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Monday, April 19, 2010

Aggghhhh!!!

Friday afternoon started off like any other. I left work early for a tune-up ride before heading out to Charleston, SC for a couple crits. It wasn’t going to be anything special, between Battenkill and the NRC crit in Anniston the field in Charleston promised to be manageable. I was looking forward to riding hard in search of the first real result of the year. Then the phone rang. The team needed another person to go to the Sunny King Criterium in Alabama. The next morning I was cruising down to Anniston Alabama for my first NRC race ever. Opportunity was knocking and I was more than happy to fill the last slot for the team.

Sunny King is by no means the biggest NRC race of the year but it’s still an NRC race. There’s a jumbotron, cameras covering the course, crowds, all the big crit teams are there and there’s $15,000 up for grabs. The course is straightforward, four corners with the start/finish stretch being slightly uphill. The legs felt fine and I was anxious to get the race started.

I’ve always loved the beauty of road races. The landscapes, the tactics, the epic battles over multiple mountain passes, I feel that it’s the heart and soul of bike racing. However, there’s something about twilight crits that’s just exhilarating. The noise of the crowd, the speed, the intensity, I can’t lie, I love it. When you pull up to the line, under the lights, you know it’s the calm before the storm. When that gun goes off all hell is going to break loose. The attacks are constant as everyone vies for their shot at glory. It’s a truly amazing thing to be a part of, especially at this level.

So there I was, standing on the line shoulder to shoulder with guys that I usually just see in magazines. As I looked up the street there were people lining the barriers all the way to the first corner. The course ahead was barren, creating a tunnel effect with the glow of streetlights illuminating the way. The pathway to success was sitting in front of me. Not to say that I was expected a result. Far from it, but this was another step up and I wanted to get things in the big leagues started off on the right foot.



When the announcer said go all the philosophic wanderings ceased, it was time to do work. The race was blazing fast from the gun. I was feeling good though. We were going hard there’s no doubt about it, but the sensations were good. I knew the pace wouldn’t stay that hard the entire race so I settled in and tried to weather the storm. I was fine until about 25 minutes in when it became obvious the break was going clear and everybody that had anything left, and no one in the front group, poured on the gas. Gaps started opening and it got crazy hard. I was on the very tip of the saddle gritting my teeth, sweat dripping on my glasses, my legs burning trying to get around guys blowing up and getting shot out the back. I kept thinking, “There’s no way we can go this hard for an hour and half. It has to slow up soon, just hang on one more lap.” Then it finally happened, shit, that’s it, I’m done. As I sat up, legs on fire, heart racing, feeling totally dejected, I saw the group in front slow and mushroom out. You’re kidding me! If I could have hung on one more time up the start/finish straight I would have been fine, I’m pretty sure I was the last person dropped. Right after I came off, about 30 minutes in, the group enjoyed a nice leisurely 15 or so laps until the break lapped the field.


Eventual winner Ben Kersten.

I was that close to finishing my first NRC race. Opportunity had come, slapped me in face and left. It was hard to stomach. I tried to console myself by saying that NRC races are Pro/1 only and there were a bunch of guys that came off before me. It didn’t help much. In the end it was a good learning experience and I’m eternally grateful to the team for giving me the chance to go. Now I’m super motivated for redemption at Speedweek which starts this weekend. Ohhhhh, I want it bad.

Quote of the Week: “It takes two to fill me up.” - Commercial for the new KFC double down. I can’t decide who I want to belittle more, the guy who decided that sandwich was a good idea or the guy that came up with the ad.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Respect

With another weekend of racing in the legs the form is starting to come around. I had a fairly good weekend with a strong ride on Saturday followed by an overeager mistake on Sunday that I paid for. Nonetheless, I stayed true to my previous post and raced hard. At least I went down swinging and learned a valuable lesson in the process. I also learned another lesson when I found my rear brake slightly rubbing on my rear wheel that isn’t true. Oh well, I can’t blame anyone else for that and it definitely won’t be happening again. Sunday’s ride was a bit disappointing but the pro guys rode great and capped off an amazing weekend. With some big races quickly approaching it looks like they’re on track for some real results.

