Bethel Spring Series - Ronde De Bethel Results

Thanks to Navone Studios (that's where we had registration) for the use of their space. This was huge for us. Huge. They'll be selling coffee, muffins, some other stuff, over the Series.

Results are here.

Any stories (I have none right now, except what I experienced) will be posted later.

Bethel Spring Series - The Big Prep Day

So I was thinking of posting a picture of all the trophies today. I even scheduled posting such a post, saved a draft with the title, made notes in it. You know like, "Post pictures of trophies here".

But the trophies still sit in the car, probably until they get moved into the van, tomorrow evening.

So no trophy pictures, not until they're at Bethel.

I suppose I could haul them out, but they're heavy and I'm tired. This was a huge push day before the first race. And, after I finally got up, I started remembering things I should have remembered before.

Like, um, radios.

Right. Radios for the marshals. The original Motorolas we used each had a non-replaceable rechargeable battery. I think we had eight of them and they're all approaching the end of their usable life. We're down to two now.

We also have radios powered by four AAA batteries. If they're rechargeable batteries the radios have recharging plugs. The rechargeable batteries included with the radios started to fizzle out too, so I'm slowly replacing them with Duracell rechargeables. Expensive, yes, but they work.

The problem is I need to buy at least 16 more Duracell rechargeable AAA batteries. I learned that four radios have fizzled batteries.

We use a TiVO for our finish line camera hard drive. We have a fancy camcorder that "sees" the action, but we record it onto the TiVO. But TiVOs need to communicate with the mothership, else they don't work.

I spent a long time trying to connect the TiVO to the mothership. I finally traced the problem down to a bad telephone wire. The solution sounds simple but the process getting there was not.

TiVO said hi to the mothership. Mothership said hi back. TiVO was happy.

Then I left for Bethel and points surrounding it.

After an hour plus of driving (and my temporary exhaust patch noticeably weakening), I got to Crown Trophy in Brookfield. They've supplied the trophies for the Series for I don't know how many years. Ten? Fifteen? I don't know. I think all but one year, so 18 or 19 years?

Anyway, it's a lot.

In my haze I wrote the check out for the wrong amount (too much), they had me correct it, and I walked away with $500+ worth of trophies. They're really heavy.

Then I went to Bethel Cycle. The owner Greg has always a supporter of the race. I even have pictures of him before he owned the shop, pow-wowing with his then team. I picked up some samurai swords, tubular glue, and a bag of their Race Day coffee (can you guess what will be brewing this morning?).

Okay, they weren't samurai swords, but they might as well be. Super cool equipment used to demolish opponents' legs.

Heh. Well, at least they encourage you to try. I'll see how things work out on Sunday.

One disconcerting thing. These, um, samurai swords, when clunking together, sound exactly like trophies clunking together. Since I had a lot of trophies in the back of the car, and they regularly clunked together, I kept thinking the significantly more expensive swords were clunking.

I stopped jumping every time the trophies clunked after about 15 minutes. But my lip started twitching non-stop. Stressful. Tip: bring padding when picking up swords.

Next on my list, the course, of course. I got there, drove around it, looked at the sand, thought, "Ah, not so bad. Not really."

So I checked it off. I went to Navone Studios, where we'll have registration. Reviewed the space, thought about the layout, where we'll store things, stuff like that.

I really want to bring my bike in there and take pictures of it because it's just sooooo cool in there.

Serious.

Anyway, Frank (he of Navone) and I talked a bit, but I had to make the rounds with the tenants, notifying them of the Series.

So I became that dreaded door-to-door bell ringer. Luckily I didn't wear a button up blue or white shirt with black slacks. Nor did I carry around a clipboard. I just carried a bunch of printed paper, in my Expo Wheelmen jacket, flannel lined pants, DeWalt work boots.

In other words I fit right in. Well, except the jacket.

No one kicked me out, no one cussed at me. They laughed, some of them. "Oh, you're the ones we always complain about with the sand on the lawn."

Um, ahem, yep, that's me.

One had a cat (it's a house). I have to remember to bring treats next year. Another had a cute little dog walking around, but it looked very happy with a bone in its mouth, so figure no treats necessary.

I gave them all letters (the tenants, not the animals), a little map of course with arrows for direction of travel, and pointed out my name and phone number at the bottom. A few of the folks looked at that and then at me.

"You're a brave soul, putting that there."

I thought about it for a second.

"I may be. But I am proud of what we do, and I stand 100% behind what I do. I'm responsible for everything that happens with the race so I'll answer to any complaint. If you have any complaints or (and I did the quotes thing with the fingers) 'suggestions', let me know."

(Which reminds me of Sarah out west, who had just learned about the quotes thing, except she didn't understand that you couldn't use them for just anything. Like, "Can I have some (quotes with fingers) 'oatmeal' for breakfast?" And then she'd wonder why the adults are looking at each other with big grins on their faces.)

I spoke with Brian at Gymnastics Revolution. Great guy. He pointed me to another space in the huge building where there's a training center. For physical fitness kind of stuff. Good guys there too.

I returned to Frank's to report what had happened. We needed to finalize some stuff, and he wanted me to meet his new neighbor, a guy that runs a volleyball coaching place (and they have tourneys on Sundays, which would kind of affect traffic flow during races).

And, of course, Frank wanted to get my favorites of the clips I have on YouTube. For the record I like the 2005 Bethel the most. I like the Summer Street Sprints, the Prospect race, Connecticut Coast Crit, and the 2009 Nutmeg State Games. I like them all but I wish I named them so I could tell them apart, like "Sick, died in the sprint", "forgot to sprint", and "screwed up sprint".

