Posted by Dan on 12. August 2010 04:28
After spending a month kicking around France, I was looking forward to getting back to racing. Despite having one of those fancy international licenses and a foreign permission letter from USA Cycling, the French didn't want me racing with them unless I joined a local team and applied for an FFC license. Moving around each week made that difficult so I made due with L'Etape du Tour Mondovelo and a ton of long rides up and down various mountains. My first race after returning was scheduled to be our Campus Crit at ODU, but a misunderstanding between campus and city police departments killed that one. Page Valley would have to do.
Not exactly the French Alps, but it'll do.
I've been looking forward to the Page Valley Road Race all year. My first attempt last year came to a miserable end when my heart rate approached its max while coasting deep in the pack on a flat section. It was hot and I was sick. I completed one and a half laps. This year I'd do better despite it being my first race since crashing at Reston and my first Cat 3 race.
Come race time, I was feeling good. Things got started with a neutral roll-out. Once we were firmly planted on the course and in the right lane, the pace turned up a bit but remained manageable. We had 63 miles to go - no point in burning matches now. I had absolutely no idea what to expect from this group. I didn't know any of the faces and had no clue which wheels were the ones to watch. My strategy was heavily dependent on attrition from the climbs and trust that the field would reel in any breaks in due time. With each lap, we'd shell a few riders and the main field quickly shrank from its original 75+ while none of the breaks stuck.
Trudging up the second climb on each lap, we were afforded the opportunity to take on food and water. Lydia and Frank were working the zone to bring me the various bottles of race-time nutrition. I rode through the zone twice and took bottles the other times.
On the fourth lap, I passed on fresh bottles and worked my way toward the front. Once near the front, I tried my favorite Cat 4 move - the one where you try to sneak off alone while others feast on gels and bananas. No big attacks, just a nice consistent effort. I didn't get away; not even a little bit. I eased off the gas and eventually pulled off to the left. Immediately, my left hamstring cramped something fierce. Relaxing the left leg, I drifted to the back forcing the muscle to release to minimize the work I'd have to do to catch back on. Fortunately, the timing was perfect and I jumped on the last wheel just as I regained use of the leg. I immediately consumed everything in my pockets and bottles and planned to take whatever bottle was offered when we made it to the feed zone.
As we approached the feed zone, I dropped back and got both bottles out. I handed them off to Frank because I just couldn't justify throwing them while doing 6 mph at the back of the feeders. I took something from Lydia and set out to catch back on as the main field Contadored me and left me for dead. With the ever present threat of an aftershock, I favored my left leg making the catch a little harder. With a little help on the false flat following the descent, I did catch back on and set out to recover the best I could before the final attack on the final climb. The first climb was easy enough and I began moving up. We hammered down the descent and around the second-to-last corner, then delicately took the final turn. A hundred meters or so and we'd begin the final ascent. A hundred meters beyond that and the sprint would begin. Trusting that the center-line rule would relax during the sprint, I positioned myself on the left side, about 15 wheels off the front. As the left-hand bend came into view, the sprint began. 27 of us stood up and hoped we'd chosen the gear that would get us to the finish before the rest. As the main field quickly picked up speed, one rider remained behind with an awful grimace on his face. This rider was in terrible pain and completely shocked that his legs would betray him at such a crucial time in the race. The pack rode off at 15 mph while he paper-boyed his way up the hill at 3. Yes, that guy was me. Frank crossed the road to offer the support of a cold water bottle and was greeted with the threat of a punch to the mouth if he did it. Frank isn't afraid of punches to anything so he dumped the water on my head. Instantly, the cramps were gone and I motored up the hill to finish the race in 27th place, about 30 seconds behind the main field.
So goes my first Cat 3 race and my second attempt at the Page Valley Road Race. Third time's the charm, right? And no, Frank never did get that punch in the mouth.
Frank did however get a chance to contest the other Cat 4s on the same course a few hours later. Steve Monk and Mike Shipp both lined up with him and a bazillion others. All three would finish the race after four and a half laps despite an attrition rate of nearly 50%. Frank hung in with the lead group and finished 16th - one place away from omnium and BAR points. Frank likes to be reminded of this fact often.
