Well the day was finally here. There's not much you can say about a TT so I'll make it quick. Spent the morning on the lawn watching everyone hustle to their starts ( the race started at 8:30 am and I had a 1:01:00 PM start time) cleaning up the bike, and generally stressing in general. After confusing both the SRAM mechanics with the team's new Easton EC90 wheelset I realized that my SRAM cassette wouldn't fit it and I had to rely on my worn out Shimano cassettes for the duration of the weekend. Nothing I couldn't handle - went with the 12-23 for the mostly uphill TT.
Started hard, too hard. The TT climbs immediately for about 3 miles. I quickly put myself in position to catch the guy in front of me but he held on strong for most of the race. All of my points that I had scouted in the recon ride were a total blur. When I reached the top of the hill I was almost confused as to how I'd gotten there. I grinded down the descent, slower than I had hoped in spots, holding between 28-32 mph. Finally on the last dip I caught my 30 second man but boy did I pay for that. My lungs protested hard as I pushed the last 500 meters into the finish, rolled through the lines, and quickly emptied what little was in my stomach.
7th place, 15:35 - Right around my goal time, but just not fast enough (winner came in at 15:08) Still totally in the running for the GC, and ready to play it smart in the circuit and lay down the hurt in the RR.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Jiminy Peak Road Race
After a weekend off for racing I was averagely excited for a back to back campaign. With names like Jiminy Peak and Blue Hills Classic how can a six-foot-two 154 pounder resist?
Jiminy Peak was a 3 lap, 90 km race. The organizers would have you believe that the 4% grade followed by 7% to the finish was perhaps the most brutal thing west of Alp D'huez. The only thing remotely exciting about this race was the potential for a massive downpour and the near zero visibility fog we drove through on the way out. The race rolled out into a solid 10 miles of downhill rollers before climbing back up and going down again. Nick flats in the first lap. RMM flats sometime after. Craig falls off the back. So far it was looking to be a real bang up day for the CB 4 squad.
That leaves, well, me, alone and confused in a world of non stop failed downhill attacks. Why must every cat 4 assume that he needs to attack when he feels good?
Read: On the downhill, when, well, everyone feels good.
But, for fairness sake, I decided I'd jump in on one just to see what all the rage was about. It was decidedly pointless, but at least I hit the season's top race speed at a hair under 53 mph.
By the end I was bored, more sore than I should've been, and couldn't hold my own in the uphill field sprint. I finished somewhere in the top 25 (I think - why can't road races get their results up like cross races) and was the only CB4 racer to make it across the line.
We capped the day off with some local fare with some of the Kissena riders from NYC and headed home with no intent to return next year.
Wash, Rinse, Repeat - Blue Hill Classic Report is on deck.
Jiminy Peak was a 3 lap, 90 km race. The organizers would have you believe that the 4% grade followed by 7% to the finish was perhaps the most brutal thing west of Alp D'huez. The only thing remotely exciting about this race was the potential for a massive downpour and the near zero visibility fog we drove through on the way out. The race rolled out into a solid 10 miles of downhill rollers before climbing back up and going down again. Nick flats in the first lap. RMM flats sometime after. Craig falls off the back. So far it was looking to be a real bang up day for the CB 4 squad.
That leaves, well, me, alone and confused in a world of non stop failed downhill attacks. Why must every cat 4 assume that he needs to attack when he feels good?
Read: On the downhill, when, well, everyone feels good.
But, for fairness sake, I decided I'd jump in on one just to see what all the rage was about. It was decidedly pointless, but at least I hit the season's top race speed at a hair under 53 mph.
By the end I was bored, more sore than I should've been, and couldn't hold my own in the uphill field sprint. I finished somewhere in the top 25 (I think - why can't road races get their results up like cross races) and was the only CB4 racer to make it across the line.
We capped the day off with some local fare with some of the Kissena riders from NYC and headed home with no intent to return next year.
Wash, Rinse, Repeat - Blue Hill Classic Report is on deck.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Tour of the Battenkill Roubaix - A Retrospective
First, I realize this is late - incredibly late. Sometimes riding gets in the way of blogging about riding - that or modeling world oil demand for the government of Abu Dhabi. Needless to say, last weekend marked my first experience with New England's own hell of the north - Battenkill Roubaix.
I opted to sleep at home and drive up with Nick the morning off. Even at 7:00 am as we rolled out of Cambridge the temperature was noticeably mild. It made for an enjoyable drive, but would turn out to be a key factor in the days race.
