Saturday the foul weather stayed away, and the morning dawned cold, but sunny and clear. I got out to Lookout by 6:30 to register, set the bike up on the trainer and started warming up for the 8:10am start. For the 3 Primal/1st Bank riders holding down the fort for the team on Saturday, our strategy was to get a fast start, ride tempo for the first mile and a half and try and apply pressure on the fast sections as best we could. Our goal really was to get as many of us into the top 20 as possible for BAT (Best All-Round Team) points.
We had a great warm up and I felt good getting to the line. The three of us lined up to be first to the initial inside turn: great position from the gun. I consider myself a reliable clip when starting, probably due to my commuting route with lights and stop signs etc. At go I was up, clipped in and the first through the first 3 turns. I held a good tempo and was quickly joined by my two teammates: Primal held the first 3 positions. The other two guys from my team clearly had stronger and fresher legs. They really pushed hard up the first section and I had a hard time holding their wheel. The plan was working but I knew I was going too hard too soon. As the rest of the field began to swarm we still held the first position and 2 in the top 10 riding into the switchbacks. I began coasting back but kept with the lead group. I had to face facts though rounding the bends into the 'fast section'; I was in a bad heart rate zone, holding it at present but unlikely to sustain it the remaining 2 miles. Reality set in and I edged back and brought my heart rate down heading into the last two long ramp sections. The field started to pull away at this point and I fought fatigue and annoyance at not really sticking to my game plan.
As I pulled into the last series of tight switch backs I felt better and got out of the saddle. A guy standing on some rocks yelled, "Get on that wheel bearded man!" That got me fired up and I started pulling back some riders. I reeled in some guy in a blue jacket, then a Garmin/5280 kid. I pulled in a Feedback rider and heading into the fast turn at 200 meters felt another Feedback rider on my heels. He had a bit more in the tank and out sprinted me to the line, but we did pass a CO Bike Law rider just before the line. I could taste the iron in my throat and my voice was raspy over a few heavy coughs: ahh the taste of blood. What pain, ,what sheer lunacy, and in a flash it was all over.
We rode briefly and cooled down our legs before the cold descent back down the hill. As much as I bad mouth and complain about this race, I do enjoy it on some levels. One of these days maybe I'll ride it the way I know I should as opposed to the way I always do! (Too hard too soon and then hit the wall). Still, when results came through the ACA site this morning the final tally ended up pretty good. Primal got one in the top 20. We narrowly missed a second with 21st and then me bringing up the rear: 26th of 53 starters. Mid pack, but with a time of 21:06. I consider this somewhat of a victory. I beat my time from last year by 53 seconds. I also beat my best time of the year in terms of training. And, considering I put in a miserable 24 minute and change effort on my own back in March I think my progress actually is respectable. This year's field was more consistent and so more guys placed higher up than they did last year, speaking to the quality of riders on the road Saturday.
So the verdict on my Lookout cramming...undecided. I actually think that as a concept, given a suitable base level of fitness, riding Lookout continuously over an extended period of time actually does work pretty well for intensive training. Its boring as hell but you definitely see quick gains from the effort. More built in recovery (non-Lookout days) and a longer rest period between training and racing probably would yield even better results. But that starts feeling too much like that textbook, traditional form of training nonsense which I have no stomach for. So you can feel free to use my new and improved, better than normal training, patented, "Lookout Cramming" technique for your own training purposes...that is if you're completely out of your mind...and lacking for inspiration...and not concerned too much about actual results...and you pay me some royalties or buy me a beer or something.
Showing posts with label Primal/First Bank. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Primal/First Bank. Show all posts
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The 12 Days of Lookout
On the way back to the start line of the Haystack TTT one of my teammates, Lucas, informed me that we may very well be the only 3’s on the team in town for the Lookout Hill Climb race on May 1st. Most of the 3’s are heading down to the Gila in New Mexico, leaving a scant few behind to race the local events and try to mix it up for more Best All Round Team (BAT) points. Since our team is off to a great start this season, keeping some BAT effort going despite the absence of most of the team might make a difference in the long run. I felt the grim hand of fate now steering me toward the base of Lookout Mountain…it would certainly be a killing. Despite Lucas’s assurances that he’d help pace me up the hill as long as he could (it likely should be the other way around) I still had my reservations about doing it. While the only thing to lose is about $30 bucks and the ability to walk for the rest of the afternoon, it doesn’t make sense to enter events like this if you really don’t stand a snowball’s chance of making it. One should play to their strengths, and for the weak its better to just play with yourself or something like that. In any case, it was about at this point in my self-doubt and wallowing that I agreed to give it a shot.
The Lookout Hill climb is a 4.5 mile mass start race up the winding, steep grades of Lookout Mountain Road: from pillar to post just about 1,200 feet of elevation gain. I’ve done this race and it is brutal. An event geared strictly towards mountain goats, anyone without some serious base mileage and intense training doesn’t stand a chance in hell. So as I pondered this fate and my options for helping out the team, I settled on an idea, and a far fetched one at that. Bike racing is not like a History or Math test…you can’t cram for it at the last minute, yet with my proverbial test on the horizon that is about the only thread of hope I can cling to. So I decided that I will cram for the Lookout Hill Climb: over the next two weeks I will ride Lookout in some form or fashion at least once every day. Is this an advisable training plan?--absolutely not. Is it a good idea?--not really. Will it work?--time will tell. I only want to crack the top 10...15...ok 20. My odds may very well be better that only 20 people will enter.
I’ve already ridden Lookout a handful of times this year, but nothing like the regularity of last year when my training was certainly more focused and disciplined. It was also around mid May, when I was feeling my best cycling shape ever, I clocked a 19:47 time (measured unofficially of course, I’ve bombed both of my past officially timed Lookout efforts.) About a minute off the 3’s winning time for last year, I can’t help but think that lazy 2010 Jason is even more screwed if uber-motivated 2009 Jason didn’t stand a chance. I think I managed a 24:45 a couple weeks back, under extreme duress and self pitying. I have a long way to go.