Photo by Dave Cobb of Team Traveller
Flash forward to Sunday and Luray, VA. The inaugural running of the Luray Criterium was looking like a winner. The course resembled Waynesboro with a steep 7% climb lasting roughly one block followed by a short little climb and then a lot of descending before doing it all over again.
Photo by Jim Wilson
I got things rolling with the Masters 35+ 3/4 race. This was the only masters race of the day and I really don't know why it was scheduled, but I'm not one to turn down a race so away we went. There were twenty or so of us in the first race. I failed to clip in and found myself on the back of the pack right out of the gate. It took me three laps to reach the front and I didn't leave that position for the rest of the race. There were a few riders that would move around, sharing the work, but I feel like I was out there an awfully long time. The field was decimated and only about ten of us remained on the bell lap. I was on the front headed into the final turn and was quickly passed as we began the climb for the last time. I wound up in 6th place and won a pair of socks as a prime.
Frank did the Cat 4 race later that afternoon. His race was a lot like mine - a herd of 30 riders started. More than half fell victim to a gnarly pace up that hill leaving only eight riders in the lead group and a few stragglers which were eventually pulled. The final sprint found Frank in 4th place. He was very happy with that, though a mis-shift at the front derailleur might have cost him a better finish.
Photos by Dave Cobb of Team Traveller
Finally, my Cat 3 race felt a lot like penance for things that I would never ever do. This field was larger than my earlier race, composed of riders seriously jockeying for omnium points. That would mean we'd be sprinting for KOM points on the prime laps and team tactics would be much more prevalent. Hanging out near the back (because I'm cool like that), I had a great time burning matches on each corner and muscling my way up the climb while a small break went off the front from the gun. That break would eventually be nullified due to a flat only to regenerate - again unnoticed by me as I desperately clung to the back of the main field. Riders dropped off with each lap until there was one rider in a solo break, one chasing and a group of about eight. Everyone else was presumed pulled. Moments before we were lapped, the leader crossed the finish line for the last time allowing us to sprint for 2nd. The chaser took that and I launched myself up that hill one last time to secure 6th place - again. No socks this time.
With that came the end of our big adventure in Page Valley and my return to racing. Clearly I needed more time in the Alps and Pyrenees as the climbing I did didn't take. This week calls for high temps and a little recovery before the Chesapeake Crit on Saturday and PLT #3 on Sunday.
Posted by Dan on 2. June 2010 15:51
Like last year, Memorial Day weekend came into focus with no local races in sight. Desperate to get our fast on, we turned to our friends in West Virgina and North Carolina for a bit of holiday competition. Frank and I were the only riders on the team hard/foolish enough to embark on an epic three-day tour of the Mid-Atlantic. The rest really missed out.
Photo courtesy of Dave Cobb @ Team Traveller.
First up was the Tour of Tucker County in Thomas, WV. Wick and I did this race last year and loved the fact that we both nearly died on the final climb. Wick was unable to get away from work, but nothing was going to keep me from being humbled by this stupid hill. Frank is always up for anything, so even though he knows he'll never be mistaken for a mountain goat, he eagerly charged head-first into West Virginia and a chance to vomit on Sugarlands Rd.
We drove to Harrisonburg the Friday night and set out for Thomas early Saturday morning. Writing this now, I realize it was the hotel's continental breakfast that is largely to blame for my lackluster performance later that day. Probably 50% was the breakfast, the other half was the bed linens. They were stiff and uncomfortable and if you've ever raced before, you know how important a good night's sleep is.
Photo courtesy of Dave Cobb @ Team Traveller.
Things kicked off with a riders' meeting in the parking lot of the Tucker County High School. All we heard was "pot holes", "roads are bad" (mmmkay?), "keep an eye out for wildlife" and that the center-line rule in full effect. From there we made our way down US-219 to Sugarlands Rd. and the descent to the start line. The trip down takes only a few minutes. It's the grind back up that'll kill you. One poor soul had to start his race on a loaner wheel after his carbon wheel exploded in a most spectacular fashion. Close examination of the carnage revealed the brake pad had melted to the rim. His wasn't the only casualty, just the only one I heard.
