how I feel about this winter.

An hour at tempo - inside

here's an hour at tempo (202w average). I was hoping to make it to a higher part of tempo, but indoors is tough. If I go by my old FTP (which I am still using) then it's 85%, which is right in there. If I go by my new FTP, then it's 81%.

The cadences are all in line with John Coltrane's Live at the Village Vanguard session. Obviously my favorite tune is Impressions, where I get to hit at climbing cadence. Some of the earlier stuff was exceeding 110 and that hurts when I am above endurance pace.

I figure outdoors would make it possible to add at least ten watts to this (or more) at the same RPE.

What it feels like when your threshold power goes up.

What it feels like when your threshold power goes up.

I have to admit, I pay too much attention to the stupid power number. That is a good thing sometimes but can be a bad one when it keeps me from improving. For instance, if I keep focusing on a certain number that I call my “FTP” and try to hit it or try to base a workout around it, then what happens when my form gets better? Huh? Hmmmmmm?

So, the other day, I am starting an interval. (for those of you who are…..wait…forget that. ….

For ALL of you…)

-when I do intervals inside I do them in rhythm to music. It’s because I am a musician. It’s because I am a bass player. It’s because music is always on in my head anyway. It’s because music makes the world go round. It’s because I dig music. It’s because I need something to help me stay sane… wait, strike that….

Keep from going further into insanity

Yeah. That’s it.

So..

The Other Day, I am starting an interval. Two versions of Straight, No Chaser, total time 21 minutes, tempo to create a cadence between 92 and 79 rpm, depending on the version. Perfect.

I get about 5 minutes into it and feel good, so I click up a gear…

Me: “wait a minute”

Myself: “what?”

Me: “my HR is too low”

Myself: “no it isn’t”

Me: “yes it is”

Myself: “but I feel fine…”

Me: “ok then it’s not too low, so how about I click up another gear?”

Myself: “fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. You know whata happa whena you burn it all out early, Mr. Start-too-hard.”

Me: “but I feel good too!”

Myself: “Ok, I’m outa here.”

(so I click up another gear and wait for the blowup)

….

(no blowup yet and we hit the halfway mark. Ten minutes and I am still alive and kicking….)

Me: “Self? Yo!!! Self!!!...hey!! come back here…. I need you!”

Myself: “quit bothering me, I’m avoiding you.”

Me: “but I still feel fine and I am OVER threshold”

Myself: “you’re dreaming, kid. You screwed up the zero on your PM.”

Me: “nope. Zeroed it right before this workout.”

(very interesting)

(another few minutes pass and I am wondering WTF)

Myself: “um.. I don’t like this. It’s too unfamiliar”

Me: “well get used to it, Self! Hey! Quit looking at the stupid meter! Find something else to look at will ya?”

Myself: “but this does not compute”

Me: “yes it does you ninny! You are just unwilling to accept change. Now I command you to ignore everything but RPE from now until the end of the interval.”

Myself: “humpf”.

(I do. I stare at the fan from this point on until the music stops)

(one last gear, 53x12, top gear. Never been here before this late in a 20)

Me: “told you.”

PR

-end

A Wheel Around The Hub - close but no gold watch this year

Actually I wasn't close at all.

Location: Smethport, PA

Every year they hold this race (since 1890!) , the winner gets a gold pocketwatch and a nice cash payout as well. It's a "citizen's race" (yeah - right) , meaning the USCF is not involved. However, each lap of seven carries a 50$ prime and the overall winner gets $300 plus the watch.

Pros show up. 1s and 2s show up. Everyone shows up. It's a tough race. Lots of surges. Lots of attacks.

The first couple of laps were absolute purgatory for me, just holding wheels. I prayed that the pace would either slow or my endorphins would kick in (preferably both!) by lap three. Whether that happened or not, I don't really know. What I do know is that laps three, four and five seemed to go by in a daze. Maybe I am really going to hang in there!

Lap six was a different story. There was a break of three off the front who had gotten 90 seconds on us and apparently some of the real hammerheads in the front had decided it was time to put an end to it. This was done by a series of brutal surges having us doing 31mph into a flat headwind. (holy shit)

The break was swallowed up before we finished the lap. I felt like my legs had been placed gently into a meat grinder and slowly pureed.

But I was still in the race. Maybe half the field had been dropped at this point.

Sometimes I judge a race by how many times I feel like getting off the bike and walking back to the parking lot. I felt like that more times during this race than I usually do, even a few times after crossing the endorphin threshold. But once we got to the seventh and final lap, I felt a relieved happiness. I am going to make it!

Um. no.

There is a wooden bridge on this course. It has been there since they started running the race in 1890 and we still have to traverse it. It's bumpy. It's narrow. It has planks going the direction of travel. You can slip in to the crevice. I did once.

From that point on I only rode in the middle of the bridge, where the planks are perpendicular to our travel. It was, on every lap, the toughest section of the race. The guys in the front, having been instructed at the beginning of the race that this was a neutral section and attacks were not allowed, attacked

EVERY

SINGLE

TIME

as it turned out, the 7th time was one time too many for me. I found myself near the back as we hit the bridge, and just didn't have enough sprint left in my legs to catch back on for one last time. I watched them go up the road.

crap.