On Sunday I set about my task at hand with great flourish and enthusiasm. I rode from my home out to Lookout and climbed the mountain at a steady tempo. Descending back down to the pillars I recovered and set about riding the first 2 miles of the route in a very difficult gear at a very slow pace. The theory behind this form of riding is to build muscle strength, power and a smooth pedal stroke. I repeated this 3 times, each time finding the effort increasingly more difficult. After the third effort I descended back down to the start, grabbed a snack and rode back to the top a final time. After getting home I figured I logged nearly 50 miles of total riding, much of which was done on the hill. I felt that this was a good start.
Monday I could feel the prior day’s effort in my legs and really didn’t want to make the trip back out to that damn hill, but I’m in this boat now. My goal for Monday was a near race pace effort up the mountain to assess the extent of my deficits. I rode up to the pillars and stopped for a moment, grabbed my stop watch and GO. I focused on riding the initial 2 miles smoothly and without burning myself too deep before the middle fast stretch. By the middle section I felt composed and my HR was in a good place; drink of water and more steep climbing. When I hit the last section of steep switch backs I could feel it but was still within myself to keep my pace and finish strong. Cruising past the ’post’ at the top of the climb I hit my stop watch and stopped the clock at 21:40. Ok, that is an improvement from my March time, maybe there’s a glimmer of hope after all.
Today I again hit the road back out to Lookout, this time bent on a Lookout “recovery” ride. I don’t know if that phrase has ever been uttered before, but on a diet of Lookout I needed to get a recovery in somehow. I again made my way up to the pillars and this time set about my climb with the deliberate goal of keeping my heart rate low…very low. I spun my legs casually and freely and made my way up the climb. It actually felt great to ride at a high cadence and low effort despite the grade of the road beneath me. When I got to the top my unofficial time was around 26 min (no clocks on recovery day). Considering my complete lack of effort for the entire climb, I also viewed this very positively. Tomorrow I’ll be back at the hill. The forecast calls for a higher likelihood of rain in the afternoon, so my ride could be interesting. I suppose if push comes to shove, I might have to dress the part and ride my Surly up…every day, in some form or fashion. I guess I’ll see about that.
The Lookout Hill climb is a 4.5 mile mass start race up the winding, steep grades of Lookout Mountain Road: from pillar to post just about 1,200 feet of elevation gain. I’ve done this race and it is brutal. An event geared strictly towards mountain goats, anyone without some serious base mileage and intense training doesn’t stand a chance in hell. So as I pondered this fate and my options for helping out the team, I settled on an idea, and a far fetched one at that. Bike racing is not like a History or Math test…you can’t cram for it at the last minute, yet with my proverbial test on the horizon that is about the only thread of hope I can cling to. So I decided that I will cram for the Lookout Hill Climb: over the next two weeks I will ride Lookout in some form or fashion at least once every day. Is this an advisable training plan?--absolutely not. Is it a good idea?--not really. Will it work?--time will tell. I only want to crack the top 10...15...ok 20. My odds may very well be better that only 20 people will enter.
I’ve already ridden Lookout a handful of times this year, but nothing like the regularity of last year when my training was certainly more focused and disciplined. It was also around mid May, when I was feeling my best cycling shape ever, I clocked a 19:47 time (measured unofficially of course, I’ve bombed both of my past officially timed Lookout efforts.) About a minute off the 3’s winning time for last year, I can’t help but think that lazy 2010 Jason is even more screwed if uber-motivated 2009 Jason didn’t stand a chance. I think I managed a 24:45 a couple weeks back, under extreme duress and self pitying. I have a long way to go.
On Sunday I set about my task at hand with great flourish and enthusiasm. I rode from my home out to Lookout and climbed the mountain at a steady tempo. Descending back down to the pillars I recovered and set about riding the first 2 miles of the route in a very difficult gear at a very slow pace. The theory behind this form of riding is to build muscle strength, power and a smooth pedal stroke. I repeated this 3 times, each time finding the effort increasingly more difficult. After the third effort I descended back down to the start, grabbed a snack and rode back to the top a final time. After getting home I figured I logged nearly 50 miles of total riding, much of which was done on the hill. I felt that this was a good start.
Monday I could feel the prior day’s effort in my legs and really didn’t want to make the trip back out to that damn hill, but I’m in this boat now. My goal for Monday was a near race pace effort up the mountain to assess the extent of my deficits. I rode up to the pillars and stopped for a moment, grabbed my stop watch and GO. I focused on riding the initial 2 miles smoothly and without burning myself too deep before the middle fast stretch. By the middle section I felt composed and my HR was in a good place; drink of water and more steep climbing. When I hit the last section of steep switch backs I could feel it but was still within myself to keep my pace and finish strong. Cruising past the ’post’ at the top of the climb I hit my stop watch and stopped the clock at 21:40. Ok, that is an improvement from my March time, maybe there’s a glimmer of hope after all.
Today I again hit the road back out to Lookout, this time bent on a Lookout “recovery” ride. I don’t know if that phrase has ever been uttered before, but on a diet of Lookout I needed to get a recovery in somehow. I again made my way up to the pillars and this time set about my climb with the deliberate goal of keeping my heart rate low…very low. I spun my legs casually and freely and made my way up the climb. It actually felt great to ride at a high cadence and low effort despite the grade of the road beneath me. When I got to the top my unofficial time was around 26 min (no clocks on recovery day). Considering my complete lack of effort for the entire climb, I also viewed this very positively. Tomorrow I’ll be back at the hill. The forecast calls for a higher likelihood of rain in the afternoon, so my ride could be interesting. I suppose if push comes to shove, I might have to dress the part and ride my Surly up…every day, in some form or fashion. I guess I’ll see about that.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
TTT or Synchronized Swimming
On Saturday, April 17th I got out of bed propelled by thoughts of the Haystack Team Time Trial to come that afternoon. I laid my morning out to allow sufficient time to eat, take care of some chores around the house and ready my bike and gear for the Haystack TTT. I love the TTT. The fluid motion of riders exchanging pulls, the intense level of exertion dosed out in exacting means over a challenging course, and of course the really cool gear, make Team Time Trials quite the spectacle to behold.