It doesn't help that I have like four versions of each one, all slightly different from what I uploaded, so when I watch my own videos off the hard drive, they're sometimes different than what I uploaded to YouTube.

Whatever.

Finally I bade farewell to Frank and at about 6 PM, I talked to the volleyball guy. He's cool too.

Then, because it'd been over six or seven hours since I'd eaten, I went to the Sycamore Diner (warning - site will full-size your browser and there's some music or something) to have a couple burgers (Dagwoods) and my first order of fries (small) since October 11th.

Not that I'm counting.

(And if I'm mistaken it's because I'm in denial. But I seriously don't remember ordering fries since before I started my diet.)

A nice meal later, with coffee, and I felt a bit pepped up. I drove back to the course.

Then, with darkness all around, I pulled out the trusty Echo Power Attachment System (PAS) head and snicked on the Power Broom attachment.

I honestly think I was born to be part-landscaper. Not all-landscaper. Just part. Nothing with bugs or dead animals. And not all the time. Maybe it's just a guy thing. Power equipment, vroom! vroom!, gears and such, modular tools, man-made machines struggling against the forces of nature.

What isn't there to love?

Fear my Echo PAS 265 plus Power Broom Pro Sweep Model 99944200550 rotary bristle attachment! Yeah!

Note: That picture is the curb just after the start finish line, no sweeping yet. Sand doesn't look too bad, right?

I have to say that the PAS is kind of like the MP5 (a gun) of sweeping. Not necessarily the most powerful, but it's a pretty frickin' effective piece of equipment. Like the MP5 the PAS is modular.

And I went to work with said submachine gun. A detail note - submachine guns shoot pistol rounds - machine guns shoot rifle rounds.

Well, I had a submachine gune of a broom. I needed more of a machine gun. Or bazooka. Or a tank.

That "Oh, it's not really sandy" sand was absolutely glued to the pavement. I mean glued. Pass after pass with the broom and it was like trying to grind down a tree stump with some 1500 grit super-fine sandpaper.

This stuff was deep, it was tenacious, and it got everywhere.

I got the section between the finish line and the first turn "edged", the sand moved away from the curb.

The hill seemed fine, something we can do Saturday, so I moved to the curve at the bottom of the hill. Man oh man it was the same stuff down there. Sticky, tenacious, glue-like.

An hour later I'd gotten to the curb on most of the curve. Sand everywhere. I even power-broomed the lawn into the road, then pushed stuff into the road more.

You can see how deep that sand gets. At least my sprint line is clear. I don't know where everyone else will be sprinting though....

I wanted to hit Turn Two, by Trowbridge, but I was out of energy, out of time, and almost out of gas.

Me, outta gas. What? I can't hear you.

I packed up (the long broom conveniently breaks down to fit a briefcase... or rather the mini-hatch of the Honda) and drove off.

Then stopped.

I couldn't see.

And the missus needed a call.

So, sitting at a stop sign a couple hundred yards from Turn One, I called the missus and let her know I was on the way back.

Then, because I didn't want to scratch my lenses, I held my glasses over the windshield squirters and squirted them with the winter-temp compatible Rain-X windshield washer fluid in the Honda. It took several squirts before the sand was gone, a few of said squirts missing everything except my face.

Hint: close eyes when using this method to clean glasses.

But my glasses got clean in the end.

Hopefully in the next couple days the sand dries up a bit. Saturday, Sweep Day, I'm hoping should be a bit easier.

And Sunday? I want Sunday to be a great race day.

Because, as I was telling the tenants, I stand behind the races 100%. I'm proud of these races.

So you better have a great day, you hear?

Bethel Spring Series - Leaders' Jerseys

So, without any further ado, let me introduce...

The 2010 Bethel Spring Series Leader Jerseys

Provided by Verge Sport Custom Clothing

Note the '10 in the background. There's only one way you can get one of these.

Okay, there are two ways.

The first is to steal one. Like forget to return it during the Series or lift it from the box at registration.

The second is to get it the old fashioned way.

You earn* it.

(Okay, technically you can earn two of them, by winning two categories. Our most famous double winner - Christian Stahl, winning the Juniors and Cat 3-4 GCs one year. You can really hate him because he won the raffle at the end of the Series.

Or you can pay to have them made.

You can also be a bike shop that sponsors a racer that wins one, then ask for an autographed one to hang in your shop. Actually, if you are such a shop, and you do have such a request for a past year, let me know. I ask for extras for size runs, crashes, lifted jerseys, and the like, and although I don't have many left, I may have one or two jerseys from years past. )

* pronounced "uh-n"

Tactics - How to Race Your First Bethel

I posted this as an example of a "plan of attack" for a new racer.

It can be overwhelming, the whole "first race" thing. You have to remember all sorts of stuff for you, your bike, and even for "the race" (like your license).

So, if Bethel is the first race you've ever done, what should you do?

For a new racer at Bethel, a course that doesn't emphasize cornering at all and one that allows riders to move up quickly, I'd tell a new racer to take the following approach.

First, divide the race up into different sections. I'd classify them as Start, First Half, Halfway Check, Second Half.

The Start is critical because it's the only time you have to get into the pedals quickly, the only time you go from basically a rest state.

The First Half will illustrate to you vividly if you'll be a player in the race. An obvious clue that you won't be one is if you get dropped. Less obvious ones will be a struggle just to stay in the field. On the other hand, if you're chomping at the bit, you should feel better about your conditioning.

At the Halfway Check be brutally honest with yourself. Are you feeling strong? Are you hanging on by your pinkie? Do you feel like you're soft pedaling the whole time?

If you feel like things aren't going well, you should approach the second half of the race in survival mode. Sit on wheels, draft, ride safely. Focus on keeping the gaps to a minimum, turning a good gear at a good cadence, and try not to get caught out in one of the many accelerations you'll witness.