By the time we were kitted up and warmed up the temperature was well above 75. With no leaves on the northern New York trees, there was little shade to be found. RMM, Savona, Nick, and I gathered for a warm up ride to discuss the day's strategy. I was feeling strong and cocky, so it was decided I was going to be the early man; any break that went off the front I would cover.
The race got off and tension was high. From the start my mouth was dry and I was incredibly parched. There's so much hype surrounding Battenkill - for months stories of 18% dirt hills were abound. When we hit the first hill, I have to say, I was disappointed. Already I was getting boxed out by guys moving backwards in the pack. We got past the first hill with the pack together, and looped back through Salem. Very quickly I realized that we had yet to tackle the first real hill. When we hit it, all hell broke lose.
First off, these dirt roads had been recently graded leaving behind an inch or two of loose dirt combined with golf ball sized rocks. The first hill kicked up above 15%. For the first time I was riding 39x27 and I was struggling. Staying in the saddle meant a trip down lactic acid lane, standing meant a total loss of traction as your back wheel slid washed out. The pack was reeling, weaving back and forth, searching for a clean line. I was making progress, walking that thin line of sustainable power and death march, when the guy in front of me went down. I pulled hard to the right, throwing my back wheel around in a skid that would've made my 7 year old self incredibly proud. I thought I was done. I scrambled through the sand the best I could, my head pounding, the dust suffocating me, but somehow I made it over. The pack had splintered, and left a breakaway of about 8 guys up ahead. I quickly fell into a chase group and repelled into the pain cave. The leaders had about 10 seconds on us and were working together realy well. That was where I needed to be. On a short 150 foot rise I put it in the big ring and made my move, peeling away from the chase. My solo break took me into the covered bridge, leaving me blind for 2 seconds. As I came out the pack was there, and I was on, and I was bloody tired.
For the next hour or so I worked in the most incredible cat 4 breakaway ever. Perfect pulls, incredible cooperation, holding a pace of about 24 mph. A few stragglers joined on and the pack grew to about 15 guys. The only trouble now was the heat. I had started with three water bottles, and I was quickly draining them. Luckily in the first feed zone there was a neutral that was I was able to grab. As I sat up to take a swig and pass it on to another guy a rider in the front of the pack dropped a water bottle, which of course I hit, with one hand on the bar, spilling water all over myself and the guy next to me, but luckily staying upright.
We cruised on. Hitting hills, nailing descents. About 1:55 into the race something went wrong. Even now, a week later, I couldn't tell you, but suddenly I was off the back. And that was it. I was in no man's land. The breakaway ahead, and some semblance of the peloton behind me. This climbing road race had become a time trial. It had officially become epic. I settled into the drops, and found a gear I could stay on top of, and I went. The sun beat down, the pavement flew by, and I ground it out. Everytime I felt good with a gear I'd tell myself, "this is easy, you can move down" So I'd shift down. "Ok, this is too much, 10 strokes and go back down." This continued, through the false dirt flat, through the final climbs, for 55 minutes of solo hell I worked to hold off anyone who was behind me. It was incredible. I came across stragglers from the masters race, and picked them off one at a time. In the end I came through the line about 4 minutes behind the lead group to secure a 15th place finish, well inside my goal of a top 20.
I opted to sleep at home and drive up with Nick the morning off. Even at 7:00 am as we rolled out of Cambridge the temperature was noticeably mild. It made for an enjoyable drive, but would turn out to be a key factor in the days race.
By the time we were kitted up and warmed up the temperature was well above 75. With no leaves on the northern New York trees, there was little shade to be found. RMM, Savona, Nick, and I gathered for a warm up ride to discuss the day's strategy. I was feeling strong and cocky, so it was decided I was going to be the early man; any break that went off the front I would cover.
The race got off and tension was high. From the start my mouth was dry and I was incredibly parched. There's so much hype surrounding Battenkill - for months stories of 18% dirt hills were abound. When we hit the first hill, I have to say, I was disappointed. Already I was getting boxed out by guys moving backwards in the pack. We got past the first hill with the pack together, and looped back through Salem. Very quickly I realized that we had yet to tackle the first real hill. When we hit it, all hell broke lose.
