Racing - May 21, 2013 @TuesdayTheRent

Over the last few weeks I've been steadily trying to get my pedaling legs back under me. With a break after Bethel, some stuff to do around the house, and finally the massive poison ivy rash, I've had time to first rest (and diet) and then to start riding.

The red Tsunami is becoming more a part of me. I really like the tops being further out - the FSA Compact bars have short reach so I am running a 14 cm stem in front of the 56.5 cm top tube. Having the tops of the bars an extra 2 cm further out is nice, very comfy, very relaxing.

The drops still feel a bit high. I have some FSA Energy bars, similar to the Compact with its 80 mm reach but it has 150mm drop instead of 120mm. This should put me right back where I need to be when I'm out of the saddle sprinting. The Compacts feel too high, like I'm trying to sprint on an extra tall bike.

With this in mind I headed out to @TuesdayTheRent, the Tuesday night training races at Rentschler Field in East Hartford, CT. The course is simple enough, a triangle-ish kind of 1km loop with three real turns.

What makes a race hard are the riders, not the course, and the riders are of some pretty good caliber at the Rent. For this evening we had a current National Junior Crit Champion and a few of his very strong training/racing friends, as well as a slew of Cat 1s, 2s, and then all us regular folk.

I was a bit bonky on the way down - I'd spent the afternoon looking at a replacement for the white van, and because it took a while to get Junior to daycare I skipped lunch to get there on time. Then, with semi-rush hour traffic and such I didn't have time to eat much when I got home. I managed to eat some random protein bar while packing the car and then had a soda on the way to, and during, the race.

A tornado warning popped up for towns north of there - the skies looked black and roiling when I headed south from the house. It was bad enough that I took pictures of the sky.

Note the sort of circle in the middle - the skies were rotating around the center of the picture.

I took this picture while parked at the venue, from the driver's seat of the Jetta Sportswagen.

Then, as I headed into Hartford, the front ended, a definitive line drawn in the sky. On one side gray, the other side blue, sunny and hazy, about 90 degrees.

Before even warming up though the skies had turned gray overhead. We could see lightning flashes on the horizon. The rain held off, the lightning never got closer, and we raced.

Our red VWs.

Note: there is condensation on the lens - it wasn't this foggy in real life.

The Missus has been driving the Golf, the lighter of the two cars. It's a bit more peppy - the very lightweight wheels help a bit in the summer. It's also a bit more agile, thanks to its shorter rear overhang. We drove separately so that I could get to the race earlier and so that the Missus could leave if Junior had any problems. He's normally very accommodating but you never know.

Start of the race.

I felt pleasantly surprised at the turn out, considering that the Emergency Broadcast System interrupted the radio to announce a tornado warning. The robotic voice said that if a tornado hit to seek shelter in the basement or an interior room, and if in a vehicle to seek shelter in a permanent structure. I hoped that if a tornado touched down near our house that the cats would run to the basement (they usually do if they're petrified). I think only Hal wouldn't do that - he'd be too scared to come out from under the blanket in our room.

Fortunately no tornado touched down, they just measured 68 mph winds at Bradley Airport.

At the venue it felt a bit windy but that was normal. The wind came off the stadium side, giving a slight cross-tailwind on the finish line. The first turn put us into a brutal headwind.

Innocuous shot but guys are surging hard.

Wind is hard from the right.

I felt reasonably good on the bike, literally the first time this whole year. Well, I felt okay on Sunday but my race ended after a couple laps due to a mechanical. So to be in a race, feel good, and not have my saddle pop loose after two laps, that was a good sign.

I decided to push a bit to see how my body would react. When a move went up the right side I tagged along, and when they cranked the pace again I followed suit. Even when I started to struggle I kept on the wheel, trying to work hard, pushing the limits.

Well it's a good thing it wasn't a mechanical engine I was pushing because I blew sky high. I essentially redlined myself for about a lap, holding an unsustainable-to-me 175 bpm. To put that in perspective I normally race at a 155-160 bpm average and I can't recall a sprint where I started at over 165 bpm.

I tried to get back in and recover but I just couldn't, and a lap or so later I came off.

OTB ("Off The Back")

So now I was OTB, or, in an intraweb funny, I found myself in Offthebackistan. I needed to ride, I wanted to ride, so I kept pedaling. To my surprise I was holding about 164-165 bpm on my own, a race pace kind of level. It translated to 19.5 mph on the slight tailwind straight so I was still crawling along, but for me to be at 164-165 bpm and not sitting up, that's a good thing. It means I could work, was willing to work - not something I normally feel on the bike. In the last 10-15 years I found that I have a hard time pushing myself on my own. I need a race or a group to motivate me (sometimes music works too), and even on very hard rides I'll find myself averaging 155 bpm at the hard points.

So to sustain the mid 160s, solo, off the back, that was good.

After I got lapped a few times I jumped in, blew up, got lapped again (a couple times), jumped in, blew up. The last time I jumped in I intentionally let the field go up the road a bit before I got going. I "bridged" to the fragmenting field and then tried to drag the guys near the back further up forward. I sat up on the tops while going hard, trying to give a better draft. I think that most of those guys were lapped or blown so it didn't matter.

With that I turned off the course. I'd ridden about an hour total, a third of it my warm up. I felt pretty good, legs pretty good (I was cramping a bit). I rolled over to the Missus and Junior. The Missus asked how it went after jokingly pointing at the field and hollering, "Why aren't you in there??" I felt pretty good about my progress from Bethel, finally feeling like a bike rider again. I had fun cornering in close quarters with others - it's the biggest thing I enjoy about bike racing, the close quarters riding. It was nice to be strong enough (albeit briefly) to be able to ride with the group.

It was just plain fun.

Missus and Junior, who was fascinated by my funny hat.

We watched the rest of the race, which, to be honest, was quite entertaining. The field, having spent most of the race a half lap down, almost brought back the break. When the gap was literally 10 meters or so the break rallied, the group collectively blew, and the break quickly distanced the field again. Three guys took off from the break and that was that.

After some after race chat, cut short by the mosquitoes, I headed home, into the rain. Interestingly enough I wasn't hungry after the race, not at all. I did feel exhausted though and got to sleep pretty quickly. A few more weeks like this and I'll be good to go.

Racing - 2013 CT Masters Crit M40+ Cat 1-4

This report is basically a joke because I made only a couple laps before a seat post bolt broke.

Before anyone starts asking what brand post to bad mouth I should point out that the nut that holds the seat down (aka me) changed the bolts from the perfectly good stock ones to some aftermarket titanium ones. Therefore the seat post manufacturer, Thomson, has nothing to do with the breaking bolt.

It has to do with me changing something that didn't need to be changed.

One lesson re-learned today - don't change something that isn't broken.

I re-learned another lesson today - always bring spares and back ups to a race.

The Missus asked if I was going to bring the black Tsunami to the race. I've recently made the red Tsunami my primary race bike, to the point that I haven't ridden the black bike in almost two months. I need to get the bike to the shop to get the headtube faced and the BB30 reamed to spec, but I haven't done that yet.

I also want to finalize my bar/stem configuration. The red bike is close but no cigar so until I figure out the red bike I don't want to make the same less-than-complete changes to the black bike.

So, when the Missus asked me if I was going to bring the black bike, I said no.

