The Nifty Ten-Fifty

I have some important mid-season road races coming up in the next 2 months, and being a bit behind in endurance and power training, I opted today to skip a short circuit race in favor of the Nifty Ten-Fifty.

The name simplifies the goals of the ride: To climb ten thousand feet in fifty miles. Today’s official route is about 52 mi. for around 9700 feet of climbing. My 63 mile ride included a few wrong turns, resulting in a bit over 11-thousand feet of climbing. With a 180-mile week that included interval training and hill repeats, I had 19.5K of elevation.

Organizers offer .tcx and .gpx files you can install on your gps device to follow the complex route, through the rugged Berkeley and Oakland hills, on your own, but it’s best to stumble upon a group who are doing the ride and are more familiar with the twists and turns.

I parked a few miles between the start and finish so I could warm up before meeting up for the official start at 9:30 am.

The climbing segments are the main challenge, so there is friendly regrouping at the top, before rolling onward to the next hill.

I settled in with a nice group of a dozen or so, many of whom are on the UC Berkely race team. The overall pace for the day was pretty slow, but the camaraderie was invaluable as the consecutive climbs beat us up. Most of the climbing segments were in the 13% range, with pitches up to 20%.

I hoped to avoid spending an entire day with cycling-related antics by staying closer to home and avoiding the four to five hour round trip commute to the race I skipped, but that was not to be. I left home at 7:30am and got home at 5 pm. But the consecutive climbs will definitely go into the training bank, and help boost fitness for upcoming races.

Hello. My name is Glen and I think I’m a hoarder

When you registered with USCF and NCNCA, you received a subscription to the monthly newsletter

This season I’m noticing a few familiar names in my M55+123 field. This got me to dig through my stack of tattered, yellowed 1986, 1987 NCNCA newsletters. Sure enough in the same issues where my insignificant senior 4 top-six results are published...

Fair Oaks Criterium results for my 4B group. With only four categories, cat 4 was crowded... usually requiring A and B fields

... are Pro,1,2 results for guys like Mark Caldwell & Kevin Metcalfe. Once in a while I even find Eric Heiden, Rishi Grewal, Frankie Andreu, Bob Roll and others.

Melody Wong rode for Davis Bike Club. They had the best kit... bold white/black checkers with PEUGEOT in big letters

Before stuffing these publications back in the box, it occurred to me that maybe some of you who started racing after the internet was spawned, might be interested to see how we used to find races, register, see official results, and get licenses.

There are those on my team who have had much more experience, over greater spans of time, but I thought I'd just share what I have.

When you got your United States Cycling Federation (USCF) license, you also registered with the local district. At some point the local was the Northern California Cycling Association (NCCA), and at other times is was NCNCA (including Nevada).

I ruined this borrowed wool jersey in my first road race... crashing in a big bunch sprint pileup. Idiot.

We had to buy these gigantic vinyl bib numbers, readable from space. They came with a plastic frame number you could attach with zip-ties or the cool people casually ran their seat post binder bolt through one of the holes. The frame number, visible from the side, helped ensure that you were picked accurately at the finish. The large numbers had to be pinned over the lower rear jersey pockets, visible from the rear. On tiny guys like me, it looked ridiculous. Each category had a different color stripe on the numbers (red for cat 4, which was the entry-level cat then). It was definitely easier to identify other groups from the rear when you were overtaking, and there was no arguing about who could work with who.

If you wanted to pursue category upgrades, it was important to chase down a race official to sign the back of your license, documenting your result. I had a few good results in category 4 (the old entry-level cat) but never got the full six top-six or three top-three results needed to upgrade during my brief 2-1/2 seasons.

In the NCNCA newsletter there was a schedule of upcoming races for planning your season.

 Find a race, and save the info so you can drive there on race day.

Clip out the race entry form and mail it in to pre-register. Then hope your envelope arrived.

On race day, drive there, wondering what the course is like because there’s no internet. Pin on your gigantic bib numbers and race as usual.

