Racing - 2014 Criterium de Bethel

Well the race was pretty uneventful for me. It was cold, wet, and totally dreary. The old me would have reveled in the conditions but the new old me wasn't quite so keen on doing a repeat.

Ironically my only ever race winning break happened in similar conditions - wet, cold, small field, and a winning break.

I had no idea how I'd be in the race but I prepared for a mentally challenging race.

In the morning I had my normal two egg sandwiches, bought early early in the morning, along with the requisite cup of coffee. It took me a couple hours to eat that. Later I broke into some of the cookies I brought for the bake sale, had a bit of Coke, and called it a day on food. For whatever reason I'd been eating a lot in the prior couple days so I wasn't feeling hungry.

I did my now-normal base layer + rain jacket (for wind protection, not water protection) + LS jersey thing. Because it wasn't that cold I wore knickers instead of tights, plus in the rain I prefer to wear knickers until it's unbearably cold simply because knickers get less heavy when soaking wet.

I did put my phone (Strava) into a ziplock bag, and I encased my feet in plastic bags before I slipped on the booties. With a brimmed cap (to help keep water from dripping into my eyes) and my favorite Canari gloves, I felt fine in terms of temperature and conditions.

Small field lined up.

The dominant Sixcycle team hadn't shown up so the race felt wide open. I knew that shelter would be a major factor for me since I can't make efforts over and over, at least not this year. I also knew that I could sprint at the end so I hoped that I could reach the finish in the points.

I assumed that a break would go because they always do in these kind of tough conditions. My goal was to try and do a good sprint if less than six riders got away.

Gap attack on the second lap.

When the race started the numerically superior (they had three riders) FGX team gapped a rider off the front. Someone chased and the two leaders got a small gap. This happened a second time and I was near the front when the two were within touching distance. I decided to ramp up the pace a bit and make everyone race.

The view when I started to push.

There was only one problem - no one felt like riding. When I pushed a bit no one stayed on my wheel. I think it's partially my history - "Aw, just let him blow himself up" - and partially the cold, damp conditions.

I crested the hill alone, wondering what would happen. Ideally someone strong would bridge and then we could work together for a while. I know everyone things I'd just sit and sprint but honestly, when it comes down to it, I give credit where the credit is due. I've gotten to the finish in other breaks but purposely didn't sprint until it was too late for me to win, simply because I didn't work enough to justify going for the win.

It didn't matter. The theoretical didn't happen. I blew up and returned to the fold.

In the field.

The pace, although not terrible, wasn't kind to me. My effort off the front, as tempered as I thought I'd made it, had put me at the edge of the red zone. The hill put me over every lap, I fought to recover, but the small field offered little shelter and no mercy.

Each lap it seemed someone else took a turn attacking, and the constant push up the hill wreaked havoc on my legs.

After a few more attacks I had that lumpy throat, "I'm blowing up" feeling. I thought of all the stories about the pros going so hard and throwing up and this and that and I realized, you know, it's just one of the races at Bethel and I'm okay with not finishing it.

The field leaves me behind.

I kept going a bit, just to make sure that the field didn't sit up right after I blew up. I watched them hammering along in single file, riding away from me.

No miracles today. The field wouldn't suddenly, spontaneously, decide to go 18 mph for a lap or two. Any rider could see the gaps forming, the single file hurt, and if I had the legs I'd have been pushing. Selection of the fittest in this case; no camouflage from hiding in the field.

It was an FTP kind of day and I failed the test.

I rolled back to the registration area.

Another cold wet day at Bethel.

Racing - June 2, 2013 Limerock Circuit Race

Ah, yes, another race. This time it was at Limerock, the race car course. I've never done it in the direction they hold it in now, counterclockwise. This is against the motorsports direction. Therefore it's all left turns with one right, rather than all rights with one right. The big swooping downhill becomes an uphill, and the short bump on the backstretch is now a little dropoff.

