Plan 2020 - Dolan DF4 Frame

The first step in the whole process was to get a frame. Track frames are different from road frames, and I'd want the frame to be UCI compliant as well, something my beloved Tsunamis are not.

Here's the big thing with track frames: the bars are really narrow.

Wait. Bars? You were talking about frames. Why the bar comment?

It all comes down to that. Nowadays a regular track bar is 33-35 cm wide. In contrast, on the road it's normal to see 40-42 cm, although that's coming down a bit. I'm running 41 cm bars on my Tsunamis, and they look narrow under me.

The ultra narrow track bars cause a problem though. The reach to the bar is shorter, due to the reduced width. If you're reaching 3 cm to each side that's 3 cm of length. If your bars are 3 cm narrower on each side, you have 3 cm more arm "left over".

You need a longer frame.

Therein lies the problem for me. I'm already pushing it with my odd proportions, short legs, long torso. My frame is basically a 50 cm (high) frame, a size which normally comes with a 52-53 cm long top tube. However my frame has a 56.5 cm top tube, and, additionally, has a steeper seat tube angle. That pushes the top tube forward, effectively making it about a 57-57.5 cm top tube. And my head tube, at 12 cm total height, requires a 3 cm drop stem.

I can't commission another Tsunami because they're not UCI compliant.

So I Googled all the track frames I could find. I looked at their frame geometry charts. I needed to find a UCI compliant 50 cm seat tube frame with a 74.5-75 deg seat tube angle, a 57 cm top tube, and a 12 cm head tube. It had to be aero. It had to be a real track frame, not a fixie bike.

And I needed to get it done for less than $2000 shipped.

Dolan DF4

The only frame I could find was the Dolan DF4. A world class frame, no less, raced professionally. Aero design. 50 cm seat tube. 57 cm top tube. 74.5 deg seat tube angle. 12 cm head tube.

It was exactly what I needed.

And with a pre-season discount, it fell way below my $2000 budget, shipped.

Dolan DF4 - size 57 (!!)

It's their second largest size frame.

First, the frame is UCI certified. That means I can do official events, like Worlds. At the very least I know that the frame is okay for Nationals, which is my focus.

The second most important feature of the frame is the geometry - it almost mirrors the Tsunamis. Very long top tube (0.5 cm longer), steep seat tube (1 deg shallower), and short head tube (same height as Tsunami). Although I'll have to move my saddle up within the seat post clamp, I'm at the UCI limit on the Tsunami for a sprint bike (zero setback to nose of saddle) so I should be fine on the Dolan.

The third most important feature, because without it I'd have eliminated it from consideration, is that it is aero. No vintage round tube stuff - this frame is meant to go fast.

After that it's all gravy.

Aero tubing, aero seat post

The aero isn't obvious until you turn the frame. The frame gets real thin real quick.

Cut out for rear tire, but tire will not be as close as on the Tsunami

In my research I've found evidence that a cut out will save a fraction of time, and help a less than optimal rear wheel. In less scientific findings, I think it looks cool. Either way, this frame has a rear wheel cut out.

Rear dropouts.

I need to order spares.

Carbon fiber isn't very strong - it's just a plastic reinforced by carbon fibers. So contact points under pressure tend to be constructed of metal inserts. The rear dropouts on a track frame see a lot of abuse, so those are metal. I forgot to order spares. I'll want to get some dropout screws while I'm at it.

Potential Weak Points

I saw two potential weak points in the frame when researching online. The first was that the rear dropouts are pretty short. This helps handle a problem the longer dropouts had, where the weight of the rider bend the top part of the dropout up. This caused the opening to widen, making it difficult to secure the wheel. If you look at the geometry picture in the Dolan site, you can see the older DF3, with the super long dropouts.

The problem with a short dropout is that you can't move the wheel very much to take up chain slack. This means getting multiple chains for various gear combinations.

Since I prefer a very, very short chain stay, I'd probably want to keep the rear wheel as forward as possible anyway, so this "weakness" becomes a non-issue for me.

The second weak point is the seat post clamp. It's a wedge clamp with a very small bolt, with a very high torque rating. There are reports that it's virtually impossible to tighten enough to deal with jolts, like when you hit a seam on the track.

The workaround is pretty easy - you put a piece of pipe in the seat tube. Cut to the right length, the seat post will just sit on it. I have ideas for that "pipe" as well, so that critical cutting shouldn't be an issue.

So that's the frame. Next up, the wheels.

Plan 2020 - New Project for 2020

Plan 2020 - The Track

I was about to post some random stuff on a bike forum when I realized that this is the kind of stuff I'd post on my blog, so I'm putting it here instead.

My big thing for this year, 2020, is to give track racing a shot.