As I mowed the lawn and fought my weed eater, a heavy layer of clouds began filling the Front Range basin, creeping over the foothills west of Denver. The temperature, in my opinion, was a perfect 62 degrees under sunless skies and still wind conditions: perfect for a time trial. Right on schedule I packed up my skin suit, TT bike, helmet, food and energy drinks and casually tossed my full finger gloves, arm and knee warmers into my bag; kind of a ’just in case’ measure. I loaded the Vanagon and made my way out to HWY 93 in Golden for the drive up to Boulder.
Upon hitting some of the high points of 93 west of Arvada I was afforded my first chance of seeing the dark blanket of cloudy tendrils wrapping the area around Boulder. Drops appeared on the Vanagon’s windshield. “Ah shit” I thought to myself. That would not be the last time I’d think that this afternoon. I continued on and for each mile the spattering of rain on my windshield increased. I tried as long as I could to not turn my windshield wipers onto the regular cycle, preferring to just cycle them on periodically manually; my way of convincing myself the rain really wasn’t that bad. Heading into Eldorado Springs, however, the wipers were on full bore and the road made that heavy, wet, rushing sound like waves on a beach as cars passed.
I pulled up to the start area and parked near the rest of the team. At this point there was a slight reprieve from the rain, and I made my way to the registration tent; apparently the rain hadn’t arrived at the north Boulder region…just yet. Upon returning to my car to pin on my number and change, the rain finally found us. Huddled under our sponsor's, Primal Wear, tent a dozen cyclists on trainers warmed up their legs and eyed the falling rain with trepidation. It was cold, cold and wet. Riders sat in their cars, forgoing much of a warm up. Others sought warmer layers to wear. Like many, I left a dry and warm Denver and foolishly didn’t bring much more than my emergency knee and arm warmers: thank god for that much. Forgoing our on-road warm up and practice, not the best of ideas, we sat under the tent, occasionally pushing the pooling water from underneath so the weight wouldn’t build on the nylon canopy. Time to go.
Would it be too much of a pun to say the race was going to be a wash out? On a quick warm up run to the start line we were disorganized and scattered. You couldn’t see through grime covered glasses, spattered by the spray of water and debris from the tires in front of you. To execute a TTT you must remain tight together, rotating behind eachother's wheels; difficult to do when you get a mouth full of spray and sand every time you cross lines with the rider in front. We had 5 min to stand shivering at the start. I swung my arms to keep warm and bounced my legs to keep the muscles from tightening. We started the 12 mile course at 2:22 pm (MST) heading north into a headwind and sheet of rain and spray from cars passing on the highway. I couldn’t see anything, but with the clear communication from the guys on the team things seemed to be going relatively well. I pushed my glasses to the end of my nose so I could see over them heading into the first 90 degree right turn. We had some mistiming coming out of that turn and things somewhat unraveled from there.
With only 4 of our planned 5 riders present at the start, we needed to get 3 to the finish line to score our time. Heading down the long sweeping downhill rollers on the back stretch of the course one of our riders, who struggled with his bike during the Individual TT earlier in the day, dropped his chain. We couldn’t stop and waste the time so the remaining 3 of us pushed forward to the line without him. The downhill sections were sketchy; hitting speeds in excess of 40, rotating a line of speeding riders all the while in an onslaught of splash back and rain. We were moving pretty well until one of the remaining team members started to cramp; now we had to slow as we needed 3 guys. The humid warm up under the tent and dehydrating, sapping rain pulls moisture out of the muscles and tightens them: cramping is practically an inevitability in conditions like this unless properly fueled up and topped off on electrolytes. We slowed down, encouraged him onward but ended up losing time on the clock.
Finishing 7th of a handful of CAT3 teams we were disappointed with our result, but pleased to have made it through the race with everyone upright and intact. Wet roads, speed and narrow slick tires (toss in some slimy road paint) make for a potentially treacherous event: a miscue could have sent our whole line to the ground. On the way back to the cars the rain was clearly finished for the day. The road spray was no where near as intense and when we approached our cars seemed practically nonexistent. A layer of dirt, sand, brown stains and grime covered the faces and kits of every rider. Bikes were practically unrecognizable under all the filth: it was a mess. But in the end it will prove a memorable mess and will likely make for better stories than many of the other races that will come and go off without a hitch or so much as a cloud in the sky. Here's some video taken of the Primal/ 1st Bank elite squad getting it done in the rain. (Click for video) Some video was taken of my team too, so when it gets posted I’ll link to it, so everyone can see and experience the fun of the Haystack TTT.
As I mowed the lawn and fought my weed eater, a heavy layer of clouds began filling the Front Range basin, creeping over the foothills west of Denver. The temperature, in my opinion, was a perfect 62 degrees under sunless skies and still wind conditions: perfect for a time trial. Right on schedule I packed up my skin suit, TT bike, helmet, food and energy drinks and casually tossed my full finger gloves, arm and knee warmers into my bag; kind of a ’just in case’ measure. I loaded the Vanagon and made my way out to HWY 93 in Golden for the drive up to Boulder.
Upon hitting some of the high points of 93 west of Arvada I was afforded my first chance of seeing the dark blanket of cloudy tendrils wrapping the area around Boulder. Drops appeared on the Vanagon’s windshield. “Ah shit” I thought to myself. That would not be the last time I’d think that this afternoon. I continued on and for each mile the spattering of rain on my windshield increased. I tried as long as I could to not turn my windshield wipers onto the regular cycle, preferring to just cycle them on periodically manually; my way of convincing myself the rain really wasn’t that bad. Heading into Eldorado Springs, however, the wipers were on full bore and the road made that heavy, wet, rushing sound like waves on a beach as cars passed.
I pulled up to the start area and parked near the rest of the team. At this point there was a slight reprieve from the rain, and I made my way to the registration tent; apparently the rain hadn’t arrived at the north Boulder region…just yet. Upon returning to my car to pin on my number and change, the rain finally found us. Huddled under our sponsor's, Primal Wear, tent a dozen cyclists on trainers warmed up their legs and eyed the falling rain with trepidation. It was cold, cold and wet. Riders sat in their cars, forgoing much of a warm up. Others sought warmer layers to wear. Like many, I left a dry and warm Denver and foolishly didn’t bring much more than my emergency knee and arm warmers: thank god for that much. Forgoing our on-road warm up and practice, not the best of ideas, we sat under the tent, occasionally pushing the pooling water from underneath so the weight wouldn’t build on the nylon canopy. Time to go.
