2008 Race Report #16: Superweek Racine Master's Criterium

 

 

 

2008 Superweek Racine Master's Finish Sprint

Race Report #16:

Superweek Stage 14, Racine, WI, Thursday, July 24. Category: Master 40.  Weather: 84 degrees, light winds. Course: nearly flat, very bumpy, 0.8 miles/lap, 4 corners, Average speed ~27mph.

 

 

 

It must be a roadie conspiracy – all my favorite 4 corner flat wide open courses from the past (Sheboygan, De Pere, Manitowoc, Green Bay) have been replaced with courses that have my primary weakness designed right into them: a very long, false flat slightly uphill finish stretch. Blue Island, Shorewood, Waukesha, Evanston, Racine, & Downer Avenue all have this feature and it makes for some intense suffering, and – if I finish – can end in middling sprint results.

 

Nothing too notable occurred during the race – the usual blocks and breakaways, with several riders getting away off the front (these master’s love their breakaways) and as we moved into the final lap it was finally my time and I moved up into position around the turn 2 on the outside, slotting into about 5th position on the backstretch, riding the hip of Chris Black.

 

In my opinion and experience, this move was precise and absolutely unsurprising nor dangerous – I rode the left hip of Chris for 150 before a small zig zag on the straightaway leading into corner 3. I was well established in my position, and there was ample room for riders to go 2, 3, even 4 abreast on this part of the course.

 

I was slightly exposed to the wind, but the slight downhill made it possible for me to maintain the pace without too much effort – I wanted to be about 5th around that last corner.

 

We made the first slight right bend of the zig zag uneventfully as I allowed the rider on my right some space, and then we headed the 200 feet to the next left zag.

 

It was at this point that the rider to my right apparently decided that I had ‘invaded his space’ and abruptly swung left, hitting me hard and forcing me into a trajectory that had only two possible outcomes: 1) A high speed impact with the curb, or 2) an return impact with that other rider if I forced my way back out to the right to clear the corner. (see video at 1:19)

 

There was no time for anger or quibbling: instincts took over and the long years of track racing came to the fore. I quickly leaned hard right using my shoulder and elbow to move the larger rider to my right out of my way with considerable force. He moved... but I bounced. In the one second of video that covers this entire incident, you can see my bike lean right, bounce left, and then lean right again to fill the void I created by bouncing the other rider out of my path. There was no true danger of anyone going down – handlbars and wheels were kept safely out of the fray – but sounds of dismay erupted from the riders behind us and after a moment fraught with significant bodily contact I broke free.

 

I made it back into a manageable trajectory just in time and now firmly established my ownership of Chris’s wheel. We zoomed around turn 3, and then into the final straightaway. For a period confusion reigned as riders were both zooming forward and fading back at the same time, and the wind and the slight uphill made for a long big effort. I could feel my sprint ebbing from me and finally used what I had left to move up the middle and then left. I found open air and, throwing my bike at the line, missed winning the field sprint by inches, coming in 3rd in the field sprint and 9th overall.

 [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vXWV48cipbU]

 

As we coasted around, I suddenly began to get angry as I thought about that collision on the backstretch. As we circled one full lap and headed by the start/finish, suddenly the other rider loomed aggressively at my side yelling at me.

 

With adrenaline pumping and heart-rates sky high, verbal post race clashes are pretty common, and despite a pretty serious competitive streak, I normally manage to keep my cool. But the way this rider came up and cut me off, almost forcing me into the barriers – it shocked me back into adrenaline overload and I suddenly lost my cool.

 

He began shouting at me again, telling me that ‘next time’ I made a move like that he’d take me out. Just as inarticulately, I responded in kind letting him know that HE would be the one on the ground next time if he pulled a stunt like that and then in return for his clipping me toward the barriers, I suddenly accelerated and then cut in front of him nearly clipping his front wheel.

 

It was childish: clearly we were both not exactly on our best behavior – but then it got worse when he accelerated next to me unclipping his foot and asking to “settle it right here!” I had to laugh a little inwardly and I began to regain my perspective.

 

I paused and then said, “Come on – really? We’re going to skitter around on our cleats and fight in the street?”  I think he also realized we were way beyond ourselves and acting like children, so we rode on in silence around the first corner. I then reached out my hand and said, “what’s your name.”

(We've all seen how awkward a cycling fight is - what with the lycra and the slippery shoes and emaciated upper bodies - Thanks to friend Luke Seemann for this link:)

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QwKaeWkYbqk]

 

With a pause he took it, and said simply, “Steve.”