Again.

I gave it a shot in 2009 pretty seriously, making the hike up to the New Hampshire track as much as possible to get some racing in my legs. In the scheme of things, though, I gave it a pretty low key approach. I used a bike that I got back in the 80s, a bike so bad the rep was selling the frame and fork, with nice $40 headset, for $100. I got a rear wheel from one of the guys (I think it was free?), and then... well, I forgot about it. I used it twice in the early 90s, at T-Town, but that was it.

In 2009 I was so low key about track that I stopped at the bike shop on the way to the first race to get a crankset for it. The arms worked loose (incompatible bottom bracket axle and crank arms) but the set up worked for a couple trips.

Eventually I got some better cranks, figured out a better handlebar, and used my old TriSpoke front wheel. Then life intruded - I haven't been on a track since August 2009.

The Riggio, version 1.0 I think, with left over cranks.

This time... this time I'm going to be a bit more serious.

It all started sometime in the middle of 2019 when I started looking into the 500m times for the M50-54 age group. See, in 2009, when I went to the track, I felt pretty unconfident in myself as far as bike racing went. I was struggling on the road, and when I went to the track I felt like I'd just stepped into a world full of riders like me, but better - good jumps, good sprints, but better.

Too good for me.

At least that was my attitude. Definitely a down type attitude, but learning quickly.

"He's Not The Only One"

I remember distinctly watching one race at the track. I was in a, "Wow, everyone is so fast here" kind of mood, watching a blazing fast A race, the racers slicing and dicing, huge attacks, huge counters... just so impressive.

I'd just commented to myself, out loud, that the rider "that didn't even win the A race" had such powerful legs. I must have said it in a half-intimidated, half-in-awe way.

The rider next to me hear what I said. An A rider himself, he leaned over to me.

"He's not the only one with big legs you know," he commented, pointedly looking down at my legs.

Huh.

I filed that comment away.

Before the season was up I'd won at least one Keirin race. I'd won a scratch race. I'd really done terrible at a pursuit. I tried a Madison. I even got my front wheel to touch the roller on the back of the motorcycle. I started feeling like maybe I could do this.

Then the season ended and, as I said before, life intruded. Track racing, for me, came to a full stop.

Fast forward 10 years to mid-2019.

Zwift and The Long Sprint

By 2019 it's been 4 years since I've been on Zwift, and I've pretty much done all my hard training on Zwift, except for actual races. Zwift has pushed me to go really, really hard on the trainer, sprinting for 20-30 seconds, uncomfortably long sprints for me. I prefer a 10-15 second sprint, so to jump 4 seconds before a 22 second sprint... I mentally cursed Zwift co-founder Eric Min (the guy I could never beat at SUNY Tuesday Night Sprints) a few times after one of my first attempts doing a long sprint in the Zwift world (Watopia green, for those that Zwift).

This was in 2015 - I'd stopped training in mid-June, so by July I was suffering on the bike.

Slowly, though, I started figuring out the longer sprints. I learned to sprint a bit longer. I managed to hold out just another few seconds. I got comfortable expecting a 25 second effort, as unpleasant as it might have been just a year before. I started to expect more from myself in those long sprints.

In early 2015 I won a race by following a move 30 seconds from the finish. Although I suffered like mad, although I didn't actually sprint, I won the race by a huge margin, the biggest since, well, since a one off race about 20 years prior.

The Zwift Win race

What's that got to do with Plan 2020?

Let me explain.

In the last 10 years three local racers, all Masters women that did Bethel and raced in the area, have gone on to do some incredible things on the track, winning National titles, even multiple World titles. The latest was this year, when CK won three Golds (and more) at Worlds plus a whole slew of medals at Nationals. With everything getting uploaded to YouTube and the internet I could watch some of the events, see pictures, and check times. Since I was on Zwift all the time, I would put YouTube on a different screen and watch bike racing while I Zwifted.

Specifically, I watched track racing.

So I watched clips of a lot of women doing the 500m TT (Elite Women do the 500m, Elite Men do the 1000m aka "The Kilo".. importantly Masters Men over 50 do the 500m). I looked at their bar set up, if they did drop bars or aero bars. Drop bars meant you could have lower drops and a further forward saddle. Aero bars meant bars had to clear the tire and the saddle had to be 5 cm further back. With such a short event it seems that most riders use drop bars, although technically aero bars, if you can put down big power on them, should be faster.

I watched the Elite men also, but mainly to watch their starts (it's a very unique part of track racing, unlike a normal acceleration on a road bike) and to see what sort of insane 500m times they'd set. Due to the length of the Kilo they all use aero bars so no questions there on set up.