One thing that sticks out about last weekend was the respect I witnessed from wearing a pro team’s jersey. There were a couple of times I was accelerating to get on a teammate’s wheel only to feel a slight push from behind. Both times I looked back to see a guy from Kenda Pro Cycling slotting in behind me. There is a mutual respect among pro bike racers and a definitive code to follow. Up till this weekend the code had been something I heard about in team meetings or from one of the pro guys after a race. This was different, this was me. I’ll have to say it was a bit of an ego boost to finally be a part of that scene.

The same revelation happened again in the road race. The break was gone and somebody hit the gas. Luca Damiani from Kenda reacted and I jumped on his wheel. We both had guys up the road and we were at the front of the field doing our job. After the attack was neutralized we sat on the front for a while setting a nice easy tempo letting the break’s lead stretch out as much as possible. I didn’t catch all of what he was saying to me in his somewhat broken English but I didn’t have to. Cycling is an international language.

To give credit where it’s due that respect came from the others before me to wear that jersey. It was earned with their blood, sweat and tears. Fighting it out, battling for their place within the hierarchy of the peloton. That fact is not forgotten. Nor is the fact that this was a small race. I still have to earn that respect for myself as a rider. Especially in bigger races where there is much more on the line, and I have to say, I couldn’t be more eager to do so.

Speedweek looms dark on the horizon, one last tune up weekend in Charleston before real racing starts.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Amaaazing

According to the Chicago Tribune, the word amazing is becoming “overused” and “mundane.” However, this past weekend was the very embodiment of the word in all its glory.

It all began on Friday with my (and Trav’s) birthday. What does a struggling amateur cyclist do on his birthday you might ask. Well, I worked all day. Racing bikes ain’t free so there’s no rest for the weary. Working wasn't so bad though, thanks to Tashina and baked goods.



Saturday marked the first ever Boone-Roubaix which I had mixed emotions about. On the one hand, I heard the course was fairly tough so I thought it would be a good barometer to see exactly where my form is at. On the other hand, I finally got my new team bike and ended up changing my position quite a bit so I figured I would fade fast later in the race. No excuses, it just is what it is. I am pumped about the position change though. My coach, Zach Lail fit me on the new hhwhip and made some great but drastic changes. So in the long run it will definitely be positive but right now I’m still in the adjustment period.

I stayed true to my last post and rode my ass off. With the extra motivation of the first race on the team bike and wearing a Mountain Khakis f/b Jittery Joe’s kit, I wasn’t going to leave with anything left in the tank. The race started off ok but things quickly went south. I missed a turn chasing back on to the lead group and then got a flat, spent several minutes waiting for the wheel truck, day over, almost. I rode the rest of the race by myself or with small groups of random people, and I rode hard. As I rode by the parking lot after the first big lap I looked at the people who, for one reason or another, had already pulled out. Their faces showed signs of defeat, relief that it was over and I could already hear the excuses. As I rolled into the bottom of the big climb for the second time I said “f” that. I didn’t have the legs to win and I had some bad luck, that’s bike racing. But I kept going, rode my ass off and crossed the line having accomplished something. At the end the day I was done and the tank was empty. I had managed to turn a bad race into a good workout. Sitting on the side of the road isn’t going to put you in that front group fighting for the win.

I traveled to the race with Hekmen and Hamblen so lunch was possibly the highlight of the day. Stories of racing out of pocket, living off of prize money, it was true old school fury by the guys that lived it. I can’t get enough of it. They worked hard to make their way in the sport like I’m trying to do now and to be able to learn from them is an opportunity I don’t want to miss out on. Hopefully there will much more to come throughout the season. BTW, Hekmen won the race, Jon was 4th and Neil was in the lead group that was directed off course and disqualified so they all rode great.

While I could have sat there and talked with them for hours on end there was a bit of raging to be done. Saturday night was the big party for me and Trav’s birthdays. Needless to say we had been looking forward to it for a while. Times when we can kick back and cut loose during the season are few and far between so we fully intended to make it count. Let’s just say it was great and thanks to everyone who helped make it happen. It’s going to be a tough one to top for sure.