If you feel good about things, start thinking about the end of the race. What are your strengths? What are your weaknesses? Can you go really hard for two minutes? Can you go really hard for five? Or is it 20 seconds and poof, you're done?

Most riders will not be in the form needed to do a big solo. It's your first race after all. So what should you do? Well, when all else fails, bank on the sprint. Most Cat 5 races end in one anyway, so you're banking on a pretty safe bet.

Sprints happen in two ways - acceleration and speed. If you have a good jump, good acceleration, you can afford to sit in until the very end. You'll know if you have a good jump because whenever you jump you think the other riders aren't trying very hard. If you have a less-than-good jump, i.e. you struggle when someone accelerates away from you, then you fall into the speed category.

I don't know if you've ever played chess, but the game opens somewhat predictably. Over the years many chess gurus have tried different opening moves. The rules state that White plays the opening move. There are basically two moves you can play as White that don't get you annihilated.

As the second mover, Black can respond to the two opening moves in a variety of different ways, perhaps three or four standard responses.

All normal chess games open this way. If you don't follow the script, you run the risk of abject humiliation. It's kind of like attacking 100% at the start of a 100 mile road race. It's an extremely unconventional move and probably won't work. But because it's so dumb, you just might be able to pull it off.

Just like in chess, you have certain givens in sprints. The non-jumpers have to start from far out, hoping to ramp up the speed to an extent that jumps don't matter. The jumpers sit on, pray that they have a jump left.

In the Cat 5s it's usually easier to be the jumper because that requires less fitness, and Cat 5s tend to be less fit. In the Cat 3s, the non-jumper rules the roost, because overall the racers have a much higher fitness level.

Sprints that start "far out" start about 300-500 meters from the line. Short sprints may be as short as 100 meters.

So, with this in mind, here's a generic approach to your first Bethel Spring Series race:

1. START: Get in the frickin' pedals at the start. Don't lose the wheels.
Goal: don't embarrass yourself.
Tip: no one cares if you think you embarrassed yourself, so just go for it.

2. FIRST HALF OF RACE: Sit back a bit, maybe at the back, watch what the other riders do gear wise, position (standing/sitting), etc, esp on the short hill to the finish. In general you should keep your bike in the big ring - it reduces the possibility of dropping the chain because you leave the front derailleur alone. That wide ratio cassette suddenly doesn't seem too bad (I have a 23 or 25 at Bethel and rarely climb the hill in anything easier than a 53x17 or 19 - but when we go slow I can still keep it in the big ring, twiddling the 53x23 or something like that).
Goal: Stay with the race.
Tip: This is the time to find your "pack legs", i.e. get comfortable in the field. Sit on wheels, draft, move up a bit, drift back a bit. This is excellent group riding time.

3. HALFWAY POINT: If you feel kind of comfortable sitting behind the other riders, try moving up a bit. Try moving up on the hill, on the first stretch, or on the back stretch. Follow your lane in turns, meaning don't follow that "optimal line" that so many riders tell you to follow (out in out). The "optimal line" is one where everyone stays upright, and in most cases that means simply following the rider in front of you.
Goal: Assess yourself. Be honest.
Tip: You're not on a schedule to enter the Tour this summer. You can admit that you're not going well. You don't have to win this race or die trying. However, if you don't feel great, don't give up. Work on what you did during the first half of the race. If you feel good, consider attempting something for the finish.

4. 4 LAPS TO GO: If you feel pretty good physically you can start thinking of the finish. You should be closer to the front - maybe 10th-20th - at 2 to go. You should hold that position at the bell. The last lap is very fluid. The field shuffles around rapidly. This does NOT give you free license to move around willy nilly. Don't swerve across the road to respond to any moves. Go with every surge directly in front of you, go with side surges if there's a gap you can fill safely without cutting anyone off. Resist getting into the wind too much. Hint: Look down to check your six, you don't have to turn your head to look back.
Goal: Assuming a positive assessment in #3 above, you want to move up into a competitive position in the field for the last 2-4 laps of the race.
Tip: EVERYONE else wants to move up to the same positions. Since not everyone can be in the same spot at the same time, you'll need to judge if you feel comfortable fighting for position. Remember, you're not a pro. Fight fairly, smoothly, and safely. There's always next week if things don't work out.

5. LAST LAP: With half a lap to go, you can eat wind to maintain or improve position. Remember that you're going to sprint in a bit, so don't kill your legs before you get to the sprint.
Goal: Maintain a good position.
Tip: You'll learn there's a balance between shelter and expending reserves. Start learning how much is too much of each. It's a forever process; you'll never master it, but this is what makes racing so challenging.

6. SPRINT: Lay it on the line up the hill in the sprint. Follow a path parallel to the curb - if you jump on the right side, stay more to the right. Move left only if you've verified that there's no one there. If you jump on the left, follow the curb, and watch for guys coming in from the right. (The finish curves right then left at Bethel). Look down to check if things are clear, and move if the road is clear. Remember that as fast as you think you are going, there will be guys going way faster.
Goal: Stay upright, try to place.
Tip: You have to stay upright to place. Don't do anything unsafe - no sudden swerves, no cutting off other riders. If they're beating you fairly, you've lost. Work on it for next week.

The sections can be adjusted for the rider's strengths and weaknesses. This works even for Cat 3s and 1s and whoever. For example, for a good "One Minute Man" (OMM), I may put in something like "Hide" for 20 of 25 laps of the race. Then "move up" from 20-23 laps. Then "Get ready" for lap 24. "Attack" at the beginning of lap 25.

If I was a teammate setting up for OMM, my schedule would look more like "Launch a bazillion attacks that don't gain too much time, don't work with anyone who bridges, and try to get caught by 23 laps into the race".