April 20, 1986, I'm about to attack during the bell lap of the Tracey Hite Criterium, through the arches at the Marin County Civic Center. One of the best crit courses ever. Everyone was racing for 2nd, as one guy lapped the field. I took 5th and won a Vittoria sew-up, a sixpack of Acme Beer and a T-shirt. They had good prizes in this two-day series.
photo: Tim Kinion (my dear dad)

No digital photography back then meant good old analog, visual picking at the line. I remember being asked more than once to help be a “picker” for race finishes at criteriums. The official would ask several people to pick for a small range of positions. They would say, “you pick out 1st through 3rd” and “you pick 2nd through 5th”, and onward, where several pickers had overlapping ranges of spots to pick. From that a fairly accurate order of finishers could be reconstructed. My best recollection is that only the top six finishers were documented, so there was no hanging around bothering officials to see if you were ninth or sixteenth!

At first these brittle pages make participation in the sport back then look so klugey, but the more I read through, it’s really impressive how developed the system was back then. Participation was really high too.

Saturday, March 26, 2016, Copperopolis Road Race, Master 55+ cat 123

Result

16 of 25 

Weather

70°, sunny, light 7mph WNW breeze


Course

2 laps for a total of 44 miles. Fair to terrible pavement with many small exposed potholes. A 2.2 mile, average 5.5% climb with 13% pitches, early in each lap, ascending a lumpy ridge to a high, relatively flat, exposed valley. At the east end of the valley, the course turns roughly west, into the wind, then back over a shorter climb, followed by a 2.5-mile descent, then 2.5 miles to the beginning of the next lap. On this bumpy course I use much lower tire pressure in my clinchers (yes tubeless or sew-ups would be ideal, but I ride on what I can afford), 73 psi front, 87 psi rear gave my 135-pound carcasss the comfort and traction needed to negotiate the rough road.


My Race

Of my seven races this season, this was only my third road race (the others were 3 cat 3/4 criteriums and one masters 55+123 hill-climb time trial). On the eve of the race, knowing I would be the lone rider from my team, Hans Gouwens (cat 2, Thirsty Bear p/b Akamai) called to fill me in on his team’s plan for this race. They were going to work over Jon Ornstil (cat 3, Hammer Nutrition), who was expected to drive the pace on all climbs. Hans tipped me off to be ready to go along with him as he marks Jon’s move(s) if I wanted to have a chance of not missing the selection for the front group.

On the first ascent of the long climb that begins early in each lap, I moved up onto Hans’ wheel. Jon was setting the sub-ten-minute pace for the 2.2 mile climb. I was third wheel. As usual, Calvin Edman (cat 3, Team City) moved up to spark up the pace, next to Jon. This caused Jon to push the pace into my red zone. My strong climbing in cat 4 races was proving to be less than adequate for this group. About 500 meters from the crest, I had to slide back several positions. Immediately the group split in two, with seven or eight in the lead (Jon & Hans). I was cracking. a few more of the remaining riders passed, then I heard the moto better:-/, which means I was at the back. The chase group, about 9 or ten riders was strung out, but would crest together. from just behind on my left I could also hear Larry Nolan’s (cat 1, Specialized Masters Racing) loud gasping getting louder as used decades of determination to turn himself inside out to latch on before the group topped out.

I knew also that as painful as it is to find power to stay connected here on the climb, it will be much worse chasing alone, exposed on the valley’s flat roads, but I was unable to hitch onto Larry. I crested twenty seconds late (my Strava data estimates that I was chasing in zone 4 for 66 minutes of this 2-plus hour race).

For the rest of this lap I could see the chase group 20, 30, then 55 seconds ahead of me, in the wide flat valley. By the start of the long descent that leads back to the start/finish, they were out of sight. I rode the remaining lap alone, always staying ahead of three others from our race who were shed much earlier on that first climb. Six more did not place. Hans, with his ability to lash out with multiple, fierce attacks, soloed late in lap 2 for the win.

By the race end, I was a good eight minutes behind the leaders, and six minutes behind the strung out chase. I hope soon to share reports from races at this level that are more than descriptions of hard, solo “training rides.”

Observations and Hopes

As I expected, the transition from masters category 4 to 3, is shocking. No surprise either that It’s eye-opening, physically demanding, and (I’m afraid at this point) discouraging. I’m once again racing with guys I remember from my 1985-1987 seasons, but recognizing the difference between their experience that came with developing through the elite field, compared to my development only through the masters field (after a 27-year break). But I’m still excited about each race.