I went with low expectations. I'm not really fit at this point, getting into difficulty after just one effort. I was also a bit intimidated by the swooping downhill.

In fact my intimidation with the swooping downhill is probably the reason why the race is held in the opposite direction as the car races. When the club first mentioned the course to me I recalled the time that the Cat 1-2-3 race hit the swooping downhill on the last lap. A ferocious leadout by a friendly acquaintance meant the group was going 50 mph down that little drop. Some guy got up on the curb on the inside, tried to get back into the group in about 5th spot, and didn't make it. Those that didn't hit the deck ended up in the very wide grassy run off area that, in those days, had a Camel billboard above it.

(Today, when we looked at the billboards, many of them had casinos on them. If it's not one thing it's another.)

Anyway there was a good 50 or 75 people that didn't finish the race unscathed.

Where was I?

Well, ironically I'd been in a last lap break with two other guys, a really strong time trial type teammate and some guy that came along for the ride. I don't remember how the break formed but at the bell we had 10 or 15 seconds and a chance at pulling it off (if you could measure percentages to about 5 decimal places).

We got caught at the small bump of a hill on the back stretch. I was so cooked that I missed a shift, dropped the chain, and ended up falling over on the soft sand next to the curb.

I took my time remounting, got over the bump, and crested the top of the hill. The bridge blocked my view but as I started seeing stuff under and beyond it my jaw dropped. The whole road was covered in bikes and bodies and an equal amount of carnage lay in the grass to the left. I rode a bit numb through everything to the line. Worried friends and teammates asked if I was okay. I told them I didn't crash there, I fell over on the uphill.

Anyway when I relayed that story to the guy who wanted to "revive" the Limerock race he took note.

To add to my non-fitness and swooping-uphill woes there was a severe thunderstorm type watch in effect. Nothing really crazy but still, to be racing a bike in that stuff, not good.

At home it was brutally hot, about 90 degrees. I had sweat pouring down my face just loading up the car. I read that in a morning half marathon in town 15 runners had heat stroke and they ended up stopping the event. It was only 78 degrees, I thought, how tough could it have been. Well, if I was struggling just to put a few bags in the car, running a half marathon might have been enough to knock down some people.

As we drove out to the race the temperature dropped a bit, a few degrees, into the mid-upper 80s. I figured it couldn't be that bad once we got racing. I had my Podium Ice bottle, a couple Podium Chills, and a cooler full of ice water.

I was ready.

As we got closer, though, the skies turned dark and threatening.

The clouds going left-right. No rain yet.

I didn't take a picture of the clouds that rained on us because I didn't want to have my camera out when it was raining.

I saw my teammate Mike in the parking lot so I pulled in next to him. He pointed at the clouds.

"What do you think of that?"

"Ah, I checked weather.com before we left, it's not going to hit until 7 pm. See? They're going left to right, they won't hit us.

Mike looked doubtful. "Well, okay."

He rolled off.

I started putting my bike together. In my heat affected state I'd loaded my two tall front wheels and my tall and short rear wheels. I had no short front wheel. It was a bit windy so I would have liked the low profile Bastogne/Ardennes front wheel but that wheel was sitting in my garage.

I put the Stinger 6 on up front. In the rear I went with the Stinger 9. I'd planned on bringing the Stinger 6 rear and the Stinger 9 rear but I didn't have the Stinger 6 rear. I got the front and back wheels mixed up, bringing the shallow rear instead of the shallow front.

Whatever, I could make the Stinger 6 front work.

My bike. Before the race.

Note the dry pavement.

The wind picked up suddenly. A metal sign fell over nearby. I quickly lay my bike down on the ground - the wheels were acting like sails and threatened to carry my bike off to Never Never Land.

Not good.

A few minutes later the skies above us were gray. Although those clouds were going left to right some other clouds had sneaked through the valley beyond the backstretch.

You could see the wall of rain approaching.

In a few minutes I was soaked.

Mike, a sardonic grin on his face, rolled by.