I mean, look, it was raining, it'd have to spend the whole trip on the roof rack, then sit out in the pits in the rain during the race, then ride the rack back in the rain.

Even after I thought about having a spare bike, complete with things like, well, an unbroken seat post bolt, I decided that, no, it wouldn't be worth the trouble.

So we left with just one bike on the roof, three pairs of wheels for said bike. I had my clinchers, the only aluminum braking surface wheelset I regularly use, plus two carbon sets ("primary" and "spare").

Pre-Race

At the venue I decided to go conservative and kit out the bike with the aluminum clinchers. I figured that the aero benefit of the carbon wheels would be outweighed by the fact that I hadn't ridden in the rain on those wheels in a while. I also dressed aggressively, going with no shoe covers and summer long finger gloves despite the 55 degree rainy conditions.

A Bethel Spring Series (new-to-the-scene) racer struck up a conversation with me, asking about equipment. He showed me his bike, outfitted very close to mine, and I gave him some thoughts on how I'd upgrade his bike. That made me look around and realized that, wait, I could keep the aluminum front wheel and use a carbon rear wheel.

Plus the Stinger 9 had a Vittoria wet weather tire mounted to it, and I wanted to see how that worked in the wet.

I headed back to the car and switched the rear wheel.

I ran into another Bethel Spring Series racer, this one a long time friend and one of the staff of the BSS. He pointed out that it was pretty cold out there, once the water got through whatever layers you had on. In particular he questioned my aggressive choice of gloves and footwear. The wind vest was fine, but my hands and feet...

I did a lap out there and realized that, yeah, he was right. I switched to winter gloves (water and wind proof) and put on some ancient Cannondale water/wind socks. I think I wore them just once or twice before, and I've been hauling them around in my gear bag for about 20 years.

I felt better immediately, my feet toasty with no chilly water or air hitting them, my hands also toasty due to the lack of chilly water and air.

Race

The miserable weather, combined with all sorts of conflicting events, meant that all of maybe 12 racers lined up for the M40+ race.

Almost the whole field.

This didn't bode well for me - without incredible fitness I rely on being able to sit in the protected field. 12 riders didn't really constitute a "field" so I'd be exposed to the wind much more than normal. In such a situation I expected a couple of the strong guys to take off, leaving behind the rest of the riders.

For some reason the sprinklers were going full bore.

Someone said that "Sprinter Della Casa" was here.

I replied that, with such a small field, a break would win the race.

Someone else countered that the small field already counted as a "break".

With that the race started.

I last raced here in the rain in 2010 in really sketchy conditions. Ironically it was the "All Weather" tires that caused the problems at the time, slipping and sliding everywhere. This time my bike felt fine. I had the same front wheel on but this time with Maxxis ReFuse tires, my heavy training tires. They felt really grippy to my fingers even in the showroom and in the wet they worked great. I ran 80 psi in them, just because. I've run as low as 55 psi and as high as 105 psi, but for me 80 to 95 psi is okay, and I prefer to run a bit higher if I know I'm going to be cornering hard.

The rear Vittoria was great too. I'd automatically pumped up the tire to 120 psi, the pressure I normally run in my 23 mm tubulars. I had left putting on the rear wheel a bit late so I just left it like that and decided today would be an experimental day. To my pleasant surprise the Vittoria rear tire worked extremely well, even at the high pressure.

With both tires gripping nicely I even experimented with riding over the yellow line in the first turn, at the top of the hill, and even going into the last turn.

I felt much more secure on the bike on this wet day, compared with the race from 2010.

I couldn't sit directly on a wheel due to the spray and the fact that it took a half second for the brakes to start working, even if I was just feathering the brakes. This meant sitting slightly to one side and a bit further back than ideal for wind protection, which in turn meant I'd be working harder than normal.

Sitting off to the side to avoid spray.

Nevertheless I felt pretty good. The cool, wet conditions reduced my poison ivy craziness, the soothing chill driving away the insane itchiness on my arms, torso, legs, neck, etc.

All this happened in just two laps.

Then, on the backstretch, as I started getting warmed up, I heard a pop and I fell a bit forward on the bike.

My saddle had just dropped down.

I knew exactly what had happened before I looked.

Looking down when my bike popped and my saddle dropped.

I'd found some Ti bolts for the Thomson posts I use on my bike. At $14.95 for a set I figured it was harmless fun. Unfortunately I heard some creaking after I installed them and I realized that something with them must be bad. I kept putting off replacing the Ti bolts.

I couldn't put it off any more. One had just snapped.

There was a wheels in, wheels out pit.

My spare bike was at home though.

This meant my race was done just as it had started.

I coasted and soft pedaled to the start/finish area, where the Missus and Junior waited under a tent. I couldn't go too fast because I didn't want to drop my saddle. I knew the Missus could see me across the course so she'd know that although something went wrong she'd also know that I wasn't hurt.

I rolled up to the tent and stopped, explained what happened. The irony of me changing out the bolts and then deciding to leave the spare bike behind. I even had the original seat post bolts in my gear bag in the car (but they weren't in the pits so I couldn't go get them, fix the post, and get back in the race).

Ah well.

Junior took a while to realize that the weird looking bike racer with a helmet on was his Pops.

Then he smiled, his arms and legs kicking a bit in excitement.

All was good.

Training - Picking Up The Van

I did manage to do one long ride before the poison ivy misery. Typically, in years past, I've left the van at Bethel after the last race, returning later to pick it up. Because it's far enough away from our house the Missus and I usually drive down together and I drive the van back.

With Junior things got a bit more complicated. Although he's good in the car we prefer not to put him in  a car seat for what would be about 3 hours total. This meant either figuring out a schedule to do other stuff (like visit my dad's) and then picking up the van after or doing something completely different.

A couple years ago I did the latter - I rode to the course and drove the van back on a blazing hot summer day. I did the Wednesday night race there while I was recovering from the epic-to-me ride, managing only to barely finish the B race. Normally I'd have done the A race but a 5+ hour ride, massive cramps, bonking... I didn't want to do any race. I got talked into doing the B race though, struggling up the hill each time, using every trick I knew to keep from cramping. I pushed a bit on the last lap and then sat up before the sprint.

I decided that this year I'd ride down to get the van. It would keep us from having to drive 2 ways in one of the cars (there, back) and it would let me train a bit. The only logical days to do it would be on the days that Junior goes to a half day of daycare.

I decided to go the Thursday after the last Bethel race. This was in complete contrast to 2012 when we got the van so late in the season that our primary motivation was to beat the snow and ice.

Of course my training had been minimal so I hesitated a bit. On the flip side I wanted to get the van back home so I could unpack it and get all that stuff put away. I figured that I could make it in 5 hours or so at worst. The weather was still in the 60s so I wouldn't suffer like I did the other time I rode down.

Well my 33 minutes of training the prior 10 days (24 minutes with my nephews, 9 minutes of racing) wasn't that much and it showed pretty quickly. I started cramping less than an hour into the ride, literally just one town over from where I live.

I normally don't check my PCV (the computer head for the SRM) but I started glancing at it regularly, checking the mileage. I thought about the point of no return, when it would be easier to keep going than turning around. When I was cramping I was well within the "turn around" distance.

I fought, though, and started getting into that nebulous "not sure which is better" zone where turning around didn't seem like it would gain me much.

I pressed on.