In 2015 I loved racing with this large, organized team (in fact I delayed my option to upgrade in order to gain a full season of experience fulfilling different roles in races with a team), but by summer, podiums for me felt like experiences denied to others in my team and in the rest of the cat 4 field.

Understandably, the number of actively racing masters cat 3 and higher members on my team is low, and by having my helmet handed to me so far when competing against the 55+123 field, I’m not a stellar inspiration… yet. I’m excited to keep hammering on my one set of alloy clinchers (though I’m attempting to resurrect a pair of old US Postal Team Bontrager race x-lite alloy tubulars that a friend donated to my efforts), getting to know the who’s who in the 123 field, and work connections in the peloton, begin finishing with the pack and then be joined by more of my teammates later this season.

Bariani Road Race - M55 cat 1,2,3

March 13, 2016

Conditions

50°F; 80% chance precipitation; 20+mph SSE wind with 40mph gusts

Result

13th of 19 riders

The Course

A 14.9 mile loop, mostly flat but with some fairly tough rollers along the northern, eastbound leg along County Road 14. The southbound starting/finishing stretch is a frontage road along highway 505. The headwind makes this four miles feel endless. My best pass at it in four laps was 14mph. The 1.5-mile northwestbound leg is on good road, very fast with today’s tailwind. A quick turn north onto narrow, potholed farm equipment roads, cutting at right angles around crop fields for 4.5 miles. The tailwind made this leg feel almost too brief. Especially once turning right (east) onto the fourth leg for 3.5 miles of brutal right-cross headwind. For good measure, the road cuts over some rolling hills. A right turn onto the southbound frontage road is the start of the grueling 1.7-mile finishing section into the headwind.

The race

This is a short story. I missed the start of my race by about a minute and a half. I chased mostly solo for 4 laps (except for brief company on lap 2, below). I had my group in sight for the entire first lap but was never able to latch on. My distraction turned this event into nothing more than an expensive solo endurance ride.

After finishing, I learned from Erik Salander (Pen Velo), who also missed the start, that the starting official allowed our group to vote to cut the race to THREE laps! I rode a miserable, slow, unnecessary 4th lap.

Lessons Learned

Being late wasn’t a problem related to daylight savings time. It was completely a case of distraction. If like me, you’ve become distracted and been late to the start of a race once, you’re positive you’ll never let it happen again. Well this was #2 for me. I’m going to buy a clock and clip it to my kit bag. You’d think that with the car clock, the Garmin clock and the clock on the phone, that would be enough. Well I don’t carry my phone in races, the car keys are stowed away, so the car clock isn’t visible, and the Garmin shuts down when there’s no activity.

A brief encounter with humanity

After 3/4 of lap 1 I passed about 3 shelled riders from my shattered group. I caught a fourth along county road 14. He sat on my wheel for about 1.5 miles presumably recovering. Turning south onto the frontage road, I felt like I’d been working a long time chasing to catch him, now towing him, so I flicked my arm. He wouldn’t come around. I flicked again. Nothing. I dropped back and asked him if he would do some work. I heard whining and something like “recover.” He demonstrated unwillingness to work with me, so I wasn’t going to continue giving him a tow. I guttered him. He really started wailing now. I asked him again, “Are you going to do some work?” At this point he started yelling at me very angrily. So I attacked out of the saddle, quickly darting out to the middle of the lane, then back to the weeds, hammering as fast as I could into the headwind. I couldn’t shake him, but his tenacity showed he had something left in the tank. So I soft-pedaled through the start/finish line, beginning our second lap. He chose to mimic the slow pace. Trying another tack, I asked calmly “Are you interested in catching our group?” He barked back that he would help if I would stop attacking him. I turned away to silently roll my eyes and thought “ok, the guy had plenty of time to show willingness before, but let’s try again” and curtly replied to him “Sixty second pulls!” On faith, I took the first one, and was relieved when he came through for the second. We finally began working together. We picked up another straggler just before the overpass turn west. The three of us kept a good rotation going until along county road 14, actually clawing back to our group by the time we hit county rd. 17. But while chugging through the rollers, I ran out of gas. I couldn’t hold their wheel, skipped a turn at the front and knew I had to let them go. Within a minute, the guy who’d given me all the grief earlier, shed the other guy and the three of us went on alone. I have to hand it to the reluctant (first guy) because within 20 more minutes, he was out of sight. If only he could have begun cooperating from the get go, we could have avoided the stress early on and maybe saved some juice to catch our group.