"So much for 7 o'clock."

Heh.

My number after the race.

Note that I had only 8 pins. Enough for one number. Not ideal for two.

I warmed up in the warm rain, letting myself get totally soaked. It felt comfortable, not too bad, temperatures in the 80 degree range now.

I had an annoying little skip in my drivetrain but I figured it was just a small barrel adjuster turn kind of thing.

I noticed that the swooping downhill wasn't as bad as I thought, which meant that the swooping uphill (as we'd hit it) wouldn't be bad at all. I felt a glimmer of hope.

We lined up, all of us wet, but the rain having stopped a few minutes before. They were going to hold us for a minute until the official start time, which was fine by me. We were all reasonably comfortable, soaked but warm. Then suddenly the trees in the distance became more gray. One of the guys yelled.

"You can see the wall of rain!"

It hit us like a gazillion buckets of water. Chilling rain dumping down on us. I could barely see 30 yards in front of me, my glasses all wet. Some of the guys complained about the cold rain.

The official told us 30 seconds to go.

Jeepers, time was moving like molasses.

Finally the officials released us. We got out of the pit lane, where it was neutralized, and then with a double honk of the pace car (a Suburban) we were off.

The hill wasn't bad but my chain was skipping something fierce. I tried using a bigger gear, a smaller gear, and finally decided that I needed to sit. My chain kept skipping on the flats, in the 11T on the fast backstretch, in every gear.

My chain had bit the dust. Something was wrong with it. Brand new in March, I didn't know why it was acting up.

I faked it for a couple laps but the chain kept skipping. I looked to see if there was any obvious broken things down there but I couldn't see any missing rollers, no plates skewed sideways, just a chain rolling forward and skipping every now and then.

The bike felt a bit sketchy up front too, not like a couple weeks ago at New Britain. What the heck?

I gave up the fight pretty quickly. I wasn't fit, I couldn't even make surge type efforts without the chain hopping around, and I didn't want to take anyone out. I hung out at the back, hoping that maybe I could just roll with the group but my legs protested vociferously.

I sat up.

The Missus just made sure I was okay. I stopped, checked the chain by moving the pedals backwards slowly. I looked for a long line of chain links skewed just a bit. Between them and the straight links there'd be a twisted link.

Bingo.

Well, that was that. Another mechanical. This isn't good. Broken bolt, now a twisted chain.

At least I didn't crash, I didn't push the part until it failed. For now I need to work on fitness, on weight, and, as I now realize, on my bike.

Junior was running around having an absolute blast. He had a lot of room to work with, no traffic, no riders zipping by, just an empty pit road lined with barriers and filled with perfect kid-sized puddles. He was exhausted but you couldn't tell from his smiles, his running around, his excitement with every new thing he saw.

Absolutely fantastic.

Rain.

The backdrop looks like a Kurosawa movie.

In the middle of all this I left to change. It rained suddenly while I was in the car so after I finished putting the bike stuff away I drove the car closer to the grandstands (or whatever they're called).

Bike after the race.

I put the only shallow wheel I had there back on the bike.

I haven't taken a close up of my pedals yet.

They have less clamp force than the Carbon Max pedals.

My saddle. It stayed on this time.

Bob Sharp Datsun. I'm assuming it's a 280Z but it could be a 260Z or a 240Z.

The Bob Sharp Z.

A side story. Bob Sharp lived in the town where I grew up. He gave a talk in the auto mechanics course (taught by Mr. Dey). He mentioned the 240Z, a car he helped develop. He's a tall guy, taller than the average Japanese guy in the late 60s. I think he's something like 6'4" or something. Anyway a main complaint of the older Japanese cars is that they're made for guys like me, 5'7" with a 30" inseam, not guys that are 6'4" and have a 35" inseam.