Would it be too much of a pun to say the race was going to be a wash out? On a quick warm up run to the start line we were disorganized and scattered. You couldn’t see through grime covered glasses, spattered by the spray of water and debris from the tires in front of you. To execute a TTT you must remain tight together, rotating behind eachother's wheels; difficult to do when you get a mouth full of spray and sand every time you cross lines with the rider in front. We had 5 min to stand shivering at the start. I swung my arms to keep warm and bounced my legs to keep the muscles from tightening. We started the 12 mile course at 2:22 pm (MST) heading north into a headwind and sheet of rain and spray from cars passing on the highway. I couldn’t see anything, but with the clear communication from the guys on the team things seemed to be going relatively well. I pushed my glasses to the end of my nose so I could see over them heading into the first 90 degree right turn. We had some mistiming coming out of that turn and things somewhat unraveled from there.
With only 4 of our planned 5 riders present at the start, we needed to get 3 to the finish line to score our time. Heading down the long sweeping downhill rollers on the back stretch of the course one of our riders, who struggled with his bike during the Individual TT earlier in the day, dropped his chain. We couldn’t stop and waste the time so the remaining 3 of us pushed forward to the line without him. The downhill sections were sketchy; hitting speeds in excess of 40, rotating a line of speeding riders all the while in an onslaught of splash back and rain. We were moving pretty well until one of the remaining team members started to cramp; now we had to slow as we needed 3 guys. The humid warm up under the tent and dehydrating, sapping rain pulls moisture out of the muscles and tightens them: cramping is practically an inevitability in conditions like this unless properly fueled up and topped off on electrolytes. We slowed down, encouraged him onward but ended up losing time on the clock.
Finishing 7th of a handful of CAT3 teams we were disappointed with our result, but pleased to have made it through the race with everyone upright and intact. Wet roads, speed and narrow slick tires (toss in some slimy road paint) make for a potentially treacherous event: a miscue could have sent our whole line to the ground. On the way back to the cars the rain was clearly finished for the day. The road spray was no where near as intense and when we approached our cars seemed practically nonexistent. A layer of dirt, sand, brown stains and grime covered the faces and kits of every rider. Bikes were practically unrecognizable under all the filth: it was a mess. But in the end it will prove a memorable mess and will likely make for better stories than many of the other races that will come and go off without a hitch or so much as a cloud in the sky. Here's some video taken of the Primal/ 1st Bank elite squad getting it done in the rain. (Click for video) Some video was taken of my team too, so when it gets posted I’ll link to it, so everyone can see and experience the fun of the Haystack TTT.
My Dirty Bike and Kit after the Haystack TTT in Boulder, CO.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Roubaix Sunday
Today marked the running of the 108th Paris-Roubaix, the ‘Queen of the Classics.’ What makes Paris-Roubaix such a seminal event is not the excruciating distance, often harsh spring conditions--biting wind and rain. It is the cobbles. A quarter of the race’s grueling 259km takes place on cobblestone farm roads. Frequently rutted out, dirty and slippery the cobbled sections present the challenge and the allure of the event. Today’s winner, Fabian Cancellara, rode away from the lead group with nearly 40km to go to the finish. The time trial champion soloed in for the win over two minutes ahead of the chasing group. While this annual highlight of cycling was drawing to a close, halfway around the world in Boulder, Colorado our own local version of this event was just getting started.
In the spirit of the French, cobbled Queen, much of the Boulder-Roubaix road course occurs on dirt and gravel roads (American Pave’). This year’s Boulder-Roubaix course boasted a longer format for the circuit loop that riders would race. At 19 miles, the race would start on a section of dirt road and would alternate after a mile or so to pavement before quickly returning to dirt; repeating this way the entire 19 miles. Over 50% of this year’s course, just over 30 miles, would occur on wash boarded, dirt roads. While not as long as the French counterpart, for riders attempting Boulder-Roubaix the course would nonetheless present a challenge.
For some bizarre reason I thought this event to be a suitable starting point for my 2010 race season. After an extensive ‘off-season’ and piss poor spring training effort I apparently felt like flinging myself into the deep end of the CAT 3 pool. By way of preparation, I pre-rode the course on Saturday with 3 other Primal First Bank teammates. While the preview helped give me some confidence in my bike handling skills on dirt, I still had knots in my stomach much of the evening. I’ve been out of the racing game for a bit now, my head not quite into it, but for Boulder-Roubaix I’d have to Harden the Fuck Up (the team’s quasi mantra) or get spit out the back in short order (that result likely would be inevitable anyway.)
Sunny, warm, and dry the weather apparently didn’t feel like making Boulder-Roubaix worse than necessary. Our race started at 11:15, so I arrived at the start area around 9:30 to get my number, check in with the team and prep for battle. I arrived at the start line early, but not early enough to get a good slot in the front row. I found myself three rows back tucked in with some Junior 17-18 year old riders who’d also be racing with the 3’s. Glancing at the bandaged arms and legs of the ‘kids’ next to me I should have guessed what was going to happen next. At the gun the junior right in front of me took off but missed his clip and stopped with me right on his wheel: no harm done but I was not off to a great start from go. (His buddy, bandage arm, blew a pavement transition on the second lap and wrecked in the ditch.) My mission initially was to hang on to the leaders and try to navigate the first two somewhat technical dirt sections without much ado. One rider rode clear past the first turn and crashed. Within the first mile there were 2 or 3 flats and heading through the first transition from pavement to the second dirt section another rider overshot the turn and ended up in the ditch.
I held my position towards the back and rode with a fellow teammate and some other more cautious riders. We picked good lines through the turns and didn’t have to work too hard to manage the accelerations of the pack. I was racing again and feeling pretty good. Heading into the last stretch of dirt road the group approached a series of sharp, rolling hills. I found a good line along the left side of the road and worked my way up into the lead bunch of the main pack. I probably burned a match prematurely with this effort, but I found myself working in the main group and riding with our team leaders: I could move up well enough, now I just needed to hold my position. Lacking some of the confidence to keep pushing forward I drifted back again as we ended lap one. The pack was trimmed but seemed to have held on to many of the starters as we began the second lap.