March 6, 2016 RKO2, Red Kite Criterium

This is the second event in this year's Red Kite Omnium Series

There are two races today for me:

M45/55 cat 3/4

50 riders (twenty nine 45+ and eleven 55+)

teammates
45+ Jeff Kato, Yann Bertaud, Craig Auzenne, Mark Cook
55+ Matt Tretheric, Dan Tkach, Jim Forester

M35 cat 3/4 

50 riders

teammates
Jeff Kato, Long Nguyen, Jim Forester, Jeff Bilodeau, Ernie Riley, Jaime Madrigal, Yann Bertaud, Kurt Kuckein, Mark Cook, Phillip Barros, Craig Auzenne, Dan Rugani

Race #1 - M45/55 cat 3/4

result: a lowly 8th among the 55s (likely way back at 32nd overall)

Still behind fitness-wise, I lost another week after my minor crash at the Snelling RR. I was feeling good enough for some tougher workouts this past week, but not sure enough whether my upper ribcage could take the torque of racing yet, so I left registration to day-of. Oh man… fifty bucks!!! and twenty more for each additional heat?! Visions of wet pavement, squirrelly riders, and a reunion with the hard ground at speed weighed heavily on my mind and still slightly achy body.

By Saturday evening, the precipitation forecast for Livermore valley looked better than that for Marin, so I was going. I planned only to do the 55+3/4 race (raced with the 45+3/4s, picked separately). But then I thought with so many of our guys present, it’d be a chance for us to get used to racing together, so I signed up for the 35+3/4 heat too.

The 0.9 mile course is probably the least technical, best-paved, suburban industrial-park criterium course with the widest streets I’ve seen. There are only three true 90-degree turns, but at over 30mph you can still pedal through.

This was to be 40 minutes, but actual time was 36:48, for sixteen laps. Before the start they announced how many primes there would be (five, mostly bottles of wine). I was excited by the first one as it was only open to the 55+ guys.

The whistle blows and we’re off. The 55+ prime was a sprint to the line at the end of lap two. With only a handful of 55s in the race, I set up to get into the last turn on the wheel of anyone handy. It did take some work to get the right wheel, but luckily the San Jose BC guy must not have known I was there because he led me out perfectly, and I came around him just before the line. That $20 bottle of Longevity Tempranillo will just cover my second reg. fee. And something to remember: primes get you three omnium points each. I don’t have plans to focus on the entire RK series, but if you’re racing in a category that’s in competition, denying a competitor those points can be a thing to think about.

The remaining 14 laps I raced like a beginner–no goals, no plan, no communication. It was finally clear that all of my hesitation about the weather and my recent crash got in the way of my commitment to the race. I knew that positioning into the final turn was key to the finish, but I just sat and let the swarm begin on the bell lap and stayed out of the scrum, coming over the line about 32nd. A fifty dollar Sunday group training ride.

At least I collected a bottle of wine that would cover the cost of my next race.

Race #2 - M35 cat 3/4

result: 34th

Already a bit embarrassed by my riding in the first race, I failed to muster the smarts to take a role in Jeff’s broad plan for our 12-man team, which was for sprinters Jeff and Kurt stay fresh. Long keeps sheltered as leadout man, hoping to be joined by one more of us. The rest of us stage repeated attacks in twos and threes, causing the rest of the field to chase.

Our team failed to create any significant attacks, and those that were attempted weren’t joined by any teammates. With about five laps to go, 3 or 4 riders broke away, very quickly gaining a ten-second gap. I saw Jeff “prairie-dogging” and knew we were blowing the defense. While Ernie moved to the front to chase, I spent one more lap, very “late to the party”, moving forward, looking to grab two teammates to start a sacrificial chase, but also taking verbal flak from other racers that CBRE had better shut this down (one of the obligations of having such a large team presence).