The 1/2/3s went off and we moved up. Another reading of the rules and a few minutes later we were off. We rolled easy down the rest of the hill and along the river to St. George where we'd make a right turn and immediately begin climbing. As I explained to Frank on the ride over, ad nauseum, you want to stay with the lead group, riding easy and letting them pace you up the hill. Start out as close to the front as you can without actually setting the pace, the slowly drift back. Come the summit, you'll be on the back or just off it and should be able to rejoin easily. Piece of cake.
Frank's calf seized half-way up and he got dropped. I followed my own advice until I thought it might be cool to try and attack a little bit. My attack was short lived and I found myself on the front pacing everyone else. I casually stepped aside and let a few riders by. The new guy on the front kicked it up a notch and just like that, I was off the back with more climbing to go.
The lead group got maybe 30 seconds ahead. A small group formed behind me and I began the chase. I had some help, but wound up doing way more work than I should have. We did eventually latch back on while still descending so it was going better than last year. We rolled down that hill doing better than 40 mph, watching for pot holes and bunny hopping gravel-filled gaps in the road. Eventually the main field slowed to a manageable pace while we made our way to the base of the final climb. I vividly recalled last year where I was caught off guard at the base when a small group silently dropped into their little rings and left us in the dust. This year I was ready AND rocking a compact. The grade kicked up (a lot) and we all hit the left shifter. Strangely enough, a good portion of the group still pulled away. There were 19 of us in the pack when we started climbing. We'd be completely torn apart in just a few minutes, the strong, light guys deftly pulling ahead while the rest of us dragged our heavy selves up that miserable hill.
Photo courtesy of Andrew @ WV Cycling.
Two riders in front of me assumed the role of rabbit as we passed the "1 mile to go" sign. I gave it everything I had, unsuccessfully trying to get out of the saddle and sprint for the line. Alas, I could only sit there, grinding away. They both beat me, leaving me with 12th place with a time of 1:53:40. 0:4:24 off last year's time. Just as I was about to go get the car and drive back to the finish so Frank wouldn't have to ride back the school, he comes rolling up the road and drifts effortlessly across the line. He'd clearly been through hell, but still finished strong. His time was 2:15:00 which put him in 47th.
Next year I'm shooting for top 5. Of course I'll probably be a Cat 3 and have to do the long route, but I've got a whole year to do as many bridge intervals as I can here at sea level. It'll be a piece of cake. Thanks to J.R. Petsko, the Appalachian Bicycle Racing Association and Thomas, WV for the race. You know we'll be back, no matter what category we are.
Thanks to Dave Cobb for pre-race pictures and some great shots on the final climb. See more of them here.
Andrew at WV Cycling had a prime seat for picture and video taking - passenger seat of the 4/5 wheel truck. See his pictures and video here.
Posted by Dan on 3. May 2010 07:35
Our weekend of racing in North Carolina began Friday night as the majority of Celerity Cycling p/b Fitness Together team members still able to ride hitched up the wagons and made for the border. Wick's parents had graciously agreed to play host to a hoard of voracious cyclists so our home for the weekend would be Fayetteville - conveniently located near both Saturday's road race in Southern Pines and Sunday's crit in Sanford.
I was looking forward to the road race as I'd finally get to race on the new HED Stinger 6s. Feeling fresh and excited by the prospect of getting to finish a road race, I rounded up the troops headed toward Fort Bragg. To make things interesting, we arrived 20 minutes before the start with no cash in our pockets. A mad dash through town to the nearest ATM and back to the parking lot gave us 15 minutes or so to scribble some lines on the waiver, collect our numbers and suit up. There were four of us in this race - all lined up at the absolute back of the pack.
I'll let you guess how easy it was to move around with 80 riders in the pack and the center-line rule in full effect. Where I'd normally make up ground in corners and climbs, it was damn hard - nay impossible - from the back of the bus. I eventually gave up and waited for the 200m mark where we'd have use of the full road. Surely my mad sprinting skills could carry me from 80th place to the front of the pack before the 500 meter-long peloton covered 200 meters.
I was glad to hear I wasn't the only one who just wasn't aggressive enough to move up through the packed crowd. Justin and "Frank" also hung near the back for most of the race. Wick managed to get to the first third, but got boxed in early and often. "Frank" somehow managed to snake the inside of a corner when everyone went way wide and wound up on then off the front mid-way through the last lap. He was quickly absorbed. His was the most aggressive move made by the team.
