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 - Honesty

I worked at a McDonalds when I was in college, 2 weeks a year for two years, during Christmas break. I did it to make some pizza money, to buy bike parts, and because I didn't know what else to do for four weeks in a cold, dark January Connecticut.

I interviewed with the McDonalds that I'd first visited when I was maybe 4 years old. I remember it was a rare treat for me to actually go there but I'd always look at it when we drove by. It was one of my many landmarks that I kept in my 4 year old head.

We moved away from that area for a good 6 or 7 years, visiting it annually. And, for whatever reason, we'd always drive by that McDonalds. One thing that impressed me was just how many hamburgers that little place served. I didn't realize the number on the sign, so many millions served (now it's in the billions), was the total of all the McDonalds in the world, not just that one place. I didn't see that sign elsewhere so I figured they were counting just their own sales.

So when I went looking for a job for a few weeks I decided to look at places where there wasn't a lot of skill, there was probably high turn over, and I could qualify for the job without having a college degree.

The new Burger King wasn't hiring so I went and filled out an application form at that really busy McDonalds that sold 100 million burgers or whatever.

I got an immediate interview with the manager, a guy named Alan. He was pretty laid back. He knew what needed to get done and he also understood that being a jerk about it wasn't going to help.

He asked me what I thought I'd be doing.

"I dunno, flipping burgers or making fries or something."
"Why's that?"
"Because I can only work for a few weeks and if it takes a week or two to train me to do something else then I wouldn't be productive."
"Have you worked with money?"
"Yeah, at the bike shop."
"Well, if you want to work, I'm going to put you in the drive-thru."

I took the job.

I didn't think much of it, honestly. I'd applied for three jobs and gotten them all, most of them with a pretty informal interview like the one I just had sitting at a table at the McDonalds.

I went for my first day of work and Alan gave me a uniform. Shirt, pants, and the hat thing. The shirt was fine - they all were because I was so skinny - but the pants were sort of a problem. They were way too long because I have really short legs, and they fit way too tight around the thighs because I'm a bike racer (hahahaha! Actually I'm sort of serious about that, the thighs were really tight).

I preferred to wear my own jeans, which happened to be black. Alan, as laid back as he was, told me no.

I asked why I had to wear the McDonald's pants. Not only were they uncomfortable but they had no pockets so it was impossible for me to carry my wallet and keys. He explained that in the drive thru (this before credit cards at McDs) there was a high risk of theft. He carefully explained that if a drive thru teller like myself shorted each customer a dime, at 50 or 60 cars an hour the teller could more than double their hourly wage. Since we got about $5.75/hour at the time for the late shift (substantially less for day shift), another $5-6 per hour was no laughing matter. Most customers would miss quarters but not dimes, so, as Alan explained it, the teller had to short dimes or nickels. Then if the customer stopped and complained the teller could apologize and just give them another dime or whatever.

You know the bit about drive thrus in Lethal Weapon, right? (warning: link has language)

He explained that pants with pockets would only encourage that kind of action because it would allow the teller to put that shorted change somewhere.

The way he explained it was so precise, so detailed, that in a book the author would be obliged to obscure some of the details and explain that in another book some thieves actually implemented his writing and stole millions of dollars are artwork (which one author does, I can't remember which one). But this was verbal and he was basically telling me how to steal money from customers.

Then, I think my second day there, he let me wear my regular pants instead of the McDs ones.

Now I look back and it seems pretty clear that part of the game was that the drive thru was sort of a good spot for shorting change and if I was that kind of person, as long as I kept out of trouble, he'd leave me alone. I'd be hung out to dry if I got caught though.

At the same time the less cynical would say that, okay, Alan checked on me, did an honesty check, then let me work comfortably in a spot where he couldn't trust any of his other employees.

I'd like to think it was the latter.

I think I passed the honesty test when, I think on the first day of work, I reported to him in a worried manner that we might be getting set up to be robbed. He jumped and asked why. I told him that the cameras were all pointing at the registers, not at the customers, so we wouldn't be able to identify any robbers.

He looked at me for a long moment and then relaxed and grinned.