I tapped Jaime on the butt approaching turn 4 and he and (forgive me but I couldn’t see who else) picked up the pace. I fried quickly, flicked my arm and peeled off the recover, and put in another dig with 2 laps to go. We still hadn’t closed that gap enough, but thankfully the swarming on the bell lap brought everything back together for the bunch sprint.

There was a crash mid-bunch, which luckily didn’t involve any CBRE riders. With no help, Jeff got boxed-in, but still managed 8th over the line.

Lessons learned

I’m embarrassed that I performed as I did in both of these races. The wide range in ages, the blend of cat 3 and 4, provided the first opportunity for many of us teammates to actually race together. Our large team presence contained a wide range of experience too. Jeff has done his best to lead, and while I’m not as skilled, I should have stepped up and taken a more commanding role organizing the other guys to execute the attacks and better police the front of the peloton so that breakaways are either joined by CBRE, or shut down faster.

Amid my disappointment, an unexpected surprise: CBRE Racing is really doing well in certain categories of the Red Kite Omnium Series.

2016 Red Kite Omnium Team Standings
First place in 55+ Cat 3/4

Second place in 35+ Cat 3/4

Fourth place in 45+ Cat 3/4

Third Place in Overall Team Competition

Among note individually, in the 55+ Cat 3/4 competition, four of us are in the top ten:

2016 Red Kite Omnium Individual Standings

(55+ Cat 3/4)

1st place Matt Tretheric - 27 points

tied for 5th - Jim Forester - 13 points

tied for 7th - Dan Tkach - 12 points

tied for 7th - Myself - 12 points

Snelling Road Race, Master 55+1234, February 20, 2016

Staying warm by getting dressed in the car after breakfast

Result
34th of 59 (after hitting the ground hard in a crash)

Teammates

Dan Tkach, Scott La Perle

Goals

This is my first road race with what I'll respectfully call “big league” riders (I mean there was a national road champ jersey in the field for crying out loud). My fitness is not on target after spending six weeks remodeling part of my house, so I know I won’t be in contention for the field sprint. But I do want to finish with the lead group. Therefore I plan to stay sheltered, and mark the few key riders who I know, and get into any moves that might cause a split the field. I let my teammates know that I didn’t think a race plan would do much good against the level of experience we were up against.

The Race

Our field started at 8:30 am, so I left home at 3:30 am. I had time the day before to pack my multiple breakfasts, hydration and recovery food. I got to Henderson Park at 6:15, just over 2 hours before the race. Perfect.

Halfway through the first lap, Cal Erdman (Team City) and 3 others attacked and got away at the top of the kicker on Los Cerritos Road. I could see my goal of finishing with the leaders going out the window. Luckily they were only able to stay away until reabsorbed late in the third lap.

The first two laps, I stayed sheltered in the front half of the pack, my heart rate averaging 127 bpm (very zone 1 for me). Lap 3 I spent more time up at 10-15th position, watching for attacks, and my heart rate data shows there was more effort. My right hamstring began to threaten to cramp halfway through this lap, indicating my fitness is just not there yet.

1K from the end of lap 3, on Figmond Ave., a violent crash on the left side of the road, near the front of the pack, fanned across the entire road (at 32:00 on the embedded YouTube video below). Three Thirsty Bear riders and several others were down and one TB rider was yelling that he was badly hurt. To avoid crashing I had to swerve off the road into the sand berm on the right side of the road. I looked to see that the injured TB rider had a teammate at his side, and several other riders were coming to aid. I mounted up and chased back onto the tail of the lead group just as they crossed the start/finish line.

As the remainder of the pack coalesced for the final lap, I let Hans Gouwens (Thirsty Bear) know he would be missing some teammates. He had apparently been safely ahead of the accident and likely didn’t know who was down. Hans had been doing an amazing job all day attacking, presumably to draw riders from specific other teams away from protecting their sprinters. Along Olsen Road I joined him and two others for one of these (first making sure I had a good clear gap ahead of the pack), though before we began a rotation, the effort was abandoned and we tucked back into the pack.

