Woodland Park MFG Race Report

Note the muddy legs, face and bike...THIS is Cyclocross

This weekend the race was the final in the MFG series. Almost down the street at Woodland Park it took less then thirty minutes from driveway to parking lot.

Joining Hottie once more was my dear mum who has been there each week and must surely be dreading the looming conclusion of Cyclocross for 2011. Joining us was my son Tim who came to cheer and observe the spectacle.

I didn’t sign up until late in the week as the MFG series is not my primary objective this year. It may well be my focus in 2012, but I’m all about SCX in 2011. I wondered if I should even bring my pit bike, the red single speed Fetish (brand) that I made from eBay deals and scrounged parts.

It bombed rain in the days leading up to the race and I was expecting a muddy mess. I put the Limus’ on the orange crusher and opted to go ahead and bring the pit bike. I knew Spinner John would get a call up and I would have to wade through riders to catch him. I was pretty confident I could beat him again and once I dropped my $20 I was all in.

I pre-rode the course and did the things you are supposed to do. I had trouble with a section and I got off my bike and walked back and did it again and again until I got it right. I also pulled off the Limus’ and went back to my Grifo-Fango combination that has worked for me so often.

The course was a perfect Cyclocross course with grassy sections, slippery muddy sections, a long power climb, twisty technical sections and off cambers. “Tires and brakes,” I told my teammate Dave, when he asked about the course.

The start was on an off camber that sloped down to the right. I was on the extreme left, so I was on the uphill side. This was by chance, but proved to be a godsend. After call-ups (which did not include Evo), they called us up by last digit in our race numbers. I was in the middle batch and slithered up an extra row. At the whistle, I took advantage of the high ground and moved up well. I was sitting just outside of the top ten and had Spinner John in my sights. I decided to just sit on him a while.

The first turn was in a greasy pile of fallen leaves. The yellows, orange and gold would have been beautiful if it weren’t for the riders with misbehaving rear wheels. I was in a group and if someone passed me, I generally passed them back to try and hold my spot.

A slippery off camber that had been a death trap in years past had some grass on it, so it was much more readable than in years past. On later laps riders, including Evo, would have rear wheels slide downhill. I kept it upright, but others did not.

I took the lap to follow the advice I had read in CX magazine, and watched where John struggled and where he did well. He was fine on the power sections, though not as strong as I expected. He fought the corners and technical sections and I knew that was where I would make my move.

Near the end of the first lap we were catching riders from the 35+ group. At a particularly slippery corner a fallen rider got up and swung his bike into my path and I found myself cartwheeling with my bike. I completed the roll like a stunt skier and was up and on in no time and in less than a minute was back on Spinner John’s wheel.

I chased him through the power sections and moved past slower 35+ riders with ease. I was on his wheel as we hit the barriers. The steep down hill that followed led to a slick left hand corner that he had slipped on during the first lap. He cut to the apex and I came in wide and took the inside as his line took him wide.

“I didn’t know you were here,” he blurted out with a tone of panic that I must confess pleased me. I moved past some women riders as the road narrowed and we approached a single file section. “Coming through,” I heard him shout behind me, followed milliseconds later by “Oh Shit…….Sorry.” His apologies continued and I worked to build a gap. At the stairs I had an Old Town rider start at the far right and end up at the far left (the course went right so I’m not sure if he was trying to chop me or was just hypoxic). I heard John grunting a fair distance behind me and I kept the gas on.

Another run up and then a long climb where, if John was going to catch me, that was the place. Going up the long climb it is a gravel road with two lines. On the left side a rider was on a mountain bike and was swerving side-to-side so much that when I passed him he hit me from the side. “Hey,” was his response. “Hold your line,” was mine. I wouldn't have gone if I had thought I couldn't fit. Unscathed I pushed on and blasted the down hill. Grabbing my brakes at the bottom I powered up the ensuing wet, leafy off camber. I could tell I was nailing the technical sections.

Being able to ride fast and brake late was a key on this course. The muddy sections between the downhill and the finish line was where riders were dropping like bricks. I kept my eyes looking ahead and rode around carnage every lap (except when I was taken down on the first lap.)

Past the finish line I started the third lap feeling strong and riding smart. I had distanced John and was ahead of the Old Town rider who would end up ninth. I rode the technical sections fast. I wasn’t following any rider in my category, but was passing riders from other groups. Blitz the road, slow for the turn.