He patiently explained to me that the cameras were pointed at the registers for a reason, not at the customers, and left it at that. I couldn't understand what he meant until I told the story to someone and that someone pointed out that generally speaking the biggest thief in a place like that are the employees.

Then it sort of dawned on me about the regular pants versus the McDonalds pants and the significance of Alan letting me wear my regular pants.

I never took anything, to be clear, although I suppose if I did I wouldn't be writing about it either. The crew did discretely over produce some stuff at the end of a shift so we had to "throw it out" (into bags which the employees took home), which, based on what I've heard from other McD's people, seems to be pretty normal. I had a lot of hamburgers that January.

The following year I went back there. Alan was still there, and in fact I was apparently still an employee because he couldn't hire someone for just two weeks. Therefore he hired me and then put me on "leave of absence for school". He said that he had a 6 month and 1 year pin for me. He took me off the leave of absence list and let me work whatever days I wanted.

I quickly realized it was a totally different crew. They seemed much more hardened, much more serious. I was admiring a car in the parking lot, a Camaro (I know, I know), IROC-Z. One of the guys asked me if I wanted to buy it. Well, of course, but it's $8000 or something, way out of my league.

"I'll sell it to you for $500."
"What?"
"Then you just slip this guy at DMV $50 and he'll give you a new VIN number."

I told Alan I couldn't work there anymore.

Junior Racing

Junior 15-17 start line at New Britain (going reverse how we go now, due to a massive Junior crash in 1986 or so).

I'm looking down, blue/pink/white kit, about 5 from the right side of the picture.

I think Charlie Issendorf posted this picture elsewhere.

I bring all this up because I saw a post on the internet about Junior gears. One Junior asked why he couldn't just race his bike the way it was and then adjust the gears or change the wheel to pass rollout. I think it was an innocent question because he didn't realize the significance of the gear limit rule.

I saw an unrelated post about how Junior gear limits are a nice way of capping performance. It's easy to check, everyone gets checked, and there's no question if you fail roll out - you get DQ'ed. I know there are officials that have examples of Juniors (or rather their parents) who think that their kid should have won even though they were in a 53x11, but that's getting onto a tangent.

Same era, different race, very left of the picture. 

This is New Britain again, a spring series race since there are Seniors in here and not many leaves.

Different kit, same bike, probably earlier the same year.

Again, reverse direction compared to nowadays.

What if the officials accidentally tell you that you can run a bigger gear?

One year, at the Andy Raymond Firecracker 500 in Middletown, CT, the official/s checking rollout at registration used incorrect marks to check rollout. At the time the gear limit for Juniors 17-18 was equal to a 53x15 with an average 21-22mm tire (7.47 meters, like the plane, 747). However, at the registration roll out check, it was pretty clear that a much, much bigger gear would pass the official marks. Someone found that a 53x12 would "pass rollout" and the word spread like wildfire in the parking lots.

My teammate fitted such a gear. Us older Juniors had Senior gear freewheels because in Senior races we weren't gear restricted like Juniors are nowadays. He went back to registration and duly passed rollout.

I looked at my bike. 53x15. The sprint was off a downhill stretch, and anyone running a 53x12 would absolutely wallop someone using a 53x15.

I didn't have a Senior wheel yet so I really didn't have any way of implementing the 53x12 gear thing. Then one of my Senior teammates offered me a wheel. Because, you know, every Junior was doing it.

I hemmed and hawed but finally declined. I'd race my wheels, legally, and whatever came of it would be my race.

For once in a Junior race I didn't get shelled right away, and in fact I made it to the sprint. As a Junior I wasn't very strong relative to the others (they were all Cat 1s and 2s) so to even make it to the finish was astonishing. I was not really in contention for anything - I vaguely remember being maybe 20th going into the last turn but that probably means I was more like 30th or 40th. I fantasized about a top 6 finish, points toward an upgrade (only top 6 got points toward upgrading regardless of field size, and it was a huge field).

I do remember what happened after the final turn though.

Gobs and gobs of riders sprinted past me, like I was standing still. My teammate was one of them.

After about 15 or 20 riders passed me I sat up. I imagined most of them were running a 12 or a 13, and with the ultrafast downhill into the last turn I couldn't accelerate at all in my 15. I felt like I was sprinting in my 42T chainring.