On the backside of the course, a sharp, sandy, slippery right turn is the start of a 1.4 mile descent. The road surface is really bumpy, and it’s a lot of work to maintain a high speed. We cross a creek on a bridge at the bottom, then climb a 2% kicker for about 500 meters. The pace quickened as we all big-ringed out of the saddle, and the pack was in wait-and-watch mode, anticipating the windup to the finish. Someone ahead of me must have rubbed wheels and went down. At 18mph, I couldn’t avoid him and I crashed, landing on my left hip and shoulder (at 43:36 in the video). He said “Sorry.” and took off. The follow vehicle stopped while I checked myself out quickly, then my bike. I had to open the front brake cable release to make room for the new wheel wobble, then jumped on and chased the pack which had a 30-second gap. My handlebars had a 10° angle that was no problem getting used to. I was really happy to have the 16-tooth cog on my new 11-23 cassette for this ITT effort. I caught the wheel of the guy who crashed me and recovered a minute, dodging drops of blood from his injured right arm. He faded and I could see the gap to the leaders was growing to 50 seconds or so.

Just before the right turn, 500 meters to the finish, a moto official warned me to stay far to the right. The m35+123s were bearing down for their field sprint.

I drifted across the line 34th of 59 riders. I heard back from Hans G. who said he thought his three injured teammates should be ok. Josef Lemire stayed in the hospital overnight, with extreme pain. Max Thompson has a hand fracture, and Alan Roberts left “skin on the road.”

Update

On March 12th Josef Lemire (Thirsty Bear) commented that in fact his pelvis is broken in four different places. He says he may be "done racing."

Takeaways

While the average speed of this 55+1234 race was no different from a 35/45+4 race, the dynamics were noticeably different. There were frequent and fierce disruptive attacks that caused a lot of brief surges. It took a lot of attention to monitor the action. The pack payed close attention to the gentle NW wind, hugging the left shoulder on westbound sections, and the right going the northbound. Hanging onto the attacks, the pack looked like a game of “crack the whip” as riders attempted to draw out others, then swing off to snip off a useful number by guttering the rest. I regret not being around to see how the setup for the finish played out. I’ll make sure my fitness is much better first before I get mixed up in that.

I checked in with Dan a couple of times during the race, and we both seemed to be experiencing similar degrees of fatigue, but I was really impressed with his ability to stay safe and finish well. I didn’t know Scott had been caught behind the first crash, but was relieved to see him safe afterwards.

It sounds goofy, but I was really happy with the way I rolled when I crashed. I didn’t put my arm straight out (which can be the cause of a lot of broken collar bones). Instead I tucked my head into my chest and rolled on my left shoulder and hip. I know we can’t control how we hit and sometimes it’s dumb luck, but apart from a few scrapes on my shoulder and hip, and a bit of stiffness in the shoulder and ribcage, I’m ok. I’ll true my wheels do a short recovery ride today and hope I don’t have many more falls to endure this year.

I don’t expect podium finishes very soon in races against cat 1, 2 & 3 masters, but I’m looking forward to seeing if I can finish with most of them, and learn some tricks at the same time. This season I feel a little bit like I did when I was unattached in 2014, but in a way I think it’s good to have a bit of leash as I piece together the differences in these higher level fields. I’m sure that I’ll have a teammate or two in a few road races.

Here is a video of the race, from a camera mounted on (I think) Tom Cesar's (Off the Front) bike...

Sunday/Monday Update

On Sunday, after inspecting the bike and truing the wheels, all checked out solid (even pulled the fork to inspect the carbon fiber steering tube). I still had stiffness and pain in my upper left chest/ribcage, but went for a short recovery ride to see if I could loosen up.

I felt fine while tucked into the drops, being able to put some solid power through the cranks, but the torsion that occurs when getting out of the saddle really is uncomfortable. And sleep is difficult, since the only pain-free position I can lay is flat on my back.

Monday morning I decided to get checked out. I've never cracked a rib, and I imagine the pain would be much sharper than what I'm experiencing. But I just wanted to make sure that continuing to train hard wouldn't aggravate the injury. So a short phone conversation with a Kaiser advice nurse led to a brief ER visit.

The MTB-riding ER doctor examined me and said I was welcome to an x-ray, but confirming whether a rib was fractured wouldn't change treatment recommendations. He said I could go ahead and train at whatever pain I can tolerate. So I skipped the x-ray and will just quit my whining;-).

