Duke Cycling BikeLog

A little less Huck for the Buck

2007-07-20T08:45:00.000-07:00

In the world of mtb racing, there are few phrases as sacred as "beer lap." In fact, for some of us, our only true biking talent is easily described by those two wonderful words. With these thoughts of frosty beverages in our mind, Chris and I suited up for the 2007 Huck-a-Buck, a short three-lap race around the confines of Lake Crabtree County park. Singlespeed style, of course.

Chris was poised to take the GhettoBike award even before we rolled up: as he's recently flown the coop and been riding with gears (shock! dismay!), his quick conversion back to a onesie involved three chainrings up front and a derailleur in the back. While high on the street-cred meter, he was certainly below some of the custom rigs we saw, as my SS-dedicated Rig was much more the norm. The prize unawarded, we lined up for the start.

Much to our chagrin, the word around the pits was that there were to be no beer laps!!! We were beyond disappointed. I mean really, why race? With no in-race PBR on the menu, we had to change our hydration and nutrition strategies, and even toyed with riding expert just for the hell of it. Eventually we just lined up with a SS crowd that was probably 15 deep. True to tradition, the Happy Fun Racers lined up across the front (there were probably six or eight of them), and while that definitely put us non-HFRers at a disadvantage, it was no real big deal. Hey, it's their race, after all!

Out of the gate Chris and I had to do a lot of HFR-passing to get to the front. As Crabtree is pretty tight that wasn't easy, but we worked our way up into third and fourth places by midway through the first lap. From there we pretty much just rode. The trails were dry and loose, and Chris and I both dabbed, but other than that it was just a fast spin through the park. I would have certainly liked a little higher gear (I was running 32x18 on the 29er) as I felt like I was spinning more than necessary, but really the biggest regulator was having to thread our way through all of the riders from the other classes. At the end of lap two we got stacked up behind four or five slower riders with no place to pass and just kinda plodded along until we could find a way around them. This happened throughout the third lap, as other riders -- and not the terrain, or people in our own category -- became our main obstacle.

As we neared the end we caught up to the lone HFRer still ahead of us, but with little of the course left and no place to pass on the switchback climb, there was little we could do about it. First place was a little further away and probably out of our reach, but we rolled across the line with a respectable third and fourth.

Unfortunately, as I spun across the finish line I looked down to notice a rather large crack at my seattube-toptube juncture. It wasn't all the way through the joint, but it was pretty significant, and I don't think it would have made it another lap. Alas, I think that the Rig might be going to meet the big Gary Fisher in the sky. Luckily, it's under warranty, but unfortunately the logistics of warranty repair mean that there won't be any Off-Road Assault on Mount Mitchell for me. (I suppose that's OK, as I wasn't really in shape for it. We'll call it an equipment excuse.) I should have a new, upgraded frame in a couple of weeks. (Details to follow.)

I will say one thing for HFR: those kids do have good prizes, and Chris and I walked away with better loot than we might have hoped for. It didn't totally take the sting out of our sobriety, but it was something, and probably less damaging to the liver in the long run. Maybe next year...

Summer Solstice Doldrums

2007-07-06T19:06:00.000-07:00

DP (do we really have to use these anonymous names? sheesh) asked in the comments how my stage race went three weeks ago. In the interest of revivificating the blog, here's a quick report. OK, maybe a quickish report.

So for those to whom I haven't been writing, a quick recap of my race season prior to the Summer Solstice stage race. The spring road race series turned out better than I ever could have hoped, with me winning the last two races and coming in 2nd in the overall standings. So I had reason to be optimistic. On the downside, I'd taken some time off for recovery after the spring series, and the time off had gone on a little too long, so I really only had about two weeks solid training before the races began. So be it.

Rather than give all the blow-by-blows, I'll just say that in the end, the stage race ended up being a bit of a drag, with really boring racing. The problem was that the courses were mostly flat and non-selective. There wasn't even a good wind to bust things up. Plus, the time bonuses for stage wins were miniscule, like 3 seconds. So anybody could tell that the best strategy for the GC was to sit in on all the road races, as they were likely to end in pack finishes with no significant time splits, then throw down in the TT. Heck, you could dominate the road races, win all three, and you'd only have a 9 second advantage. That's nothing compared to the TT, where first and last were separated by over 3 minutes. And if the non-selective courses weren't enough, several teams were banking on their designated TTer, assigning all their other guys to chase down any whiff of a break in the road races. Time after time, these teams would chase down a break, and then not counter-attack once it was caught. Boooring.

With no TT gear, a break was my only shot at the overall placings, so I was forced to play the long odds. I spent a fair amount of time off the front, including 8 miles solo in the second road race. Most of it was just me being pissed and losing my fight with impatience. For a while, I was seriously considering singing Josie's toilet training songs, in the hopes of annoying the pack into action (I can do it myself, I'm a big kid now! I can do it myself, 'cause I've got POTTY POWER!). Well, I just couldn't be that mean, so off the front I went.

In the pack finishes, I did alright but would have liked a little better. Friday night, I moved up too early and had to fight to stay near the front in what ended up being a very active finishing run. By the sprint, I didn't have much left and just held on for 7th. Saturday morning, I felt like I had a reasonable sprint in me but got swamped and boxed in in the last mile. Tried hard to get out to my right and got shoved back into place, tried to the left and made it out as I heard someone's QR pinging the spokes of my rear wheel. By then, it was only 75 meters to the line and I only had time to move up to 9th.

As expected, I didn't exactly set the world on fire in the TT, coming through midpack over a minute and a half behind the winner. So I skipped the Sunday race, being so far down in the GC that it wasn't worth abusing Heather's patience any more.

So with two top 10s in 70 person fields, I shouldn't be complaining. I would have liked a break to go, though, and baring that, a top 5 in a pack finish. At least I finished in the money on both road races, covering my fees and a whole $12 extra.

One final notes: I had what will hopefully be my stupidest moment for the year in the Saturday road race. I had gotten some guys to work with me at the front and string things out as we headed into the one selective part of the course, a twisty little chicane down into a stream valley and out. I was pounding away at the front when I looked up and saw a T intersection only about 50 meters ahead of me. Now, I could have looked for the pace car, or for the cop telling us which way to go, or for the arrow markers pointing out the course, but in my reduced oxygen state, I decided to yell a question to the other riders about which way to go. Well, I thought they said left, so I went left ... then looked over my shoulder and saw the beautiful and tragic scene of a long strung out line of riders making a right turn. Crap. Fortunately I got back on, but it took me another whole lap to work my way back to the front of the pack.

One final final note: the cat 3 overall was won by a guy (Dan Campbell) who only did his first road race in February. How's that for advancing quickly?

Five days, four rides, no hating of freedom

2007-07-05T08:24:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gents:

Just because our ever-present lameness has kept anyone from updating the blog lately does not mean that we haven't been riding. In fact, Duke Cycling was out in force over the past few days, generally rolling obscene amounts of miles while consistently not hating freedom.