First off, these dirt roads had been recently graded leaving behind an inch or two of loose dirt combined with golf ball sized rocks. The first hill kicked up above 15%. For the first time I was riding 39x27 and I was struggling. Staying in the saddle meant a trip down lactic acid lane, standing meant a total loss of traction as your back wheel slid washed out. The pack was reeling, weaving back and forth, searching for a clean line. I was making progress, walking that thin line of sustainable power and death march, when the guy in front of me went down. I pulled hard to the right, throwing my back wheel around in a skid that would've made my 7 year old self incredibly proud. I thought I was done. I scrambled through the sand the best I could, my head pounding, the dust suffocating me, but somehow I made it over. The pack had splintered, and left a breakaway of about 8 guys up ahead. I quickly fell into a chase group and repelled into the pain cave. The leaders had about 10 seconds on us and were working together realy well. That was where I needed to be. On a short 150 foot rise I put it in the big ring and made my move, peeling away from the chase. My solo break took me into the covered bridge, leaving me blind for 2 seconds. As I came out the pack was there, and I was on, and I was bloody tired.
For the next hour or so I worked in the most incredible cat 4 breakaway ever. Perfect pulls, incredible cooperation, holding a pace of about 24 mph. A few stragglers joined on and the pack grew to about 15 guys. The only trouble now was the heat. I had started with three water bottles, and I was quickly draining them. Luckily in the first feed zone there was a neutral that was I was able to grab. As I sat up to take a swig and pass it on to another guy a rider in the front of the pack dropped a water bottle, which of course I hit, with one hand on the bar, spilling water all over myself and the guy next to me, but luckily staying upright.
We cruised on. Hitting hills, nailing descents. About 1:55 into the race something went wrong. Even now, a week later, I couldn't tell you, but suddenly I was off the back. And that was it. I was in no man's land. The breakaway ahead, and some semblance of the peloton behind me. This climbing road race had become a time trial. It had officially become epic. I settled into the drops, and found a gear I could stay on top of, and I went. The sun beat down, the pavement flew by, and I ground it out. Everytime I felt good with a gear I'd tell myself, "this is easy, you can move down" So I'd shift down. "Ok, this is too much, 10 strokes and go back down." This continued, through the false dirt flat, through the final climbs, for 55 minutes of solo hell I worked to hold off anyone who was behind me. It was incredible. I came across stragglers from the masters race, and picked them off one at a time. In the end I came through the line about 4 minutes behind the lead group to secure a 15th place finish, well inside my goal of a top 20.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Turtle Pond Circuit Race
It's 5:17 AM and I'm awake before my alarm. Oh yes, I'm a bike racer again. Time for the morning routine, stuffing as many carbohydrates as my half awake stomach can take, and double checking the weather report for the day. Yep, still cold.
I met RMM and Nick at the shop for a 6:15 departure to the Turtle Pond Circuit Race. At 46 miles the race marks my first official road race. My legs ache a bit, protesting the early hour, but they mean well. Its anticipation.
We arrive with ample time - and its bloody cold. I opt for the wool, the R2, the short sleeve, and finally long sleeve jersey. Down below its embrocation and leg warmers. I roll out with Nick to check out the start of the course.
The course jumps right into the only real climb, about 1.5 km in length, right out of the start. A once over reveals its definitely a small ring climb, but I'm finding no trouble keeping myself in control in the saddle. Four laps, five times over the hill, with the finish at the top of the hill.
The race rolls off and there's an immediate attack off the front. We had already decided to let any early break go, as there was a solid 2 miles of downhill after the climb, and it wasn't worth killing it early on to pull in a failed break. The first lap is uneventful - the three sharp right hand corners come as big surprises and cause little sprints but the pack stays together. I spent most of the lap sitting about 35 back from the front of the group. As we come through to climb the hill for the second time I settle into a reasonable rhythm in the saddle, and quickly find myself up in the top 10 guys in the peleton. At this point the break has about 30 seconds on the field and I'm getting concerned. The group is taking the downhills a little too easy and the break is gaining more time on the descents and rollers than anything else. I move to the front and with the help of RMM try to get a chase group formed. Oh wait, cat 4 racing, no one knows how to work together. It became painfully obvious that this wasn't going to work, so we peeled back into the shelter of the group and let it ride out.
A few groups try to pull off the front, and a separate chase group manages to break away and dangle about 20 seconds ahead until they are finally caught. By the last half of the final lap I'm feeling antsy, so I quickly move from midpack up the yellow line and take a jump off the front, in hopes of picking up the pace and stringing out the group. A few guys follow and our pace picks up - finally. Now RMM and I are maneuvering within the counter attacks, each of us covering anything off the front. We manage to drop 30 seconds off of the lead group in a few miles. Coming to the turn before the final climb I'm sitting at the head of the pack. I settle into my rhythm and get prepped for the climb. About halfway through a group makes a jump and comes around my left hand side. I drop a few gears and stand to sprint after them. I'm immediately in a world of pain. No acceleration at all. I actually start to fall back. I settle back into the saddle and spend about 15 seconds recovering from my effort. Another group gets past me and I make it to the line somewhere in the top 25 (I haven't seen the results yet).
