1/2, 3, Go

Photo by John Glass

9.26/9.27.09 Fall Fling Criterium and Road Race (ABR)
Cat. 3 / 8th and 6th, respectively (if not respectably)

Criterium:
Smaller fields meant that Categories 1, 2, and 3 would be combined, which in turn meant that I was hoping no 1's and 2's would show up. No such luck. Rolling up to the start line next to guys I've been watching in awe for the past couple years was a bit surreal and slightly intimidating. Nevertheless, while I can't hold a candle to them, I have to admit it felt pretty cool lining up with some of the All-Stars from Geargrinder and ABD (you know, the guys whose names appear in bold print on Chicago Bike Racing all season long). I wonder if it's poor form to ask for autographs in the middle of a race? I relished the moment because I was confident (and quickly proven correct) that I would not be racing with some of them for very long. The race itself wasn't overly compelling, especially for me. I sat in and did my best to go as fast as everyone around me, knowing full well that any time spent chasing or attempting breakaways might result in me going down in a blaze of glory (or a pathetic fizzle, depending on how dramatically you like to consider such things). So I conserved as much energy as possible for the sprint, hoping that would finally be my time to shine. It wasn't. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure you're supposed to go faster during the sprint - not the other way around. I wish I had a better excuse than just sheer mediocrity to account for my average finish, but I can't think of a good one.

Road Race:
The State Road Race Championship a couple weeks ago was 50 miles and it nearly killed me. This one was 60 miles with another combined 1/2 and 3 field, so it wasn't at all difficult hiding my excitement. After the first few laps I had the conscious thought that 'if this pace continues, there is no possible chance I am going to be finishing this race.' Fortunately, after the breaks were established and gone, our group (3rd group/14 or so riders) settled into a more agreeable (and perhaps even sustainable?) pace. Predictably, right around the 50 mile point my legs started wanting to cramp, adding a touch of agony to an already grueling day. My thought at that point, however, was 'well at least I'll only have a few miles to ride by myself when these guys start winding things up for the last lap,' recognizing that I had little left except the simple determination to finish. Thankfully, I was able to fend off cramps and survive to the end with the group, which had slowly dwindled to 6 or 7. I couldn't help but wonder if the unusually slow and cordial finish was a show of camaraderie or simply a display of pure exhaustion. Judging by appearances afterward, it was a tough day for most.

Side Note:
Throwing my empty water bottle was a trivial but meaningful highlight of the road race. I mean, really, is there anything more PRO than tossing an empty bottle to the side of the road? Again, I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure there is some sort of transcendent transformation that takes place once you've done this - an arrival of sorts as a true bike racer. The only difference, I suppose, is that when pros do it they probably aren't thinking, "Man I hope nobody walks off with that bottle, I really need that back..."

Riding Up Grades

Photo by Gavin Gould

9.12.09 IL State Road Race Championships
Cat. 3 / 14th

The great Eddy Merckx once said, "Don't buy upgrades; Ride up grades." And that's exactly what we did this past weekend at the State Road Race Championships.

The last time I did a 50 mile road race I got dropped off the back 20 miles in and spent the remaining 30 miles daydreaming about what it might be like to still be in the race. And though I'm sure it built lots of character or whatever, I wasn't hoping for a repeat of that humbling experience. With a good bit of mileage and racing in my legs since then, I felt pretty confident that I could at least ride with the pack and maybe even mix it up in the uphill finish - if we stayed together. I was a bit anxious at the outset that a break might get away because as much as I'd love to be in it, I have enough self-awareness to know that me in a break would almost certainly end poorly (likely involving daydreaming again). And so, as the only represented member of my club and already feeling apprehensive about the distance, I was content to sit in and enjoy the ride. I would gladly let the big teams control the front and play out their strategies while I sit back like a newbie idiot trying to figure out how to eat my first Gu without getting it all over my gloves. Mission accomplished.

To my relief, it quickly became apparent that we were probably going to stay together. Save for a tricky section of climbing, the course was too fast and the pack too hungry to let anything escape. The mile-long stretch of climbs also turned out to be the best place to move up - as the only portion of the route that opened up to two lanes. My simple strategy was pretty straightforward: Move up on the climbs and conserve energy the other 9 miles. Resembling a spirited game of "Chutes and Ladders," the plan worked out nicely. I started the race at the back and by the final lap was sitting somewhere in the top 15 or 20. I knew positioning wouldn't necessarily make or break the race as the finishing stretch was wide open, but I didn't want to risk getting boxed in or end up in a wreck. Nevertheless, I was in perfect position to unleash my fury on the final climb and make everyone feel the pain. As I stood to stomp up the last hill on my way to sure victory though, the only one who felt the pain was me. Cramps shot like lightning through both legs as my body protested the past 50 miles of abuse. Left quad, right hamstring, both calves...I wasn't even sure which muscles were still available to get me up the hill. My slow motion sprint was a study in concentration as I focused all of my remaining energy on willing my legs to continue in circles to the line. Which they did, barely. I coasted slowly through the finish line standing straight up (super cool) in a final, desperate effort to keep my legs from seizing up completely and tipping over (not cool). Thoroughly and utterly destroyed - nearly as dead as the possum I dodged each time up the hill.

Despite my legs' non-compliance, it was truly a great race on a great course and provided a welcome contrast to the ill-controlled chaos (crits) that is the majority of our race offerings in this area. Just wait 'til next year - I'm going to pack an extra Gu. Then they will feel the pain...

The Man, the Myth, the Legend

Jeremy Powers.

Proving once and for all that you don't have to win to be the hero of the race.

Tour of Missouri

9.7.09
A few highlights from the trip...
(All photos by Gary "Schleck" Anderson)

Jens Voigt getting his pre-race caffeine fix


Jonathan Vaughters finalizing his race strategy. Gives us the thumbs-up after my dad says, "Good luck today, J.V."


Floyd Landis apparently hoping not to get beat up as he is escorted by his bodyguard.


#1 for the defending champion, Christian Vande Velde...who went home after crashing in the first stage. XXX'er Tom Briney representing in the background.


The "God of Thunder" on his way to the team area. Incidentally, Thor Hushovd is the only pro who appears to be built like me. In other words, he looks relatively fat compared to the rest of the emaciated pros who look like they haven't had a decent meal in several years.


"Big" George Hincapie rolls out!


Cavendish, J.J. Haedo, and Hushovd go 1-2-3 at the opening stage in St. Louis.

The biggest highlight, of course, deserves a post all its own...

Addendum

My unabashed admiration for the Jelly Belly rider who gave us "That Ain't Gatorade" prompted further inquiry into the matter. So I searched out several guys from the race and offered them all the same bait:

So and so,
A friend and I were amazed to see a Jelly Belly rider at Downers Grove piss in a water bottle and throw it to the side of the road. It was one of the most incredible acts of agility on a bicycle we've ever witnessed. Any idea who it was?? I'd love to know so I can give him full credit. I blogged about it on my site. Thanks.

The next day I got my answer:

Hey buddy, That was a great, well written funny ass article you wrote! OFF THE RECORD it was me, but I'm not sure I want people thinking of me as R.Kelly...

Finally, no more sleepless nights. Unfortunately, due to my unwavering journalistic integrity, I am the only one who will ever know the identity of the peeing professional. Rest assured, however, the next time I see him I will let him know that everyone who read the post agreed he truly has remarkable Powers...