Saturday found CO2Cycle, me, Jonah, el Coachadora Kevin Todd, and three (anonymous for the purposes of the web) associated operatives headed down to Saxapahaw for a long, slow ride. (If you're having trouble figuring out how to say that, think "Sexin' my Paw-Paw." Just don't actually think about sexing up your (or anyone else's) PeePaw.) For better or worse, some of the associated operatives just can't go slow (fast bastids), so it ended up being a long, relatively fast ride down to the river. Highlights along the way included goats, goats-in-cages-in-truck-beds-talking-smack, hotdog stops, and pulling the old route switcheroo on the way home, thus dividing the pack. Total miles: about 75.

Sunday is widely known as a day for dirt, so CO2Cycle, myself, associated operative B.Bergeler (ok, anonymity is overrated), and two other contacts hit New Light. Other than a general dead-leggedness -- presumably from a little too much Sexin'mypawpaw -- it was a relatively uneventful ride: one lap, a little bushwhacking, and then some extra. We'll call it an optimistic 12 miles.

DukeCyclists rest on Monday...

...In order to be ready for FakeRacing Tuesday! CO2 issued a call to arms about FakeRacing, hinting that anyone who wasn't there probably had a little hate in their soul for that thing we (and FoxNews) call FREEDOM! DukeCycling does not hate freedom. (B.Bergeler does.) The crowd was a little light (presumably from all of the freedom-hating going around -- we may need to alert Sean Hannity), and the lollygaggers at the shop decided that we should, well, lollygag. Alas, it was not to be.

Instead, from the first time up Sinai we pretty much hit it hard. Big Steve (of Cannondale 'cross-bike glory, though he's now on his road ride) decided to work the pack early, and people were getting spit off the back all the way down Cornwallis and Kerley. By the time we made it to Sinai-take-two people were looking rough (and Big Steve was gone -- whatthe?), and while Rusty made a half-hearted attempt to attack CO2 on the climb, there was no hate of freedom in CO2s soul, and Rusty fell back in line.

Things smoothed out a little the rest of the way up Sinai and across University, with the remnants (I believe there were five freedom-lovers by that point) forming a fast, but fairly cooperative paceline. We did pick up a few late adds at the top of Sinai, but after some jumpiness on their part they began to work seamlessly with the group. As always, things started to slow up just a hair on Old NC 10, as people started to check each other out and prepare for the sprint. There was a little break about a half mile from the finish, which CO2 and another guy jumped on, and they were able to get a few yards down the road. The remnants of the pack were pretty scattered at that point, and when Rusty wasn't able grab the break it looked like the finish was going to be pretty interesting, with CO2 in a good position for the win.

Then I decided to do a little freedom hating of my own: as I caught Rusty on my slog (it couldn't be called a bridge) up to the break, I told him to grab on and I'd pull him up. You may be asking yourself why I would be helping someone who is by far the strongest sprinter in the group get into a position where he could easily take a break that was wearing itself out? Because evidently in my oxygen deficient state, I hate freedom. It's hard for me to admit this, and it may not be conscious, but why else would I aid Rusty, aka Bin Laden's sprint devil?

In any event, with me spent, the break eyeing each other and equally spent, Rusty was easily able to take the last fifty yards or so for the win. Dammit. Total FakeRace miles: 30ish.

Not to be daunted in our quest for freedom, DukeCyclists planned a Revolution-and-Independence ride for Wednesday the Fourth, with plans of long, easy miles, hotdogs, PBR, and the like. Once again, associated operatives were enlisted, and they ultimately proved our undoing: while B.Bergeler joined Jonah, CO2, and me in a laid back approach to our holiday, Steve and Geoff from DCC (yeah, it's the Bicycle Chain now, but it will always be DCC to me) had other ideas. (DCC newby Ryan was also involved, though less with the leg-breaking-ness.) Instead of our casual ride down to hotdog heaven (aka Saxmapahaw, aka Sexin'mypawpaw), we tooled around Orange, Chatham, and western Durham counties for a few hours, alternately chasing county line signs, talking smack, and lusting over Geoff's new wheels.

We had a brief moment of paceline bliss, but generally it was a mid-range mash, interrupted by random sprints for arbitrary markers of supremacy. (My personal favorite is deciding a sprint line and then not telling anyone about it until I'm passing them and they have no hopes of grabbing on: good for my freedom-loving ego.) With no hotdogs, no goats, and even few cows, only Ryan's bonk served as distraction. Even then he didn't reach the always fun silly-hallucination stage, just the tired and painful stage, which isn't fun for anyone. Still, it must be said that we did a lot of not-freedom-hating on the ride, celebrating all kinds of July 4th-worthy things on our roll, including revolution, the violent overthrow of government, political dissent, and the like: in short, the stuff that made our nation great. (Most of this celebration might have been internal, it must be admitted.) Bill O'Reilly would be proud. Total miles: 70.

And then we napped. And ate. And drank. And watched fireworks. And complained about our legs. And our sunburn. (OK, maybe those last two were just me.)

All told, we got in something like 187 freedom-loving miles under our belts in just five days -- not too shabby, I don't think. And if we tack on commuter miles during that time, I'm sure that most of us would be over 200, which signifies nothing, but is a nice round number to tell your friends. A few more days like this and we might actually find ourselves in shape!

Until next time, --DukePirate

Ohio Spring Breaks

2007-03-26T06:51:00.000-07:00

(Not sure if anyone is still interested in my Ohio ventures ... or if anyone is still even reading this, but heck, why let that stop me?)

These last few weekends have been the start of the spring road race series here in southwest Ohio. This is a pretty cool series, and best of all, the last two races were at a state park only 5 minutes from my front door. How could I miss?

Well, it took a little gumption to head out for the first weekend, as the temperature when I left home was only 28 degrees. But Ohio racers are tough, and the men's cat 3/4 race drew about 30 starters for the 45 miles of rolling terrain. I was fully decked out in winter gear, including my ultra-dorky winter/commuting helmet, complete with ear covers. Lucky for me, there was a race photographer to memorialize my moment in the Fred:

(Photos of this race from smugmug)

That photo doesn't nearly do justice to the helmet's dweebity. At the second event, guys were coming up to me saying, "hey, weren't you the dude with the earflaps?" So I'm doing my part to get Duke Cycling noticed in the Midwest. But I picked this picture because of a strange fact about it. It was taken in the first lap, but it happens to include 5 of the final top 6 placings. I think the other guys knew each other and were watching each other, and I just fell in by chance.

Shortly into the second lap, the two guys in yellow took off on a hard attack. I was perfectly positioned to go with them but I hesitated, figuring it would take a lot of effort to catch their wheel and that the big teams in the pack would probably shut it down anyway. Wrong. That was THE move of the race, and I blew it. Stupid. It turned out that of the two big teams, one was almost entirely cat 4s who were just content to try and finish with the bunch. The other, well, all the riders I asked said, yeah, they do a lot of wheelsucking. So much for my clever tactical reasoning.