So when they asked him to help get an American specific touch to their new sports car one of the first things he did was he made sure it would fit a tall guy. You know, like, oh, I don't know, like Bob Sharp himself. He was a racer at the time, and as you can guess, all car racers have their favorite seat position. It's like a custom top tube length with a particular stem and a particular bar. When it all works out you know it because it's set up for you.

Bob Sharp's custom position is easy to figure out. All you have to do is sit in a 240Z and push the driver's seat all the way back.

Presto. You're in Mr Sharp's perfect driving position.

Fit is really important. But I digress.

Junior found this vine-stick. He really liked it.

The rain started again so we waited a bit until it eased, then we packed up the car. Stroller, all my wheels, Junior. As we put him in the car the drops started falling thick and fast. The Missus quickly jumped in the back and closed the door. I hopped in the driver's seat and closed my door.

A few seconds later I could barely see out the windshield. I grabbed the camera to take pictures.

Third downpour. I'd shut the door to the car about 20 seconds earlier.

The first was while I was warming up, the second when we were waiting to start.

Then I heard "ping, ping, ping, ping". Hail. No bowling ball pieces of hail, just quarter inch, maybe half inch tops. I felt bad for the guys out there in the hail, racing, little airsoft pellets hitting them all over.

We cranked the AC to dry stuff out and headed out.

An hour and change later, as we drove into our town, the rain had stopped. The roads were actually dry - we could see the tire tracks left by the car in front of us, fading as the tires dried out until bingo, no more tire tracks.

The clouds were coming though and we knew what to expect. We unloaded the car quickly, got inside, and got all hunkered down.

Then the rains came.

Racing - 2013 CT Masters Crit M40+ Cat 1-4

This report is basically a joke because I made only a couple laps before a seat post bolt broke.

Before anyone starts asking what brand post to bad mouth I should point out that the nut that holds the seat down (aka me) changed the bolts from the perfectly good stock ones to some aftermarket titanium ones. Therefore the seat post manufacturer, Thomson, has nothing to do with the breaking bolt.

It has to do with me changing something that didn't need to be changed.

One lesson re-learned today - don't change something that isn't broken.

I re-learned another lesson today - always bring spares and back ups to a race.

The Missus asked if I was going to bring the black Tsunami to the race. I've recently made the red Tsunami my primary race bike, to the point that I haven't ridden the black bike in almost two months. I need to get the bike to the shop to get the headtube faced and the BB30 reamed to spec, but I haven't done that yet.

I also want to finalize my bar/stem configuration. The red bike is close but no cigar so until I figure out the red bike I don't want to make the same less-than-complete changes to the black bike.

So, when the Missus asked me if I was going to bring the black bike, I said no.

I mean, look, it was raining, it'd have to spend the whole trip on the roof rack, then sit out in the pits in the rain during the race, then ride the rack back in the rain.

Even after I thought about having a spare bike, complete with things like, well, an unbroken seat post bolt, I decided that, no, it wouldn't be worth the trouble.

So we left with just one bike on the roof, three pairs of wheels for said bike. I had my clinchers, the only aluminum braking surface wheelset I regularly use, plus two carbon sets ("primary" and "spare").

Pre-Race

At the venue I decided to go conservative and kit out the bike with the aluminum clinchers. I figured that the aero benefit of the carbon wheels would be outweighed by the fact that I hadn't ridden in the rain on those wheels in a while. I also dressed aggressively, going with no shoe covers and summer long finger gloves despite the 55 degree rainy conditions.

A Bethel Spring Series (new-to-the-scene) racer struck up a conversation with me, asking about equipment. He showed me his bike, outfitted very close to mine, and I gave him some thoughts on how I'd upgrade his bike. That made me look around and realized that, wait, I could keep the aluminum front wheel and use a carbon rear wheel.

Plus the Stinger 9 had a Vittoria wet weather tire mounted to it, and I wanted to see how that worked in the wet.

I headed back to the car and switched the rear wheel.