I could hear my mom cheering. “Tear the legs off those pussys,” someone screamed. I’m not sure if that was my mom or not, but I thought that a bit vicious for a Masters race. Alas, speculation is not my gift.

I hit the stairs well and passed riders on them and the run up that followed. On the downhill that followed I tapped my brakes and my rear brake felt soft. On the pavement I looked back and my straddle cable was flying free. It must have come unhooked I thought to myself.

I considered my options and realized that I needed both brakes on the course and the best time to fix it was before the climb that was about ten seconds away. I pulled to the outside (don’t you wish everybody did?) and dismounted, grabbed the cable and and realized the cable was free because the slot it hooked into on the brake arm was missing. My brake was broke.

Riders I had passed zinged by as I stared at my bike. I was frozen. Then I got on and soft-pedaled trying to decide what to do. It was a full thirty seconds before I remembered I had a pit bike. During that time my mind had considered stopping, riding to the finish, and all manner of panicked thoughts. Why had I forgotten the pit bike?

The downhill was a different story with only a front brake. The slippery muddy turns were likewise a different adventure rear-brakeless. I hit the pit and as I approached a guy grabbed a set of wheels that weren’t mine and said, “what do you need?” “Prop my bike,” I said as I dropped the orange crusher and grabbed my single speed.

The higher pressure of the tires on the single speed was apparent as soon as I swung my leg over and pedaled. Around the corner was the finish line and I heard one to go. I had to throttle back on the corners and the rough stuff was, well, rough.

Grinding it out on the one gear wonder...

Switching from a geared bike to a single speed mid race was a shock to my quads. I tried to brake on straights and accelerating was harder when you only have one gear. I was still racing, so as Jens says, “shut up legs.”

Nobody else passed me and I clawed my way through 35+ and women riders who were getting lapped. I spotted a rider with a number from my category and I chased him and squeezed past. On a loose downhill he blitzed by and I chased him through the muddy turns and he went down just before the pits and I went around him.

Knowing he would be doing all he could to catch me I took the last corner conservatively and then raced a 35+ on the final climb as my single speed spun like crazy on the gradual uphill sprint to the line.

I figured I would have ended up eighth, and expected to be somewhere in the mid twenties as I figure I lost a good two minutes with my mechanical. To my surprise I was 16^th and Spinner John ended up 11^th. Dave F had crashed and rode a conservative race and finished a couple places behind me.

I didn’t see Spinner John after the race, but he did talk to Hottie. She he reported he was surprised I caught and passed him as he figured that without a call up I was doomed. He also confessed he was frustrated he couldn’t keep up with me on the technical sections.

I put my single speed on the roof rack and went back and collected my fallen orange warrior. I stopped by the SRAM tent and the SRAM rep told me the part that broke off (or just disappeared..) wasn’t one that was supposed to come off and therefore they didn’t sell replacements. He suggested I go to my local SRAM dealer and that they would warranty it. I stopped by Gregg’s Greenlake Bike shop and a few minutes later I walked out with a new rear brake and a smile as my bike would be fixed and my wallet was unscathed. Good job SRAM and great job Gregg’s.

I had two muddy bikes and six muddy wheels to clean when I got home. Tim was impressed by the whole event and we reminisced about mountain biking down Mt. Pillar in Kodiak Alaska this summer.

Ride down this when it's wet..

After cleaning my bike and eating dinner I was so tired I did something I almost never do. I went to be early. Way early. I went to bed at seven and got up nearly twelve hours later.

SCX #5 2011 Race Report Steilacoom part deux

The spectacle that is Northwest Cyclocross..

Friday afternoon I sent a text to Hottie saying, “I need to sleep in tomorrow.” A busy week at work and some ambitions training had left me pretty knackered. I did the full meal deal of weights on Monday, bike commute on Tuesday and Thursday. On Wednesday I ran in the morning (sans Tux this time as it was COLD), and I did a spin class on Friday harder than I meant to.

I got my wish and slept well Friday night, and last night I took full advantage of the extra hour of sleep the end of daylight savings granted me.

My motivation was waning, but at my age, good and bad habits are hard to break. Accordingly, I loaded up the war wagon and Hottie and I made the pilgrimage to the south end of Tacoma where one of my favorite courses, Steilacoom, can be found. My mum was once again in tow, and her voice would later pierce the cowbell infused din during my race.