I went back to the car, a bit disappointed in myself. I was so far back I didn't even bother going to rollout because back then they didn't pick all the spots, they only hand picked the first six or ten.

I wished in a way that I'd taken that bigger geared wheel.

Then my teammate, one of those who passed me in the sprint, came over to the cars. He'd gotten 7th or something in the sprint. He didn't look very happy.

"I got DQ'ed."
"What?!"
"They fixed the roll out marks and everyone is getting disqualified. Everyone was running 12s and 13s in the back."

I couldn't help but laugh a bit.

I'd disqualified myself simply by not going to rollout, but imagine if I'd gone? I might have placed top 6 after crossing the line 50th or 80th place. I have no idea how they worked out the placings because we left without bothering to find out.

McDonalds

The year after the Camaro conversation I went back to Alan's McDonalds, during my winter break. He was still there, asked if I wanted to work. I told him no, not this year, I was working elsewhere. He didn't seem surprised. He said that he'd be moving to a different McDonald's soon, one that had even more customers per hour. A good move for him but in that location there was no way I'd be able to drop by and say hi.

Then it got busy so he had to go, but before I got out the door he called out.

"Hey! I forgot to tell you! I have a 2 year pin for you and I still have your 6 month and 1 year pins!"

I grinned and waved.

I never got those pins.

Tactics - Bike Throw, 2005 Bethel Spring Series

Bike throw pictures. They fascinate me because it's a skill/practice thing. Pretty much anyone can learn to throw their bike in one or two tries, and after 20 or 30 practice throws (it might take a few minutes, or, if you're actually sprinting a little before the throw, maybe an hour), you'll be pretty proficient at it.

Yet even pros don't throw their bikes properly at the line. These are guys that make their living on results, at least if they're vying for a win. Okay, fine, the team rider that is supposed to pull the first 150 km of the race, I get that they don't get into situations very often where they're trying to win a race. But even the most hardcore domestique should know how to throw a bike at the finish.

Imagine if it's the one day out of ten years where your break actually made it to the finish intact and now it's just you and a couple other riders going for the win. You jump well, you sprint well, and your body is even ahead of the next rider... but at the line the other rider beats you with a bike throw.

How horrible is that?

Not just that, how horrible is it when the loser realizes that it's just a little bit of practice, a little bit of horsing around, that lost the race?

Recently two riders made it to the finish of a race and for once both had spectacular bike throws. One won, one lost, but it certainly wasn't because of a poor bike throw. It's good to see that in a pro race.

For some reason I never posted these pictures from the 2005 Bethel Spring Series on the blog, or if I did I can't find them. So I'm putting them here, possibly again, for reference.

To me normally the Series was the World Championships of racing so it was really, really important for me to do as best as I could. However, two years prior, I'd promised my mom to win the race for her about a month before she died.

This made the Series even more significant to me.

My friendly arch rival that year was Morgan. He's an admittedly better racer than me but he'd spread himself a bit thin by trying to win both the Masters and Cat 3-4 Series yet again. This led to him not starting one of the Cat 3-4 races after an icy cold rainy day sapped him of strength in the Masters race.

Each time we went head to head in the sprints he absolutely demolished me, typically by a solid 10 or 20 feet, if not more. However, because he missed one race, and I think in another he had some problem, I ended up coming into the last week with a 1 point lead.

On the last week the top seven racers got 10, 7, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 points respectively. If tied on points whoever placed ahead of the other on the last day would win. Therefore I basically had to beat Morgan. If he got any place I'd have to place in front of him. Even if he got just 7th he'd tie me on points but if I didn't place in front of him he'd win on the tie-breaker.

I had a bit of help, both from teammates and friends, including some very strong riders that could pull like mad. They knew that it had to come down to a sprint, and that I'd handle the final lap or two on my own.

Morgan had a superb team, including a Portuguese ex-pro. They were strong and motivated, and collectively had much more experience than my team. More than anything I feared them setting up a break so that Morgan could bridge to it. I wouldn't be able to hang in a break so a move like that would end my chances of retaining the lead.