By thinking about my role as a teammate to OMM, you can see how teams work together. Each rider has a goal, a purpose, for each part of the race. My goal would be to soften up the field so that when my teammate OMM take off, guys look around at each other and pretend no just launched a blistering attack off the front of the field.

With a plan or goal for each teammate for a given race, things become much more simple for each team member. Experience comes into play when an unexpected thing happens and the team has to adjust the play.

Huge tip: I think sitting at/near the front is extremely overvalued in most races, at least for the first 80% of the race. This is especially true at Bethel.

I also think that attacking, although good for the soul, is best experienced after the first race. Second race, sure, first race, maybe not.

In Cat 5 races breaks rarely succeed, and if they do, it's more a reflection on the rider's strength, not tactical savvy or field handling skills. Both of them (savvy, skills) are what you want riders to learn in the 5s.

It's much better to learn those skills early on, not find yourself a Cat 2 who can't handle a bike. And there are those riders, trust me.

So race in the field, break away if you must, but remember that at some point you're going to have to learn to handle that uncomfortable feeling of sitting in the middle of a pack of racers. Things only get tighter as you advance in category.

Helmet Cam - 2010 Red Trolley Crit

Earlier this year I did my first ever SoCal race, the Red Trolley Crit. The text report is here.

The visual one is below.

A few notes.

First, since I sat up in the last lap, I didn't bother checking the results. However, it's abundantly clear from the clip, and also the raw video, that I never argued when I found myself on a particular rider's wheel. His number: 556.

Just before I finalized the clip (I finalized it four times as my computer kept crashing and losing stuff each time), I learned the results had been posted for the race. I searched for 556.

He got 4th.

It was a tough, tough race, especially closer to the front, and to pull off essentially second in the field sprint (the first two riders separated themselves from the field), that's pretty impressive. I just wish I followed him just a few more laps!

Second, I point out a couple minor "events".

The first involved a rider that swerved in Turn 1 with no apparent need. The rider in front of him went through okay but he swerved a foot outside very suddenly. You can easily see the resulting ripple effect. One of the things about racing is that you can't arbitrarily swerve while riding in a group. If you made the mistake of picking the wrong line, you have to pay for the consequences. Ride through what you should have avoided.

It's possible to move your wheels laterally without moving your body, but, again, such moves should be made within your little bubble of space. Your responsibility as a rider is to make such a bubble as small as possible, meaning you feel comfortable with others close by.

Once you arbitrarily violate other riders' bubbles, you become dangerous.

So that's the first bit.

Another is a tail wagging acceleration. If you look around at the other riders, it's not totally necessary. This particular move wasn't dangerous, but you just have to watch out because the rider's bubble gets bigger.

The third and fourth events involve the same rider, I think (he looks the same). The third involved a very minor impact with yours truly. I put it in the clip because the rider didn't mean to hit me, he just moved over a bit much and hit me. I wasn't sure after that "event" if I'd maybe made a mistake.

However, later, it became clear that the rider wasn't comfortable in the field. That's the fourth event.

After I finished the first few edits, I contemplated removing all of the "event" sections. I didn't want to necessarily pick on someone. But then a couple people pointed things out. Friends mentioned that if I ever had constructive criticism for them, they'd welcome hearing it. And one pointed out that I may save someone else's pelvis by helping others become safer, smoother riders.

The riders in question are obviously strong because they were in the race, but with some work on riding closer in the field (and more smoothly - like #556 actually), they would probably see a huge, huge jump in race performance.

And racing would be more fun, more safe, for everyone - them, the riders around them, everyone. It's a win-win. So I included the events.

Third, I've gotten a few requests, probably from participants, regarding when I'd have the clip uploaded. Each clip uploaded represents a good 5-10 hours of editing, probably more. I think this one has approached 20 or 30 hours due to multiple reviews of the entire raw data So I'm sorry that the clip wasn't up a week or two ago, but I wanted to post a clip that I could defend from any (objective) criticism.

And speaking of which...

The "ghastly" music (one viewer's comment, and my brothers love that term, they really get a kick out of it) is all stuff my two brothers did with their bands. Some songs in my brothers' repertoires date back 20 years, recorded in a bedroom on a 4-track. Others were recorded in the highest end studios. Both were trained in the classics, have a deep understanding of music theory. They used their knowledge to write or play songs that, at first glance, seem pretty simple. But if you were at our household while they were practicing scales, memorizing chords, and quizzing each other on a "ghastly" sounding keys (their favorite keys were usually "something flat minor"), you'd understand just how much work went into their music.

I may have been a Cat 2 violinist (All-States and such), but they were much, much better than that. I find their music inspiring and still play their music regularly on the trainer, in the car, and have been for many years. I wish I could use more of their songs but unfortunately the song needs a certain rhythm, and they didn't record too much other genre-stuff. Too, many of them aren't G rated (in words or in theme) and other ones are a bit too out there.

Finally, just so everyone knows, any mistakes in the clip are mine.



Enjoy.

Equipment - Bike Timeline, Part 7 - Non-Road Bikes

Conclusion to the series, almost.

I own all but the first "SR" frame, the 2.8, the Traveller III (sold to a distressed person, i.e. homeless, through shop for $20), and the Dawes (ditto but I sold it for $40 I think).

One track bike which I bought in 1988? I think. Or 1987. Put it together just in time for the first 2 races in 1992, raced again in 2008-2009, and will race it again this year. A Riggio lead pipe frame (7 lbs frame/fork/headset, and it's a 99 gram Omas headset).

Almost current iteration of the track bike.

Mountain bikes:

Trek something sort of free (XTR rear, Avid cantis, 9s?, Manitou fork). I got the latter in exchange for my TT bike.