I tried working on the front for a while to see if I could spark up a chase, but except for a few guys there just wasn't enough commitment from the pack. Once it was clear that the break wasn't going to be brought back, I switched to trying to get into a chase group. I joined a few, but they all fizzled, mostly because of people not pulling through. Riders would bust their ass to get into the break, then refuse to follow wheels up to the front, thus dooming the effort. I wanted to turn to them and say, you don't get how this works, do you? Instead, I just turned my head over my shoulder and yelled, "pull through fucker!" That was ... probably not productive. Yep, doing my part to get Duke Cycling noticed.

Finally, with only about 10 miles to go, I was in a break that fell apart and I said, screw it, I'm going to keep going. After a couple miles solo I had a small lead on the pack when I looked back and saw a chase group of four had broken off and was coming my way. We united and, much to my pleasure, these guys were actually willing to work. Well, all but two, but they fell off shortly afterwards.

The three of us that remained started rotating smoothly. Rodney (the Saturn rider in the middle of the photo above) was a beast, taking long hard pulls every time he came to the front. Chris (black vest on the right) was having some trouble early on but held with us and never missed a rotation. He made a deal with us: we let him just pull through and off and he wouldn't contest the sprint. Fine with me. As we hit the big climb on the last lap, we saw the break for the first time in 30 miles, now only about 30 seconds ahead of us. I hadn't expected this and had figured we were all racing for the lower placings. But now with the break in sight we had a bigger carrot: could we catch it? Hopefully, we three might be fresher than them, having been off the front for less time. Well, we pulled, we rotated, we pulled some more ... but as we came to the final stretch, they still had about 10 seconds on us. Close, but no dice.

The finish line was on the top of a short but very steep climb. Not so good for us plus-size riders. Actually, the finish could have been at the bottom of a pit, it wouldn't have mattered. It was clear how things would turn out. 300 meters to go and Chris dropped back, saying, all up to you guys. With no sprint left in me, all I could do was spin with maybe 10% more than I had been giving. Rodney hung back for a little while before blasting by me in the last 150 meters and building a huuuge gap by the line. This is him looking back to say, holy cow, where'd I go?:

So I was 2nd from the chase, 5th overall. Not bad, if I do say so myself. I still wish I had gone with the main break, but having missed it, I think I did alright.

I'll write up the second race another time if there's interest. Here're a couple photos, from another photographer, Jeffrey Jakucyk. You'll notice from our clothing that temps had risen more than 40 degrees from the previous weekend.

I would have done better on the climbs if I hadn't been digesting a small piglet in my thigh:

On the other hand, I did OK in the pack sprint:

CX Trashionals (FakeWorld Championships)

2007-03-12T18:11:00.000-07:00

Cycling exists in a weird, anachronistic middleground between a much easier way (driving a nice safe car, riding a fast motorcycle) and a much harder way (walking, crawling, doing the caterpillar). But is this stupid, largely arbitrary compromise that makes it so great. This contract essentially says: well, okay, we’ll let you have a bike, but we’re going to make everything else as difficult as possible. These are the things of cycling legend and lore. Terrible weather on the hardest climbs during the toughest-fought grand tours. The bone-breaking cobblestone stretches of Paris-Roubaix. And, of course, cyclocross. The sub-discipline that does everything it can to make the bicycle more of a hindrance than a help. Mud, sand, snow, barriers, steep dirt embankments, and those damn cow bells.

And yet, we still long to make things more difficult. This was the genesis of the first Cyclocross FakeNationals in 2005. In lieu of going to real nationals and getting our asses kicked by professional riders who happen to be in college (and potentially getting our asses kicked by our advisors for skipping work to go to a bike race), we stayed in Durham to get our asses kicked by each other. Plus a couple of cases of PBR. (No, that’s actually not true. Madsen showed up with something called American Beer, cheaper than PBR and never seen before or since that fateful day.) Jonah held-off all competitors to take home the trophy.

And so, a year later, we missed nationals yet again. However, determined to finish the season off with a bang, we decided we all qualified for Cyclocross Fake World Championships, which happened to coincide with real world championships. Stepping up from nationals to worlds required a more intense challenge. The course was about the same. Dryer, actually, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. We tried to avoid traffic and lacrosse practice and the parkingticketmobile patrolling the lots. But since we are all magnificent cyclists, we knew that simple bicycle race would end in deadlock. So we introduced a scoring system, too complicated to explain here (or precisely remember) but that involved points awarded for laps completed, doughnuts eaten, PBRs consumed, plus anything else our lovely and talented scorekeeper, Robin, fancied. (This all may sound somewhat dangerous, but I can assure you, safety was a priority. We were hoping for less of a Tom Simpson on amphetamines dying from a heart attack on Mt. Ventoux [read: tragedy] and more of Jan Ulrich on ecstasy crashing his Porsche in Berlin [read: comedy].) After a ceremonial procession through K-ville (it was noon so no one was awake to even notice us) the race began in earnest. Right at the gun, we hit the drinks and doughnuts. Tom moved with reckless abandon. Brandi and Annie, Johah, Scott, and I tried to follow. After we all were feeling pretty gross, we jumped on our bikes and hit the course. One lap, then back to the pits for more snacks. Two personal observations: (1) I love doughnuts, but they weren’t worth enough points to eat as many as I did, and (2) I only felt really bad for about the first minute on the bike, then my stomach mellowed out. Jonah and I discussed whether or not this was more painful than a real cyclocross race. With about 15 minutes left to race, Robin pulled out the opportunity for some bonus points: expired egg nog. Two more points: (1) I bought the egg nog right when I got back from break because I thought they’d stop selling egg nog pretty soon and because I thought we’d have the race before it expired, and (2) I didn’t think egg nog really expired. You know, like Marshmallow Peeps or Twinkies. Anyways, Robin went to pour it into cups and it glugged out in lumps. Not quite cottage cheese consistency, but obviously expired. I hesitated and Jonah took a fast swig, then a fast step back while his stomach decided whether it should regurgitate or gurgitate. Scott assessed the situation, realized that expired egg nog could make us very sick, then started drinking. Each were given full points for drinking half a glass, at which point Tom rolled up and downed an entire glass. Meanwhile, Annie and Brandi had taken up Robin’s scavenger hunt offer and had persuaded some K-ville campers to give them their sleeping bag, which Annie crammed into her jersey and rode most of a lap with. The sleeping bag netted them both some valuable points and the race was tightening up. Tom, however, cemented his victory by winning the Valentine writing competition by wooing Robin with some nerdy biology jargon.

Tom was so excited by his Fake World Championship Trophy, he ran around a bunch and challenged everyone to a somersault contest. I had to go home and sleep the rest of the afternoon. Congratulations again to Tom and thanks to all of the participants. Hope to see you all at the upcoming Entire Solar System Cyclocross Fake Championships and Cookout.

BD Night Ride; or, Bringing a Knife to a Gunfight

2006-12-14T09:39:00.000-08:00

So in my never-ending attempt to get my fat-ass into shape, last night I headed out to the group night ride at Beaverdam in hopes of getting in a decent ride and running into a few people.

