state title. Yet here I was, what looked like a pretty straightforward final 40 meters, a few pedal strokes and bang, done.

40 meters to go, give or take.

Speed starting to drop but still good.

Finish line is just before the red tent.

"Bang, done," indeed.

As I readied myself for my last push to the line, my legs went. I simply had nothing. I sat down in disbelief, looking around to see what was going on.

Just before the line.

I could see my friend David sprinting hard. I'd drawn even with him but couldn't finish it off, and he pulled away from me. Way over to the right I could see the orange Horst jersey of Dave, a wicked fast sprinter, but it seemed that he wouldn't make it by me before the line. I didn't see the dark jersey of Stephen.

I was dispirited enough that I didn't even throw the bike at the line. With all my looking around I knew the places wouldn't change even without the foot or so I'd gain with a bike throw.

At the line, photo courtesy David.

Note no bike throw. I was beyond that by this point.

I did some quick calculations. David would be the first CT finisher, putting me in second. Dave would be third.

When all the dust settled I learned that there was someone that soloed off the front. I think we just barely missed catching him in the sprint. He wasn't a CT rider so my calculations held. David would be the gold medalist. I'd be silver. And Dave would be bronze.

After

I convinced Stephen to hang around after the race as David went and did the M30/M40 race. Jeff, one of the folks putting a lot of time/energy into the local cycling scene, took this picture of me. If Junior is in my arms it means he's tired, but he cheered up quickly for the camera.

Jeff got this great picture of me holding Junior.

Sam is in the pink/blue, the same colors my first team used.

As a bonus Sam Rosenholtz is rolling by behind me, sporting the pink and blue. In 2010 he was a grinning, cheerful Cat 5 at the Bethel Spring Series. I've always been a fan of his, even as he killed us Cat 3s in 2010. Now he's a pro for CCB and had just returned from a racing trip to both Holland and Poland. He placed in 7th out there in Europe somewhere in some insane looking narrow road sprint.

The race behind me? He won it outright.

After David finished the race we all gathered and took a few podium pictures.

2017 M50+ CT Crit Championship Podium.

Picture courtesy David.

On the way home I fell fast asleep in the car. Then I fell asleep reading to Junior. I dragged myself to work, I was wearing my jacket and shivering in 75 or 80 degree temperatures, tried to gut it out, gave up and came back home. I basically slept for the next 36 hours. I didn't realize it but whatever it was was just hitting me as I did the race. I'm fortunate it didn't hit 6 hours earlier.

Epilogue

A few days later the Missus was scrolling through some pictures on my Facebook feed.

"You got the silver in 2015 also."
"I did?"
"Look, you're in the same position on the podium."

Junior was 3 years old.

Huh.

It all came back. No clip because I was told to remove my helmet cam at the start line. There were two guys off the front and for sure I thought I could catch them in the sprint. But my sprint lacked sizzle and the two break riders did an incredible sprint, not allowing me to close much at all in the sprint. I'm pretty sure I never got closer than about 50 feet to the break. I hoped that the two in front weren't from CT but no such luck, one guy Michael was up there and had taken the gold.

What's interesting is that Junior refers to this race as "the race with the podiums" because they're fun to climb around, and, well, he gets to be in the pictures sometimes. With him around I earned the privilege in 2014 (bronze), 2015, and 2017. With his incredible memory (in 2015 he remembered the podiums from 2014) I am now under the gun to podium in 2018.

And along those lines, I think this is the course that gives me the best chance to earn my first summer victory - I've never won a race during the summer. Writing this post made me realize just how safe I play the end of races.

Maybe in 2018 I'll go right.

But first we'll see what life throws at me.

Life - What Got Me Started Racing

This was a thread response that I wrote sort of stream of conscious like just now. I just added pictures for the post.

***

I grew up in Holland. Ironically I don't remember ever seeing a drop bar bike there. Never saw a race, a cross race, nothing. Saw rally cross (race cars - there was a track in our town), watched some rally racing coverage on the very limited TV. In Holland a the time it was 2 channels, noon-11 PM or so, that was all that was broadcast, and weekends were pretty dead. We didn't watch a lot of TV.