 

I said, “Steve – I have right here on my bars a video camera – how about this: Let’s look at the video -  I’m willing to admit the possibility that I’m in the wrong – I’ve been wrong before…”

 

“So have I,” he said suddenly

 

“So let’s just agree that we both look at the video and then one of us admits he’s wrong.”

 

“Deal.”

 

So we shook hands and then ended up chatting amiably for the rest of the lap. I ended up feeling rather fond of his fiery spirit, and, as for the video… I’ll let it speak for itself – you the reader can decide. (However, if you remain unclear, then read the Downer Avenue race report : ) coming soon)

2008 Race Report #12: Superweek Stage 5: Bensenville Criterium

2008: Race Report #12: Superweek Stage 7 – Bensenville (day 1)

                                           

Race Report #12: Tuesday, July 16. Category: Masters 1/2/3 30+, Weather: 90 degrees, 17 mph winds with gusts to 24mph. Course: flat, 0.8 miles/lap, 4 corners with a snaking finish stretch against the headwind adding some danger and excitement.  Distance, 35 laps, ~30 miles (shortened from 50), average speed ~26mph, Average pulse 172.

 

I took a half day off work to race this course only 5 miles from my office. I left right on time and arrived to the course with 1 hour and 15 minutes to warmup. I registered, dressed, and then mounted my trainer (a way to ride stationary on your bike while simulating the road – this is the safest way to warmup when surrounded by busy roads.) I couldn’t believe the sweat pouring off of me during my 40 minute warmup on the trainer, but at the end of it I knew I was truly “warmed up” and that I would not have to suffer through this process during the first laps of the race. Its not supposed to be unusual to get a good warmup…

 

I sped around the course and rolled to the line with the group right on time at 1pm. I looked around and the group seemed… a little different. Gone were the super lean bodies and bulging muscles of the master’s 1, 2, 3 group – and instead of team jerseys and carbon fiber wheels on $7000 bikes I noticed more standard, $2000 bikes and more youthful, less hardened bodies. Just then the chief judge winked at me and said, “Not yet – this is the Cat 4/5 race.” (Category 4’s and 5’s are the newest racers and have to earn their way from Category 5, to category 4, to 3 etc.) “You’re up next – we’re an hour behind schedule.”

 

So sure enough – no good deed will go un-punished and all my warmup was in vain and I had to sit in the heat on the sidelines for the next hour before making a half hearted attempt to ‘re-warmup’ before my race. Why can’t this ever happen when I’m LATE for a race I wondered.

 

So… I’ve written many times that I’m a ‘sprinter’ – what, exactly, does that mean in the world of cycling? In the world of track and field I would run the 100meters and maybe do long jump like I did in high school. On the velodrome (bike track) I used to specialize in the ‘match sprint’ which is a kilometer long race typically characterized by a 200meter sprint at the end. In 1986 I competed in this event at the junior world championships in Casablanca, Morocco after earning the top spot in the United States against my nemesis Jamie Carney – who also joined me over there.

 

So, one might ask,  if what I’m truly good at lasts about 10 seconds, the what, exactly is someone like me doing racing 45 mile, 90 minute, master’s races or 100 kilometer, 2 hour pro races? And, how is it that someone like me can even keep up? Especially, as I occasionally forget, as I’m about to turn 40, and actually have a “real job” - and a demanding one at that. Professionals only race – that’s why they are pros, and many category 1 and 2 riders live to race and either ‘get by’ living hand to mouth working part time in bike shops, or have part time or limited “9 to 5” jobs with much better schedules than I. (However, Texas Roadhouse extraordinare and Superweek stage winner Paul Martin is a lawyer with a family – so I’d be remiss to suggest I’m the only one with a demanding job and a family – but Paul’s a ‘roadie’…”)

 

Let’s take a look at it, for a moment from the point of view of the endurance athlete – better known in cycling circles as a “roadie”. Roadies dominate cycling – it is their sport, their culture, their races, their training schedules, their blogs, and their wins that make the most headlines. It just makes sense – if you don’t have much of an aerobic motor (like me) than odds are good you’ll either be marginalized or quit the sport quickly as aerobic capabilities are the basic currency of most of the events.

 

Let me take it further – from a ‘roadie’ perspective, people like me (sprinters) are the ‘bottom feeders’ of the peleton – “sucking wheel” in the back the pack – never leading, only using the draft that they themselves work so hard to create. One of my favorite email forwards of all time was from my friend Jeff, who was on a group email list where the riders were complaining about the sprinters. It went something like, “we led 39 out of 40 laps – pulling through hard, keeping the pace high, and then at the end, those damn wheelsuckers appeared out of nowhere and blew by us for the win – its ridiculous – they didn’t earn any of it.”