Running into people: check. When I slid through the gates before six (they lock you in at that time, for what reason I’m not certain), the parking lot at the trailhead was packed, and most vehicles had multiple occupants (hooray for carpoolers!). As I began to suit up I also notice that the lot was littered with full-bounce gearies, each gleefully illuminated by blindingly bright HID lights: at least one, and sometimes two per bike. As I unloaded my measly one-geared hardtail I began to wonder if I was out-geared (punny, I know).

In fact, a full survey indicated that there was one other hardtail, and he was running gears. There was also one other singlespeed, but he had full-suspension. There were no other halogen lights. “Hum,” methinks.

I guess it’s tradition for this ride to go out as a group, so we rolled out of the parking lot in a thirty-something strong peloton. While things did break up quite a bit, and we passed some singletons that had been on the trail before us, for the majority of the ride I was in the middle of a ten- or fifteen-person pack. That alone was odd – something about rolling through the woods in the dark as part of a bike-train – but the equipment discrepancies led to further oddities.

On the downhills I was definitely a bit slower: with my measly 15 watts of halogen light I had to pick my way through downhill obstacles, and with no rear suspension my margin of error was significantly lower than those around me. I’d quickly make up any lost ground on the flats and inclines, but on any significant hills the dualies would gear way down, and I’d be left at a 30 rpm slog. (This is not particularly good for the knees, in case you were wondering.) Further, when people slowed down for obstacles (for instance, the rock garden on the south loop), I was left nearly track-standing as I waited for my turn to roll.

Overall it was a good ride and I was happy to get out and enjoy what was really a beautiful night. I was a little frustrated by the equipment overkill that seemed to be going on, leading me to feel rather inadequate. I don’t want to spend more on bikes and accessories (I think well over $500 on lighting alone – as much as I spent on my bike, btw – is a little hard to justify, not to mention the multiple-thousand dollar bikes with 5+ inches of travel), but I can’t help but feel that the sport seems to be going in that direction. On one hand this is good: innovation is great, and the increased technology allows more people to participate comfortably than certainly could in the days of fully-rigid steel tanks. On the other, though, I’m worried that the buy-in cost of mountain biking is getting too high, making the sport prohibitive to many and potential ruining the beauty of its relative simplicity.

Still, being out on a night ride with lots of people was fun: despite my logistical annoyances, everyone was very friendly and helpful in ways that other disciplines of the sport aren’t always. Sure, there was some obligatory parking lot posturing, but by and large this is a very friendly group: chatting, offering people encouragement, and generally being good folks while enjoying a good night on the trail. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all, my friends.

(Hum, I didn’t realize that this was going to turn into a bike-cheerleading post. Sobeit.)

Mtb Race Report: SSing to Glory! (or something therelike)

2006-12-04T15:46:00.000-08:00

Eschewing the Burlington ‘Cross race for the more manageable pursuit of mountain bike racing, associated operative Brian Bergeler and I headed down to Greenville for their “Toys 4 Tots” race on Sunday. With the promise of free post-race barbecue and rideable trails when everything in the Triangle was soaked, the free-with-the-donation-of-one-child’s-toy race seemed just the thing for early winter blahs.

After happily delivering my “Mr. Pirate Potato Head” (thanks Brian!) to the sharply dressed military men and taking my place alongside the two other single-speeders at the starting line, we were off. No big to-do, just a “go” from some guy. Right on.

We were then treated to three six-mile laps around prime eastern NC singletrack. In some ways this was just the thing for my big wheels and one gear: there was little elevation change, and the big wheels smoothed out the rooty, bumpy, sandy surface. However, that didn’t keep me from begging (mentally, at least, and a couple times aloud to non-existent bystanders) for a little bounce in the back and at least a couple more gears. Every time the trail cut out of the woods into the recently logged -- and thus newly cut -- trail I wanted something that would allow me to sit and spin rather than stand and mash. I think those things are called “gears” and “suspension.” Crazy talk, I know.

That said, I found myself making decent time after the first lap. The course had lots of short, steep inclines that forced me to stand and pound my way up, and loud though my legs may have been screaming at the top of each rise, I was forced to charge to the top faster than those who could downshift. Further, while there were some tight places where my 29er seemed to be reminding me some equation from physics about inertia and rotating mass (I don’t remember the equation, but I remember that it ended in “= ouch”), in general I enjoyed the way I was able to lean into the sticky-sand corners and carve my way through the trees. Brian agreed that it was a nice course: maybe not as nice as anything in the western part of the state (ya know, “mountain biking”), but a good mix of speed and technical challenges.

I finished the three laps in 1 hr. 50 min and 51 sec: nothing to brag over, particularly, but I did negative split on my last lap, and that made me happy. It was good enough for third place in the SS category. Those of you paying attention might notice that this was also last place in the SS category. Whatchagonnado?

Actually, that’s a good question, as my time was only good for third in SSs, but that also equaled third overall, and would have been good for first in the Sport class. I’m not sure what this means: That SSs are naturally faster on this course? That gears and suspension just slow you down? That I should race in another class? Really, I’m not sure how to play this one. (Full results available here: http://www.digitalelysium.net/ecvelo/events/racing/2006BPToysForTotsMTBRaceResults.)

Brian, one of the few non-SSers on a hardtail, rocked out on the Stumpie for a seventh place finish – not bad for his first mtb race in five years. I’d hate to see what he’d do on a trail with some real climbs.

The post-race pig roast would have been divine, if not for the increasing cold and intermittent sprinkles, so Brian and I slammed down some pig and jetted it back to D-town for hot showers and Sunday Night Football. At least this week we didn’t feel too lazy about zoning out to Madden’s inanities.

dc = ok

2006-11-26T14:37:00.000-08:00

visited washington dc over thanksgiving holiday. dc is a pretty cool bike city. lots of bike lanes. lots of commuters. lots of cool, smelly messengers. on weekends, they close down the main road in rock creek park (a forested park inside the city) and if fills up with cyclists, runners, walkers, rollerbladers, etc. cycling on new roads is also great, especially when it's in the mid-60s in november. plus, people up in dc ride some pretty cool bikes. they also seem way-too kitted-out. most people seemed to represent some local team, and i saw a bunch of groups of team members riding around. i'm not entirely sure about how i feel about this: one part of me thinks that clubs riding around training together is very cool, but another part of me kinda thinks it's kinda uncool to just ride with your little group and not mix it up with other random folks. it seems like if you wanna ride in a place like that, you gotta join a team. it's very un-durham, where most folks don't have a team and just show up and ride. maybe durham is too small to support lots of teams that fill different niches. yeah, i suppose teams are cool (i mean, this is kinda a team site--duh), but i think it's also important to explore the world outside of your team.

luck and negative luck

2006-11-20T19:06:00.000-08:00

skipping cyclocross races every-other weekend makes me really relish the ones i make. it wasn't a bad strategy for the first few. i think the time off gave me some nice recovery time. oh, and also i had to do real work. but that's all boring crap, so here's the part where i tell a funny story:

southern pines. first lap starts with a scary start on a narrow 180 degree u-turn on pavement. i was scared and slow and hung out at the back. we got back to nice, safe grass, but for some reason, on a nice, wide straightaway, there was a big crash that tangled up most of the field. slackers like me in the back rejoiced and jumped up to some nice places. this is the beauty of cyclocross. weird stuff happens and you seize such an opportunity, if the opportunity should arise. so this is all great, until, about 2 laps later, just as i've bridged up to a useful group, someone breaks the "caution" tape that marks the course. tape goes into the cassette and around and around and around. okay, i gotta stop, pull all that crap out, then get back on the bike and try to chase down all the dudes who passed me. tivo forward a couple more laps. i'm trying to bolt past some dude across the barriers, throw my bike down too roughly, and drop the chain. and, yeah, so at this point, i'm done. not like DNF done. DNF is not cool. but i'm basically just riding out the rest of the race, trying to get fit for the next race in a couple of weeks.

that's luck.