Moved back to the US. Saw a guy on a road bike going around a corner. I later learned the guy was a strong Cat 2 (Scott Donovan). I couldn't believe how skinny the tires were on his bike. Started looking for books about cycling in the library. The only pro racing picture I saw was one of Eddy Merckx. He became legendary because of the 6 or 7 books, he was the only racer mentioned.

I decided I wasn't the big thighed racer the Bicycling guy kept describing. I forget the guy's name but he always wrote about touring and his search for the perfect drivetrain for a bike (half step + granny). I was dreaming about a 14-28 and 52/48/24.

I was 13.

Bought a road bike (Schwinn Traveler III, red) when I could finally ride one. Short legs, 19" frame was a bit big. Wrote the gear chart (52/40, 14-28) and taped it to my stem. Practiced double shifting. Got toe clips.

Second bike, Dawes Lightning, dark/light green fade. Changed gearing to what I thought was ideal, 48/34, 14-21 or 14-23 (for either "flat rides" or "hilly rides"). Eight usable gears out of ten. Got 700c wheels. Learned that a kid (Ken Bowler) in a bunch of my classes was an actual bike racer. Peppered him with questions 4 of 7 classes for a fall and winter.

I was 14.

He told me that in a race he'd have climbed Wolfpit (Wilton, CT) in a 53x15. That's basically the same as my max gear 48x14, and that blew my mind. I asked him repeatedly to make sure he wasn't telling me he'd descend down Wolfpit, not climb the thing. He kept insisting that he was referring to going uphill.

I tried it in the spring, going up the hill in a 48x19 or 21 first and working my way up. I got to a 48x15 but all the efforts made my legs fold in the 48x14 and I had to pull a u-turn halfway up the hill to avoid falling over. A kid Kurt in our school, who got a pro triathlon contract ($16k back in 1983?), got clocked and ticketed for going 50 mph down the thing. It's steep.

Shortly after my Wolfpit experience I went riding with Ken and his dad. I was absolutely shocked at how fast they went on the flats. Appalled, really. I thought the flats were the easy part when I rode, but the reality was that climbing was always hard and the flat stuff was ultra fast. Fortunately his dad got stung by a bee and required medical attention, else I'd have been dragging them down for 80 out of the 100 km ride we'd started. I think I still have the badge from that ride, the Bloomin Metric.

That winter I used all my current savings, my birthday present, my Christmas present, and some extra earned stuff, and ordered a Basso with Campy and Excel Rino on it. $550, $585 with tax. Campy NR derailleurs and shifters, Modolo brakes. And Excel Rino? Excel Rino had to be good, Lon Haldeman won the RAAM on it.

I was 15.

Basso in action, 1984.

Excel Rino was horrible, it was cast aluminum with the density of styrofoam.

But the bike was built by a mechanic who got 2nd in the Jr State RR. He asked if I wanted to join his team. He built my bike with Junior gears, laced over GP4s, put Clement Futurox tubulars on, and I raced that bike for two or three years.

I rode to escape all those teenage angst things. Lots of long rides deep in the boonies, roads I'd never seen before. All my friends through high school were my cycling friends and teammates. There were a couple Juniors (including high school classmate AgilisMerlin) but most of my friends were in their 20s and 30s.

My favorite days to ride are the gloomy 45-55 degree overcast possibly raining days. I guess that's sort of Holland weather. For some reason it really calls to me. Just pounding the pedals, rolling, feeling the tires dance over the pavement. I also hate riding in that weather, it's tough, it can get unpleasant, and it's always a bit iffy if it's wet or sandy.

Back in the day taking a picture cost money.

I wanted these pictures so bad I was willing to pay for them.

It's because I went for a ride in wet, gritty, gloomy weather, and I loved it.

Now it's a bit different. I train indoors most of the time. But my last ride was in 50 degree, rainy-at-first weather. We were on flat roads next to fields lined with trees, wind blowing hard, rain falling sort of sideways. My head was pounding from the cold, I could feel the wind piercing my long sleeve jersey just past the wind vest. It really was just like Holland. Horrible. I loved it.

Racing - CCAP Tuesday Night Race - Bs, Too Cooked To Know To Sprint

My normal ritual on Tuesdays is to start preparing for the races by about 2 PM. The Missus gets home just before 5 PM and the goal is to have my dad and Junior in the packed car, idling, waiting for her.

