First of the year (and second)

First race(s), that is.

I've been on the bike a few times this year. I've even managed to ride outside a few times too. Most of it has been this stuff though....

So last weekend put an end to all that. Time to pull the race bike off the rollers. No more watching movies and typing. No more pushing my heavy beater up snowy dirty hills.

DF and I drove out to Connecticut meet the famous CarpeDiemRacing and try our hands at the Bethel Circuit. Both to do two crits, we thought it would be a good idea to get a full day of racing in, even with it being so early in the season. With Battenkill on the horizon, I felt that getting as much race time in was key.

The circuit is not selective at all. It's 8/10 of a mile, has one hill of about 45 feet, and one corner (immediately following the hill and Start/Finish line.

Race 1, cat 4:

I really don't know how many racers there were but it seemed somewhere in the 70 range. I lined up close to the front, got a good clip-in and was off. I spent a little time near the front, getting a feel for the course and the way people were riding. The wind was pretty bad this day. It hit you pretty much head-on for the entire back stretch of the course (which made for a fairly slow race speed on average, but also made it very difficult for riders to get away).

I had a sense that nothing was going to get away and tested this a few times when I was close to the front, not really taking pulls but doing just enough work to keep us somewhat close, then pretending to run out of gas. Sure enough, this compelled the riders behind me to all jump into the gap and pull back the breakaways. When not doing this, I was fairly certain that tailgunning would be safe in this race, so I sat in the back.

I figured I had one shot at doing something in this race and that was to wait until six to go, give a surge up the hill, and then another one at five to go, and see if it could get a few riders to play along and get a small gap on the field.

Everything went according to plan except for the other riders. My attacks just didn't produce enough distance to really make anything happen other than towing the field along, once we got up the hill it would just go single-file and I'd find myself uselessly pulling a long line of riders. It did make me look tougher than I was for one picture though:

(I think the yellow thing is getting old. It's way too much like having a giant target on you that says "Hey everybody! I'm attacking! Look at me! Hey! Come follow me!!")

So with my attack fail, I kind of sat in after that and just tried to stay safe while the crazies got crazier toward the end. The (I can't believe I am saying this) typical cat 4 sprint crash happened in front of me, with riders sprinting for 30th place or whatever. I just rode around them and soft-pedaled over the line for an amazing back-of-the-pack-finish. CDR only posts the top 20. I was not among them.

Apres-race I watched DF race in the Open Women's field and do some damage to the field at the front, and then a few laps of the M45+ race.

Race 2, cat 3/4:

This one was the largest field of the day. I think 88 started. I am certain that 88 did not finish. DF was in the field. I was in the field. Shovelhead, Bostongarden and Homebrew from the cycling forums were all in the field. I didn't have a whole lot of snap so I just felt that I should try to hang tough as long as possible. This was not terribly difficult to do as long as I favored the outside lane. The inside lane was pretty much the reverse lane. As long as you stayed on the outside and were willing to take some wind, you could get pretty close to the front. Shooting up the middle wasn't always the best place to be either, since it was hit-or-miss depending on who you were behind.

I did this for most of the race until the lights finally went out with 2 to go. I held on until the last lap though, crossing the line pretty much in the back of the field again, sigh.

I am happy though. I did two hard crits on my first day of racing in 2011, even was part of the action in the first race for a bit, and finished in the pack. Here's to a strong season. I've got nowhere to go but up!

After the races were done we all went to the latest iteration of Frank Pepe's Pizza in Danbury. (the original one is still in New Haven) ....

yum.

The Sun Came Out...

(sorta)


and there was much rejoicing.


This was my second ride this year. Ride meaning "out of doors" and not "rollers". No "rollerposting". No "trainerposting". No "intervals". No nothing.


(well.. I did try to keep it in Z2 the whole time, but I chose one of the hilliest routes around so that was tough, exceeding 100'/mile by a fair bit)


The initial 2.5 mile descent had the unwelcome effect of making my face completely numb, but after that things began to come back alive again.


-----


And here's the first little rest stop. I'm telling you.. California has nothing on our beautiful vistas! Just look at that gravel. Those greys! That dirty snow! This stuff has to be experienced to believe.





As if that weren't enough.....


Just dig the striking color in this one!





And some jerk from the Jerkstore got in the way of the camera:





And, finally, Le Piece de Resistance, Vincent Hill.. A singularly unimpressive picture of an extremely impressive hill. (why is it that photographs never reveal anything about how steep a hill really is?)


I took the shot after climbing halfway up the hill to the little flat section. That top ridge part maxes out at over 20%. ouch.





ugly? boring? bland you say?


(wellllll let me just say, for the sake of those who haven't yet found out that I have spent the past three months riding inside)


I was in hog heaven on this ride. The Pyrenees in July wouldn't have made me happier to be outside on my bicycle.

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