Smack

2006-11-12T11:03:00.000-08:00

A Jeep Cherokee tried to take a piece out of me on my ride this morning. Fortunately it only sideswiped me, leaving me bruised and scratched but, so far as I know, with nothing broken. My upper arm and elbow are pretty sore where they smashed his right rear-view mirror, and my hip is sore where his rear tirewell hit me.

I was in the middle of the lane signaling a left turn for about 50 yards. The guy had 1/4-mile visibility to see me. But he somehow didn't think that I was actually going to turn left and decided to try and pass me at 50mph. Winner of a driver there.

The bike came out of it a little worse for wear. Both shifters are pretty scratched up, along with the pedals, the rear D, the saddle and the bars. Damage is a lot like my crash at Ace a year and a half ago, only more so. Oh, and my new iBike powermeter is now iBroke. Riding the 5 miles home (yeah, I rode home, stupid) the bike seemed to be pulling to the left. I don't see any visible damage to the frame, but it might be bent. Shifting was all horked up too. Strangely, my wheels are fine. Rock on Open Pros.

It's all now in the hands of the insurance companies. The patrolman who reported cited the guy for "an improper turn."

Hug your loved ones for me. Josie can't figure out why I'm being such a pest.

Southington Cross

2006-10-22T14:07:00.000-07:00

Having run out of excuses (valid or otherwise), I figured late October was as good a time as any to start my 2006 cycling season. So I got up at 6am today, bummed a ride with a generous Harvard rider, and found myself by 10am lined up at the start of the Men's 4/5 race at the Connecticut Cyclocross Championships in Southington, CT. Conditions were good, having started out a bit cool (36F when we left Boston) but warming up to somewhere in the 50s by the start, with clear skies and little wind. The course was challenging, featuring a number of steep sections that most riders ran but I could just clear on the MTB, as well as an unusually large number of sand pits (3, only one of which was rideable), a stone staircase run up, and an odd complete lack of barriers. The course was 2.5K, which translated into a mere 4 laps for a 30min race. Despite riding hard (HR averaged 180), having no mechanical difficulties (other than a little trouble clipping in because of the sand), and not having made any obvious strategic snafus (other than not training), I found myself early in the fourth lap in the unusual position of having absolutely no one behind me. While it's possible some riders were pulled (I finished lap 3 at ~28min), and others could have DNFed (I saw one rider walking with a bike in one hand and a chain in the other), it is undeniable that I was the last rider on the course.

Hmmm. This isn't quite how I remember cyclocross working.

Next in the queue is Northampton, MA on 11/5.

BTW, anyone planning on coming up to RI for cross nationals? Let me know so I can make plans to come watch, work the feed zone, photodocument, etc.

End of the season

2006-10-10T08:52:00.000-07:00

This last Sunday was the Fallen Leaf Road Race out here in southwest Ohio. It's the official end of the road season, and I decided to have one last go of it. The local organizers seem to like overlapping the categories, so I had my choice of either a 4/5 or a 3/4 race. Since I felt pretty strong in the 4/5 I did a couple weeks ago, I opted for the 3/4, just to see what the higher competition is like. The course was an almost totally flat 7 mile loop with the 3/4s scheduled to do 8 laps. Flat sounded good to me.

We got started over an hour late, due as usual to a mixup with the police corner marshalls. As a result, the officials shortened our event from 8 to 6 laps, which also sounded good to me.

Because there weren't any hills to break up the pack, I figured team tactics would be a big part of the race, the same way they are at Ace. That leaves a solo rider like me in a bit of a dilemma. The ideal outcome would be like I had in my last race: I get into a small break with good team representation, and the teams then block for us, making the finish a small group sprint where I tend to do better. The worst would be like happened to Chris and me a couple years ago at the state champs RR, where said break went away without us, and we were left trying unsuccessfully to rally the few independent riders in the pack to fight the teams blocking. At the same time, if in trying to get into The Break, I try to get into every break, I'll wear myself out and probably either miss the real one when it goes or have nothing left for the finish. And if it does come down to a pack finish, I'm definitely going to need some energy in reserve, as I won't have any teammates to bring me up, so I'll have to fight like hell to stay upfront and play off other teams' leadouts. Thus the dilemma of a solo rider.

I started towards the back, as I'd been rolling around the roads when they finally called us to start. I stayed there the first lap, but it wasn't a problem, as the course wasn't technical enough to have much of a slingshot effect on the turns and there weren't any serious attacks anyway. The start of the second lap, a guy near me took off in an attack and I decided to follow. Nothing really came of it, but this started a hard sequence of attacks and counters throughout the 2nd and 3rd lap. I should have been more judicious deciding which attacks to go with, as I tried to get in too many and started to tire. As my legs lost the kick to get away from the pack, I ended up just pulling the pack up to the break, which is really stupid as a solo rider. A couple times I tried to start a break myself, but that didn't work out. I think I chose my moments well -- times when we'd had a lot of counters, meaning the pack was tired and less likely to chase -- but for precisely that reason, no one was interested in joining me, a solo rider of unknown strength. So with both attacks, I ended up being alone for a while before giving up and going back to the pack. Ah well, more stupidity.

At the start of the 4th lap, I decided I needed to stop being stupid and went back to the rear of the bunch. It looked like we were headed towards a pack sprint anyway, as riders were tired and giving up on the attacks. I stayed back there for most of laps 4, 5, and half of the bell lap, and it wasn't a bad place to be. For the bell lap, the largest team went to the front and kept a steady pace up, presumably trying to set up some kind of finishing strategy. This was good, as it strung out the pack, giving me space to move up if I saw a chance. That came about halfway through the last lap, when the team upfront momentarily let off the pace and I jumped from near the back to about 5th in line.