I didn't know the topography of the ride, unfortunately, because I climb over two larger ridges/hills in the first half of the route and it's mainly flat for the second half, losing altitude slowly but steadily.

Started cramping in the second green shade, before 15 miles.

It would have been much easier motivating myself to get over that second climb with the relief of steadily descending roads afterward. Instead I pressed on in the face of what might be relentless hills. If I had to guess at the topography of the route until the 30 mile point I'd have guessed it was mainly flat with a couple rises, more like the latter portion of the ride. I didn't realize the climbs were big enough to count, so to speak.

Relatively early on in the ride my helmet camera battery gave up. I hadn't charged the thing since the race the prior Sunday, and even for that I think I didn't charge it that long.

This meant I missed a few things on the cam that I could have otherwise taken a still from and posted here. I don't want to bore everyone with some two lane road lined with trees - they look like any other nice two lane road in Connecticut.

I saw a former teammate and recent returnee to the bike racing scene - he was driving his car. I saw a friendly rival out on the bike.

In the latter portion of the ride I was doing a lot of mental mathematics, trying to calculate my average speed. I knew the ride would be about 65 miles long and I hoped that I'd average 15 mph. This would give me 4 hours (15x4) plus 1/3 hour (the final 5 miles). I knew it'd get a bit dusky at about 7:30, dark around 8:15, and I'd left at just before 2:30 PM.

This gave me a good 5 hours of daylight. My goal was 4:20, at a conservative 15 mph pace, but I was struggling after the first hour to hold 12-13 mph (not knowing I was doing so much climbing).

Therefore I had to push when I could. My time calculations were taking me to the 8:00 PM range and this worried me. I even started thinking about things like taxis, public transportation, stuff like that.

So with these concerns swirling around in my head the next bit got tough.

I was trying to eat and drink a bit but I knew that for me cramps are cramps, they do what they want. Normally I'd just turn around and go home but with a one way route I didn't have that choice. I started experiencing some weird sensations, cramps rippling up and down my leg, a rush sensation as goosebumps traveled up and down my legs, stuff like that. It wasn't just cramps, it was weird stuff.

I had to stop a number of times to put a foot down just to keep from falling over. I could barely make headway at times, even on flat roads.

I realized that even when I "soft pedal" I lift my leg up on the upstroke. I had to consciously stop that to prevent my hamstrings from locking up completely.

At some such point a rider turned onto the road in front of me, running a stop sign (a peeve of mine). His running start meant he was going about my speed, just 50 meters in front of me. He scampered up the short hill there and I figured he'd disappear from view.

Then he slowed down.

I was feeling pretty antisocial simply because I was cramping, I was doing a lot of math in my head, and I was worried I'd get caught out in the dark. This meant I didn't want to roll up next to him and have a conversation.

At the same time I didn't want to pass him politely but firmly and then promptly have a wave of rippling cramps stop me in my tracks.

So I slowed also.

He would speed up every now and then (he knew I was lurking back there) but then slow substantially on some of the rises. My legs started to come around so I wasn't falling back anymore and in fact I rolled up to him.

Against my better instincts I rolled up next to him, said hi, and rolled by.

The next bits of road were unusually flat for Connecticut with long sight lines. Of course. I tried to keep my pace going without "attacking", rolling harder when my legs let me, easily up dramatically when they wouldn't. I pointed out the grates and such and finally, at a light, motioned for a stop. I turned around. He wasn't there.

I finally started seeing civilization again, near Danbury. A white Mercedes rolled by, the driver looking at me and saying something. I was a bit blurry visioned and I didn't know who it was, but I figured, whatever, just some guy in a Mercedes.

Then I saw the Mercedes waiting on the shoulder.

I did a "did I do something wrong" assessment of my riding, and other than existing, I couldn't think of anything that could have upset the driver.

Well it ends up I was right - the driver was the guy that first introduced me to the Missus!

We chatted for a bit, me taking advantage of the break to stand over my bike, straightening my legs, easing some of the now ever-present cramps.

He offered me a ride but I knew I was close so I declined. Plus the stop rested my legs and I felt like I could keep going.

I finally made it to the entrance of the Francis J Clarke park, where the races happen. My legs were cramping something fierce and I had to stop again to put my feet flat on the ground. I knew I needed to stop for a minute or two so I took the opportunity to call the Missus.

When I checked the phone it was at "under 5% battery". I stopped Strava and called the Missus.

"Are you at the van?"
"No, I'm at the bottom of the hill from Turn One, but I may have to walk and my battery is dying so I'm calling to let you know I'm here."
"Okay, drive safe."
"Okay, see you at home."

Of course my legs miraculously relaxed, I clipped in, rode up the hill no problem, and got to the van. I called the Missus back.

"I'm at the van, my legs got better all of a sudden. But I don't have a charger here and my phone really is dying."

The sun was just setting.

I jammed my bike into the van, both wheels off. I had to hold the wheels and slam the door shut, there was so little room in the van. In fact a brake lever ended up rubbing against a propane tank for the 90 minute drive home, putting a good gouge in the finish.

I drove gently home, spending a lot of time following 18 wheelers (instead of passing them). I was conscious of making sure I could see their mirrors (because if you can't see their mirrors they can't see you). Of course I had headlights on because it was dark by then, so it was obvious to them that someone was behind them.

I got home so exhausted I didn't want to eat. I hadn't eaten on the drive home either so I knew I had to refuel. After an hour or two I finally gathered up the energy to eat.

Overall the ride went well. It'd taken me about 4:40 to do the ride, much better than the 5+ hours it took me on that 90 degree day a few years ago. If I hadn't been fighting cramps for almost 4 of those hours I would have ridden a bit better. How much, I don't know, but at least a bit.

My new SLR saddle worked fine. I was a bit tender, of course, even more so since I couldn't stand as much as I wanted, but I was surprisingly comfortable. The saddle's slipperiness had encouraged me to move it forward just a touch and that really helped.

The bike was good too. It felt really responsive when climbing out of the saddle, thanks to its short chainstays and nicely honed and faced head tube (making for light and quick steering).

The power is off on the SRM, by about 20%, so I really need to calibrate it. For now I like looking at the high numbers.

I am still a bit disappointed in the bar position. I thought that having a higher saddle (by about 1 cm total) and a slightly dropped stem (a few mm) would make up for the 2 cm higher drops. That's not the case.

I really need to have the drops a certain height relative to the BB. It doesn't matter if the drops are in the right place relative to the saddle, it's relative to the BB. Right now the bike is not good for out of saddle sprinting, at least for me.

With those lessons I concluded the ride. I need to hone my bar position. I need to calibrate the red Tsunami's cranks. I want to give the black Tsunami the same treatment as the red one in terms of BB and headtube facing/reaming/honing.

Then it's just a matter of riding a bit more.

Life - Training... or Not

It's been a while since I posted. I tried to line up some posts but found it difficult to get even half hearted attempts complete enough to hit the "publish" button. Even so I'm not impressed with my own posts recently.

The thing is that there are other things that occupy a lot of my time. Things have changed here in the homestead. They're good changes but they veer me away from sitting down and typing at the computer.

I suppose I could divide my life up into a few different parts. There's the cycling, of course, and I strongly identify myself with cycling.