I again found myself hanging on to the back of the group, this time with three teammates, navigating the corners with ease but beginning to feel the rubber band stretching a bit more. With a pivotal uphill, paved section of the course nearing, I told myself that I needed to move up or this would be it. Along the road the pack lined out and left an alley open on the left side near the median. I started moving up to the front. Finally feeling like a racer again I soon found myself again with the lead riders, many from my team. At that moment one of our strong riders made a break with another on his tail. I thought this was my chance! I looked ahead and saw two riders up the road, clearly this must be a break away and our leaders are trying to join. Someone in the pack shouted my name and told me to go (or maybe they said ‘No’ or ‘Way to go’), so I surged forward and gave Grant the ‘What’s up’ on my way to Michael Hanna who was leading away. I wanted to pull him up to those riders more than anything. Unfortunately drawing close to the two riders (and looking back at the somewhat perplexed expression on Hanna’s face) I saw that the riders were in fact not from our group…and they were moving pitifully slow by the point I pulled in behind them and practically stopped. Now at a crawl, I watched as the entire peloton, not an opening in sight, passed by me in a blur. Finally a gap opened and I pulled out from behind my imaginary break away companions and found myself gassed and on the back again heading into the grueling roller section.
That was pretty much my race. I survived the rollers and held on to the leaders as we began lap 3 but was pretty spent and unable to continue matching the accelerations: here’s where training would have come in handy. Bygones being bygones and all that, I sat up and caught my breath. For much of lap 3 I worked with a group of stragglers from the main pack trying to catch the group… or just finish with dignity. Frustrated with the lack of cooperation amongst my chase buddies, I eventually sat in until the long climb where I surged forward and left all but one wheel sucker who I’d soon drop in the rollers. At this point I don’t know where I ended up in the finish: 40th or worse? Michael Hanna, who obviously did not need my help on his breakaway won the race. We placed two others in the top 20.
I do know that up until my stupid move on the hill I was feeling good, and I was getting my senses back…if only for just a little while. Struggling with my mental block on racing has been a frustrating part of my off-season. Earlier in the week when I thought about entering this race I thought that I needed to have my head examined. But I got good advice from Kate and my team captain: just go out and do it and try to hang on as long as you can. That’s all I really had to do: just do it. As Kate put it, I needed a little ‘fire in my belly,’ and she was certain that getting dropped in a race would be just the medicine I needed. And thinking back on the day, underneath the pile of dirt and dust I choked down while racing, there just may be a little fire.
My Boulder-Roubaix Stats:
57 miles (30 or so of dirt)
Average speed: 23.4 mph
Total time: 2:26 and change
Average heart rate 168 bpm
In the spirit of the French, cobbled Queen, much of the Boulder-Roubaix road course occurs on dirt and gravel roads (American Pave’). This year’s Boulder-Roubaix course boasted a longer format for the circuit loop that riders would race. At 19 miles, the race would start on a section of dirt road and would alternate after a mile or so to pavement before quickly returning to dirt; repeating this way the entire 19 miles. Over 50% of this year’s course, just over 30 miles, would occur on wash boarded, dirt roads. While not as long as the French counterpart, for riders attempting Boulder-Roubaix the course would nonetheless present a challenge.
For some bizarre reason I thought this event to be a suitable starting point for my 2010 race season. After an extensive ‘off-season’ and piss poor spring training effort I apparently felt like flinging myself into the deep end of the CAT 3 pool. By way of preparation, I pre-rode the course on Saturday with 3 other Primal First Bank teammates. While the preview helped give me some confidence in my bike handling skills on dirt, I still had knots in my stomach much of the evening. I’ve been out of the racing game for a bit now, my head not quite into it, but for Boulder-Roubaix I’d have to Harden the Fuck Up (the team’s quasi mantra) or get spit out the back in short order (that result likely would be inevitable anyway.)
Sunny, warm, and dry the weather apparently didn’t feel like making Boulder-Roubaix worse than necessary. Our race started at 11:15, so I arrived at the start area around 9:30 to get my number, check in with the team and prep for battle. I arrived at the start line early, but not early enough to get a good slot in the front row. I found myself three rows back tucked in with some Junior 17-18 year old riders who’d also be racing with the 3’s. Glancing at the bandaged arms and legs of the ‘kids’ next to me I should have guessed what was going to happen next. At the gun the junior right in front of me took off but missed his clip and stopped with me right on his wheel: no harm done but I was not off to a great start from go. (His buddy, bandage arm, blew a pavement transition on the second lap and wrecked in the ditch.) My mission initially was to hang on to the leaders and try to navigate the first two somewhat technical dirt sections without much ado. One rider rode clear past the first turn and crashed. Within the first mile there were 2 or 3 flats and heading through the first transition from pavement to the second dirt section another rider overshot the turn and ended up in the ditch.
I held my position towards the back and rode with a fellow teammate and some other more cautious riders. We picked good lines through the turns and didn’t have to work too hard to manage the accelerations of the pack. I was racing again and feeling pretty good. Heading into the last stretch of dirt road the group approached a series of sharp, rolling hills. I found a good line along the left side of the road and worked my way up into the lead bunch of the main pack. I probably burned a match prematurely with this effort, but I found myself working in the main group and riding with our team leaders: I could move up well enough, now I just needed to hold my position. Lacking some of the confidence to keep pushing forward I drifted back again as we ended lap one. The pack was trimmed but seemed to have held on to many of the starters as we began the second lap.
I again found myself hanging on to the back of the group, this time with three teammates, navigating the corners with ease but beginning to feel the rubber band stretching a bit more. With a pivotal uphill, paved section of the course nearing, I told myself that I needed to move up or this would be it. Along the road the pack lined out and left an alley open on the left side near the median. I started moving up to the front. Finally feeling like a racer again I soon found myself again with the lead riders, many from my team. At that moment one of our strong riders made a break with another on his tail. I thought this was my chance! I looked ahead and saw two riders up the road, clearly this must be a break away and our leaders are trying to join. Someone in the pack shouted my name and told me to go (or maybe they said ‘No’ or ‘Way to go’), so I surged forward and gave Grant the ‘What’s up’ on my way to Michael Hanna who was leading away. I wanted to pull him up to those riders more than anything. Unfortunately drawing close to the two riders (and looking back at the somewhat perplexed expression on Hanna’s face) I saw that the riders were in fact not from our group…and they were moving pitifully slow by the point I pulled in behind them and practically stopped. Now at a crawl, I watched as the entire peloton, not an opening in sight, passed by me in a blur. Finally a gap opened and I pulled out from behind my imaginary break away companions and found myself gassed and on the back again heading into the grueling roller section.