The team kept control until the last turn, but as we came into the final 1.5 mile straight to the finish, all hell broke lose. Attack catch counter counter counter, wheels and elbows touching, gaps getting squeezed out, fuck shit hold your line etc etc. I'll bet those kids watching their daddies race learned some new vocabulary. Someone went into my back wheel hard. I couldn't look back, so I don't know what happened, but I didn't hear any crash noises so I guess he kept it upright. I lost my place near the front a couple times but fought back. All this was burning a lot of energy, mine as well as everyone else's. With all this argy-bargy, the final sprint took off a little early at about 300m, since as soon as we could smell the line we wanted out of the fight. The main surge went up the left, but I had to go right, as we were catching the last attacker and I couldn't get around to his left. As it was, I missed him by inches on the righthand margin of the road. So I was in the air for a long sprint, giving whatever I had left. We spun toward the line with me fourth, but with 10m to go one guy caught me, just pushing me into 5th and out of the last money spot.

So that's it, my season's done. Overall, I'm pretty happy, with a 1st, 2nd, 4th and 2 5ths for the year. That guy who caught me at the line pushed me ONE POINT away from the 20 I need for my cat 3 upgrade. Looking back at the race, it might have worked out better to stay passive until the last half lap, leaving just enough extra energy to maybe do something higher in the finish. But on the whole, I'm happy to have held my own with the 3s. And anyway, I find that I have trouble lying low then suddenly turning on for the finish. All my best results, the 1st 2nd and 4th, have come from races where I was agressive throughout. Besides, it's a heck of a lot more fun.

Cheers in NC. I sure hope an Ohio winter doesn't mean a trainer. Ugh.

Humility

2006-10-09T17:02:00.000-07:00

Greetings from Beantown,

So I found out the other day that my new roommate's boyfriend holds a pro MTB liscence and races for Independent.

I, on the other hand, was able to doubled my annual milage on the bike in a mere 2 weeks of riding again.

I hate being out of shape. I hate being schooled on group rides by freshmen girls with thighs the size of oak seedlings. I'm also not particularly fond of the fact that Harvard Cycling has all their weekday group rides start at 6:25 am when the typical temperature is about 40 F and only getting colder (I have yet to make one of these) and I am still happily asleep reliving dreams of when I didn't get dropped on every roller. Lucky for me the MTB group ride leaves at 7am and meets up a mere 2min from my apartment. Amazingly the mtb riding's pretty good up here -- and by this I mean the actual trails, not just the fact that the roads bend my rims into interesting new shapes every ride. So I take this as a sign that I'm supposed to hang up the road bike for a while and see what the new england cross season is like.

I hope they'll let me race C's.

NCSU MTB Race Report: A Pirate’s Eye View

2006-10-05T10:40:00.000-07:00

So this weekend was a bit of a learning experience. On the twenty mile course at Beaverdam, which Chris and I road with the As, I had a chance to go over a number of thoughts in my head and arrange them for this post. Of course, by the end I was suffering from a massive oxygen debt, so it took me a few days to recall them and make them blog-worthy.

A caveat: for an overall race report, you’re better off with Chris’s post below: my incomplete list makes no attempt at comprehensiveness.

Things I learned at the NCSU race:
1) My training plan sucks. Commuting to class and going on one casual mountain bike ride a week does not a training plan make. Neither does cheap grub and tallboys make for nutrition.

2) I need a training plan. I’m not 22 anymore. Hell, I’m not even in my 20s anymore. I can’t get away with not training, as my (extremely limited) amount of athletic skill will never be able to offset my fat-ass-ness. Those glory days are getting further and further away. And more and more fictitious.

3) Gears are good. Or so I can imagine. My top end was blown from charging up the hills on my SS before I made it a third of the way into the course. Spinning is fun (or so I imagine), and crushing a tall gear is fun, but you can only do the latter for so long before your legs start to cry. And whine. And cramp. Cramping hamstrings are not good.

4) Suspension is good. Or so I can imagine. Yeah, I had a shock on my front fork this year (no more rigid, at least for now), but by halfway my lower back was screaming out in pain, even over the prescription-strength dose of Advil I took before the race. This might also have something to do with my lack of a training plan and a jello-like core, but bounce in the back would definitely help.

5) Chris is in shape. The bastard didn’t even seem to be breathing hard when he passed me. Bastard.

6) Annie is happy. When I passed her on the South loop (which she’d never before ridden) she was stopped with a mechanical. I’ve never seen anyone happier about being broken down in the middle of a long race. I was able to help her out, and was able to keep smiling until the pain set back in to my legs (which was about 100 yards, by the way).

7) I still can’t eat GUs while I ride. As Chris mentioned below, I had to stop to down a GU, unfortunately right in front of the only spectators on the course. I got a little smack talk from the NCState fans – something about Duke Lacrosse, I think. OK, we might deserve that.

8) Trees can break your fall. If, for instance, you are out of control and nose-wheelie-ing down a hill, I recommend jumping off, grabbing the nearest sapling, and then riding that down to the ground. You’ll still be all adrenaline-y, but at least you won’t have hit said tree head-on.

9) Skin is good. You should try to end the race with as much of your own as possible. Donations to the trail, while kinda cool, will sting like hell in the shower.

10) That was still kinda fun.

I’m sure I’ll think of other things as more brain cells come back online. For the time being, who wants to do an epic ride this weekend?

NCSU MTB Race Report

2006-10-04T19:19:00.000-07:00

It’s on. By which I mean the collegiate mountain bike season within a one-hour drive. Our hosts: NC State. Our venue: Beaver Dam. Ourselves: Annie “The Anniemal”, Pirate, and myself. Our challenge: The As.

Annie got things rolling with her first mtb race (possibly first mtb ride) after shoulder surgery. As a double shoulder surgery participant, it’s tough to get back out into the offroad after losing so much shoulder strength--even for someone who never had great shoulder strength. The women’s field was small, but determined. Annie set off on the hard uphill start with a cheerful disposition and a conservative pace. She encountered some unwanted obstacles. The course is tricky: it’s constantly up-and-down and you need to carry momentum from the downhill dips to make it up the uphill kicks. If you haven’t ridden the course before, it’s kind of an unsettling thing to bomb into an unknown gully. And then, there were mechanical problems. When Pirate passed Annie on the trail, he saw her saddle pointed straight up. That’s just not an appropriate way for a lady to ride a bicycle. It sounded rough, but Ms. Annie was a trooper and surely rocked many points for braving the As.

Prior to the men’s As start, four or six of the dozen or so fellows compared single speed bikes and strategies. Pirate proudly rocked his Gary Fisher 29” Rig and I was glad people didn’t make fun of my homemade rear derailleur chain-tensioner and my 8 year old fork, that was leaking oil. We had quite a casual time with the bearded men of West Virginia and the numerous men of NC State. We had a nice little starting parade, single-file on the single track. No room for passing, but no one was trying to tear things up too quickly. We should have had a nice home-field advantage, especially considering Beaver Dam is closer to Duke than it is to Raleigh. NCSU’s venerable Big Daddy Kane hadn’t even ridden at Beaver Damn before. Pirate got a nice start and I got caught behind some gapped dudes. I’ll spare you the blow-by-blow details--not that I could even remember them. I will say my two memorable moves were (1) passing two riders doing a little cyclocross run-up in the rock garden and (2) flipping over my handlebars after a long nose-wheelie on this one section I always crash on (there are these two small logs (or roots) that would be easy to ride over except for the fact that they are spaced at the exact distance as my wheelbase so that, sure, your front wheel clears the first log just fine, but at the exact moment it reaches the second log, your rear wheel reaches the first log, so both of your wheels just stop and you can’t pop your front wheel up or nothing (I’m still not sure why this causes me to front-endo, which I’ve actually done here before)). The main take-home message is this: twenty miles at Beaver Damn are too many miles. For racing, at least. It’s like two and a half hours, with few places to recover or to eat. Pirate said he actually had to stop between laps on the Outer Loop to eat a gel. Nothing stops the Pirate. NOTHING! On the other hand, it’s a fun course. I think I ended up 6th and the Pirate was 9th.