For example I imagine that when someone asks a friend about me they'll get a "yeah, he rides bikes" kind of a response. It probably won't be "yeah, he grew up in Holland" or "yeah, he plays the violin" or "he likes cars" or "he studies WW2 military history stuff" or  "he's fascinated with F1" or "he likes working in the yard" or "he's a cat person". I'm not even including the family stuff like "he's a dad" or "he's a husband" or "he has a few siblings" or stuff like that.

Those other things are true, though perhaps not as public as cycling. Well, okay, I think I've played my violin only once or twice in the last 5 years - twice I think - but the rest are still part of what I do.

Yesterday, for example, I swapped the rims on the Golf and put the "warm weather" rims/tires on - the original all-season tires which I had mounted on Enkei rims. I chose them simply because they were the lightest rims I could get, I think a good 7 lbs lighter per rim. With the very light factory tires (I was surprised at how light the factory tires were when I started looking at various tire weights) the rim/tire set up weighs in at about 36 lbs.

Tad under 36 lbs

Why mention this?

Because although I may not blog about the car I do spend time doing car stuff. In the process of swapping the rims...

(I have to mention that it's a bit weird that a bicycle wheel is made of a RIM, spokes, and a hub, but a car wheel is a RIM all by itself. So a car has a rim, a bike has a wheel. Anywho...)

... as I was saying, in the process of swapping rims I also fixed a fender liner, repositioning it. During one of the many storms we had last winter it got moved a bit - it would do that "playing card in the spokes" noise when we turned the wheel hard to the left. Some observations on how it assembled, some judicious fiddling with the piece, and it popped back into place.

So, instead of going for a spin, I did that.

We also have two of our cats in cat jails, so to speak. One is in a cat jail here at home - he's been isolated from the other cats, mainly for his protection. Our gentle giant Mike has been picking on Perry, the newest and almost the most timid male we have.

Mike (left) and Perry in peaceful times

Another male Tiger, the dominant one (but at about 9 lbs the smallest one - he's build like a climber) is at the vet for the second night. He's been hacking up a lot so it's been a bit worrying. So far so good with him - we hope to have him home tomorrow.

So instead of going for a spin, I went to the vet with Tiger.

Tiger, on the way to the vet in 2010 in the Z.

Recently I spent a few of my off days plus some weekend days working in the yard, putting in 3 or 4 hour days in the height of the "no bug, few plants, and nice temperature" season. It's prime riding season but it's also literally the only time I can walk in the yard without looking like a lunatic as I wave my arms around to fend off all the dive bombing mosquitoes. A long time ago I went for a hike with some people. The joke afterward - someone asked "what's this?" and ran around waving their arms furiously around their head.

It was supposed to be me, hiking.

Running, not walking, waving my hands around.

If it's not bugs it's something else. On the beautiful spring days so rare here in Connecticut I inevitably got poison ivy. Mind you I was wearing gloves, long pants, long shirt, and a one piece mechanic's suit on top of the pants and shirt. Work boots, hat, all the exterior stuff sprayed with DEET.

Wrist after about 5 days.

This is before it got really bad - I won't post those picture.

Although I'm pretty sensitive to it I decided that if I'm going to get it I might as well try and clear out a bunch of brush. A week later I started regretting my decision as I had poison ivy spots on both arms, torso, legs, neck, face... it really hampered my style as I couldn't move a lot and I was constantly uncomfortable.

I went to the doctor but the bumps still have to heal. It's very uncomfortable, to say the least.

So how did that affect my cycling? Two of my half days (which are "mine") spent in the yard. Weekend days spent in the yard. I rode once after doing yardwork. I declined riding a few days because the poison ivy was really irritating me.

I chose to do what I did. It's not like I had to give up cycling for a week. I chose to do it, on my own, preferring to wade through the undergrowth and move dead tree limbs and such rather than go inside, clean up, and go for a ride. I literally stood there, knee deep in tree debris, and decided, "Yeah, I'm gonna keep working on this instead of going for a ride."

Weird, huh?

There are other changes too. Junior is starting to sleep on a super regular schedule. He gets to sleep between 6:00 and 7:30 PM and he wakes up at 6:00 AM. I almost always get up with Junior, which, if you knew me before, would have you shaking your head in wonder. I am definitely not a morning person but now if I get up at 7 AM it feels like it's 10 AM.

I can't ride well in the morning - I tried it before - so I either ride on my half days (Tues/Thurs, when Junior is at day care) or on weekends. Just now I started riding a bit in the evening after he goes to sleep.

All this stuff, one small thing at a time, has dug into my riding time. I've chosen to do that, it's not against my will, it's just the way it is.

Therefore my riding progress is sort of in neutral.

The last race at Bethel illustrated things perfectly. Of course I was promoting the race so I had to get there early, coordinate the various staff and volunteers (and a few regulars were missing so it was tougher than usual), I wanted to do the podium pictures, I did a "cover as much as I could" Cat 5 clinic, and finally did a raffle to give stuff away.

When I got on the bike for the Cat 3-4 race I really didn't feel like riding. I'd ridden a grand total of 24 minutes the prior week, rescuing turtles with my nephews. Strava even told me I didn't ride enough for a "ride". Three laps into that race I decided I'd stop. I soft pedaled to get back to the registration area and saw the Missus with Junior.

I stopped to say hi, Junior recognized me and smiled and started waving his arms and kicking his feet, and all was well.

So what's ahead in cycling for me?

I have a few goals.

First I want to lose weight. I'm talking 10 pounds would be nice for a minimum loss, 15 pounds would be great, and 20 pounds would be fantastic. The last number would bring me to my 2010 weight, well a tad under, and it makes racing so much easier. It's much more fun because I can be involved in the race, not just suffering at the back.

I preach to whoever will listen that if you want to be a better cyclist you first need to lose any extra weight. Sacrifice your training to attain your weight loss. Once you lose the weight you'll gain racing fitness quickly. If you try and train and lose weight it's very, very, very difficult. I find it near impossible - I'm either too weak to make racing worthwhile (and training is a joke) or I eat enough that I just maintain my weight.

The only way I lose significant weight while training is to do long, steady miles, like I do when I'm in SoCal. I can't spend that kind of time on the bike, not regularly, so that's not really an option right now.

This weight loss thing was one of the thoughts I had when I decided to do non-cycling things. I wanted to lose some weight, weight I gained steadily during Bethel as I wanted to actually race there. I could sacrifice training for a month while I tried to lose weight. I could focus on non-cycling things. Mentally recharge. And return to cycling at hopefully a leaner weight.

So far it's only been semi-successful. I hope to do better.

Second I want to be able to make efforts in a race. Watching the pros, even watching my old helmet cam clips, I am surprised at how hard riders can go, even the old me. I'd like to have that kind of fitness where I could make efforts in a race and not get shelled immediately afterward.

Third, I'm going to cherry pick races. If I'm light enough I'll race, otherwise I'll skip the race. This way I'm motivated to lose weight. The races where I need to be lighter are no fun when I'm heavier. It's no fun for the Missus either, to see me start a race and pull out a few laps later.

So, for now, I'll be focusing on what food I'm taking in. I'll be doing steadier rides in general, rides that compliment a lower calorie diet.

And I'll be enjoying my time doing things that may not be related to bike racing.

Of course this may all change when I do my next race, but, hey, life changes all the time. Gotta adapt.