Another racer John was in the mix. Like me he preferred sprints, but that spring I'd been outsprinting him consistently. He knew this and admitted later that he wasn't up to it that day. A realist, he would be satisfied holding onto third overall. However he decided at some point that his team would ride for me if it came down to Morgan and myself.

Finally the local shop team, Bethel Cycle, had two very strong crit racers looking to win the day. Both of their sprinters, Stephen and Bryan, were friends of mine, but on that day I couldn't count on them for any gifts.

Even with the relentless attacking by Morgan's team, it came down to a field sprint, thanks to the efforts of my teammates, John's teammates, Bethel Cycle (who wanted to win the sprint), and a friend here and there. On the bell lap Bethel Cycle put four riders up front just after Turn One, two leadout men and two sprinters. I sat on their wheel and I think Morgan was on my wheel.

The first leadout man peeled off rather quickly, leaving Brian W to do the majority of the lap at the front. Patiently the rest of the field waited as we flew down the backstretch. Then Brian pulled off, absolutely exploded, and the sprint started to unfold. Unfortunately for Stephen and Bryan, the leadout Brian couldn't make it another 100 meters or so, and so one had to start the sprint early. The fourth rider was already in trouble, which set Morgan and myself up for a battle royale.

As we hit the uphill finish the two Bethel sprinters both blew up at the same time, jamming up the inside line. I managed to clear them to the right but Morgan got boxed in on the left curb. He had to back out of that spot, go around the two riders to their right, and hunt me down before the finish line.

After I passed Bryan I found myself on a clear road, nothing between me and the finish line, and something like 75 meters to go. I thought for certain that Morgan had run into problems, I knew there would be no one else approaching me (and it didn't matter if anyone except Morgan did approach me).

I started thinking about if I should raise my hands or not. Maybe just one. I've only raised my hands once and it was a two up sprint and the other guy sat up long before the finish line. I even looked back and confirmed he'd stopped sprinting before I raised my hands.

The only time I've ever raised my hands at the finish.

It was 1992, almost 13 years before this particular Bethel Spring Series.

So all this was going through my head as I got onto the flat part of the road by the finish, maybe 15 or 20 meters to go.

Then, to my absolute horror, I saw a wheel coming up fast on my right. I couldn't even make out the jersey but I knew the only racer who could make that move was Morgan.

I pedaled a few desperate pedal strokes to the line and threw my bike as far forward as I could. I looked over at Morgan as I did and ended up a bit disoriented, losing the grip on one side of my bars. It slewed me to the left and I almost crashed into the curb.

I had no idea if I'd won or not, and in fact I thought I'd given away the win by dreaming about "posting up" (the raised arms thing).

You can see that we're already throwing our bikes.

At this point our bikes are even.

Here I'm starting to really drop back over the saddle.

This is pushing the bike forward.

I'm running out of "going backward" room.

However it seems that I've done enough to keep my bike in front.

Any my front wheel passes the line before his.

In the last picture you can see that my head and shoulders are in front of Morgan's. If neither of us had thrown our bikes I'd have won, barely. If I did a less intense throw, or no throw at all, it's clear that Morgan would have beaten me. This is because my head is usually over the front wheel, at least where the hub is, and if you moved my wheel back so that the center of the wheel was under my head... I'd have lost by about the margin I won by.

It looks all set and pretty in still motion, but if you watch the clip in real time all this stuff unravels really fast. Go to about 5:45.

2005 Bethel Spring Series

Ultimately the finish line camera told the story. Both Morgan and I checked ourselves because we both really didn't know who won. I was also the promoter so I had to make sure that the win was legitimate, not just because I made the race happen.

Morgan later told me that he still thinks about the race. It was a good race, a fair race, a hard race. We both raced to our limits, we both made our moves, and we both did a technically perfect sprint. In the end the race tilted in my direction, but it could have gone either way.

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.

Racing - CCAP Tuesday Night Crit - Aug 9, 2016, Bs, Bryan and Vassos!

So I had this revelation a couple days ago. I'd revamped my trainer set up a bit and realized that I'd trained myself to ease into my sprints so the tire wouldn't slip on the trainer. Although that's fine for Zwift it's not good for real bike racing. I've felt like in the past few years I rarely got in a solid, solid jump, and I think this is the reason why. I stopped training outside, I stopped doing these massive stomp efforts, and instead I was doing these softer sprints on the trainer. Consider trying to jump into the draft of a passing truck - one chance to get it right and it takes a massive, massive effort.