Medical Report

2006-09-19T18:38:00.000-07:00

Update from an operative in Minneapolis:

>
> clipless pedals and fixed gear and pabst-fueled bowling = hip
>
>
> clipless pedals and fixed gear and pabst-fueled bowling +
> dark out and loose gravel = broken hip

Jeff is in med school, so he is probably learning a lot as a result of this. Actually, no, probably not.

O-HI-O

2006-09-17T18:00:00.000-07:00

Duke in London, Duke in New York ... why not Duke in Ohio?

'Second thought, better not answer that one.

I made it out today for the last crit of the local race calendar, and whadayaknow, I won! And it's my birthday! (No kidding, 32 today ...) I'm psyched not only by the win but by the fact that I came in with a strategy and managed to enact it during the race. I found out about the race on a local team's discussion board, and from their comments, I picked up a bit of info which turned out to be useful. First, they're the biggest team in the area, and they fielded 9 of the 25 guys in the race. Second, they've got a clear alpha rider, who runs the team and appears to have the strongest results, so I should watch him. And third, another one of their riders is a triathlete who won the last race in a two-man breakaway thanks to some heavy blocking from his big team. So I figured I'd cover those two and try not to let anything get away with them in it and me behind.

Well, straight off, I was stuck in the middle of the pack when the triathlete took off in a small break. As expected, his team started blocking and the bunch got a gap. As soon as I worked my way out, I took off trying to bridge, but alpha marked my attack and so, rather than bridge, I ended up just bringing the pack up and shutting the break down. Shortly after that, alpha attacked and I went with him. We got a gap, but he wasn't working too hard and kept talking about "conserving" (with the pack 5 seconds back? too soon, too soon ...). So after a couple laps we got caught. But just after we did, the triathlete counterattacked and I jumped up to his wheel. From then on, he and I never saw the pack again, and our gap got as big as 25 seconds.

Coming into the last lap, I figured I might have the upper hand, since triatheltes train to be big diesels, all steady state but no sprint -- good for a breakaway, but not for the sprint at the end. He was pulling as we passed the bell, and with such a big gap, I decided to sit on his wheel and play the "I'd rather get caught than get second" game of chicken with him. He slowed to about 18mph, but then caved and pulled us into the finishing straight. I came around him with about 150 meters remaining, and I had enough of a lead as I neared the line to give a victory salute. (Good thing Chris, John and I practiced that on my going-away ride ...).

If this race is representative, I don't think the cat 4s are quite as competitive here as they are in NC. I'm not knocking the local racers -- I think it's mostly a product of the fact that there are more races here than in the Triangle, so more chances to gain upgrade points. How many races were there in central NC this year? 10? Maybe 12? With so few chances, you have to place in the majority of events or you won't get enough points to upgrade. Here, there seem to be around 20 races anually, so more chances to pick up a few points here and there.

Update: you can read the other team's side on the 7 Hills Racing forum. "Young oaks," hmm, I like that :).

Fixin' to like it

2006-08-31T14:30:00.000-07:00

So I've got a couple of fixed weeks under my belt now and I thought I'd share my most recent thoughts on the cool guy revolution that has taken place in my bike stable.

First things first: I've not become any cooler as a result of doing away with coasting. I've not had more (read: any) romantic proposals related to my choice of rides; no one has applauded as I've cranked past them; nor has my wardrobe suddenly "hipped" itself up; my slang become more up-to-date (and thus vaguely obscure); or the cool kids (who are these kids, anyway?) suddenly invited me into their club/secret hideout/embrace. But I can deal with that. Fixies may be sweeping the nation ("fixing the world one cog at a time"), but the change isn't nearly as dramatic as one might be led to believe.

That said, I do think that I'm beginning to like fixie feel a bit more. I've been to busy lately to do any "real" riding, and thus my only significant exercise has come from what short rides around town that I can squeeze in on the Redline. These have all been short, but even so I can feel a burn more quickly on this bike than others. I'm not sure how much this will effect my "other" riding, but it does make me feel like less of a lame ass for not being able to ride. I like to think of the fixie as a machine that makes more efficient use of my training time.

Admissions: I still don't have the whole braking thing down to a science, to say the least, and I haven't really been using the cool-ass skidding technique at all. Further, I'm not very good at track-standing on this bike, something I'm not bad at on other rides. I think it's partially the result of the toe-overlap from the fenders, but might also have to do with general ineptitude.

Still, all-n-all I'm very pleased with this bike. I don't know what kind of potential it has as a 'cross machine (or even if I want to attempt to replicate the misery that was my 'cross debut last year), but as a commuter she's a winner. No one's going to mistake her for a track bike (the geometry is more slack-n-mellow that tight-n-taunt), but for getting around town she's looking quite capable.

Fix-a-licious

2006-08-21T08:59:00.000-07:00

So after months of hemming and hawing I finally bit the bullet and slapped down my cash for a Redline 9*2*5. Here's a link to the web specs: http://http://www.redlinebicycles.com/adultbikes/925.html

I built up the little guy on Friday and spent the weekend squeezing in rides around town -- taking the long way home, hitting the American Tobacco Trail, cruising campus, and just generally playing with my new toy. I've got to say, for the price, this is one pretty sweet ride: nice chromoly frame, decent components (Formula hubs and 36 spoke wheels), moustache bars, and fenders all stock. I even left the chintzy plastic chain guard on for the first couple of days just cause it came in the box. It's definitely not a boutique custom cruiser, but it should be more than enough to haul me around town for a few years.

Fixie thoughts
The bike comes with a 42 tooth chainring and either a 16 tooth freewheel or a 15 tooth fixed cog on a flip-flop hub. Just 'cause I've always wanted to be one of the cool kids, I set it up fixed out of the box. I may not have succeeded (surprise!).

I'm not sure about going fixed. It's definitely interesting, and I can appreciate the uphill power that it provides, but overall I do miss coasting. Not for pure laziness (though that's always an issue), but also because I miss being able to really crank up the speed and cut corners without having to fear for my life. Fixies also make for a bit of a harsher ride, in my opinion, as when you're really spinning down a hill it's much more difficult to finesse the ride over rough spots in the road. Jumping curbs also seems to be a thing of the past.

I'll keep the ride fixed for a little bit longer at least, but I'm not sold on the old school experience. I will admit to using the brakes (which are great, by the way: Tektro long pulls that have more power and better feel than those on my road bike), so maybe it's my violation of the "purity" of the experience (question: wouldn't walking be more pure?) that's leading to my displeasure.