The frame lived here for literally years.

When I say "lived", I mean "lived". I literally didn't pull it down for years.

One day I did, went for a ride.

After a cold ride.

I used road pedals because I rode on the road. SPD-Rs, and I believe it was the original ride in the winter Sidis I own. Problem is I bought the shoes a size big, but Sidi makes them big so you can wear warm socks. I haven't used the shoes since.

The hats and leg reflector confirm it was very cold out, probably close to dark. No lights though.

I learned (and recalled) some stuff I allegedly knew before. First, the bottle cage rivnut is loose, so no bottles in that cage. Second, the middle ring is so bent the chain won't sit on it. And finally there's a broken spoke in the rear wheel. I just trued it enough so the tire didn't hit the rim.

That's how I've left the bike.

The bike as it was a couple years ago. Note the Keos on there.

When I got the bike I cut down the bars an extra couple inches, put on a longer stem, and put on my pedals. That's the extent of the modifications.

I really like the WTB saddle, and if I could get a light version for the road bike, I would.

Outfitted for road riding in the winter.

Full fenders.

Lots of gear.

Update: ~2015

Finally: The Tsunami.

Equipment - Bike Timeline, Part 6 - Temporary Digs

I built up a lot of bikes I either didn't like, didn't ride much, or sold off after a short time:

1987?: Panasonic DX 5000. This was a complete bike, but I bought only the frameset - a guy at the shop bought the rest of the bike. Panasonic used Tange Prestige tubing, with ultra thin 0.7/0.5/0.7 mm top tube wall thicknesses in the top tube. This made for a reasonably light frameset, but man was it noodly. The first time I did sprints on it, I thought the BB shell was broken. I stopped twice, checked for cracks and such, and realized that's the way it was.

I optimistically brought the bike to school, looking to do long "Euro" rides in the off-season. You know, like pros do - ride the soft bike for long distances, save the crit bike for short rides. The noodly frame would work well with the frost heaved roads. Only problem was I was only 2 hours away from home, and the roads here weren't any worse than those at home. The Cannondale climbed better and therefore became the default choice.

I sold the frame for a pittance to a friend Kevin F. He promptly crashed it, bending the top and down tubes. He gave me the frame back in case I could fix it. I kept it for almost two decades before I gave it to an enterprising frame builder.

This was to be my "winter" bike, or my "Classics" bike. Note uncut bars on TT bike in foreground.

1988: Nishiki TT bike, 51 cm? I bought this because I "needed" a time trial bike. 105 downtube shifters, cowhorns, 24" front wheel, I think it was $400 complete. I upgraded a lot of it, painted it, etc. Never went much faster though, max TT was 25 or 26 mph on a 7 mile flat course. We did a bit better in a couple collegiate TTTs, 28ish. It was fun to ride though.

Curiously enough I ran into the guy who sold me the bike at the beginning of 2010. I mentioned the bike and his face lit up. He remembered the Nishiki 105 TT bike blow out specials.

The TT bike in the window.

I wore that blue/black thing hanging on the window - it's a cotton beret. I used to wear it everywhere.

Yeah, I don't know either.

Unrideable.

The front disk caught some wind and took me across a full lane of road at 30 mph. I was riding down 195 into UCONN, passing the Towers dorms. I almost walked the bike home to Hilltop. Aerolite pedals.

Record setting bike for me. Pedals were for goofin' around, I normally raced on Aerolites.

Note the extreme chain angle as the chain goes back - the derailleur I had on this bike was almost the best for pulling up the chain to the cogs. It looks like I have a 9T small cog, doesn't it?

I did a 16:28 for 7 miles, or 25.5 mph, on the bike above (black frame configuration). This was my absolute record speed in a time trial. Disk wheel (OTC prototype apparently), 24 inch 24 hole front M17 rim with a 17mm Panaracer tire and a Specialized hub (Superbe Pro like), bladed spokes, 100k Scott TT bars.

I traded this bike, with the disk and three front wheels, for a Trek mountain bike. Go figure.

1996?: Specialized Allez Carbon. Noodly too. Sold it to a girl (16 yr old employee's gf's friend, and she was 16 so a "girl") who wanted to race. I don't think she raced but she liked to hang out with her racer friends. Alas, no pictures. But it was a beautiful frameset, beautiful deep translucent red.

Equipment - Bike Timeline, Part 5 - Post Actual Size

This part of the bike timeline has to do with my boomerang, first leaving Cannondale, then rediscovering the brand.

I had a good friend with a Specialized M2, and I decided to get a matching bike.

1995: Specialized M2 S-Works, same parts as the red bike. Peak wheel count at this time = about 30 pairs of wheels. Rider weight approximately 142-145 lbs. Max speed on this bike - over 64 mph, my highest ever on any bike.

I returned to 170s on this bike. Take-off cranks, actually, cranks that a customer told us he didn't want. He sponsored our team for a couple years, and, trust me, he didn't need the old cranks.

The original Campy Vento wheels, higher spoke count versions of the original Shamals. They weighed a ton but were strong, fast, reliable, and stiff. Well, until you hit a sunken manhole cover at 45 mph while drafting an 18-wheeler.

Note the Scott Rakes optimistically installed on the bike. Setup with mountain bike pedals (winter time, and I wore insulated mountain bike shoes), a single shop bottle, and a white saddle I still have and use. You can see the N-Gear Jump Stop as well, peeking out from behind the small ring. I've tried to install one on every bike I've had since I discovered them.

I figure I took this picture in the winter, or before some big road race. By the time summer rolled around I'd usually have given up on the Rakes, I'd put on a second cage, and some trusty old aero wheels ended up on my bike. The white saddle, the heavy wheels, they all scream "steady speed efforts".