I hoped that this evening I'd be able to do a proper sprint. Although I couldn't fix the power bit of my SRM (I screwed up something when I soldered in the last battery I think) I figured just doing the massive stomp/sprint would be a good thing to experience.

As usual I started getting ready while still at home, starting with pinning my number.

Pinned number.

My dad had a little crisis which distracted me. I forgot to finish pinning the #2.

Due to an accident on I-291 we decided to head into the heart of Hartford, taking the I-91 HOV lane. We knew we'd need to navigate regular I-84 to the Rent but it seemed worth it. Until we took a wrong exit and had to go past the exit, turn around, and get back. We got to the venue with a few minutes remaining before the start.

Fortunately for me the Juniors had the last race of their summer series and there was a bit of a delay after their finish. This meant that not only could I kit up and all that, I even had time to do a couple laps.

This Tuesday the weather ended up perfect. I think it was about 80 deg F with low humidity. There was some wind but it was opposite the normal wind, giving us basically a tailwind finish. The swirling wind around the stadium meant the right side crosswind was still there.

To my absolute shock two guys rolled up to me as I got on my bike - Vassos and Bryan. Vassos was one of my teammates a long time ago, in the mid-90s. He raced for a rival team until then but their core riders, led by a guy named Gene, moved over to Carpe Diem Racing. He's one of the few guys that I put in a clip commenting on the last of the Bethel Spring Series races (go to 6:19).

Bryan I've known since he was something like 15, we raced against each other for literally decades. For something like 20 years we talked about racing together on the same team, we have the utmost respect for one another, and only in 2011 did we get to race on the same team. It was after 2010 (when I defeated him in a very closely fought Bethel Spring Series finale) that he could move over to Expo. Ironically we pretty much never raced together because the first year I upgraded to 2 (2011) while he remained a 3 (but won the Bethel Spring Series in a dominating fashion), then Junior came along so I really backed off on the racing. We couldn't even do Masters races together that much because he's younger than me. His work cranked up at the same time so he stopped racing. This was the first race in three years for him, and, really, because he did one race here and there, he really hadn't "been a racer" since his successful 2011.

To see both these guys on the same day was an absolute bonus. I spent the extra time before our race chatting like mad with them. They admitted that they weren't sure about how they'd hold up in the race. I wasn't sure myself, seeing as I got shelled a bunch of times. I hoped the Juniors would take it easy on us.

Vassos (Class Cycles) and Bryan (Expo)

I did give them some advice while we rolled around. I pointed out some of the more diesel riders - they're the good wheels to follow when there are gaps everywhere because they just diesel along and gather everyone up. I also cautioned them on how strong the Juniors were, telling them the time a Junior pulled the field around the course for a while and when the group moved left I just stayed right and sat up. I was absolutely cooked just sitting on wheels.

Other than that it was just business as usual. Bryan is one of the rare riders that feels comfortable in a break as well as in a field sprint. Vassos is more a sprinter but he's often given up his chances to help friends or teammates. Both are exemplary team players, willing to cover moves, never taking a pull if a teammate is up the road, etc. Both are very crafty as well, combining good judgment with well honed race instincts. They're ideal teammates for sure.

We also had Esteban, Junior's new favorite teammate thanks to a delivery of a boxload of Thomas the Tank Engine tracks and accessories. He was more a break rider and he has what has got to be the best reading on team work habits I've ever seen. I don't think I've ever talked to him about tactics specifically but he knows exactly how to help me, how hard to pull, when to ease, everything, all to help me. I try to return the favor, basically by marking moves whenever he goes. I think, though, that the favors go more my way than his.

Junior waving over to the right.

As usual Junior was sitting with the Missus and my dad. I try to wave but it's not really good to do that in the middle of an intense part of a race. At first he was crushed when I didn't wave to him every lap but the Missus explained that if I was working hard I wouldn't be able to wave. So when I roll by, nose to my stem, hanging on for dear life, I'll not wave and be okay with it.