That was pretty much my race. I survived the rollers and held on to the leaders as we began lap 3 but was pretty spent and unable to continue matching the accelerations: here’s where training would have come in handy. Bygones being bygones and all that, I sat up and caught my breath. For much of lap 3 I worked with a group of stragglers from the main pack trying to catch the group… or just finish with dignity. Frustrated with the lack of cooperation amongst my chase buddies, I eventually sat in until the long climb where I surged forward and left all but one wheel sucker who I’d soon drop in the rollers. At this point I don’t know where I ended up in the finish: 40th or worse? Michael Hanna, who obviously did not need my help on his breakaway won the race. We placed two others in the top 20.
I do know that up until my stupid move on the hill I was feeling good, and I was getting my senses back…if only for just a little while. Struggling with my mental block on racing has been a frustrating part of my off-season. Earlier in the week when I thought about entering this race I thought that I needed to have my head examined. But I got good advice from Kate and my team captain: just go out and do it and try to hang on as long as you can. That’s all I really had to do: just do it. As Kate put it, I needed a little ‘fire in my belly,’ and she was certain that getting dropped in a race would be just the medicine I needed. And thinking back on the day, underneath the pile of dirt and dust I choked down while racing, there just may be a little fire.
My Boulder-Roubaix Stats:
57 miles (30 or so of dirt)
Average speed: 23.4 mph
Total time: 2:26 and change
Average heart rate 168 bpm
Sunday, February 28, 2010
The ABC's of TTT's
From the vantage of the casual observer a mass of bike racers moving down the road in a surging, noisy, blurry amoeba like form must assuredly appear chaotic and disorganized. The speed at which a peloton passes a fixed point barely provides a glimpse of the level of coordination and organization which belies the apparent confusion and chaos. Cycling is a team sport. And like all team sports there are tactics, strategies, game plans and roles for each member of the team to play. Watch basketball players set up a pick and roll, or an offensive lineman creating a hole for a running back to charge through and one can clearly see the logic behind the execution. Similarly, although difficult to gauge from the sidelines, when an organized cycling team exerts its will against the pack they can control the play by play much like a skilled NFL quarterback. The tactics and strategy change dramatically when the team is stripped of its direct competition and placed into isolation against the elements as in the case of the Team Time Trial. In this event the level of coordination and interplay between riders stands visible for all to see, much like a choreographed dance or closely timed relay. In the TTT the group of riders works together as one fluid unit to maximize the efficiency of the paceline against the wind; leverages the strengths of individual members against the road and clock; and ultimately hopes to best the competition over a fixed distance.
The strategy for the TTT is simple. Ride in a swiftly moving line, continually rotating fresher riders from the back of the line to the front in order to expose them to the wind and maintain the pace of the group over the course: see simple. Riders generally tend to peel off in the direction of the oncoming wind, edging back their pace as they slide along the flank to the rear where they slot into the queue and progress back toward the front. When done well this motion is almost seamless. (Check out this link for a montage of the 2009 TDF TTT…set to truly fantastic techno music.) One rider quickly takes the front, carries the pace of the group without a jarring, disruptive acceleration and then moves over in time allowing the next rested rider to repeat the process. Starting out this balance proves challenging to maintain, as riders tend to want to push forward once exposed to the wind. Additionally controlling pace is contentious when unfamiliar with the other members of the team and where they stand in terms of fitness. A sloppy TTT unit will leave large gaps between riders and will rotate in wide bands, as opposed to tight lines. With the TTT practice makes perfect.
Our Team Time Trial practice this morning got started in cold and somewhat windy conditions, but the weather quickly improved and made for a relatively good day of riding. Out of the gate we lacked the Team part of the TTT as only 5 riders showed up to practice. What we wanted in terms of numbers we made up for in a series of good efforts around Chatfield Reservoir State Park. The conditions of the road around the park were pretty poor with potholes and rough pavement for much of the course (perhaps some of that build up American stimulus cash could be applied to this obviously worthwhile cause.) These craters netted us two annoying flats, though I think mine was due to a faulty valve stem. Getting started we pushed a pretty easy pace while sorting out the logistics of rotation, acceleration and communication. For our second pass we upped the tempo and pushed ourselves more. At this point our organization and communication seemed to gel a bit more and the rhythm of our rotations became clearer. Despite some lingering hesitation and awkwardness there were moments of solid cohesion. We did a pretty good job of keeping a tight line and not dropping riders off the back with accelerations. Our third effort left us with 4 riders as one of our group had to leave early. I found myself out gunned by stronger riders on TT bikes geared with large 56+ tooth chainrings, small cassettes, areobars and lightweight carbon frames. I left my TT bike hanging in the garage which proved foolish for this last run but paid off later when the otherwise useless TT bikes had to go home.
Chatfield doesn’t really lend itself to TTT practice as the route is short and there isn’t a discernable loop to keep the group moving around the park at a consistent pace. With 4 riders and one stranded in the park with a flat, our practice was really short and I suppose somewhat disappointing. Yet I enjoyed it and felt the effort to be worthwhile. While we didn’t reach the pinnacle of TTT greatness, we got our season started early and I took away a number of lessons learned for next time, like: TTT‘s are better with more people, bring extra tubes, Cervelo makes a nice bike, don’t try and out duel stronger riders on TT bikes with a road geared road bike, a two line rotation is good though I think less organized than a single line rotation, stronger riders should make sure to pull longer, call out if there’s shit in the road, if you’re cooked then gatekeep, we need to practice more, etc.) Keyed up on TTT glory I left the rest of the group back at the parking area and since I was not on a TT bike felt at liberty to head up Deer Creek for some climbing. I soaked up the remainder of the day’s retreating sun on my climb. With yet another cold front due to bring more snow to the Denver area tonight it seems somewhat ridiculous to be thinking of upcoming TTT practices. But that doesn’t stop me. And next time I’ll pull the TT bike down and bring it out for practice, which hopefully won’t be too far in the future.