True to my word, I sprinted for the line when the left lane opened up, coming from dead last to 34th. The degrees of rockitude I exhibited were immeasurable. Justin finished 27th, Wick sat up and finished where he finished and "Frank" exploded, finishing 57th. At least my wheels worked.
Posted by Dan on 31. March 2010 08:08
This year's Jeff Cup was a bittersweet race for Celerity Cycling p/b Fitness Together. Our team has grown a bit, nearly doubling in size this season and our men's Cat 4 group is quite solid. With me Sunday was Wick, Mike, Justin and Frank. Both Justin and Frank recently upgraded to 4 and were looking forward to a well contested road race through the rolling hills of Charlottesville. The rest of us did this race last year as 4s and were relieved to see the sketchiness and anxiety levels had not changed in a year. It's human nature to resent change. Also racing were Steve M with the Cat 5 35+ and Taryn with the Women's 4s.
Our very own spring classic started out with the lot of us huddled in the car trying to stay warm after donning every piece of clothing we brought and anything we could mooch. Weather reports rapidly deteriorated from mid-50s and partly cloudy to barely 40 with a really really good chance of precipitation and finally settling with "Cold and super wet. Chumps."
Our pack of 125 was the first group to leave the parking lot and make its way via "neutral" roll-out to the start/finish line. Justin's first Cat 4 race began with a flat in the roll-out. The wheel truck caught up with him and he was rolling again, thanks to Chad Holm's "last in, first out" wheel. Justin re-attached and the go/slow/stop?/go Neutral Roll-out of Terror drew to a close as we crossed the line and got the Green Flag of Muted Happiness. The pace didn't change much, but it did become more consistent.
The first time around, the climb always seems exceptionally mild. So mild that I thought maybe we'd taken a wrong turn. By lap four, I still felt that way despite the field being strung out and halved in size. Thank you Hunter Allen.
With the initial drama out of the way, we all settled in and waited for the ensuing attacks. Wick was first off and I thought I was doing a great job loitering near the front, holding back the chase with sheer force of will. Eventually he was caught and there was no counter-attack. Sorry about that. There were a few more, but they didn't last. Clearly everyone read Mike Fawell's account of last year's race on GamJams and was waiting to give it hell over the hill on the bell lap. A lack of clothing, poor weather, wet concrete and elevated pucker factor were enough to drive Wick back to the car after two laps. The rest of us trudged on.
After the final turn on the final lap, Justin was next to me, Frank was a few wheels back on my left. Mike had slipped off the back on the last big climb but was diligently chasing. I remember going past the 200m sign when Reid Morris's mount inverted itself, depositing him on the deck immediately in front of me. So I hit him. Hard. Broke my newly built 2010 Trek Madone 5.9 carbon fiber frame into two distinct pieces held together by frayed cables. Matt Keane, not one to be left out of good pile up, took a running start at the carnage and went down too. You've probably already read the other accounts of riders coming around the final corner to find three dudes on the road, or Frank's recollection of sprinting through the final few hundred yards and seeing my shredded jersey where there should have been no jerseys. I just want it to be known that I would have won that race - easily - had I not gone down. I'm just sayin.
Justin managed to execute a flawless finish and snatched 2nd place. Frank tip-toed through the carnage and sat-up for 50th and Mike took 62nd. Matt Keane even peeled his bike off the pavement and finished 67th. I didn't know we could do that.
After my brief stay in the ambulance, I was released to my Subaru which I used to seek food. Bloodletting always makes me hungry. My apologies to Taryn and Steve for missing their races. Were I able to hop up and down while shouting encouraging things, I would have. Taryn had a good finish in her race, besting the remnants of a 43-rider field in the bunch sprint while chasing a break of 6.
Having been dealt the biggest losing hand of the day, I'd like to say I should have stayed home. Truth is I'd probably do it again, but this time I'd follow Justin. Thanks to Ruth Stornetta, Monticello Velo Club/Blue Wheel and everyone that made this 20th anniversary Jeff Cup happen. We appreciate it. Now buy me a new bike.