Winter, in other words.

Or not:

The M2 in angry mood. Picture by GMF. Zipp 340 front, the ever trusty TriSpoke rear.

14 cm stem, crit bars, and Ergo levers. This would be an 8 speed bike. I can't believe he caught me in the middle of the field, at a perfect moment. By now I was running SPD-Rs (the non-Look Shimano pedal) and Sidis. My weight would have been in the mid 140s.

With Mike K at Ninigret Park, RI.

This was earlier in the day from the picture above. Some optimism still shows in our faces. The actual race didn't work out so well.

This was our era of "professional Cat 3 racer" lives. We'd train after the shop closed for the night (Mike worked there too), ride, then spend an hour or two overhauling our bikes.

Repeat each evening.

Crazy.

A tough moment in a tough race. Keith Berger is on my wheel. The Punisher, at the front, is punishing me for beating him at the Tour de Pump.

Unbelievably that's the first turn at Bethel. The dirt lot behind is now a parking lot for a big building housing Navone Studios. One of the Sleepy Hollow riders from this story sits behind Keith.

The M2's claim to fame? I left the original spec headset in place (sold off the rest of the bike to finance the frame/fork purchase). I figured the round bearing headset would be good for a few months and then it'd be toast. I started planning on my cool Chris King headset purchase. Only one problem.

I never needed to replace it.

In fact, it's still good.

Anyone need a threaded 1" headset? Good condition.

Yeah, I still have the frame and fork. I finally cracked the right chainstay and had to retire the frame.

2000?: Giant ONCE TCR, size Med, Campy 9s Daytona (before it changed name) build kit. The kit had Chorus cranks among other things. Claim to fame: built on my washer and dryer. I also weighed 203+ at some point while I raced this bike.

The Giant had the first threadless headset system for me. I hated that system for a long time - it was hard coming off of the Specialized headset, one that never needed anything. The threadless wasn't so hands-free.

The laundry folding table.

I built the bike on the washer and dryer.

I'm not sure why I took pictures of the build but I did.

Almost done.

Closer up of "almost done".

After the build. No tape because I'd ride the bike on the trainer before I wrapped the bars.

Interestingly enough, that's the saddle I have on the Tsunami, right now. In 2010.

An early, heavy race. Years later, when I saw this picture, I actually wondered who was wearing the green kit. The missus wondered how I got into the kit, it was so tight on me. My friend Greg.

I weighed about 200 lbs and lasted maybe 4 minutes in the first race that year. I won a field sprint later in the Series. It's amazing what a little racing will do for the legs.

I rode Spinergy wheels for a long time, promoting the brand because I wanted to do so. My friend worked for them and I have a passing acquaintance with the actual inventor (I've mentioned him earlier in this bike timeline series - he helped design the original Cannondale race frame). If only they'd have refined them a bit, with no UCI meddling (like the 16 spoke minimum rule), I think the wheels could have been great. They had a lot of potential, but, ultimately they were only "medium".

A current wheel guru said that he wished he had that tensioned spoke patent. Those are some significant words coming from the guru in question.

Within a year or so I'd ditched the red stem in favor of one by Ritchey WCS. I haven't used a non-Ritchey stem since (except on the tandem).

The Giant had a 55.5 top tube with a 73 degree head tube. It was the first bike I ever raced that had a 73 degree head angle - the other frames were crippled with anywhere from a 70.5 to 72 head angle. The 73 made me feel like I could slalom around little gravel stones while sprinting full bore.

I cracked the chainstay on the first one. I got another and fell hard when I unclipped sprinting out of a corner of a crit. I'd loosened my SPD-Rs so I could unclip without hammering on my shoe with my fist, but I'd loosened them too much. I gouged the top tube so relegated the frame to indoor use.

Hammering with my fist didn't seem too bad after that.

Claim to fame for that crash? The first one the missus kinda sorta witnessed. She didn't witness the crash. She did wonder where I was in the field when the field went by the start/finish line. She didn't see me because hen it went by her I was crawling off the road, onto some broken glass of all things, a few hundred meters away.

I got up, got to the pits, got a sympathetic grin from the original Bethel Spring Series official (he was the pit official), and got back in the race. A bent chain link meant I couldn't stand in any gear, and my road rash started getting uncomfortable. I sat up, my gears skipping, my chain about to fail.

I rode back to the missus, bleeding from various spots around my body.

That's when the missus realized how hard I'd gone down.

I visited the ambulance and got a bit bandaged up. I'd forgotten how much road rash stung - the last time I'd gotten road rash was back in the early-mid 90s.

As I lost weight I started yearning for a lower bar position. The tall head tube on the size Medium Giant worked for my heavy self, but even 10 pounds less and I felt like I was on a mountain bike. I bought a Ritchey adjustable stem and pointed the stem down all the way. It didn't seem right, to need to do that.

So I searched and searched for a frame that would let me connect the dots (cranks-saddle-bars) without too much weirdness.

I retired the frame after taking a lot of measurements one winter and finally finding a frame that would work. I can't find the pictures, but I Sharpied the frame with all sorts of cryptic markings. Using advanced plane geometry (for me anyway) I realized that I could replicate my saddle-bar relationship on a size S Giant. So size S it was. The yellow Giant would be retired.

Hanging in the basement.

2005: Giant TCR Carbon, Small, Campy 10s Record/Chorus. Minimum weight of rider 175, max 198? lbs. Reynolds DV46 tubulars for race day, some clinchers for training.

I upgraded the drivetrain to 10s towards the end of one of the Bethel Spring Series. I'd been struggling in the races, but on the first day on the 10s I won the field sprint. I joked that if I upgraded the whole bike I'd win my next race.