The road to Deer Creek...awash in sunlight, at least until those clouds get here.
The post TTT kick back.
The strategy for the TTT is simple. Ride in a swiftly moving line, continually rotating fresher riders from the back of the line to the front in order to expose them to the wind and maintain the pace of the group over the course: see simple. Riders generally tend to peel off in the direction of the oncoming wind, edging back their pace as they slide along the flank to the rear where they slot into the queue and progress back toward the front. When done well this motion is almost seamless. (Check out this link for a montage of the 2009 TDF TTT…set to truly fantastic techno music.) One rider quickly takes the front, carries the pace of the group without a jarring, disruptive acceleration and then moves over in time allowing the next rested rider to repeat the process. Starting out this balance proves challenging to maintain, as riders tend to want to push forward once exposed to the wind. Additionally controlling pace is contentious when unfamiliar with the other members of the team and where they stand in terms of fitness. A sloppy TTT unit will leave large gaps between riders and will rotate in wide bands, as opposed to tight lines. With the TTT practice makes perfect.
Our Team Time Trial practice this morning got started in cold and somewhat windy conditions, but the weather quickly improved and made for a relatively good day of riding. Out of the gate we lacked the Team part of the TTT as only 5 riders showed up to practice. What we wanted in terms of numbers we made up for in a series of good efforts around Chatfield Reservoir State Park. The conditions of the road around the park were pretty poor with potholes and rough pavement for much of the course (perhaps some of that build up American stimulus cash could be applied to this obviously worthwhile cause.) These craters netted us two annoying flats, though I think mine was due to a faulty valve stem. Getting started we pushed a pretty easy pace while sorting out the logistics of rotation, acceleration and communication. For our second pass we upped the tempo and pushed ourselves more. At this point our organization and communication seemed to gel a bit more and the rhythm of our rotations became clearer. Despite some lingering hesitation and awkwardness there were moments of solid cohesion. We did a pretty good job of keeping a tight line and not dropping riders off the back with accelerations. Our third effort left us with 4 riders as one of our group had to leave early. I found myself out gunned by stronger riders on TT bikes geared with large 56+ tooth chainrings, small cassettes, areobars and lightweight carbon frames. I left my TT bike hanging in the garage which proved foolish for this last run but paid off later when the otherwise useless TT bikes had to go home.
Chatfield doesn’t really lend itself to TTT practice as the route is short and there isn’t a discernable loop to keep the group moving around the park at a consistent pace. With 4 riders and one stranded in the park with a flat, our practice was really short and I suppose somewhat disappointing. Yet I enjoyed it and felt the effort to be worthwhile. While we didn’t reach the pinnacle of TTT greatness, we got our season started early and I took away a number of lessons learned for next time, like: TTT‘s are better with more people, bring extra tubes, Cervelo makes a nice bike, don’t try and out duel stronger riders on TT bikes with a road geared road bike, a two line rotation is good though I think less organized than a single line rotation, stronger riders should make sure to pull longer, call out if there’s shit in the road, if you’re cooked then gatekeep, we need to practice more, etc.) Keyed up on TTT glory I left the rest of the group back at the parking area and since I was not on a TT bike felt at liberty to head up Deer Creek for some climbing. I soaked up the remainder of the day’s retreating sun on my climb. With yet another cold front due to bring more snow to the Denver area tonight it seems somewhat ridiculous to be thinking of upcoming TTT practices. But that doesn’t stop me. And next time I’ll pull the TT bike down and bring it out for practice, which hopefully won’t be too far in the future.
The road to Deer Creek...awash in sunlight, at least until those clouds get here.
The post TTT kick back.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Headwind Blues
Tonight while I struggled to surmount the slight incline up 26th near Crown Hill, one of my fellow Primal 1st Bank riders passed me going the other way. Clad in spandex, riding what must either be a carbon or lightweight aluminum bike, heading downhill with a massive tailwind, he looked utterly effortless in motion as he waved hello while speeding past. I on the other hand, riding my behemoth 1984 Cannondale touring monstrosity, wearing corduroy pants heavy gloves with full panniers dangling off the rear rack, labored into the headwind continuously buffeting me on my journey westward. I could barely hold a tempo enough to reach 14 mph let alone manage much of a wave or hello; in all honesty it was at times an effort to wipe the snot from my nose as pleasant as that sounds. Yet this is sometimes the lot in cycling. Sometimes you have the draft or the advantage of a full tailwind helping to propel you forward at superhuman speeds. Other times you get hit in the face with a cold front and it stops you dead in your tracks. Today’s wind probably wasn’t the worst I’ve ever encountered, but towards the end of a long week, after a long day and a fast run at lunch, it was not what I needed. As my mother in law is oft to say, “Sometimes you’re the bug, and sometimes you’re the windshield.” I felt a little flattened today…glad I get to ride eastward tomorrow morning.
I tried to capture the essence of how crappy today's ride home was but this flag just wouldn't cooperate. While its not flying totally at end (which I swear it was before I snapped the shutter), I think you get the idea.
I tried to capture the essence of how crappy today's ride home was but this flag just wouldn't cooperate. While its not flying totally at end (which I swear it was before I snapped the shutter), I think you get the idea.
Monday, February 1, 2010
No LSD For Me, I'm Straight...Straight Out Of My Mind That Is
Despite a wonderful home cooked meal of steak, potatoes and asparagus the night before, I woke Sunday starving. Not a good sign before the last all team ride of the month. I slowly ate a stack of delicious pancakes drank some coffee and could feel my energy levels start to return. After a quick clean and lube of my bike, change into my kit and multiple warm layers (it was a touch over 20), I hit the road. The team planned to meet at Golden Bike Shop for what was cryptically labeled in the weekly email as the 'Denver West Loop'. When I got to the shop I discovered that this was nothing more than our typical ride out north to Superior and back, I felt a bit deflated at this prospect as the route only takes a couple of hours, offers but a few rolling climbs and barely scratches 40 miles: not what my legs, sadly lacking in base miles at this point, needed.