Still, it was a solid performance. I'm still in my base miles period (I do have to race well into December remember) and this was not a priority race. Mainly I wanted to some distance under my belt before I tackled the insanity that will no doubt be Battenkill next weekend.
I met RMM and Nick at the shop for a 6:15 departure to the Turtle Pond Circuit Race. At 46 miles the race marks my first official road race. My legs ache a bit, protesting the early hour, but they mean well. Its anticipation.
We arrive with ample time - and its bloody cold. I opt for the wool, the R2, the short sleeve, and finally long sleeve jersey. Down below its embrocation and leg warmers. I roll out with Nick to check out the start of the course.
The course jumps right into the only real climb, about 1.5 km in length, right out of the start. A once over reveals its definitely a small ring climb, but I'm finding no trouble keeping myself in control in the saddle. Four laps, five times over the hill, with the finish at the top of the hill.
The race rolls off and there's an immediate attack off the front. We had already decided to let any early break go, as there was a solid 2 miles of downhill after the climb, and it wasn't worth killing it early on to pull in a failed break. The first lap is uneventful - the three sharp right hand corners come as big surprises and cause little sprints but the pack stays together. I spent most of the lap sitting about 35 back from the front of the group. As we come through to climb the hill for the second time I settle into a reasonable rhythm in the saddle, and quickly find myself up in the top 10 guys in the peleton. At this point the break has about 30 seconds on the field and I'm getting concerned. The group is taking the downhills a little too easy and the break is gaining more time on the descents and rollers than anything else. I move to the front and with the help of RMM try to get a chase group formed. Oh wait, cat 4 racing, no one knows how to work together. It became painfully obvious that this wasn't going to work, so we peeled back into the shelter of the group and let it ride out.
A few groups try to pull off the front, and a separate chase group manages to break away and dangle about 20 seconds ahead until they are finally caught. By the last half of the final lap I'm feeling antsy, so I quickly move from midpack up the yellow line and take a jump off the front, in hopes of picking up the pace and stringing out the group. A few guys follow and our pace picks up - finally. Now RMM and I are maneuvering within the counter attacks, each of us covering anything off the front. We manage to drop 30 seconds off of the lead group in a few miles. Coming to the turn before the final climb I'm sitting at the head of the pack. I settle into my rhythm and get prepped for the climb. About halfway through a group makes a jump and comes around my left hand side. I drop a few gears and stand to sprint after them. I'm immediately in a world of pain. No acceleration at all. I actually start to fall back. I settle back into the saddle and spend about 15 seconds recovering from my effort. Another group gets past me and I make it to the line somewhere in the top 25 (I haven't seen the results yet).
Still, it was a solid performance. I'm still in my base miles period (I do have to race well into December remember) and this was not a priority race. Mainly I wanted to some distance under my belt before I tackled the insanity that will no doubt be Battenkill next weekend.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Spring Fever
This week has wound up with some phenomenal weather despite the crummy forecasts. We got out to the Fells and spent some time just soaking up the sun... and throwing Madison in the reservoir.
Tomorrow is the Turtle Pond Circuit Race up in Loudon, NH. First long road race of the season at 46 miles. I got a little bit under rested this past week but I should be ready to at least be a contender tomorrow - hopefully the uphill finish will work to my advantage. Mainly I just want a longer race to get me prepped for Battenkill which is next week. Its now officially the largest one day race in America - and features 5 unpaved sections with hills in excess of 15%. That one is gonna hurt. I'm out to spin the legs up and enjoy this weather - GO OUTSIDE!!
Tomorrow is the Turtle Pond Circuit Race up in Loudon, NH. First long road race of the season at 46 miles. I got a little bit under rested this past week but I should be ready to at least be a contender tomorrow - hopefully the uphill finish will work to my advantage. Mainly I just want a longer race to get me prepped for Battenkill which is next week. Its now officially the largest one day race in America - and features 5 unpaved sections with hills in excess of 15%. That one is gonna hurt. I'm out to spin the legs up and enjoy this weather - GO OUTSIDE!!
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