Of course, if I looked hard enough, the M50-54 stuff was up there also, like their 500m TTs. See, once men hit 50 years old, they do "only" a 500m TT, not the infamous Kilo. For me the Kilo seemed a bit much, sprint until you blow up and then sprint for another 30 seconds... No.

The 500m though, that seemed more realistic. It seems a really good time for the 500m is about 35 seconds, which, coincidentally, is just a bit longer than the effort needed to do a 21-22 second time in Zwift's Watopia sprint. A proper sprint in Zwift involves about a 7-8 second acceleration before the line, then a 20-22 second effort to get to the finish, although I generally explode just short of the banner.

That all seemed great but with Nationals historically held in California or somewhere in the MidWest, it was unrealistic for me to contemplate doing Nationals.

I shelved thoughts of track Nationals.

2020 Masters National Track Championships

Then the kicker. In October 2019 USA Cycling announced that the 2020 Masters National Track Championships would be held in Pennsylvania, at T-Town, at the track I raced on in 1992. Compared to the far reaches of the West Coast, PA is literally a 4.5 hour drive away. It was doable.

I started thinking about it a lot.

I had to be realistic though. I headed over to Analytical Cycling, a site that calculates bike racing things like speed or elapsed time based on your power output.

And wouldn't you know it, they have a 500m TT page.

I plugged in some regular race numbers that I've put down, and came up with about a 37 second time. I put in some higher numbers, like half way between race peak and training peak (the latter being 500w higher at times).

36 seconds.

I bumped the 35 second average power up 100w, about 80w higher than my PR.

34.9 seconds.

Huh.

Now, I'm pretty skeptical of the Analytical Cycling page as it were, because another one of their pages doesn't accurately chart what I experience with wheel weight differences, at least not in the magnitude that I experience wheel weight differences. It's a long story, has some explanation back there, but that's for a different day.

Anyway, theoretical is always theoretical until it's actual.

So I posed the question to more knowledgeable and experienced track racers. Their verdict was that the Analytical Cycling page numbers were pretty good rough estimations of real world stuff. Obviously things change in real life, wind, sloppy riding, etc, but one rider even showed a chart of his actual time in a 500m vs AC's model, and the two were virtually identical.

Possible?

I started thinking that this could be possible, and there were two contributing factors.

One contributing factor - I haven't lifted seriously, for bike racing, since I was in high school, and I had no idea what I was doing. In fact, back then I succeeded only in injuring myself and basically turning myself off of weight lifting for forever.

(I lifted a bit in 2008 or so, and got a bit stronger, but realize now I was doing it all wrong - wrong muscles, wrong emphasis - it was more vanity than purposeful lifting.)

Recently an Australian cycling website put up some track training stuff. I know the site because many years ago that same site asked permission to publish a letter I wrote CyclingNews about sprinting. I read they Up Up UP stuff over and over and I feel like I understand more of what I need to do to get fit for efforts like the 500m or the flying 200m. It's nothing like what I've done before.

Over the summer I started doing body weight squats (just body weight, meaning no additional weight). My legs were screaming after 15 or 20 of them, although in short order I was doing 40 or 50 at a time. World class sprinters are expected to be doing about twice their body weight in squats, and here I was with zero pounds struggling.

I had a lot of room for improvement.

Another contributing factor - for my power I am relatively small aerodynamically. I don't need to put down the same kind of power as a taller rider. One recurring theme that pops up when I post a picture of me in the field goes along the lines of, "That's not fair, you're too low!"

Obstacles

There are the obstacles of course.

The first is most obvious - I have very little experience on the track, with literally zero experience doing a standing start, zero experience in the 500m, and two ever flying 200m events (with predictably terrible results). I have to do as many track days as possible to make up for this, and practice starts on a heavy flywheel stationary bike (which I have, actually) or on a track bike on the trainer.

The next is the lack of absolute power. Depending on who you ask, I'm down 500-800w peak power, and I'm basing my competitiveness on a 35 second average power that I've never hit. This is with no weight lifting but still, it's a huge margin. I have to develop ultimate strength over the next few months, and get some explosiveness in there as well.

The third is lack of "speed power". My trademark sprint technique is to shift into a higher gear as I sprint. I like keeping my rpm within about 8-10 rpm during my entire sprint. Track sprinting is different - the numbers I see are things like "peak rpm 145" and "if you drop below 130 rpm you'll lose a lot of time in the last 50m". This will take some hard efforts, but I'm trusting in the UpUpUp observation that "speed power" can be developed in the final 6-8 weeks of training.