Anyway, it was fast. They set a new record. Blah blah blah.

I lost two minutes in half a lap and still matched the previous record, blah blah. 31st place. yay.

I'm still not over this, obviously, but I rode again today and made my peace with God, sorta.

Maybe next year.

Montrose Apple Fest

Yeah, it's been a while since I posted anything to this blog. In all honesty I haven't really felt like reporting my lack of form in the past month or so (precipitated by and following the Millersburg fiasco).

So I might as well just get it over with. I've gone through all sorts of unexpected setbacks to my form since then and haven't really wanted to race much. I did the Tour de Loop in Oswego last month and it was pretty disastrous. Don't expect a report. I basically concluded that my season was most likely over and cancelled my plans to do the Green Mtn Stage Race.

At the last minute I signed up for the Apple Fest. This is a race I have done several times before and managed to finish just out of the money in the Masters 35+. They run all the fields at the same time so it's kind of bizarre racing with the possibility of maybe "winning" the race even if you are not the first person over the line.

It's short and not sweet. 26 miles of endlessly hilly terrain, but no climb is longer than three minutes until you hit the final of three KOMs which is closer to five minutes. Essentially these hills are maximal efforts, not threshold grinds. There is also ample opportunity for less-than-awesome climbers to catch back on if they hammer the downhills.

The course record was set by our own Mike Jones the year he turned professional (1:05 even).

Every year since then they have offered a cash prize to the man who beats it. Every year they have kept the money as nobody has beaten it yet. Every year the money gets a bit bigger. Every year the race gets a bit faster. You get the idea.

This year the prize was a cool $525 to whomever dethrones MJ.

You could tell there was big money on the line as we went full gas as soon as the pace car pulled away out of town. Immediately the pack split in two and I was in the second group. We did some hellish chasing for about three miles until turn one where we made contact finally. I suspect that much of the field was gone for good at this point, but I made the cut.

Shortly after this is the first KOM. Hurty. I really don't know what the power was like, but it was enough to make my want to puke. I stayed in contact again and crested the hill in the back of the principal group. Not a whole lot of respite was to follow, as the guys in the front were still clearly dreaming of pay day and we had to pedal downhill to keep it together.

The second KOM in this race was my nemesis last year. It's just a bit longer than the first and has a few steeper sections. I kept in contact until about 500m to go when I started to feel the legs fade. Eventually I had to capitulate and just let them go. After the top I was staring at a distant group of 15 or so who remained. I was more or less alone, although there was one rider in front of me, within range. Looking over my shoulder often, I could never see anyone back there, so I decided to put my head down and TT my way up to this guy.

Once contact was made we decided to go as hard as we could and try to hold off anyone who might be behind us. This worked for a few miles but eventually we were joined by a group of three (including Chuck, my teammate who descends like a stone but sometimes gets popped on the uphills). He is strong as heck this year and it was tough to just hold on to him as we rotated through.

No other riders were forthcoming from either direction so we "worked" together in a somewhat cat-fiveish fashion for the rest of the race. I decided to try and push the issue on KOM #3, but was not successful in dropping anyone from our little club, although Chuck lost contact and had to catch up on the descent.

Once we got close to town, the pace slowed and we were clearly thinking about resting up for the line. I was feeling pretty much toasted so I didn't force the issue (although it would have been a better move to make an attempt here).

No. I sat in and waited for the steep uphill sprint. Pfft. No snap at all. Last of our group, I should have just gone for it with half a mile to go as it would not have made a difference if I had failed. I guess I am still lacking confidence and not feeling physically well.

As it turned out I was fifth in the M35+, worth ten bucks and a few upgrade points. Not a bad result considering the condition I have been in lately.

The record was not broken. David Novak missed it by 10 (ten) TEN

TEN

seconds.

ouch

Millersburg Stage Three- ouch

I was looking forward to this road race, needing some redemption for yesterday's abysmal criterium. The forecast was for a 30% chance of t-storms. mkay.

That loosely translated to "100% chance of nonstop heavy rain all morning long"

so... 97 riders in a hard driving rain on a less-than-selective road race course with freshly chip-sealed surfaces filled with loose stone and little rivers. Cat 3/4 field stacked with super-strong guys who should be in the 123.... yeah baby.. not.

I hated this race from the beginning. Again they all lined up stupidly early and started crit-style (clip in and sprint). Who the heck are these guys anyway? I guess they didn't realize that we had both lanes because the field wasn't using the left lane. I moved over and moved on up.

Pace was fast. The first two laps (of three) were near 26 average and the only real weird part was the section of "battenkillesque" loose stone where (of course) the surge came and we all went single file over the bumpy loose crud. Climbing the little kickers was interesting as well since your rear wheel would spin out if you pushed hard.