My nemesis, spinner John, had an illness in the family and my teammate, Dave F, couldn’t make the race so I felt like I had nothing to lose. It was cold but dry (aside from some frost) so I was armed with file treads on the front of my machine. The sun was bright, so despite temperatures in the thirties, I was going with long sleeves, bare legs and even skipped the embrocation.

The top two guys in our category were upgraded during the week, so if I repeated my placing from last week, I’d squeak into the top ten. The venue was the same, but the course was different than it was a few weeks ago when I had my last top ten finish (same course, just backwards - but the same amount of climbing and intimidating descents).

With the top two guys (and Dave F) out, I got a front row call up. This time the course had a hundred and fifty meters of asphalt, so I wanted to get a fast start to avoid any “incidents.”

Evo hitting the first corner..

At the whistle, I drilled it to the first corner and was sitting about fifth, then some jockeying through some grassy turns and I lost, and then picked up positions. A loose gravel corner took us onto a long paved climb. I felt good, but tried to keep it real as this was supposed to be a four-lap race. Some single-track rollers and then three barriers on an uphill and I was still sitting about sixth or seventh. I tried to keep my feet moving fast and gained some ground.

This year; for the first time in my Cyclocross life, I have my brakes dialed in. The other change this year is bar top brakes. These gave me the confidence to pedal hard and bomb down the loose dirt downhill. More loose gravel led to a series of S-curves under monster oak trees where we made our way through the fallen leaves.

A long climb on loose gravel had just one line unless you really wanted to increase your workload. I held my spot and passed a guy as we turned at the top. We went around a water tower and began a curvy downhill that tests your nerve, your bike handling and your brakes, in that order. I pushed again and on the final curve grabbed my brakes and began the long flat trail back to the grasslands. Two guys nabbed me and when we entered the grass section there were five leaders and I was one of two chasers, with a big gap to everyone else.

Lap one, this is how we were...

I tried to ride the grass smart and took wide lines to keep my speed; I kept my weight low and was in the drops pushing it. We heard two laps to go, so our race would be three laps. Hmmm.

I picked up a spot before the paved climb and held it to the top. I was sitting sixth and passed a guy for fifth on the loose descent. As we hit the grass I was in sight of the first four and the guy I had passed was on my wheel. I heard the announcer say we would AGAIN hear two to go and tried to readjust my head to do two more laps instead of one more.

We passed the finish line and I heard my name as sitting fifth. Way to go Evo!

“Ride Smart Evo,” I told myself. Ride good turns, relaxed shoulders, and breath deep, keep it together. I heard my name and smiled as I realized that a lot of these folks know me and were cheering me on. As we closed on the fourth place rider, a Blue Rooster rider who always beats me, he slid out and we went around him. I expected him to catch back on, but we weren’t going to wait.

On the climb we put more space between us and the rest of the field. I had faded in a couple races earlier this year and was determined to try hard to hold my spot. I tried something different and remounted and rode just past the uphill barriers rather than running the fifty meters to the highpoint. I took that speed into the downhill and was well through the oak tree chicane when I saw places six and on.

I was trading places with a rider named Earl Zimmerman and with one lap to go he had about three seconds on me.

Evo stalking Earl..

We were catching riders and if I had been thinking, I would have thought about where passing would be a challenge and adjusted my effort accordingly. As it was, each time we entered a tricky single-rider-wide section, Earl was just ahead of a lapped rider and I was behind that same rider. I lost time before the uphill barriers. I worked the downhill and final climb and made up a lot on the downhill. Then a section of single track leading to the grass and I was behind (and cheering on) a lapped woman who offered me an inside line when it became available.

At the first grassy hairpin, I was a good five seconds down, but when I was on the other side, I realized I had an even bigger gap on the sixth place rider. I kept pushing but so did Earl. Over the last barrier and onto the asphalt finishing straightaway I was in the drops drilling it; taking no chances. Earl rode it to the line and so did I. He got me by four seconds, and I had over twenty on the sixth place rider; the Blue Rooster guy that I hadn’t beaten before.

Fifth place. I’ll be hard to live with all week.

Bike Commuting update

Why Bike commute even when the weather turns cold ?

You get to ride through a lot of leaves. That is pretty cool..

In the photo above, you see there is a bike lane. There are a few stretches that have bike lanes.