The fourth is my lack of scientific training. As my former leadout man, teammate, best man, winter training camp host, etc, pointed out, "You're the most unscientific training person there is". And he meant that in a nice way! I don't "train", I just ride. What's interesting is that most of my training rides are exactly what are described in UpUpUp, super easy with some very short, sharp efforts. I'll have to increase the number of short, sharp efforts, but I can deal with those. It's the aerobic stuff that kills me, anything over a minute or two.

Need Clearance to Pursue Goal

I spoke with the Missus about this because going to the track for giggles and committing to traveling to Nationals were two different things. I've literally never done a Nationals, ever, and I won't be going there just to say I participated. I'm going because I want to compete.

To do this I'd have to invest in a proper bike, start lifting seriously, and make time to race on the track.

Money is a big thing. I figured $2k max on a frame, $1.5k on wheels, $100 saddle, $300 bars, $1000? on my last remaining SRM (upgrade or at least servicing it), some more here and there. A stem. Narrow tires. Strap system for the pedals. Possibly size 40.5 shoes (my 41s seem a bit long).

We're talking $5k here, for an incomplete bike, without travel, without time factored in. I have never spent that much money in a year on my bike.

EVER.

Even my SRM equipped Campy Record Cannondale bike cost less than that, and that was a complete bike where I recovered $1200 selling off unnecessary parts. Before that? I don't think I spent more than $2500 at a time except maybe for the tandem.

This is literally the largest investment in my racing that I've ever made.

To be fair, my track set up would be usable for many, many years. It will be a world class frame, aero enough to hold its own, with a good SRM crank, rear disc wheel, front TriSpoke (that I own), possible front disc wheel (if doing an indoors Nationals), all proven equipment. I could race track for a while on my planned set up. But it would be useless anywhere else - I wouldn't be able to use the frame, rear wheel, bars, etc, anywhere except on the track.

Plan 2020 is a Go

After a short discussion, the Missus said yes. She was literally nodding yes before I got done with my presentation.

I mean, okay, she's always been supportive, but this was a big ask, financially and time-wise, so it's a big deal to me. It was obvious I'd thought about it at length (many months), I'd considered what I need to do, how much time I had to do it, and what I could accomplish realistically. Still, though, it is a big deal to even think about attempting this.

Now I have to get going on it.

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

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

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

Anyways...

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

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

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

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

My bike, Junior's bike.

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

Number

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

M50+ start - a huge field

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strung out bit.

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

Accidentally near the front of the group.

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

5 to go.

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

2 to go. Lots of riders ahead.

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

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

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

Bell lap. Ugh.

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

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

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

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

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

Second last turn, still too far back.

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

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

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

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

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

Onto the final straight, no room still.

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

Left side opened up, boom, jumped hard.

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

It wasn't a very good jump.

Legs failed at this point, wattage plummeted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strava link (power data is not on Strava)

Junior approaching the line on his bike

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

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

Bike throw with Junior!

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

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

We'll see how it goes.

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

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

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

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

That's bike riding.

Then there's bike racing.

To clarify a point, I love racing.

Love it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I treasure the time I have with him.

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

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

My hand is blocking his last name.

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

The first Sunday race in almost two years!

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

Sounds like a plan, right?

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

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

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

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

The start.

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

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

Talk about an ideal race for me.

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

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

David is just about to pass me.

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

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

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

Sitting behind "red bike with a Generic Jersey".

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

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

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

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

The path is now visible.

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

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

And guess who attacks?

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

So that was my non-attack.

Bell Lap

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

Bell Lap.

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

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

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

Backstretch, bell lap.

Note again, rear wheel not visible.

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

Plan A

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

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

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

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

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

So for Plan A this was my analysis:

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

Minimum strength to do well: High

Possible top 3: Low

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

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

Plan B

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

Risk level: High (of getting boxed in)

Minimum strength to do well: Low

Possible top 3: Very high or very low.

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

Plan C

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

Risk level: Low

Minimum strength do do well: Medium

Possible top 3: Low/Medium

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

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

Top of hill, bell lap.

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

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

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

Last turn, bell lap.

Marty is leading through the turn.

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

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

With the gap already there I had to jump immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the safe, sane choice.

I'm pretty sure it was the wrong choice.

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

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

I go left to pass.

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

Dave's hand is visible.

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

Moving to the right became a pipe dream.

I kept going.

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

40 meters to go, give or take.

Speed starting to drop but still good.

Finish line is just before the red tent.

"Bang, done," indeed.

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

Just before the line.

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

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

At the line, photo courtesy David.

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

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

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

After

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

Jeff got this great picture of me holding Junior.

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

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

The race behind me? He won it outright.

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

2017 M50+ CT Crit Championship Podium.

Picture courtesy David.

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

Epilogue

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

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

Junior was 3 years old.

Huh.

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

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

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

Maybe in 2018 I'll go right.

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