Again I could move up when I needed to after those sections and found a good spot in the pack, but I was getting increasingly unhappy in this race due to the way that people were riding in the pack. As the rain came down harder and harder and visibility got worse some of the riders were getting more and more aggressive and really doing dangerous stuff in the middle of the peloton (and accomplishing nothing). For the first time in a while I thought of quitting a race where I was strong and in contention. After the end of lap two (they always attacked the feed zone at the S/F line so it was impossible to even grab a bottle) I was really close to just saying "Screw you guys. I'm going home" in my best Cartman voice and riding off on some side street.

I chose to stay in the race and go for it.

Should have went with my gut though.

When it really rains hard, you have no brakes. That means for the first second or two you can grab them as hard as you can and nothing happens. It takes a while to dry the rims enough for the brakes to grab. Everybody should know this and act accordingly.

this is why I did not want to race in the large 3/4 field.

A few miles into lap three it happened. It's raining cats and dogs. You cannot see well. People are riding too aggressively and it's getting stupid. I hear yelling in front and see riders clumping and crashing. At this point I was just trying to stay on the wheels and doing 25-26 mph when the delta-V of the rider in front of me appears to drastically change and I am going in to him like a wall. I've got riders on both sides and behind me and the only option I have left is grab a whole handful of brake and hope for the best.

No way. not even close. It was as if there were no brake cables. I smash headlong into the pack in front of me and the riders behind me crush in to me and everything goes black.

I have always had the gift of relaxing and going with the flow in accidents. I think this has saved me from big injuries in the past and it happened this time as well.

the next thing I remember is being on the ground with someone's body directly on top of mine. I'm not sure if I was on top of another rider but that is possible too.

dialog...

"are you ok?"

"yes, are you?"

"yes. I think so"

we slowly rise and untangle ourselves from eachother and the bikes. Mine is not attached to me, nor close by. I notice that the pile of riders takes up the entire road, shoulder-to-shoulder. the cars are stopped behind us. A human dam.

People are slowly getting up and picking their bikes up. Some are angry (I think it's stupid to get mad in this situation). Most are just wanting to see if they are ok.

I check myself. Hmm.

Wow.

I have like NO injuries. Just a little rash on one knee. weird.

I check again. Yep. No injuries.

I find the bike. It's pretty far from where I was. It seems ok. Well, no. The wheels are all messed up. Apparently the front one got run over and is history. The back one is way out of true. A visit to the wheel truck directly behind and I am back on the road, sorta.

I had to stop a few times to try and move the handlebars to some angle approximating straight, and the rear wheel was rubbing the brake a bit, but I got back on and finished the race. TT for a while, then a three-man TTT to the finish. 59th or something.

So, all in all, not such a good weekend, but I'm really happy to have survived that crash with little more than a few bruises (some of which I am still discovering today!)

time for a luck change.

Millersburg Stage Two

Stage two is a criterium that happens several hours following the morning time trial on day one. The course is one which ordinarily would have suited me quite well. It's all hill. You are either going uphill or downhill. Essentially it's Singer minus the half-mile of flat.

However...

A field of 97 on this course means if you are in the back, the front of the race is probably more than 30 seconds ahead of you.

Apparently everyone was worried about this and as I did my final warm-up lap I realized that arriving at the start line ten minutes early was not early enough. The friggin' WHOLE field was already there! Dammit..

So I started last. Again.

Not to worry. I can make up time on the hill, and I did. I immediately started working my way past riders on the climb and would continue to do this. Hopefully I could keep doing this for a few laps and get to the good part of the pack.

Hmm. These younger guys are taking some big risks and are riding VERY aggressively on the rest of the course. Not used to this in the Masters, I tended to let people chop in front of me in the corners so I wasn't gaining enough ground on the front. Not a good sign.

A few laps into it and a gap opens up a few riders in front of me. Crap. I go around and give it a big push to close the gap but I realize there is an invisible hill on the hill as well. Big headwind for the last third of the climb and this is the first time I am feeling it. Must. close. Gap. must... close.... gap. cannot. close gap.

frak.

So I guess I'm not going to catch back on. I silently curse the guy that opened the big gap but realize "that's bike racing" and resolved to go as hard as possible and try to stay in the race as long as I could.

We ended up in a pretty good sized group chasing for a while and maintained a good pace throughout, going past riders left and right (who had blown up on the hill). Some of them managed to latch on to us. Some just quit. I figured we could maintain our distance and maybe finish the race without getting lapped when, with about 8 to go, we were coming around the S/F line and catching some lapped riders in front of us the guy blew the whistle at everyone.

we all looked at eachother and said "Us???". We were all uniformly surprised that we would have gotten pulled when the pace car was still half a lap back and we were still racing well together. I figure the officials just decided it would be safer on this course to pull everyone who was out of contention. So be it.

The final casualty report? 97 started. 35 finished. wow.

They gave me 94th place. I complained that we were not even close to getting lapped and the official explained to me that they did not place anyone who got pulled, instead giving them a place in alphabetical order. So W was near the back. Yay.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.