Overall, though, I couldn't be much more pleased with the bike itself. A new toy for the new school year!

Haile to the chief

2006-08-06T20:21:00.000-07:00

Adam's official last ride in Durham came on short notice, but how can you say no to riding with Adam. Especially if the ride includes a stop at Allen & Sons for some NC BBQ? Who cares if the heat index is up way over 100 degrees and I'm supposedly a vegetarian? Unfortunately, Allen & Sons had other ideas. Namely, vacation. Adam tried to call to make sure they were open, but like any authentic BBQ joint, they didn't answer the phone and didn't have an answering maching (and of course no website). Just a piece of paper on the door saying that they were on vacation. Okay, so we settled for ice cream at Mapleview, where Adam triumphantly ate an entire banana split and didn't even get sick on the ride home. We may, however, have killed John. His minor cough had gotten much worse by the time we got home and I have not heard from him since.

In any event, we promise to keep Adam's Pleasant Green ITT running in his absence. And of course, his legend will live on as Duke Cycling's fastest father. Best wishes to Adam, Heather, and Josie in Ohio.

Fake racing round 2 (in haiku)

2006-06-14T11:12:00.000-07:00

I broke; Chris countered.
I bridged. 3 with us ... 2 ... 1
Pack's close! Chris digs ... Yay!

sunday

2006-06-06T12:49:00.000-07:00

slept in. met at 11:00 on west campus. sunny, perfect temperature, low humidity. slowly cruised out to mapleview farm for ice cream. tried some downhill-coasting races. as expected, greater mass beats aerodynamics. but treachery beats mass--if you can grab a jersey pocket or saddle you can slingshot yourself past a bigger rider. rolled back to durham and went to LocoPops. heck yeah.

fake racing beats real racing

2006-05-24T09:25:00.000-07:00

tuesday night. you could, drive 45 minutes to rural NC, pay $15 to ride around in a circle with a bunch of dudes slowly for 39 minutes and kinda fast for 1 minute, if you can avoid crashing.
or,
you could do the Durham Tuesday Night Fast Ride (departing at 5:30 from The Bicycle Chain). formerly known as the Cycle Center ride (back when Cycle Center was called Cycle Center and before they decided to remove any official affiliation with the ride for liability purposes), the tuesday ride is fast, hilly, and free. two trips up Mt. Sinai Road and a one mile gradual uphill finish on Old NC 10 make it plenty selective. and most importantly riders ride hard. people attack on the climbs. people attack on the flats. people form breakaways and work together in pace lines. the pack will organize and chase hard. it is competition at its purest: no prizes, no upgrade points, not even any bragging rights because the people who show up to this ride are cool enough to realize that anyone who brags about "winning" a shop ride is a fool.
i think the fact that this is a Durham ride is important. we have nothing to prove. we are just out to work hard and keep getting faster.
to hell with real racing. long live fake racing.

ACE venture

2006-05-17T07:50:00.000-07:00

Last night was the second go 'round (and round and round and round) at Ace Speedway, and Mike Madsen, Bryan Andregg, Chris, Carl and I made the hour long drive to scenic Altamahaw. Mike and Bryan raced the Cs, and I have to admit that I was so slow getting my junk together for the B event that I missed most of their race. I heard tell that Bryan was feeling strong but something went awry in the closing laps and he ended up sprinting too early. They'll have to give you more.

In the Bs, Chips claimed we were the largest field ever, with 59 racers. Franklin Street Cycles had probably the largest team ever, with 10 riders in the pack. During the warmup, Chris guessed -- correctly, as it turned out -- that FSC would probably be using their team strength to try and score upgrade points for their two remaining cat 4 racers, as most of FSC catted up to 3 last year.

The first five minutes were fairly uneventful, but then the serious attacks started. About half the time at Ace, a bunch manages to lap the field, substantially due to some heavy-duty blocking by teammates back in the pack. Because a flat oval race like Ace lends itself to strong teamwork, for a bunch to make it around, it has to have at least one rider from most of the major teams. At Ace, nuthin's goin' nowhere unless it has an FSC rider in it, and it doesn't hurt to have at least a couple from Cycles de Oro, Hearts, or maybe Doughnutboy or Spin Cycle. Chris got in a good lookin' group, but it wasn't to be, as a bridging rider (*cough* Carl *cough*) ended up pulling the pack up to the bunch. I was in another break, but we fell apart after Derek Powers jumped for a prime and busted us up. Carl made a go in another group, but everything was being kept on a short leash early on. Then a big break got away that looked serious -- with none of us in it, d'oh!. In the end, it never got more than 10 seconds on the pack, but the chase was hard enough that the pack was strung out and breaking apart when the attack was caught. It looked like a good time for a counterattack, so I jumped from midpack to find one of the two FSC cat 4s also making a run for it. He immediately informed me that "my team will block for me" (no kidding). Me: "Trying to cat you up?" Him: "Uh-huh, that's the gameplan." So thanks, Chris, for the tip!

The two of us became four when a Hearts and a Cycles de Oro rider bridged up. With Chris and Carl, plus the 9 FSC riders, plus however many Hearts and Cycles de Oro teammates, we probably had a third of the pack blocking for us, and we ended up staying away for most of the race. We got up to half a lap on the bunch (20 seconds), but with only 10 laps remaining, the FSC rider couldn't keep the pace and fell off. We three tried to keep away nonetheless, but the math wasn't on our side, as the 9 FSC riders in the pack who had previously been working to slow the pack were now all working to bring us back. With only four laps to go the pack finally caught us. I had my second piece of luck in the race when I reintegrated into the pack and happened to end up on the wheel of the other FSC cat 4. With 3 laps to go, FSC put a full euro-style 4 person leadout train in front of this guy, and I hitched on like a caboose. They kept it pegged at about 28-29mph for laps 4, 3, 2, and, unfortunately, 1. I say unfortunately, because that pace is fast enough to discourage attacks before the bell lap, but in the last lap, the train would have to be pushing low 30s to avoid "the swarm" of riders coming up to the front. So into the final stretch, a Spin Cycle train caught us on the right and some more riders outside them. Things might have stayed somewhat sane, but the FSC riders cut the final corner and then had to jump back up into the lane with only 100 meters to go. As a result, I got squeezed between the FSC sprinter (the cat 4 dude) and the Spin Cycle sprinter, and I and the Spin Cycle dude briefly bumped handlebars and had to shut down our sprints. This royally pissed him off, and he gave off a Brooklyn-inspired "aawwwWWWTHATSFUCKINBULLSHIT!!" The FSC guy won it -- I wish I'd had a clear lane, as the finish really wasn't that fast and I was feeling good for the sprint. At the line, I rolled across just behind FSC and, with a couple riders outside us, I placed 4th.

Racers, ready...

2006-05-10T12:22:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the lanuch of the Duke Cycling BikeLog, a space for ride reports, race results, ridiculous rambling, and so-forth. Stay tuned...