Of course a bike lane isn't a real bike lane unless you see this sign:

I used to get upset with bike lanes that seemed to start and end almost at random. I'm not a "Gamer," but I did hear a report on NPR when a new version of "Portal" came out.

It seems Portal is a game where you find doors or "Portals" from one scene to another. Now on my commute I just pretend I'm playing Portal and when the bike lane ends, I just think of it as a window into a new world that doesn't have bike lanes.

I do try to be a good bike citizen. Speaking of bike citizenship, Hottie and I attended a Bike Alliance fundraiser and helped the cause. It does kind of make me wonder why, when bikers make a statement in public, instead of saying something like, "We're bikers and we're just like you," we send a message more like, "We're bikers and we're gonna ride naked with funky body paint like the weed smoking punks you would CHOOSE to run over if you could."

One consolation is that when you ride in cold weather you get to do TONS of laundry..

For an added bonus, I hang most of my washed bike clothing to dry. This means the hallway around the laundry zone is kind of an obstacle course that must be negotiated with limbo-like moves or you get a piece (albeit a clean piece) of bike laundry on you.

Douze SCX #4 2011 Race Report

A Mud Sandwich

Steve 22nd, Evo 12th, Dave F 14th in the slow old guy category

Mud was promised and mud delivered. A slippery run up, lots of greasy corners. Strength sapping soggy grass. It was all there.

My treat was that my daughter and Kyson came to watch along with Hottie and my mum. I had fans galore. It was Kyson's first cross event and he was initiated in soggy Northwest style.

Grandpa is number......one

It was a tough course. Grassy, but really wet turns to start. Then onto a muddy bog which could be ridden, but running was faster. Either way you then hit a run up where I went from tenth to third on the first lap. I do like the run ups.

Then a short grassy section leading to single track that was a muddy rut-fest. If you kept your mo(mentum), you could ride it. Then a slick downhill that was a matter of getting comfortable not being in total control. Then, just as you exhale thinking you are out of it, you round a tree and hit s short steep, and loose, uphill followed by a long steady climb that was just like putting your legs in a vice and letting it hurt you. The climb was there to suck whatever life was left in you...out of you.

When I turned at the top and saw my chasers climbing, I tried to look relaxed like I was in control. I was in fact thinking my heart was about to blow out of my chest. You had to really concentrate as there was a Z turn with a padded post as the penalty for not making the final turn.

Then we had to go around a baseball field and the terrain past the outfield was a swamp. It could be ridden, but I was passing guys when I ran, so I ran it each time. I pushed hard and threw my bike down and started pedaling.

But wait, there was more.

You spilled onto a short cement section, and then you power into a long off camber where you try not to lose altitude. Then a slight climb, and more mud and grass turns. A couple barriers to remind you this isn't hell, it is Cyclocross baby. More technical turns were followed by a long grassy straight, and then through a barn (which is always fun) and finally loose gravel spills onto grass, and you make the corner and then pass the finish line and do it all again....

You almost recover on the grass when you hit the mud, and the run up and then you are once again getting cross eyed.

I was hanging about tenth and saw my nemesis, Spinner John not far behind. He make a lot of noise when he races. So much noise in fact, that after this race I considered changing his moniker to Grunting John. I could hear him struggling behind me and I kept pushing. On the long suffering uphill I noted my gap to he and Dave F. I pushed the second lap. On the third lap I was toast and made some tactical mistakes. A wrong line here and there and I was losing time.

I fought my way up the run up and tried to clear my head and ride smarter. I still had a gap on the suffering uphill, but I couldn't let up or I would get eaten up. I was still struggling and when I hit the swamp by the baseball field, I ran like my High School Cross Country Coach, Coach Berk was telling me to run harder.

On the grass I knew my heart rate was maxed and I tried to keep from exploding. The barriers were okay, but I was caught by a guy in the soggy grass approaching the barn. I looked behind and knew nobody else (Spinner John) was going to catch me. I tried to hold this guys wheel, but he got a gap.

I closed a little at the barn and as we approached the final turn I was gaining fast. I tried to go around him on the right and he swung right, I cut left, and the bastard started to go left. I dug deep but lost it by a wheel at the line. A post race check of the Garmin would revel two things, my heart rate was maxed plus three, and I was going 24+mph at the line. We had to clamp down hard on our brakes to keep from crashing as the course turned not far past the finish line.