 

OK, so apologies in advance to all my roadie friends (and that’s pretty much just about everyone in the sport – there are few true sprinters out there.) But this is where I’m going to beg to differ, and, because this is my blog and I can say whatever I want, I’m going to speak my mind…

 

You roadies – all of you – so high and mighty in your tyranny of the peleton and the wind. Out there in the race, I watch you sitting in the wind, off the wheel as though the draft were merely a ‘nice to have’ while people like me – without your ability to process oxygen – suck off the draft like a diver would from their air hose – one breath missed – one second off a wheel, and we drown and float up off the back – dropped like a drowned swimmer.

 

You roadies think that the race is all about breakaways and out dueling each other for long stretches of suffering – suffering with a purpose – matching wits for the length of the race in order to guarantee success – but you fail to see or appreciate the role of the sprinter.

 

You suffer for a purpose – each lap you choose your suffering in order to put your best foot forward. But the sprinters? We have absolutely no purpose for our suffering other than to endure. As you string it out up front and our vision narrows to the 23mm tire ahead of us, we have one and only one purpose, “please don’t get dropped, please don’t get dropped, please don’t get dropped.”

 

You talk about suffering up front – yes, I’m sure you do it. But proactive, self determined suffering is different than the torture you inflict on us at the back. For us it’s a Vietnamise war camp and you are our torturers and executioners. We don’t choose this suffering, and unlike you at the front, we can’t just drift back for a few minutes to recover – if we lose that wheel in front of us, its over – just like that.

 

I have a running joke that I like to tell that starts like this, “You know that feeling, after you’ve taken a hard pull at the front, and then realize you’ve got a small gap, and then all you have to do is push it a little longer and maybe you’ll stay away?”

 

I pause for effect and then say…

 

“Yeah – I’ve never felt that before – ever.”

 

I’ve been racing for 32 seasons and competed in over 1200 road bike races and I’ve only been in two breakaways that have stayed away, and could count on both hands the number of breakaways I’ve EVER been in.

 

There’s another joke – another favorite. So, one of the other aspects of training and racing that differs for roadies and sprinters is the volume of riding that each must do. I’ve fallen victim to the roadie mentality several times throughout my career – the kind of mentality that, “if you didn’t win, you didn’t train hard enough.” Yes, for endurance athletes with type 1 muscles (slow twitch) there’s a pretty reasonable correlation between training and results. However when it comes to type 2A and 2B muscles (fast twitch A & B) that correlation gets sketchier and training becomes more about quality and less about quantity. Further, with a preponderance of type 2B muscles (like me) too much quality OR quantity can be deleterious to results.

 

But, back to the roadie joke. Roadies are notorious for their anal retentive addiction to their training schedules – rain, snow, or sleet, if their training regimen calls for a 5 hour ride, then that’s what they do. So here’s the joke, paraphrased from when it was originally sent to me.

 

 

The roadie:

 

My alarm went off on Sunday morning – another wet March day, and another 5 hour slog in the cold and damp. I slid out of bed trying not to wake my wife and headed to the front closet and numbly dressed – shoes, booties, shorts, insulated bib tights, undershirt, jersey, rain jacket, neoprene gloves, hat, helmet, heart rate monitor etc.

 

I made toast with honey and peanut butter, tea with more honey, and drank some accelerade. I filled three bottles per usual and stuffed my pockets with tubes and inflation devices and power bars. I sat in front of the TV and munched and then listened to the report: “sleet and freezing rain, dangerous roads, cars in ditches.” I paused, still chewing and waited for the forcast – more of the same and getting worse.

 

I sighed and threw in the towel – just today, just one day, I would not go out  - I’d have to make it up on the trainer later. So I took everything off – booties, shoes, bibs, shorts, jacket, jersey, gloves, hat, glasses, helmet and put it all away. Then I tiptoed back into the bedroom and slid under the warm blankets next to my wife and cuddled up to her whispering, “Its god awful out there.”

 

 

And she huskily mumbled back, “Yeah – I know – can believe my husband’s out in this crap? Thank God he’s a roadie else I’d never see you.”

 

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One of the best, if not THE best book on cycling ever written was written in the early 70’s by a Dutch author by the name of Tim Krabbe’. Its an elegant short tome depicting one single road race complete with flashbacks to other races and events in Tim’s life.