Equipment - Tsunami 1.1 (Red)

I haven't put up a recent picture of the now-red Tsunami in race form. I did only race it twice in its full race regalia and twice with a training front wheel due to the gusty wind conditions.

The second "race", if you could call it that, lasted just three laps.

The bike is therefore still a bit foreign to me. I hadn't really sprinted on it, not "ferociously", and I still haven't checked the SRM for accuracy. I mention the former because I wanted to make sure things were up to snuff - derailleurs adjusted, position reasonable, stuff like that - and I mention the latter because the power numbers I'm seeing were immediately 10-20% higher than those I see on the black Tsunami.

I went for a ride on a very close by loop recently on the bike shod with its Bastognes. After some intraweb discussions on wheel weight and aerodynamics I decided to throw on the race wheels to check them out. I'll post about the rides later but the second ride gave me a chance to photograph the bike loaded out in race day gear.

The Tsunami 1.1

First off you'll note some half finished yard work in the background. That's our handiwork. The part you don't see is that there's poison ivy mixed in there. I didn't know either but it's all over me - my arms, legs, stomach, back, neck, even just below my eyes. I must be much less stressed in life because it's not really annoying me, not like it usually does.

Anyway, back to the bike. I have some messy electrical tape holding the SRM cable to the frame. I plan on replacing it with clear tape of some kind.

One thing that you can't see are the parallel honed and faced bearing surfaces (the BB30 bottom bracket and the headset). It's made a huge difference in how the bike works. First off I started riding a bit squirrelly because the bike steered too easily (to me, coming off of some pretty stiff headsets). Second I am saving some decent amount of power because the cranks turn so easily. I would regularly see 5 or 8 watts when soft pedaling on the black bike, and I saw 15 watts once when pedaling with no load. Now it's negligible.

The quick steering and the efficient crank bearings make the bike feel like I'm riding rollers when I'm actually on the road. The bike feels super smooth, super quick.

Very nice.

The frame is much shorter in the rear now, I think 39.2 cm chainstays, so it reacts really quickly if I want it to change direction. They're just a touch longer than the black Tsunami's stays but basically the same.

For pedals I wanted to get the Keo Carbon again but with the metal plate for the cleat surface. Unfortunately the new pedals are absolutely wimpy on retention strength - I can clip out pretty much at will, even with the tension totally cranked. I need to figure something out because right now all my out of saddle efforts are somewhat checked, even sprints, because I'm afraid of unclipping.

For "race gear" I have the HED Stinger 7 front and Stinger 9 rear on the bike. I'll do a post on them soon, I promise. Suffice it to say that they're really wide, they have a rounded rim edge (the spoke side of the rim), and they feel really fast.

Oh and they make that cool "Swoosh swoosh" sound.

The SLR saddle.

I'm trying this saddle because I'm running out of the Titanio that I favor. It seems minimalistic but I rode it to Bethel, a 4.5 hour ride for me (at 14 mph), and it worked out well. I admit I was a bit tender because the different shape resulted in different pressure points but I was also going from virtually not riding to doing a 4.5 hour ride. In addition I started cramping almost immediately on that ride, due to a severe lack of fitness, so I had to stay seated for most of the ride. This literally kept me in the saddle even when I wanted to stand and stretch - the saddle definitely got tested on that ride.

Not only that but even when I was pedaling okay I couldn't pedal hard. This meant I wasn't supporting a significant portion of my weight with my legs, resulting in increased pressure on the saddle.

Even with both those things working against me the saddle seemed to work fine for me. The one thing is that it's more slippery than the Titanio. I don't have a solution at this point.

As far as fit I had to raise the post a bit because the saddle sits closer to the post. I raised it a touch more because the "center" of the saddle, where I end up sitting, is much further forward than the Titanio. This had the effect of shortening the distance from the saddle to the pedals by about 3-4 mm.

Err no you can't see the smudge marks on the seat post.

I took this picture because I could see the smudge marks on the post from where I raised it first for the saddle height difference and then again for the slightly different "center". No worries, it shows the seat collar area well.

The business end of the bike.

The Deda stem is misnamed, in my opinion, as a track ("pista") stem. In fact it only points 3 degrees (70 degrees or -20 deg) down from my regular stem which is horizontal (73 degrees or -17 deg from the head tube angle). I want a 14 cm stem that drops me at least a centimeter more but I can't find one.

The Deda is a 14 cm to try and make up for the lack of reach of the FSA Compact bars. I'm still short 1 cm in reach and the bars are 1 cm higher than my other bars. Due to this I'm almost positive I'm going to be moving back to the lower crit bend bars. Either that or I need to find some compact reach bars that drop 140 mm instead of 120 mm.

Centaur 10 speed shifters

I'm going to post more on this decision later too but I had two reasons for getting these shifters. One, I wanted to see if the new shape works for me. Two, I wanted a shifter that only gave me one shift at a time. The Record 10s shifters I have allow me to dump the chain down a lot. Limiting that to just one cog will hopefully save me from shifting too many cogs at once in a sprint.

GOOP and my PCV (off the Cannondale so the first one I got)

On a side note my SRM has a slight crack in the front "cover", the clear plastic that covers the whole face of the computer head. The plastic alternately bulges and gets sucked in, depending on the atmospheric pressure I suppose, maybe temperature too. It tends to bulge in the summer, get sucked in in the winter. Whatever, the important part is that whatever I used to patch it would need to be flexible.

I used GOOP to patch it up. It's clear after it dries and it's flexible. I've used it to fix the driver's side mirror on the van, gluing new mirror glass to the plastic backing. Someone had hit the van while it was parked on the street and left me with a broken mirror glass. So far it's worked well - about 5 years or so.

Reviewing this post you can see that the bike isn't quite complete. I still need to hone the bar position relative to the saddle or change the bar completely. I need to address the pedals. But overall the bike is great - responsive, agile, and fun.

Promoting - Post 2013 Bethel Spring Series

The 2013 Bethel Spring Series has finished.

As usual the last day was a bittersweet day. It's the last of the year's Series which means that a lot of stuff ends. The core group of people I see each weekend will change - just like you never get the exact same people showing up at two different race venues I never see the same core group of people at other races, not all at once. This is more so because some of the core group don't even race. It makes Bethel unique because it's the only time I see certain people at the races.

Of course we had ourselves some great racing. Unusually no titles had been clinched by the last week and in fact every title was up for grabs. Each year I hope that someone will cinch the Series early - I have some shorts for said rider ready to go. If they don't then I just give the overall winners a pair of shorts.

In 2013 each race came down to the final efforts in the final laps, except perhaps the P123 race. There were a lot of close finishes resulting in some ecstatic riders, along with the inevitable devastated ones. 20 or 30 minutes after the races and everyone was all smiles. For all the "what ifs" and "but thens" the riders that took the overall earned their titles.

Only in the P123s did the top contenders neutralize one another, watching all the points ride up the road. Some ferocious battling in the field almost brought things together but wisdom relented and the race ended with the overall podium spots unchanged.

I ended up stopping almost as soon as I started the 3-4 race. It was a bit unfortunate because my brother headed over with his family and my dad. I was already off the bike and probably changed when they arrived. It would have been nice to be on the bike for the kids. Ah well.

A fascinating occurrence was that this was the first time in 21 years that we had no trophies left over - there were no absentee podium finishers. I was actually stunned. I think the extra week, to avoid a Battenkill conflict, worked out well.