This has not happened yet.

My race prep actually starts a bit earlier than that, with shifting tasks earlier to free up the time from 2 PM on. So, as expected, at 2 PM, Junior was upstairs napping, and I had my dad at the table. It's been a difficult last few days, with a minor leak with the toilet (due to my dad's uncontrolled descent onto the thing, slamming into the tank with his back). So with all the stuff that's happened in the last few days things seemed to be going well.

Normally my dad takes a minute to get going so I checked the weather. It was supposed to be partly cloudy, virtually no chance of rain, and in the mid-upper 80s by race time.

Fine.

The first hint of the derailment was that my dad didn't start to eat for 90 minutes. I tried all sorts of stuff but he'd either not open his mouth or he would just hold the food in his mouth. It's food that he eats regularly so it wasn't like I was feeding him something yucky. He finally started to swallow food but now I was starting to have some schedule anxiety. Junior would be up shortly and then my race prep efficiency would drop pretty dramatically.

Then it started pouring.

I refreshed the weather site and now it said thunder and lightning for the next little bit, clearing up by 4:00 PM or so. The cloud cover seemed to be over us at that moment but moving out of the area.

When I checked the hourly at the race venue it said no rain, but then it said that here also. 

With race time at 6 PM I hoped that the course would be dry.

Junior did get up but then played quietly on his own, allowing me to gather my race stuff. I'd need to get the bike, SRM, and shoes from the basement. Helmet, cam, gloves, and heart rate strap from the "stuff to bring to the race" spot upstairs. I needed to pack the cooler with bottles of ice water, a couple sandwiches for Junior. Then from the garage the folding chairs for the non-racers, my race wheels, and the first aid kit.

I got the upstairs stuff out to the car fine, plus the chairs. I decided to get the bike on the roof because that's part of the stuff I can do outside. I prefer to put the cooler and the race wheels in the car last because it's usually so hot outside and I don't want the race wheels baking in a 180 degree car oven.

I went to go downstairs but got distracted by one of our cats rubbing his butt on the floor, something unusual. He left a trail of poo and so I cleaned that up, washed my hands, all that kind of stuff.

I sensed the time slipping away.

I trotted downstairs to get my bike. The bike room is off limits to the cats so the door is always closed. I opened the door and actually swore out loud.

The "slightly leaking tank" upstairs had translated into water coming through the ceiling and into the bike room.

The rug was soaked. Everything was wet with water spatter.

I grabbed my shoes, literally being dripped on from the (finished) ceiling, and ran upstairs. I ran around a bit, got an empty litter box bucket (we buy in buckets, not jugs), and put it under the water coming through the ceiling.

I tried to shut off the supply line. Although it slowed it didn't stop. I removed the flapper so that the water wouldn't build up in the tank. I mopped up the floor as best I could. And I directed a fan onto the floor to increase evaporation rates (and kept the AC cranked to keep the air dry). I put my shoes on the floor in front of the fan, to dry them off.

Time was bleeding pretty quickly now.

After some quick mental calculation, some time-money-life balance factors, I decided that I'd still prepare to go to the race. If in the next hour the water was pouring into the basement then I'd skip the race, but I really wanted to race and I thought that any damage would be limited to whatever already got damaged.

I spent some time picking up the cluttered bike room floor. Got my bike out of there and onto the roof of the car (getting the bike outside involves two staircases, two 180s, a number of 90 deg turns, and a lot of scuff marks on the walls). Pumped up the race wheels but left them in the cool garage. Bike locked, rear wheel strapped down, I went back inside.

I started assembling the cooler. I was putting water in the bottles at the sink when I looked outside.

It was pouring.

I thought for a moment about the bike on the roof. Then the car. Did I open the windows like I normally do? Was the garage door open? I carefully thought.

I did not open the car windows. I closed the garage door.

I kept filling the bottles.

I got Junior dressed, shoes on, everything. Cooler was assembled. Dad dressed. I can't remember what I was doing when the Missus came home but she came in and one of the first things she asked me was where I had my shoes. She's taken inventory of the car in the driveway and noticed that the shoes weren't in the car.

Doh! They were in front of the fan in my dad's bathroom!