 

The Rider is written very clearly from the mindset of the ‘roadie’ and one of the things I love about it is the internal struggle Tim has for the “sprinter” in that book – the “golden boy” name Reilehan. At one point in the book he says, “its all about squandering energy isn’t it?” as he refers to Reilehan’s wheelsucking, but later in the same book, he mocks one of his other competitors for not knowing how to race – when to push it and when to conserve. I’ve read the book 5 times and after contacting Tim, proposed the idea of writing the equivalent of its sequel a little while back and asked whether he’d be interested in writing a forward if I did write it. (Tim’s over 60 but still racing)

 

Here was his response,

 

----------------

 

“Your idea sounds interesting - a portrait of the sprinter. I can relate to it because although I'm not one of those superfast guys (I've started racing again with the 60+ Masters) I did mix (and still mix) in every final sprint, even for 8th place, and occasionally for first - and I do win a few.

 

I've always been interested in the 'life of the sprinter' - they're sometimes treated like pariahs and act that way, some never trying to be in breakaways, just waiting to ply their trade, whether it's for 1st, 5th or 12th place.

 

The tactics, strategy, dangers, excitement of the sprints themselves are of course addictive - and you, as an ex-pro, would know a side of it that I don't; the massive sprint as a team sport in professional cycling. Although gifts are given and grudges will be fought out, in my amateur races sprinting was always essentially an individual thing.

 

There are a 1001 sides to sprinting.

Which goes to say that trying to write that book does seem worth the effort - although at this point, even if I'm flattered that you should ask, I don't know whether I would want to write a foreword.”

Best regards, Tim Krabbé

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So, I’ll take that as a “maybe.” : )

 

So, roadies, let me tell you how it is. Your job is to drop me. Keep a fast pace, shake and bake me, form breakways and single file paces. But after all that, let’s be fair then.

 

If you don’t drop me as I suffer with an average pulse of 180+ , as I strangle for 2 hours in asphyxiating oxygen debt and agonizing muscle complaint, then I assert that I have every bit as much right to that podium as you. For every hard pull up front and breakaway attempt you make, I’ve made parallel efforts to hang a wheel or bridge a gap.

 

Stated another way, if it comes down to a field sprint, and I suddenly materialize out of the bowels of the pack and manage to sling past you to the finish line using the 8 seconds of the one and only strength God gave me, don’t shake your head in frustration. Don’t be angry or contemptuous that “he didn’t do anything – just sat in the back.” Know what it is really like for me – for us – for sprinters like me.

 

Instead, how about replacing that contemptuous remark with a rueful smile and the thought of, “damn, he must have really suffered back there today – but he hung on and pulled one out  - good for him.”

 

Back to Bensenville. They shortened the race to 35 laps (I was one of the few who cheered) and we headed off around the oddly shaped course. After a few laps I started having that feeling again – and realized what it was. I wasn’t “completely desperate” – which, said differently, meant that I could move around the pack a little bit and felt some confidence.

 

The laps moved on and a small breakaway formed with 4 riders (Mike Beuchel – again!) and got away, and then it was that time again – my time – 1 lap to go.

 

I think I was a little over confident. I sat pretty far back  - maybe 30th even  with a half lap to go, with the idea that I’d swing up the outside and enter the second to last straightaway in about 5th. Just as I began my move up the right side against the curb, the pack swung back right and I was shut down hard. I drifted back into the middle of the pack.

 

Still, for some reason I wasn’t worried – I hadn’t really ‘squandered any energy’ thus far and as we entered the 3rd of 4 corners, I set up on the inside and pedaled the corner hard and accelerated up about 7 positions. Then, as the pack strung out down the windy stretch I accelerated again and leapt up to 5th into the final corner. To be fair, it was not the kind of move that is appreciated in the peleton – the last minute inside move. However, to my defense, the corner was being taken quite wide and I rode the short route over the manhole cover and never even came close to touching the rider to my right.  (see video below)

 

As we entered the snaking windy alley to the finish, things played out just right and I had a leadout man who took me within 100m of the line and within 15 feet of the lead rider. I accelerated to the right and took the field sprint win and 5th place.

 

Still, these were the master’s – cat 1, 2, & 3. Although these were quality riders, including the guy who had won the Pro ½ race at Snake Alley this year and then followed it up with a back-to-back win with the master’s race. But the average speeds were a couple mph less than the pro races – and I’d already been dropped twice – at Grafton, and then at Blue Island. With Evanston coming on Sunday I had a pretty good feeling I might be ready – but really, it is just not, and never has been in my hands – it will all depend on how well I prepare, and whether the roadies put the screws to the sprinters.

 

-John

Video starts with 1 1/4 laps to go. At 1:15 in I try to move up the outside and get shut down - hard! Then I'm trapped, so I pedal the corner on the inside at 1:33 and shoot up the inside about 6 spots. Then at 1:42, I accelerate up the left of the single file line to move into winning position around the last corner in 5th place - exactly where I wanted to be.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Mc7HGVEDUA]