So how did the Series end up? I'll touch on a few spots that came to mind right away.

Weather

The weather... it went both ways. We didn't have a snow day and we didn't have rain on any week. 

That's good.

We also never broke 70 degrees, and we spent virtually the whole Series in the 30s and 40s. That's not so good, but, at the same time, it's sort of what a Spring Series should give you.

That's... not great but not bad.

Registration

We had a new spot for registration this year. The bakery gets too crowded (did you see the lines??) so we needed to find a different spot. We were fortunate to have use of the very cool spot we got to use. I was treating the folks who lent us permission anonymously but it's Cycling Sports Group, aka "Cannondale". A nice side benefit was that racers could peer through the glass at the Retail Lab, a showroom chock full of bike bling.

We had two new people at registration, Joel and Amanda, and did well, even under the gun at the peak hours of registration.

Overall registration and the associated things (end of day stuff for the officials, posting results, etc) went well. Pretty much all the errors were mine or due to late communication. I'd forget to add someone or someone would ask to change something at 10 PM on Saturday night. In all cases we figured things out okay.

It's one of the most honed aspects of Bethel and it showed.

Finish/Results

The first week had some rough spots as the camera did a bunch of things on its own. In "Auto" mode it adjusts shutter speed, focus, and light balance. It took us two finishes to fix it but that meant two finishes where we couldn't pick numbers. Lesson learned.

The rest of the time the camera worked well. Obscured riders, oddly pinned numbers, and the occasional "perfect glare" situation made for some missed numbers, but we captured virtually all the numbers.

As the second year we're using this system it worked well, minus the hiccup on that first week.

Giveaways

One good thing about the final week is that I get to give away a bunch of stuff. It's fun making other people's day. This year, with Cannondale and Outdoor Sports Center's support, we gave away a Cannondale CAAD10 frameset (a CRCA racer won it).

The actual CAAD10 frameset on display.

Winner gets to choose the size.

Other prizes include a CycleOps Fluid Trainer (Bethel Cycle rider), a couple helmets that I remembered to put them in the car (CRCA and I forget who), and some smaller stuff (FGX somehow won three of these prizes). Drawing the tickets were a little girl, a little boy, and three? of my nephews (ages 5, 7, and 9).

Sponsor

Outdoor Sports Center, our main sponsor, provided us the use of the start/finish tent.

I want to give a shout out to Outdoor Sports Center. They are much more than just a sponsor. The guy that runs the place showed up every week of the Series, helps with the grunt work (i.e. moves boxes, helps load/unload van, etc), and loves the whole atmosphere of the race.

In fact he's the main reason why I added one week to the Series. When Battenkill conflicted with the last Series race we saw the turnout plummet. The poor turnout disappointed the normally enthusiastic guy (and me too). I figured an extra week would be okay, it would allow all the Battenkill riders to return, and it would be more fun for everyone involved - me, the sponsor, and especially the racers.

Crew

The camera crew on the trailer. All one of him.

This is the last week that our Series crew will be together like this. There's no other race that requires this much consistent help. Working the race is a bonding experience. It's like when you go on a century ride with a small group of people. Merely the process of doing the ride forces everyone to share a challenge and to meet it. It's hard not to build a bond with those around you.

Unlike a random century you go to, at the Bethel Spring Series I have the luxury of selecting the crew. I used to vet the crew from birth, as the joke went - I've known a few of the crew as long as they've been alive. I knew the parents before I knew them. It's hard to explain to other promoters where I find the crew.

"So you have some good people helping you at Bethel. Where do you find them?"
"Well first you find a friendly nice young couple that doesn't have kids. Then when they have kids you vet the whole family process. Keep the good families on a short list. It helps if the parents go to races because then you can see the kids as they grow up. When the kids come of age you hire them. It takes a bit longer than just interviewing random people but it works well."
"Oh. Um. Thanks."

This year I expanded a bit and added people that I haven't known for more than a decade. It worked out well, super well in fact.

I consider the officials part of the crew as well. I ask for them specifically because they help shape the tone of the race, the attitude of the race.

Volunteer Marshals

This year we had more volunteers than in recent memory and for that I'm super grateful. With the new "cut through" around the Bethel Power building we needed a couple more dedicated people. Missing regulars for various dates also reduced available resources.

Therefore the marshals really helped make the race work as well as it did this year. I really, really appreciate the time and effort they put out, especially during those bitterly cold days.

Racers

I want to mention the racers themselves to conclude because it's only fitting. When someone says something nice about Bethel to me, I reply in complete truth that without the racers there'd be no race.

Someone last year described the way I think of the racers at Bethel.

"(He) really cares for all "his" racers--that is, everyone that pins on a Bethel number." (DocM)

I never realized that this is how I felt about all the racers at Bethel. I want everyone at Bethel to succeed at racing, to race as well as they can. I may get frustrated with some, never with others, spend more time with this one than that one, but in the end it comes down to this:

I want everyone at the Bethel Spring Series to have fun racing.

Everyone.

Because at Bethel they're one of mine.

Racing - 2013 Zwiedzanie Bethel Report

It's pretty easy. Here are 4 pictures and a few words to describe my 9 minute race.

Start of the race... it strung out right away

Third lap in...

 Later that lap I turned around to say hi to the Missus and Junior.

They and three others (two adults, one baby) were walking a lap.

Junior

Other baby under blue blanket in background.

I managed not to get lapped and headed back to do promoter stuff.

Promoting - Pre 2013 Zwiedzanie Bethel

The start of the last week of the 2013 Series

My mornings start with a cup of coffee. Okay, actually, they start when Junior wakes up and babbles and stuff. I try to sneak downstairs to fix him a bottle or a pouch and maybe some cereal before I head back up to change him. He's usually pretty hungry so he's unusually fussy (meaning he actually acts frustrated) so right after I change him I bring him downstairs to "begin his day".

While Junior walks around his domain (the living room, kitchen, hallway) I try to sneak in some breakfast. It usually works. I follow him around so that means eating a sandwich or leftovers while walking around behind him.

Junior doing laps in a cheerful mood.

This week was a bit busier than normal. There's a lot of stuff that happens only on the last week. In "list form" it's two things - the final overall and the raffle - but in reality it's a logistical nightmare. The issue is that most of the podium riders disappear after their race so I have to do the pictures as soon as the races end. This means getting results, calculating the overall, and awarding prizes... all before the next race starts.

On top of that Junior had a few things happening. He had this all-over rash/bumps/whatever... He'd just gotten his measles shot a few weeks ago, he ate some new food last Sunday, but we think he didn't have "bugs" (he slept in his own Pack N Play, he wore his own clothes, etc).

He was also projectile vomiting for about 24 hours, sporadically one day, once at 2 AM that night, then a few times the next day. That second day, on about the 5th expulsion of the second or third episode (and therefore I figured there couldn't be much left), I held a towel in front of his mouth. The "projectile" geyser hit the towel, ricocheted up into the air, and landed on his face and hair... he was not happy.

This meant him staying at home on the one afternoon I thought I could work on stuff.

What happened is that I had started working on "deluxe" things, essentially favors to individual riders who asked for this or that. I do these things before and during the Series. It's not a major big deal, it helps make the race more enjoyable for the racers, and, frankly, it's stressful if I think someone isn't happy about the races.