The doctor was very interested to hear more about the body armor that our teammate Jeff Kato has found. On a MTB ride last year he hit the ground hard shattering his right hip. He's always wondered if some armor could distribute the force over a wider area, possibly reducing trauma. Here are links to some G-form armor piece:

• G-form padded compression shirt
• G-form elbow pads

Folsom Winter Criterium, Saturday Feb. 13, 2016

Master 35+ Cat 3/4

38th of 78 (you can’t get more “middle of the pack” than that)

Teammates: Jeff Kato, Long Nguyen, Jeff Bilodeau

This is a fast, totally flat, non-technical, kidney-bean-shaped course on exquisite pavement.

I did only one criterium last season, choosing to focus more on the different roles I could play in my first season of team road racing. Somehow I think it’s easier to wrap my head around specific dynamics in most road races, as in criteriums, circumstances can turn on a dime, throwing planned tactics into the blender. (does that make any sense?). Well, I’d forgotten how much FUN races like this one are.

My goals for this race were not grand ones. I told Jeff beforehand that I couldn’t guarantee that I’d be able to be in position to lead him out. Instead I chose to focus on the following:

1. Stay upright

2. Don’t injure anyone else

3. Practice moving through the pack

4. Defend my position(s)

5. Avoid riding on the front

6. If there’s a split, be in the front group

In general, I wanted to implement new and old skills to use this race as one of many early season tune-ups. And I was looking forward to the inevitable, random, successive surges that would happen. There’s no better interval training.

When Jeff says he missed the whistle, I’m not surprised. It was a pretty subtle toot, but I was clipped in and very glad I’d shifted into my 50x19 during line-up, because we were up to race speed quickly, with Long and I up around 10th wheel.

It seemed like there was a bit of a breeze in our faces on the backside of the course, yet most chose to move up on the left (windward) side anyway. I had much better success moving around and taking wheels from other riders by going up the middle and the gutter. I courteously tapped the hip of riders as I came along the gutter, and in most cases they nodded appreciatively

I usually contest all primes (those prizes are often quite good), but decided to exercise restraint since a week ago I was fighting an intestinal bug with a fever.

About halfway through the race I was approaching a good position in the pack to go for the last of the of three primes. I was still coming through the apex of the last turn as the prime winner was sprinting out of the saddle, but I went for it anyway. While I didn’t win it, I saw there was a substantial gap back to the pack. The two guys who beat me to the line were regrouping and checking over their shoulders also. I bridged up to them quickly, but before we could start a rotation, the pack roared up.

We probably had about 9 laps to go at this point. At least once or twice per remaining lap, there was an attack up the left side. I was still sheltering near the front as much as possible, with my eyes on the sides of my head and ears on the road. I almost always caught a good wheel to stick with each attack and managed several free rides, staying near the lead of these surges.

With about 4 laps to go Jeff Bilodeau went up front to string things out. I got on his wheel, though he was hammering and I wasn’t sure what good would come of it. At least it was easier to maintain position. Through the start/finish with two laps to go, Jeff is tiring. He moves left, and I drift right, then back into the pack to watch for surges and opportunities in the windup to the bell lap. It’s like a washing machine. It was better being on Jeff’s wheel! My beloved gutter is blocked with guys who are new to the experience of dancing along the uneven seam where the asphalt meets the concrete. Several riders ran off the road, up into the grass on the right.

On the final lap, I’m still boxed-in. Successful moves are going up the left side (which as Jeff mentioned, is the longer and less advantageous line around each turn). By turn three, I’m still trying to claw out of my foxhole with no success. As I’m approaching turn three, leaders are out, already sprinting for the line. I only accelerate to pick off two positions in hopes of a slight boost to my tragically unimpressive criterium ranking number.

In hindsight, I could’ve ridden much smarter. I certainly felt I had the reserve power for more surges, and had plenty left for a sprint. Through most of the race I found it pretty easy to take wheels from other riders through simple assertion. Sometimes by slightly backing my hip closer to them, and otherwise just insinuating my bike onto the wheel they wanted. Ultimately my biggest mistake was allowing myself to be boxed-in. But in all other respects, I got out of this race exactly what I wanted. I definitely feel more prepared for next weekend at Snelling.