He'll turn to the Missus and say in a very serious tone, "Daddy is working hard."

Bryan off the front, to the left.

I think Bryan felt okay after a few laps because he launched a move. I'd done the same, on the second lap of the race. I didn't launch really but a guy was going up the road and no one was reacting. I was in the perfect spot, about 4-5 riders back, so I just put my hands on the hoods and rolled for a lap. I almost blew myself up but fortunately the pace didn't skyrocket after and I could recover. Bryan took my lead and did a little move. One rider bridged to him but then we all regrouped.

After Turn 3, shelter to the right.

The wind played its normal crucial role today. It was a crosswind at the start/finish, much better than the normal headwind we've seen all summer. This meant that the final stretch started out forcing the riders to seek shelter to the right (wind hitting us from the left). As the road curved left we'd sit a bit less to the side and a bit more behind.

Start/finish area, shelter to the right.

I'm sheltered to the right here, by the start/finish area. I remember times where the wind was much stronger from the left and everyone would be scrambling to avoid hitting the right side curb. Nothing like that tonight but I did get close now and then.

After Turn 1, shelter to the left.

Once we took the right at Turn one the wind hit us from the right side. To stay sheltered one had to move from the right side to the left side. This is tricky because you need to drift back off the wheel to your left, allow the wheel to cross a bit to the right, then move up to take shelter, all in the several seconds it takes to take the corner. You can see in the picture above that I'm sitting to the left of the rider in the red/orange helmet.

Note that the rider to my left is not really sheltered well. If he dropped back slightly behind me he'd be better protected, or if he moved up and sat between the two riders in front he'd be sheltered by the white/yellow rider on the red bike.

Backstretch after Turn 2, shelter to the left.

On the backstretch the wind still swirled around the stadium to our right so the wind hit us from the right. I stayed left to stay sheltered. This is the stretch I think I messed up most, I was on the right side most of the time.

Moved over to clear my nose.

I haven't done this in a while but I did so I wanted to point this out. I had clear my nose so I moved over to do so. Common courtesy. If it's in the throes of the bell lap or something I try to do it discretely and politely. But when things are tactically neutral I'll check, move over, clear my nose, check, and move back. Usually riders let you back in because otherwise next time you might just clear your nose in the field.

Sitting between two Juniors, comfortable.

One thing that surprised me was this bit. I was sitting between two Juniors. The thing was that I didn't realize this happened - it was a total non-event for me. That meant I was totally comfortable sitting there, I trusted the riders, yada yada yada. That's a good thing.

Sheltering right while everyone else in front of me is pretty much in the wind.

This shot struck me as well. I was sheltered to the right but everyone in front of me was lined up nicely in single file. Problem is that the wind is from our left a bit so it's better to sit to the right for shelter. I was soft pedaling here but I think others were working.

Esteban attacks (blue jersey, red shorts).

He'll solo to the line.

Esteban attacked at some point in the race. He rolled off (from the sheltered side, mind you) and quickly settled into a slightly-higher rhythm. He later admitted to me that he had a minor mechanical issue with his bike. To stay out of trouble he wanted to sit at the front and pull a bit.

Bryan (Expo) and me marking moves as Esteban gets clear of the last two riders chasing him.

Problem was that Bryan covered moves. I didn't cover per se but I wasn't moving and I was at or near the front. When the last two guys chasing Esteban sat up there was a momentary lull in the pace. That was all Esteban needed. His slightly-above-pack-pace pulled him away from the field and netted him an unexpected win.

My view for a few laps, until 2 to go.

Back in the field one of the super steady and willing to work riders sat the front, dragging all of us around for a few laps. I happened to be on his wheel when he went to the front so I sat there, second wheel, watching him work.

For the first time this year I felt a glimmer of form. My legs dropped quickly. I wasn't overchurning the gear, I could put a little stamp at the end of the pedal stroke.

Unfortunately I have zero data so I can't check cadence or HR or power. Hopefully I'll have things resolved for next week and I can get some data.

3rd person view, courtesy Jeff Cote.

My head is down, which apparently is my tell.

Also I'm not super close to the wheel.