While working on those deluxe things I realized that, oh, wait, I don't have the spreadsheet done for this week. I have no change for the drawer. I'm short for prizes for Sunday since I pay out for overall. I have to leave early Saturday to pick up the trophies.

On top of that the camera guy wouldn't be there so I stressed a bit about that (he wrote up extensive notes on what to do and another guy covered for him - I covered the M45+ finish).

I had to stop with the favors and do the "bulk work" if you will, the work that allows the race to actually run. These include getting the cash drawer ready (means going to the bank as well), getting the spreadsheet ready, sending out  for printing and picking up the release forms, organizing the numbers and releases, making sure the radios are charged, stuff like that.

I have to get my stuff ready too, my bikes and gear and overnight stuff. Before each Bethel I stay at my dad's place the night before - he lives about 30 minutes from the course, I live about 90 minutes.

During this time I was doing repeated loads of laundry after Junior made his various works of art. Luckily he didn't hit anything used for Bethel, all sitting in various piles in the living room. I did have to clean a large swath of carpet, a bunch of toys, give him a few baths (and take some showers for me), and do multiple changes of clothing for both him and me.

If that wasn't enough one of our cats was freaking out so we had to put him in kitty jail (a bathroom). This entailed emptying out the bathroom of anything removeable, installing a litter box, water station, and food. We took him to the vet to get him checked out, but all this meant moving rugs, cleaning stuff, yada yada yada. He even had an episode in the middle of the night - he peed on the bed through the down comforter - that meant stripping the bed of everything and putting it in the wash at 2 AM and me taking yet another shower. We also moved two rugs out of the way after he peed on those.

So on Friday, instead of being almost done with preparations for a regular Sunday, I was just getting started preparing for a super-sized Sunday.

I was so exhausted Friday evening that I thought of skipping the pre-reg stuff (organizing releases, doing the spreadsheets, etc) and just going to bed. As I stressed I rallied and got it done. I even fleshed out the stuff I wanted to cover in the clinic, a kind of deluxe "send them on their way" bunch of stuff.

That left Saturday morning to load up the car and get down to Crown Trophies in Brookfield before they close. Luckily the Missus is done with tax season so she'll hang out with Junior while I do Bethel stuff.

Eventually I got it all done.

Sunday should be fun.

Racing - 2013 Circuit Francis J Clarke Report

Last week I didn't even bother with a race report. Although the morning started out very calm, as it usually does, the wind really picked up during the day. I decided to go all in and use the Stinger 7 front, Stinger 9 rear, the tallest wheels I have. I figured the "SCT" (Stability Control Technology), meant to help deal with crosswinds, would help overcome the height of the rims.

Well the first bend almost blew me off the road. Now, granted, I had a 75 mm tall rim up front. I think an old 46 mm rim would have done the same, just more sharply. Whatever, the tugging on the bars wasn't good.

I redoubled my grip on the bars and chided myself for gambling too much with wheel selection.

Regardless it didn't make much of a difference. I was in trouble from the very beginning, well over my limit within a few laps. I hung on grimly at six laps in, really pushed hard to make the seventh, but on the eighth I was done. I exploded on the backstretch, the wind sawing me off the back. Shelter smelter, sitting in didn't matter when I couldn't get up the hill or when the wind was so gusty it hit you from all directions.

So last week's race report would have been pretty short... like the four short paragraphs above.

The wind started deceptively light in the morning but even when the Cat 5 clinic started it had started to pick up. I knew that it'd be ferocious by the early afternoon.

Therefore I decided to skip the tall front wheel.

You see aero wheels work differently at the two ends. On the front, the steering end, a tall wheel increases instability. The way a bike stays upright is by steering, not because of gyroscopic wheel effects, not because of the head tube angle, not because of trail. It stays upright because the rider can steer into a "fall" (or into a tilt if you will) and avoid actually falling. By tilting and then steering left and right repeatedly the rider can stay upright. If you want to try an experiment that'll make you feel very clumsy you can lock the bars of a bike in place - use straps or tape or something, or, if you have a totally beat up unfixable junker, just tighten the headset until it won't turn anymore. Try riding it. When I tried it I lost all fluency and almost crashed into a wall, and this after about 12 race seasons under my belt.

Or, for an easier, less harmful experiment, go to a MUP (Multi Use Path, aka Rails to Trails etc) and watch a 4 year old on a bike. You'll see this "steering/tilting" in vivid action as the child wobbles left and right repeatedly.

My very scientific uncle tried to explain this to me when I started riding a bike. "Steer into the fall," he told me. I wasn't sure what that meant but it only took a couple skinned knees for me to start riding around.

So that's the front wheel.

The rear wheel increases stability. It has no bearing on the steering of the bike therefore it doesn't do anything negative. In fact a tall rear wheel notifies me what the wind is doing and allows me to react to wind. When the whole bike feels like it's getting pushed a bit I know the wind is picking up and I should therefore be attentive for veering or wandering riders (including myself).

I used to put the tallest rear wheel on for races with high top speeds. For windy conditions or high top speeds I'd choose my Zipp 440 (predecessor to the 404), the Specialized Trispoke (now the HED3), or a prototype disk wheel. I remember racing a windy Ninigret once with a disk wheel in the back and a TriSpoke up front. I figured the disk would help stabilize the bike a bit and that would let me get away with a TriSpoke up front, a decidedly unstable-in-wind wheel. I ended up in a 10 lap break in the 1-2-3 race, eventually finishing 15th or 20th behind two breaks that actually stayed away.

With these wind lessons in mind I decided to keep the Stinger 9 in the back - it's a 90 mm tall wheel but with SCT so it's very rounded on the inside - and use my training wheel up front. That's a 24 mm Ardennes rimmed wheel. When I bought it HED called it the Bastogne. Now HED calls that class of wheels Ardennes with different letters for the different models. The Bastogne is sort of like the Ardennes LT now.

A couple laps in. Frisky.

A couple laps later. Still frisky.

I realized today that I can always go up the hill a couple times okay. My fitness determines how many times I can go up the thing okay. I remember climbing off my bike at the end of a long day many, many, many years ago, having just done both the 3-4 and 1-2-3 races, and someone excitedly telling me I'd just done 83 laps of the course (he was 10 years old I think and he counted every lap).

In 2010 I felt good 70 laps in, loose, fresh, eager to contest the finish of the 1-2-3 race after having placed in the 3-4 race. The Cat 3-4 are 30 laps long, and have been for a few years.

Last week I was good for 8 laps.

This means that I have to race very carefully, very conservatively. If I was a race car the pit crew would be telling the drive to save gas, save the tires, save the car. Gun it once or twice and the car would blow up, so gun it when it really counted.

A funny incident. SOC is to my left.

Note the gap to the riders in front of me - I couldn't close it, believe it or not.

SOC is one of my teammates, a friend, and a much stronger rider than I am. When we did some practice sprints a couple years ago he actually sprinted away from me. I was on his wheel, I knew when we were going to jump, and he just rode away from me.

At any rate during the race he drifted to the back after some efforts. I was already struggling, unable to keep within a few feet of the riders in front of me. When he appeared ever so slightly ahead of and next to me I figured I'd get on his wheel for shelter. I eased and moved behind him.