Hollow threats of a timely departure to the contrary, we left late after about 15 min of standing around freezing our asses off while waiting for folks to show. Rolling out the pace was smooth and steady. The chill in the air gave way to casual banter and chatting as we wound our way up northward from Golden. Crossing the tracks west of Indiana two guys flatted out so we dropped our pace and stopped to wait while they changed tubes. The standing around provided an opportunity for some food but also rapidly cooled warmed muscles; starting out again was painful as we greeted the frosty air with cold cores for a second time. As we hit the stretch before Simms a sprint point contest developed. I positioned myself well moving up to the 5th or 6th wheel. Watching a break on the right side I quickly pushed forward hopping wheels after a short rise in the road and caught the wheel of powerhouse Lucas heading into the final couple hundred meters. I held the draft for a few seconds and shot around Lucas for the sprint; a well executed lead out and uncontested dash to the line.
At the half way point in Superior my legs felt fresh and energized and I wanted more…fortunately for me one of my fellow CAT4 turned 3, Grant, felt the same way. We decided to leave the group and continue rolling north to Boulder. Our loop wound us up Cherryvale Road down Baseline to 75th, up to Jay and back some random road to Valmont before winding into Boulder for some food. Neither one of us could really tell how fast the other wanted to ride, and in typical macho-bike racer fashion didn’t talk about this while actually riding, so we ended rolling a pace that both of us in hindsight thought to be a bit too fast. After our break for bagels and bananas, where food gave us newly found conversational skills, we agreed to edge back the tempo a bit while climbing up the hills and eventually ‘The Wall’ out of Superior. At this leisurely pace we talked about Grant’s Triathlon training, discussed the upcoming race season and generally shot the shit. Legs feeling the lactate acid building we cruised the final rollers before heading back to Arvada. The wind from the north gave us a bit of a push and helped us maintain a decent cadence despite both us feeling the day’s mileage, which at this point was rapidly building. We parted ways at 44th, where Grant took the right back to Golden and his car, and I went straight on McIntyre to 32nd and home.
Once home I enjoyed a warm bowl of homemade potato soup (crafted by Kate from the prior day’s leftovers) and a sandwich before jumping in the shower and then pleasantly falling asleep for a quick afternoon nap. Although the temp never got into the 40’s as promised, and the skies were partly clouding hiding the sun’s warmth for most of the day, it was nonetheless a good day to be out riding. While not quite the textbook ‘Long Slow Day’ preached by trainers and coaches alike, the 80 miles of riding at tempo felt good on the legs and helped energize me for the season to come. Next weekend is Team Time Trial practice which promises to be a lot of fun.
Hollow threats of a timely departure to the contrary, we left late after about 15 min of standing around freezing our asses off while waiting for folks to show. Rolling out the pace was smooth and steady. The chill in the air gave way to casual banter and chatting as we wound our way up northward from Golden. Crossing the tracks west of Indiana two guys flatted out so we dropped our pace and stopped to wait while they changed tubes. The standing around provided an opportunity for some food but also rapidly cooled warmed muscles; starting out again was painful as we greeted the frosty air with cold cores for a second time. As we hit the stretch before Simms a sprint point contest developed. I positioned myself well moving up to the 5th or 6th wheel. Watching a break on the right side I quickly pushed forward hopping wheels after a short rise in the road and caught the wheel of powerhouse Lucas heading into the final couple hundred meters. I held the draft for a few seconds and shot around Lucas for the sprint; a well executed lead out and uncontested dash to the line.
At the half way point in Superior my legs felt fresh and energized and I wanted more…fortunately for me one of my fellow CAT4 turned 3, Grant, felt the same way. We decided to leave the group and continue rolling north to Boulder. Our loop wound us up Cherryvale Road down Baseline to 75th, up to Jay and back some random road to Valmont before winding into Boulder for some food. Neither one of us could really tell how fast the other wanted to ride, and in typical macho-bike racer fashion didn’t talk about this while actually riding, so we ended rolling a pace that both of us in hindsight thought to be a bit too fast. After our break for bagels and bananas, where food gave us newly found conversational skills, we agreed to edge back the tempo a bit while climbing up the hills and eventually ‘The Wall’ out of Superior. At this leisurely pace we talked about Grant’s Triathlon training, discussed the upcoming race season and generally shot the shit. Legs feeling the lactate acid building we cruised the final rollers before heading back to Arvada. The wind from the north gave us a bit of a push and helped us maintain a decent cadence despite both us feeling the day’s mileage, which at this point was rapidly building. We parted ways at 44th, where Grant took the right back to Golden and his car, and I went straight on McIntyre to 32nd and home.
Once home I enjoyed a warm bowl of homemade potato soup (crafted by Kate from the prior day’s leftovers) and a sandwich before jumping in the shower and then pleasantly falling asleep for a quick afternoon nap. Although the temp never got into the 40’s as promised, and the skies were partly clouding hiding the sun’s warmth for most of the day, it was nonetheless a good day to be out riding. While not quite the textbook ‘Long Slow Day’ preached by trainers and coaches alike, the 80 miles of riding at tempo felt good on the legs and helped energize me for the season to come. Next weekend is Team Time Trial practice which promises to be a lot of fun.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Let's Get This Party Started...
Today being New Year's day it seemed appropriate to go charging into the new year all half-cocked and full of vim and vigor...and what better way to do that then a team ride with the lads on the Primal/First Bank Team (Haulin' Ass Race Team). The morning started right with delicious pancakes for fuel and a Vanagon ride down to Bang Salon...since I woke up late and had a headache. Too much wine before bedtime means a slow start to the day and a lame drive to the group ride. Redemption awaited as we rode forth up through the industrial oasis that is north Denver and Commerce City, eventually making our way up Rivendale Road towards Brighton. It was cold. There was a lot of shit talking and general festive merriment and even a pace line and speed limit sprint or two. Yes, after falling asleep pathetically at 11:45pm that crappy old 2009 got tossed out and 2010 came roaring in like the metaphoric lactate threshold max wattage extravaganza that it truly promises to be. (Or a long slow day sitting in the saddle behind a man with a spandex mesh window on his ass...) Things are lookin' up, cheers!
All the makings for a good time...if only it wasn't 20 something degrees.
All the makings for a good time...if only it wasn't 20 something degrees.
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