I used Eurus exclusively for a while - the only 10s wheels I had.

I used carbon 175 cranks for a while, eventually replacing them with Campy Record cranks for their lower Q factor (i.e. the crank was narrower overall, making the pedals closer to the centerline of the bike.)

I got the tubular DV46s in preparation for the 2005 Bethel Spring Series. Combined with a long training camp in California, with a prior one in Florida, I was flying in the Series. I finally won it on the last day.

2006: Giant TCR Aluminum, Small, Campy 10s R/C (back up for carbon TCR above). I rarely rode this, disassembled it to steal parts (just the stem, post, and bars) for the Cannondale and then the Tsunami.

My 2006 California training camp. Note the squared off road bars - this meant I wasn't working on my sprint at all. My host Rich is with me. I borrowed the missus's wheels for the trip.

I loved the feel of the size Small Giant, and when I spec'ed out the Tsunami, I used the Giant's seat tube as the basis for my seat tube requests. It's 4 cm shorter than the carbon Giant, measuring 40 cm to the top of the top tube, 44 cm to the top of the seat tube.

I had to change the fork - the original Giant fork wasn't good over 45-50 mph. Seemed a bit flexible.

The two Giants at Bethel. The aluminum one is the lighter colored one with the white saddle. Note the Reynolds Ouzo fork on the aluminum bike.

Let's transition back to the carbon Giant because, although I bought the aluminum one later, I rode the carbon one the most. And, towards the end of its career, I made a significant change to the bike.

Power.

Carbon. From this post. The Coke bottle is upside down, a trick I learned from a visiting Rabobank rider (visiting the area, not me).

The Giant had the first ever powermeter I owned - a PowerTap. Once I had power I never looked back. I started looking for a crank based power system after I realized that I would need to buy four or five PT hubs to rebuild my wheels, and that one or two of them would be impossible to build with a PT hub (the 21 spoke Eurus, the "no-spoke" TriSpoke, and my 20 spoke Reynolds).

I found an awesome deal on an SRM. It was about $1k more than the cost of the power system, but it came with a free SystemSix frame, Fulcrum 1 wheels, and a Record build kit.

Yeah, it was a System Six team replica SRM Record bike. I called the missus to feel out how she felt about me buying the thing.

Her response?

She wondered why I hadn't already done a "Buy It Now".

2007: Cannondale SystemSix, 52 cm frame, SRM/Record 10s. Post, stem, bars from the aluminum Giant above. DV46 clincher wheels to replace the stock Fulcrum 1s.

Bike as set up shortly after it went together, with the Reynolds clinchers.

Initially I set up the bike with one of my trusty Ritchey stems, crit bars, trusty Thomson post, and a yearned-for Reynolds DV46 clincher wheelset (to perfectly match my DV46 tubulars).

Then, after a year on the stock 170s, I moved back to 175s. Immediately felt better for certain races. Immediately felt worse for others. I think starting the season on 175s is best for me, moving to 170s for the faster, warmer part of the year.

That's about where I've been for the last couple years.

And now?

The Tsunami.

(You'll have to wait a bit for that post since I haven't done a post-test ride post on it.)

Equipment - Bike Timeline, Part 4 - Actual Size #3

Note: Croce D'Aune rear derailleur, empty bar end shifter (else bar would be too short), Aerolite pedals, FiR rims, DEAN post.

I had a third Actual Size bike, but nowhere near the decals compared even to #2.

1992: Cannondale 2.8 frame, Campy Ergo (Athena/Chorus, the lowest available group). I got way into aero wheels in this stage, using Zipps and TriSpoke/HED3s. I usually ran Zipp 340s for their light weight, but I'd revert to the aero wheels for road races (for time trialing once I got dropped). Approx 135 lbs for the rider. Bike weight about 17 lbs with box section 280s, my lightest bike for a long time. Sprint speeds regularly hit 46 mph at SUNY Purchase and first sprint at Gimbles (Route 120 sprint). I think I was the best on this bike, meaning most fit. Crashed it 4x in 5 weeks, frame was curved, tossed it for some reason. Well, technically asked friend to toss it, since it was in her car and she was driving out to Michigan to ride and race with us.

A break in an early and cold Bethel.

Ninigret Park. P-1-2-3 crit. Much warmer.

I told everyone that the second break always works at Ninigret. The first always seems like it'll work, but it always gets caught. The second one always goes away.

In the picture above, that's the second break going up the road in the background.

Yeah.

I missed it.

Providence Crit.

In Providence we raced on the original course, down the hill from the Capitol building. Flat, lots of corners, two wheel pits. It was in the high 80s in temperature and humidity. I had a hot dog and a large Coke just before the race, both bought from a street vendor about 100 yards from this corner.

My teammate Kevin had a lunch too - he ended up getting sick during the race and dropping out.

I dropped one bottle on the first lap, my other on the second lap. I thought I'd just go "another few laps", overheated and crampy. Every few laps I'd give myself another goal, another 5 laps. Towards the end I decided I'd try to finish. I ended up second, barely out of first. I watched the winner go up the road and thinking, "Hey, Steve can win this, I'll make sure no one goes."

Then, a moment later, "Waitaminute, I'm not on his team!"

I went after him. He beat me in the bike throw.

An attack through New Canaan during the Tour de Pump race.

Our team (Carpe Diem Racing) had stacked the field in this race. I had a few teammates looking me, with only a few serious guys trying to spoil our fun.

This was the only race where I won with both hands in the air.

You can see the disgusted pose of the guy in second. He opened up the sprint early, really early, and I thought the line would never come. But when I saw him sit up I knew I had it. I don't know his name so I'll call him Punisher. You'll see what I mean in the next post.

My first ever winner jersey.