I went and checked. Shoes were dry. Floor was damp but not puddled. Went and checked basement. Okay. Very little water in the bucket, no more water coming off the ceiling.

It was race time!

We headed out a little after 5. I was already pretty frazzled but the drive to the race was pretty calming, and we got there with a bit of time to spare.

Waving to Junior while doing a warm up lap.

The wind was just howling when we got there, the sky blue with white clouds everywhere. As far as I could tell the downpours at home hadn't been here.

I decided to use the Stinger 4 front wheel, the 45 mm tall wheel, instead of the Stinger 7 / 75 mm wheel. I figured that would be better for the wind. We'd gotten there early enough that I could do a lap or two, and the Stinger 4 felt stable even in a strong crosswind.

Start of the race.

A decent number of people showed up for this week, the last one of the season. For me this would be my last race of the season, period. With no more venues this close to the house I really can't think about doing any of the upcoming races.

Gaps opening up by the end of the first lap.

The racing started pretty quickly, with a move causing a gap to open within the first lap of the race. I struggled to get going; I hoped this wasn't a sign of things to come.

Wind from the left.

The wind really hit us from the left on after Turn 3, on the final stretch. This meant sheltering to the right. The final stretch curves left but the wind was such that even at the start/finish you really wanted to be seeking shelter to the right. This meant rolling up near the curb each lap, something that can get tricky if everyone is looking to shelter there. At the same time it's sort of fun, to be fighting for wheels on the curb, I felt sort like it was actually bike racing, not just riding my bike.

Race neutralized.

At some point in the race there was a crash after Turn 1. The race got neutralized as they got everyone off the ground. I stopped to offer the first aid kit but it seemed that everyone was okay without it. One rider went to the hospital, a Junior. Hopefully he's okay.

Race back on.

After a number of neutral laps, where everyone really did go neutral, the race was back on.

Big attack.

I found myself withering out there. The heat, the relentless attacks, I was absolutely at the limit. I remember one time sitting on wheels near the front when someone attacked. Everyone responded except me. I couldn't get out of the saddle, I couldn't spin.

Gapped off temporarily.

Finally someone rolled by me, I clawed my way onto their wheel, and we got back on. A short time later, maybe within a lap or so, there was even a bigger move.

An even bigger attack.

This time I couldn't go at all. I watched them ride away from me. A teammate warming up for the A race rolled by, yelling encouragement.

I hoped that the field would ease a bit but I figured that my chances of catching back on were minimal at best. I started to roll near the start/finish. Then I noticed the field soft pedaling. They had not just eased up, it looked like they had just stopped racing. It was like...

Oh.

That was the sprint.

The race was over.

I don't know the last time I was so cooked that I didn't realize it was the end of the race. In reviewing the clip I could see and hear the bell but when I was actually racing nothing registered.

After the race.

I rolled around to the start/finish again and spotted Junior. He was trying to find a garbage can so I helped him with that. Then we headed over to base camp, where the Missus and Pops were hanging out.

Junior and the bike.

We had to get going, with the water situation uncertain at home. So after a brief rest, where I recovered a bit and watched in amazement as the As raced around at warp speed, we headed out.

At home I was zonked. Luckily the water was better - the basement was basically dry. We've since installed a new toilet (the next morning) and nothing, touch wood, is leaking.

For now, though, that's my 2016 racing season. I've done, what, like 8 races, all of them Tuesday Night Worlds. I started feeling a bit better towards the end, the sufferfest above notwithstanding.

I'm also already thinking about what's up next for me for racing, next season.
 - Lose some weight. I've been hovering at around 170-175 lbs most of the season. Being 160 lbs makes a huge difference. 155 lbs would be insane. 150 lbs is a dream.
 - Get the rocking trainer better. It's already helped a lot but I have ideas on making it better.
 - Do some outdoor sprints. Rocking trainer or not, I need to be able to do 100% jumps without worrying about slipping the tire or something. Even if it means sprinting up and down my street I think it's something I need to do a little more often than "never".
 - VO2 max intervals. They really helped in 2015. This year I did 6 total days of intervals, 3 weeks worth.
 - Get my SRM spiders working. Not having power is a bit frustrating because I have no idea if I'm actually stronger or not.

And, of course, clean up the bike room.