I ran into another Bethel Spring Series racer, this one a long time friend and one of the staff of the BSS. He pointed out that it was pretty cold out there, once the water got through whatever layers you had on. In particular he questioned my aggressive choice of gloves and footwear. The wind vest was fine, but my hands and feet...

I did a lap out there and realized that, yeah, he was right. I switched to winter gloves (water and wind proof) and put on some ancient Cannondale water/wind socks. I think I wore them just once or twice before, and I've been hauling them around in my gear bag for about 20 years.

I felt better immediately, my feet toasty with no chilly water or air hitting them, my hands also toasty due to the lack of chilly water and air.

Race

The miserable weather, combined with all sorts of conflicting events, meant that all of maybe 12 racers lined up for the M40+ race.

Almost the whole field.

This didn't bode well for me - without incredible fitness I rely on being able to sit in the protected field. 12 riders didn't really constitute a "field" so I'd be exposed to the wind much more than normal. In such a situation I expected a couple of the strong guys to take off, leaving behind the rest of the riders.

For some reason the sprinklers were going full bore.

Someone said that "Sprinter Della Casa" was here.

I replied that, with such a small field, a break would win the race.

Someone else countered that the small field already counted as a "break".

With that the race started.

I last raced here in the rain in 2010 in really sketchy conditions. Ironically it was the "All Weather" tires that caused the problems at the time, slipping and sliding everywhere. This time my bike felt fine. I had the same front wheel on but this time with Maxxis ReFuse tires, my heavy training tires. They felt really grippy to my fingers even in the showroom and in the wet they worked great. I ran 80 psi in them, just because. I've run as low as 55 psi and as high as 105 psi, but for me 80 to 95 psi is okay, and I prefer to run a bit higher if I know I'm going to be cornering hard.

The rear Vittoria was great too. I'd automatically pumped up the tire to 120 psi, the pressure I normally run in my 23 mm tubulars. I had left putting on the rear wheel a bit late so I just left it like that and decided today would be an experimental day. To my pleasant surprise the Vittoria rear tire worked extremely well, even at the high pressure.

With both tires gripping nicely I even experimented with riding over the yellow line in the first turn, at the top of the hill, and even going into the last turn.

I felt much more secure on the bike on this wet day, compared with the race from 2010.

I couldn't sit directly on a wheel due to the spray and the fact that it took a half second for the brakes to start working, even if I was just feathering the brakes. This meant sitting slightly to one side and a bit further back than ideal for wind protection, which in turn meant I'd be working harder than normal.

Sitting off to the side to avoid spray.

Nevertheless I felt pretty good. The cool, wet conditions reduced my poison ivy craziness, the soothing chill driving away the insane itchiness on my arms, torso, legs, neck, etc.

All this happened in just two laps.

Then, on the backstretch, as I started getting warmed up, I heard a pop and I fell a bit forward on the bike.

My saddle had just dropped down.

I knew exactly what had happened before I looked.

Looking down when my bike popped and my saddle dropped.

I'd found some Ti bolts for the Thomson posts I use on my bike. At $14.95 for a set I figured it was harmless fun. Unfortunately I heard some creaking after I installed them and I realized that something with them must be bad. I kept putting off replacing the Ti bolts.

I couldn't put it off any more. One had just snapped.

There was a wheels in, wheels out pit.

My spare bike was at home though.

This meant my race was done just as it had started.

I coasted and soft pedaled to the start/finish area, where the Missus and Junior waited under a tent. I couldn't go too fast because I didn't want to drop my saddle. I knew the Missus could see me across the course so she'd know that although something went wrong she'd also know that I wasn't hurt.

I rolled up to the tent and stopped, explained what happened. The irony of me changing out the bolts and then deciding to leave the spare bike behind. I even had the original seat post bolts in my gear bag in the car (but they weren't in the pits so I couldn't go get them, fix the post, and get back in the race).

Ah well.

Junior took a while to realize that the weird looking bike racer with a helmet on was his Pops.

Then he smiled, his arms and legs kicking a bit in excitement.

All was good.