Posted by Dan on 15. February 2010 20:20
What better way to show your wife how much she means to you than to load up the car and beat feet for North Carolina on Valentine's day, leaving her with the kids to teach Sunday school, perform at a Valentines Day Salon and attend a kid's birthday party? Tired of waiting around for Snowball Crit #1, the Celerity Cycling p/b Fitness Together team set out for North Carolina and the first race of the 2010 season. The Wolfpack Cycling Classic was to be back-to-back road races set in the rolling hills south of Chapel Hill. The snowstorm that swept the south made conditions unraceable on Saturday, but warming temps and a dedicated crew of NCSU cycling team members cleaned up the course so Sunday's race got a green light.
Our race began at 4:00 PM. Temps had reached a balmy 45 degrees and the sun was still shining, though it wasn't planning on hanging around long. A winter race starting at 4:00 PM can quickly turn into a twilight road race, not fit for man nor beast. Our field was composed of roughly 50 Cat 4s and 5s. Looking around, it wasn't difficult to tell which was which. A ton of uncrumpled numbers pinned dead center of plain jerseys gave a clue as to how many new riders there were to be avoided. Being the first race of the season and the first race ever for quite a few participants, keeping the rubber side down was the goal for the day.
Turns out the rolling hills did a lot to separate the group. I hear the first climb on the first lap split the field nearly in half. What I saw was about 20-30 riders in the main group which I assumed to be the entire field. I couldn't get an accurate count of the starting numbers because the 4/5s were mixed in with the Collegiate Mens D riders to form a giant mass of Lycra and carbon fiber. Oddly enough, my attention was on the hairy-legged guys taking up the whole road during the neutral roll-out. Yeah. We'll find out how many started when official results are posted to pre-reg.com.
Course was fairly consistent with some of the road races we did last year, namely Lost River Classic and Tour of Tucker County. The snow and ice had all melted or been removed. The home stretch following Turn 4 was nothing short of miserable. The shade kept it cool(er) and wet. Giant potholes threatened to devour inattentive riders whole should their attention wander. I guess it was fortunate this was all on a serious descent so the field would be strung out, giving some lateral leeway. Being packed tight in a group could have been disastrous. The trick was to follow the lead car - when he swerved over the center line to avoid gaping , we did too.
Laps 1 and 2 were fairly uneventful, unless you were off the back trying to catch on. While I may be getting my facts confused, I believe Frank fell victim to being on the wrong wheel at the wrong time. Following a rider who was allowing a significant gap to open left Frank to fend for himself for quite awhile. Wick, Justin and I remained in the front group of 20 or so. Somewhere around lap 3, we turned it up a bit to thin the herd. I came around Turn 4 putting out some 700 watts and charged into the upcoming hill. Our group was reduced to a dozen or so for the final lap. As usual, no one wanted to work. A few squirrels on the front thought they'd start something but were quickly shut down. The final lap would be a repeat of the 3rd lap - wait until the last turn, then kill it on the climb, descend like a demon and sprint like your life depended on it.
At the crest of the last big climb, there were five of us remaining. I was on the front during the descent when a rider slowly started coming up on my left. Wick was immediately behind me saying, "Now, Dan! Everything you got!" I wasn't sure where the line was in relation to our position, but I went anyway. As I was watching the guy on my left, Wick charged by on the right. I didn't ease up, but I didn't jump either, not wanting to chase my own man down only to nip him at the line. The guy to the left overtook me and a wheel came up on my right. I wasn't giving up any more spots, so I turned it up. It was about then that Wick came drifting by, going backward. I recall one more rider passing me on the left before crossing what I thought was the finish.
When the dust settled, the camera showed an unattached Cat 5 rider in 1st, a Bike Rack rider in 2nd, Wick in 3rd and me in 4th. Justin came in shortly after to secure 9th place, giving Celerity Cycling p/b Fitness Together three of the top 10 finishes, outstanding results for our first race. Kudos to Justin for riding such a strong race. My condolences to Frank who fell victim to the Wrong Wheel. There's no doubt he'll be watching for that on Sunday at the Snowball Crit.
For whatever reason, Lydia did not make it down to take pictures, but Wick's dad did. I'll post them to Flickr when I get them.