So as not to be a total nimrod, note that my head is down here. Although I'm on the wheel I'm actually working pretty hard for me, my "glimmer of form" notwithstanding. I wasn't sure how this would end up but when I heard some uncharacteristic yelling by the start/finish I figured we had to be approaching the finish.

Sure enough we went by and I saw 3 to go. Second wheel, 3 to go, that's a bit forward. I knew there'd be a surge and I could get back into the field, sit 10 or 15 riders back, and see how things played out.

I waited for the surge.

Coming up on 2 to go the field went around.

Finally, just before 2 to go, the diesel pulled off, fortunately on the sheltered/right side. The field rolled by offering a massive amount of shelter (and they were on the correct side to offer me shelter). I checked to make sure I was clear and moved a bit to the left, into the field's protective embrace.

2 to go!

So at 2 to go I was sitting sort of on the side of the field. Riders naturally sat up or blew up in front, reducing the numbers between me and the air in front of the field.

I should point out that my philosophy for these B races has been the following:

1. Make it to the finish.
2. If I finish and there is no break, lead out the sprint for the field or for someone in particular.
3. If I finish and there is a break, try to do well in the field sprint.

Although Esteban was up the road, I was thinking selfish thoughts.

I really wanted to do a big sprint, to try and break that habit of easing into sprints. I also knew that this was the second-last week of the Tuesday Night races and, realistically, I wouldn't be racing anymore this season. If next week's race got rained out this would be the last race of the season for me.

Therefore selfish thoughts: I wanted to sprint for myself tonight.

Bell lap, just before Turn 1.

At the bell there were maybe 8 or 9 riders in front of me, other than Esteban of course. A couple small gaps opened up but I was more concerned with how far up the very front was relative to me. If there was a gap to close I'd deal with it later. If the front got too far away... that would make things challenging. Which wasn't a bad thing, it would just be challenging.

Bell lap, Turn 2.

Through Turn 2 and the front of the field stretched and contracted. A gap still existed between me (really the wheel I was following) and the front of the group. I still had confidence in my sprint though, and I figured that things would come together by Turn 3.

Bell lap, back stretch.

On the back stretch I knew the gaps in front of me were significant but I still felt things were closeable. The rider in front of me rallied and closed the gap just before we hit Turn 3. I think that if he didn't do it I'd have gone. Since he went the point was moot.

On a side note, if I was in the front group and noticed no one directly on my wheel (by looking down briefly to check shadows), I'd have turned around, checked for a gap behind me. If there was a gap I'd have jumped early. This is basically how I won that race in 2015, basically by accident, because I had a very small gap, just like the one above, with one turn to go before the finish.

Bell lap, just before Turn 3.

Bryan moved up hard here.

Fortunately for me no one went early up front (I think they even eased?) and the rider in front of me closed the gap in front of him. As we approached Turn 3, though, another twist in the plot appeared - Bryan rolled past me on the right.

Shelter will be to the right of green kit, behind Bryan in the red Expo kit.

I decided I wanted to get on Bryan's wheel after the turn. Since I wanted to be to the right exiting the final turn anyway, and since Bryan was there, I decided to move over a bit and follow him. If nothing else I could sit when he jumped, or I could jump around him, or something. It would work out.

Sheltered on the right going into the sprint.

We hit the final straight without any massive acceleration. The sprint opened up pretty late so we weren't going very fast at first. For some reason everyone was waiting for the jump, which, to be honest, is better for me.

I didn't consider jumping out of the last turn because I was too far back - if I was just a couple spots up I'd have jumped first, before the turn, especially with the relatively kind wind direction at the finish line. It'd be a fast sprint for sure and those usually work in my favor.

Early jumps seem to favor me as well, possibly a side effect of the long sprints on Zwift. One week I jumped halfway down the backstretch, sprinted for a total of 20 seconds, and had such a gap that I could soft pedal for 20 seconds to the line. This week I was focused on doing a big jump and a real sprint so I wanted to make my efforts in the last 200m to the line.

As the riders in white drift apart Bryan goes up the middle.

I hesitate to give him a chance to get clear.