SOC eased to let me pull up next to him, wanting to tell me something, something about the race. He didn't understand just how redlined I was at the moment.

SOC hangs back a bit to give me shelter.

When I didn't come around he realized that for whatever reason I was just hanging at the back. He didn't feel it important to close the little gap in front of him because it would take two pedal strokes for him to close it.

For him. Not for me.

He closes the gap easily on the hill, not realizing I was close to the limit.

At some point on the hill, two pedal strokes and SOC was back in the group. It took me an agonizing 15 seconds to get back in and another few laps to recover from my "effort". Pitiful, yes, but it's all I had to offer.

I was determined to keep going as long as I could pedal. Either I'd cramp or I'd explode, but I felt the need to keep pushing. I had a few troubling moments during the race after the humorous SOC one.

When the Stage 1 / Fusion Think rider (in red) moved over and jumped I was gapped.

One of them was when the field was in full cry. With massive wind by Turn Two and on the backstretch I had to manage the gaps well. Just like how SOC closing that minor gap put me in trouble, so did the action in the above picture. The Stage 1 / Fusion Think rider jumped hard to move up - he knew potential trouble when he saw it and the strung out field wasn't looking very cohesive. A gap here, a gap there, and we'd be talking a whole different ballgame.

When he went it left me with about a 10-12 foot gap to close. I pushed very hard to close it, briefly contemplating sitting up.  I had to push hard for a while to close the gap. In the end I closed the gap before I blew up so it worked out okay, but I think it took me a couple laps to recover from that seemingly minor effort.

The field splitting apart under continuous and ferocious attacks.

Joel is in front of me.

The other major crisis happened when the field split in two. In the above picture you can see a front group splitting off, followed by a trail of racers trying to bridge the gap. I couldn't grab a still of the two groups separated because by then my head was down and all I could see on the screen was the rider in front. In fact the above picture is one of the last shots before all but four or five riders disappeared from the camera's view as my head dipped down. I knew the split meant trouble and I was already deep in the red when it happened.

I found the chase/thought process in the back group interesting. First, when the split happened, guys started easing a bit, looking back, seeing if someone else would take a pull. During all this they'd move to one side or another, causing the group to spread out.

At that point we resembled a group ride that just left a parking lot on a group ride. We were scattered all over the road, not really a "peloton" as much as a "group". As the racers realized that this one or that one wasn't about to come through, that they weren't in a position to help, the ones that had the legs gathered themselves together and went to the front. The others knew a good thing when they saw it and they all closed in and hung onto the wheels.

The group immediately coalesced into a proper peloton and went about the business of chasing after the field. Ultimately the battle up front subsided and the two groups came back together.

Disaster, at least for me, had been averted.

Bethel was, and will always be, a battle between the sprinters and the non-sprinters. There is so much shelter at Bethel that sprinters can arrive to the finish with some kind of reserve, even if they were at the limit throughout the race.

Therefore the time trialers try to break the field. It makes for very tough racing for everyone involved. The time trial guys are at the front just killing it. Everyone behind, including the sprinters, grovel on the wheel, hoping for an end to the insanity.

In the Cat 3-4 races a break can work, especially if there are larger teams sitting at or near the front, chasing down any counter moves. When the larger teams are working for a sprinter, though, any aggressive moves get marked by a clump of racers.

For this race it came down to a field sprint.

With our team leader Bryan absent I figured it be best to support another teammate Jeff - he had earned points last week so he was by default the GC leader on the team. I learned the hard way that I can't do anything worth talking about if it takes longer than 30 seconds. If I tried to give Jeff a leadout I'd use myself up just getting into position or within meters of hitting the front. Dumping Jeff into the wind at 500 meters to go wouldn't help him much.

Therefore my goal was to place immediately behind Jeff. This way he could get whatever place and I'd try and be a filler rider just behind him, denying someone else any points available there.

The last time I tried to help by placing behind someone it was when I wanted to place behind Bryan. Unfortunately Bryan exploded in the sprint so I just sat up, finishing a sort of accidental 13th.

To assist I'd have to be up front. That's easier said than done, especially after three hard-for-,e efforts to get back into (aka stay in) the race.

Bell Lap.

At the bell I was pretty well buried in the field. I'd moved up a little bit but not really into the front - I was mainly "out of the back" rather than "in the front".

Turn Two on the last lap.

At turn Two things stayed the same. The first stretch was so hard on me I couldn't afford to use extra energy to move up - it was all I could to to maintain position and mentally prepare for the second half of the lap.

Gap opening up in front of me. I will take it.

The Brauer rider moved to the right a bit, opening a big gap. I zipped up into it, my legs reasonably fresh from going easy the last half lap. Obviously I was leaving it late but I hoped that the ferocious wind had taken the edge off the legs of the riders in front of me.

Through the gap, waiting for an opening so I can go.

Jeff is just ahead of me, Joel is fading on the left.

We're now in the heart of the sprint. On a good year I'd launch from here, even earlier perhaps, but this year isn't one of those years. This week I waited behind two riders, knowing that at some point a gap would open somewhere. Eventually one moved enough to let me by - I went, 100%, as soon as I saw the opening.

Trying to place behind Jeff.

Missus is standing holding Junior who is wrapped in the green blanket on the memorial.

Coming up to the line I had one guy in my sights. My sprint isn't what it used to be so I couldn't think about passing more than just the one guy, but that would be enough - the rider in front of him was a very well placed Jeff. I figured I should be able to pass the one guy and finish the race behind Jeff, exactly as I wanted.

Then I heard movement to my right. Someone was making a late surge for the line. I was taken aback enough that I couldn't really throw my bike - a couple quick downstrokes and a poor lunge for the line and I knew that the other guy had beaten me.

Ironically I saw that on review he was the guy that moved right and gave me the opening I needed to get into position for the final part of the sprint.

A quick (and very poor) throw but I didn't realize he was there until he was passing me.

Stinger 9 in the back, Bastogne up front. Tsunami Bikes frame.

It ended up that Jeff got the last points place so getting a place behind him wasn't critical. Lucky for me since I didn't get that spot behind him. In addition the guy that passed me wasn't in for the overall anyway so my place holding ended up a moot point. Regardless it was a better execution of the same plan I had twice before. Once I wasn't anywhere near my protected rider and the other time the protected rider blew up.

I did a cool down lap, unusual for me, and then found the Missus and Junior. Junior was funny - he wasn't sure who the guy was with the helmet and stuff, but as soon as I nuzzled his cheek he smiled and leaned his head into mine. He knew it was dad and started waving his hands and kicking his feet.

The Missus was happy for me, knowing how I've been struggling at the races. It's not fun to struggle, even less so when it just leads to getting shelled. At least today I got something for my struggles.

I got to think, to plan, and to try and adjust my riding to fit another rider's needs. I struggled like crazy a few times, once literally giving up just as everyone else sat up, and managed to get to the last few laps in the field. It reinforced the idea of not giving up.

I made a good equipment choice - the shallow front wheel - based on my experience from last week, getting blown around on the course. I felt less stress holding a line, I felt more comfortable sidling up to another rider, getting better shelter.

Of course I say all that but lasted all of two laps in the P123 race. For now, though, I want to focus on what I need to do to become at least marginally competitive in the races I'll be doing throughout the summer. Right now it's all about training and getting some hours in because, frankly, I can't use my equipment as any kind of excuse.