Next up: The Post-Shop years.

Equipment - Bike Timeline, Part 3 - Actual Size #2

1989: Actual Size #2, Cannondale 3.0 frame. Back then Cannondale made only one version of the 3.0, with a big "crit" downtube for stiffness. I used a disk wheel semi regularly (I still had the TT bike).

When I saw my first pictures of the "cantilever" rear dropout, something really clicked. It had to do with the whole big gear look. I always thought that a bike looked cool if it had a big gear. A big chainring, a small cog. To accentuate the look, the rear derailleur had to be as short as possible, so that the chain would not be parallel when the bike sat in its biggest gear. For an illustration of this look down at the picture of the bike on the roof of the car.

I actually selected rear derailleurs for years based on this one feature. Without any indexed shifting, I could use any rear derailleur. So I selected them based on first, how close the upper pulley came to the cogs, and second, how far up the lower part of the chain came up to get to the lower pulley.

I had a lot of firsts on this bike - first (of many) 54T big ring, first 167.5 cranks, first tubular welded steel stem, first 3ttt crit bar 41cm c-c. Standing start max speed in one gear (54x12) = 42 mph. Top speed at SUNY Purchase and the Gimbles ride (Route 120 midway sprint) - 46 mph regularly. Max recorded sprint speed 48 mph.

At speed, just after the sprint line at SUNY Purchase. A friend of the team/shop took this picture. I was disappointed that I didn't break 42 mph that night.

The 3.0 was the second and last full iteration ("wrapped" in decals) of the Actual Size bikes. I still feel an affinity to this bike, and I still want to assemble the 1989 Cdale 3.0 as I have most of the parts around still. I might have tossed the Cinelli saddle, I only have a few sets of wheels from that era, but the drivetrain is mainly intact.

Glastonbury, the Great American Cafe Crit, just after I was done with UCONN.

I felt great racing here, in all different ways. First, I had the stress of UCONN done - I had finished finals just before, long enough to recover from my lack of sleep. I felt great on the bike. I had glow in the dark bar tape (really!). I had a great supportive team, which included a bunch of my best friends. And I'd just broken free of a negative relationship. It all gelled here in this race.

A 0.4 mile course, we zipped around the 7 turn course like we were on go-karts. You could barely pedal on all but one stretch. A break of 4 went up the road, gaining 10-15 seconds. I attacked just before the bell and almost caught the break at the line. With a bit more confidence in myself I'd have caught and overhauled them. It was the beginning of a fruitful season of racing.

Ironically, last summer, we ate near this plaza after the Tuesday night Rentschler Field races.

Pushing the pace at the season closing Oyster Bay Crit. Note the toe-straps in addition to the Aerolites. Note also my long hair!

This was the year of Belgium. I was on fire the whole year. Here I'm driving the pace, impatient at 30-32 mph because it felt so slow. Soooo slow. I finished 4th after taking a decent solo lead with 6 laps to go. I thought about my 28 mph pace and decided it was about 2-3 mph slower than what I needed to win. I totally sat up, and when it took the chasing field a half lap to catch me I started to rethink my decision. It was too late though, and, because I jumped too late, I only got 4th. I won $120. The guy that won the race? $900.

Crap. For $900 I would have buried myself. But I didn't know.

This picture is actually out of order - I had wrecked my red Actual Size bike (#3) and returned to the original one for a while.

The bike on my cross country trip, outside Salt Lake City. Note the extreme upward chain angle, even in the big cog.

Ever since I'd seen the Tears for Fears video of "Everybody Wants To Rule The World", I wanted to go on a cross country trip. I made it a few years later.

Note 600AX brake levers and Scott Drop In bars. These indicated the bike was in "winter mode", with wider, squared off bars. In the summer I had narrower crit bend bars on the bike.

The frame today.

A little forlorn with a cut up cable.

Bella wondering what new thing popped up in the dining area.

Carpe Diem Racing was the name of the red-white team. I carry on the name with the Bethel Spring Series website, my bikeforums name, and whatever else I feel deserves it. Although we voted on it, Carpe Diem Racing was my nomination for our race team. I feel proud of that.

Under the top tube.

Moon over Marin refers to the Dead Kennedys song. Jello Biafra came to UCONN while I was there, to "talk". Although his speech was a let down, the song, as they say, remains the same.

Sparse decals on the stays, at least compared to Actual Size #1.

"Less Than Zero" was a huge, huge movie for me. "To Live and Die in LA" too. In those formative years I wasn't sure what the future held, and, combined with my college angst, my angst-ridden relationship, I found myself drawn to some intense-to-me mood-evoking movies, music, and videos.

Cheshire Crit

Colin, the son of the guy that started the Bethel Spring Series, took this picture. It was just after the start, I'd made my patented start line attack, and Colin took the shot. He gave me the picture later, telling me that although I may not have won (I got 6th - Colin's 52 year old dad killed me in the sprint) "at least I looked good".

A side-note on this particular Cheshire Crit. There was this one BRNO Velo guy that kept attacking. He got a huge gap once, maybe a minute, maybe more, and it took some really hard riding to bring him back. Then he went again, gaining a little less time, but requiring yet another intense effort to bring him back. He sat up before the sprint, done, but he'd earned my respect the hard way. After the race I found out who he was, with his distinctive baby blue Colnago with the seat stays crossing the seat tube and anchored in the top tube.

For many years later I would see him at the races, and I could never forget his unrelenting attacks in Cheshire. We'd talk and I would always remind him of that day. No matter what his form was on that particular day, he was totally on fire that one day. Totally.

Kurt Marino died of a brain anneurism at the beginning of an MS ride in NYC in 2005.

(Pause for a moment.)

Next up: Actual Size #3