As much as I wanted to do a big jump, I couldn't hurt Bryan's chances in the process. When the leadout guy started to fizzle the two riders just behind him hesitated, drifting left and right. This opened up a hole between them, one that just screamed to be jumped through.

Bryan responded.

For a moment I hesitated, getting a read on what the two riders would do. If they closed in to get on Bryan's wheel I'd have room to maneuver. Also I didn't want to go with Bryan because if a good sprinter was on my wheel I'd just drag them up to Bryan. I banked on using my jump to gap off whoever was on my wheel and then I could wind out the sprint to the line.

When he jumped I jumped also.

As Bryan hit out for the line (he's never raced here before so he hasn't done this sprint dozens of times like I have) I jumped as well, and as we got toward the straight part I absolutely drilled it.

Sweeping around Bryan on the sheltered right side.

At the course straightened out I stayed to Bryan's right. Friend or not, teammate or not, I wanted to be on the sheltered side. I shifted up a gear, did another jump, and looked back.

Bryan in full cry.

There was no one close, Bryan was sprinting to the line, his son was there, and I wanted Bryan to win the sprint.

3rd person shot, courtesy Jeff Cote.

I'm trying to calculate where I need to be to lose a tight sprint to Bryan.

As we approached the line I wanted to see how close I could get to Bryan without passing him. Junior doesn't care at this point if I win or not, but Bryan's son is older and I wanted him to see his dad win the sprint. I took a celebration away from his son six years ago when I knocked Bryan off the top step of the podium at Bethel. Even though this wasn't some Series finale I could at least pay my respects to a good friend and person.

No need to sprint harder so finagled it so Bryan pipped me at the line.

Half a wheel. I wanted to be 2-3 inches behind, not 13-14 inches behind.

I did a bike throw that I'd crucify myself for if I did it for real, just horrible form, really didn't throw the bike, yada yada yada. I'd have fired myself if I was my team director.

Problem was that I was a bit too cautious, I lost by about half a wheel. Note that his hub is on the crack (the finish line) and my tire is just there. I wanted it to be that the front part of his rim was just past the crack and my tire was there, just a few inches.

I know, I should have thrown my bike for real.

I looked over at Bryan, he looked back, and we grinned like fools.

Heh.

Junior back pedaling the cranks.

Pops is back there, Missus is barely visible to the left.

Note long finger gloves which I always wear in races.

I headed back to our base camp. Junior wanted to turn the cranks, backwards because that's the only way they turn when the bike's stationary. I grabbed another bottle of ice water. I was a bit more tired than I realized and really need to pedal a bit. My stomp sprint took a lot of gas out of me and for the first time in a while I felt the need to spin a bit.

I liked this shot, it's an unusual angle.

I rolled along with Jeff, another teammate as Bryan and Vassos had to get going for a long drive home. Jeff and Bryan moved to Expo together back in 2011. In that oh-so-difficult race in 2010 Jeff was one of Bryan's teammates trying to isolate me, trying to help Bryan hold the Leader's Jersey. Their team rode strongly and fairly and I had the utmost respect for their efforts. Jeff, after he joined Expo, laughed about how their (opposing) team had gotten all amped up about beating me and how it just fell apart in the last lap of the last race. I veered off when we got back to the start/finish and let Junior walk my bike to the car (with my hand on the saddle).

Vassos and Bryan both said bye as I was putting the bike away (with Junior's "help"). I headed back to base camp to get my dad and walk him to the car, Junior holding my free hand; the Missus carried the chairs and cooler. With everything put away we headed home, the Missus driving as I was a bit lightheaded. I don't think I could stop talking about Bryan and Vassos, how surprised I was to see them at the race.

I know that my limited race schedule is a temporary thing and that eventually I'll be able to race more again. It's a sad thing though. I'm not itching to race all the time because I know what it will take before I can do that. Yes I would have raced at New Britain this year if I could because that's within the same range as the Rent. But, no, it's okay that I can't race any other races right now.

With things the way they are it's days like these that make it super fun. Friends from 20+ years back, good riders, good racers, having fun racing our bikes, and, at some level, taking my mind off of other things.

Next week will be the last CCAP Tuesday Night Race for 2016. Race and barbecue. Then for me it'll be a long pause until the 2017 season.