I was twelfth on the day and Spinner John came in a distant thirteenth and Dave F fourteenth.

It took a good while to catch my breath.

Kyson enjoyed himself. As did his mama. I am pretty darn lucky as most guys in my age group don't have any fans and I almost always have Hottie cheering (and taking photos). This season my mum has made the almost weekly pilgrimage to witness the spectacle of Northwest Cyclocross.

Queretaro

Business trip to Queretaro, Mexico. The reason for the specific destination is a long story that isn't all that interesting, so just enjoy the photos and my sarcastic remarks...

Me, the plane, and ground support equipment. For those of us in the industry, we call that stuff "GSE." Yep, engineers are a creative bunch.

Rainier was looking sweet. I wanted to ask the pilot to circle around so the light would be better, but I figured he would decline my request.

The sun went down before I made it to Queretaro

This was the view from my Hotel room looking southwest

This was the view....... well, you can figure it out.

I am glad they Esterilizado'd the throne in anticipation of my arrival.

The view with sunshine

The courtyard where our conference was

An Aquaduct that is way old. The taxi driver spoke more English than I spoke Spanish, but that was all I could get from him about this. Google it if you care..

Just moments after I was lamenting that there wasn't a word of English anywhere I finally saw an English word I recognized, "Corona." I felt right at home...

This was a zoo we passed at seventy miles an hour..

This was my final dinner in Mexico. Hottie asked if it was Mexican food. It was food, and it was in Mexico, so I guess by default it must have been Mexican food. It tasted wonderful.

The midwest is still....

The midwest is still the midwest...

All Hotel rooms look the same in the dark.

- Tom Bodett

Yeah, but they don't all smell the same.

-Zach (son of Evo)

I mentioned a hectic trip last week. Home to Minnesota, to Wisconsin to Illinois to Kansas back to Illinois, drive to Wisconsin, then back to Illinois and then, after some Chicago deep dish pizza, back home.

This is my noses eye view of my knees inflight.

We did see some fun people on the road...

While nice hotel rooms are much better than poor ones, they still aren't home. Late night arrivals, getting up in time to work out, eat breakfast and be in someone's office by eight..

When I got home I passed this guy on the road. At first I thought he was a dick. It turns out he was just a wiener.

Race Report SCX #3 Silver Lake 2011

After a week of epic business travel (six flights, four shuttles, three cars, four hotels, four hundred car miles) my eye lids were heavy, but my legs were fresh. The course had two main features, technical turns (often at the bottom of steep downhills), but what everyone was talking about; sand, sand sand.

At the whistle we tore off and all sixty of us hit the sand. More than a few tumbled and it was a mess as the survivors raced through the carnage and across the beach. A barrier forced all to run a short uphill and the traffic forced me to the side and I made up more than a few spots that I had lost at the start.

Then we hit some power sections before dropping down. "Let it go Evo," I thought as I let it run and then I squeezed the brakes hard at the last possible second. I made the corner and climbed hard and fought it out before entering the sand heading in the opposite direction.

I rode the sand well. There was a patch at the end of the sand that was essentially unridable. Almost everyone tried and stalled and once they lost all momentum, they bailed and ran. I jumped off early and blitzed it every time.

The technical sections were fun. Steep downhills with sharp corners at the bottom and a loose climb immediately following one of them. The downhills gave you a moment for your heart rate to drop a few beats before attacking the next climb.

Then it was onto the sand again for the second lap. I rode the whole enchilada the second time though. Weight distribution was key and pedaling like a machine seemed to help as well. At the beginning of the third lap we were catching lapped riders.

I felt my brakes and tires were well suited to the course and I took full advantage. On the last lap we were all gassed and lapped riders forced all to run most of the sand. I was dueling a guy named "Pete" and people were cheering him all over the course. I felt like I was racing the Pope. I had a chance to pass on a steep climb and thought I would hold off and make my move closer to the finish. Some traffic on the loose climb split us and I didn't have another chance. Lesson learned: On the last lap, if you see a chance, TAKE IT.

I finished eleventh, but more importantly, I beat my nemesis Spinner John, who had been stalking me and wanted to beat me more than life itself. My teammate Dave F, took sixth on the day and is sitting sixth in the series. He rode the sand very well. I am sitting ninth in the series and am darn happy with that.