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.

TOP TEN

Whilst driving to today’s race my son called from Russia. It was good to hear from him. He had some secret squirrel stuff in the states this week and he said he took the opportunity to buy twelve jars of peanut butter and took them back in his suitcase. When he asked how my season was going I told him I hadn’t had my breakthrough race yet and that maybe today was the day.

It was.

Yesterday was sunny and dry. They promised rain overnight and they delivered. The rain had almost completely tapered off when Hottie and I rolled south in the fully loaded war wagon. It got wetter and darker the further south we went.

The course was a combination of wet grass and dry-ish dirt. Both were getting rutted and guys were slipping even during warm ups. Despite my poor performance in the first race in the series I got a second row call up. I wasn’t feeling fast and while waiting for the start I looked behind me and imagined all of the guys behind me passing me. We had almost 60 racers in my category.

At the gun I tried to stay about tenth. After a couple fast straights we had the grass zigzags that Steilacom is famous for. I had the right tire pressure and I relaxed and rode them well, defending my position. I thought to myself, “Man I’m relaxed and not cooking myself now.”

The other things Steilacom is famous for is the climbing. A long steady climb and I threaded my way up to about seventh. I passed Dave Farrell on my team as he was cranking a big gear and it wasn’t working for him.

I kept it going and on a loose gravel road downhill I hit 25 miles per hour. Then around trees and another climb. I leaned back and let it go on a choppy downhill that led to a paved road where I again topped 20 mph. I grabbed the brakes hard and they slowed me better than I was expecting. A couple of loose corners and a second set of barriers, and I was back to the start finish line.

I held my position the whole second lap and we just stretched out. The switchbacks gave me a chance to see who was around me. I had two guys chasing me and I kept pushing. A light mist had turned into a steady rain and my glasses fogged up, so I pulled them off and stuck them in my jersey.

On the last lap I noted one of my group putting his chain back on and he jumped back in right ahead of me. I followed him and we were working our way through the lapped riders. With the long climb almost done I spotted my nemesis from last year, Francisco Pons, looking at his bike in disbelief. After the race he would show me his sideways derailleur and shrug his shoulders. I felt guilty, but I picked up another place. Coolness.

I was sitting eighth and had guys chasing me. I got out of the saddle and pounded it up the last climb and turned and put on the power. Down on the grass with only a couple turns and the barriers to the finish line, Dave Farrell caught me. I had been pushing and was shocked anyone caught me. I bobbled a corner and Dave had enough of a gap and he took eighth and I got ninth.

My first top ten and they haven‘t upgraded anybody yet...

Tired body and semi race report MFG #3

Does anyone work as hard to be mediocre as I do?

Weights twice a week. Fifty plus miles of bike commuting each week, some of it is pretty darn fast as well. Intervals. Spin class. Core work. Weight loss. Improved results? Not really.

To be fair, I haven't been a hundred percent. In fact I have so many parts of my body that are less than a hundred percent I can no longer do the math in my head. Still I am soldiering on and hoping for improvement.

Tonight I have aches in my knee (both knees now), low back, quads, shoulder blade, neck and hamstrings. I pushed hard on a couple parts of my commute home and I'm paying for it.

Each time I take a shower I discover a new scrape or bruise. I know how I got the cut on my left ankle, but how about the long scratch on my right calf? I don't so much mind having the cuts and bruises, but that fact that they keep surprising me makes me feel like I am putting on someone else's clothes and finding a tear in the shirt.

Let's hope the coming races bring some success. I could use it.

Of note is that in last weeks race I started in the second row and thanks to some wide parts of the course I was able to move up. Half way through the first lap I passed a guy and looked up and there was a monster gap to the leaders. I just kept plugging as I could hear Spinner John chasing me and he was absolutely suffering. I could hear him fighting in corners and getting tangled with riders, tress and tape. How did I know this about someone who was behind me you may ask? John talks out loud as he races and his grunts and groans are broadcast for all to enjoy (or not). Soon we caught the tail end of the 35 year olds and when we completed the first lap the announcer called out that I was leading the 45 plus group. I realized that when I had seen the big gap, I had taken over the lead.

I kept the gas on and lost a couple places on the second lap, but still felt good. Near the end of the second lap I came out of a corner and got out of the saddle to attack and when I cranked, the power spun out my rear wheel and I slid out and hit hard on my side. I got up and in the blink of an eye I lost five more places.

We were now in the thick of the 35 year olds and passing wasn't easy. My dear mom was out ringing a cowbell and cheering me on. For some reason I have been able to hear her voice cheering me through a crowd since I was a kid. My early effort caught up to me as did my sore back and bruised knee/quad combo. One of my teammates passed me and I cheered him on. The thought of putting out more effort to stay with him seemed impossible and I just hung on. I did out sprint a guy in the end and my overall place was better than last week, so I shouldn't complain, but I guess I just did.

Inside ! Race Report SCX #1 2011

I was about fifth going into the first corner. After a half a lap I was sitting top ten and feeling solid. The course suited me, it was a combo of tight turns and open straights. In the first set of tight turns I heard someone next to me call, "inside."

In all my years of racing when someone says, "inside, outside, on your left, etc," I nearly always give some room and appreciate the heads up. I guess for this fella, "inside," means I'm cutting inside and using your body as a berm and pushing off. I'm a big camper and this guy drills me to the outside and tosses his body into me like I've stolen food from his children.

Next thing I know I'm on my ass with an orange bike bouncing on top of me. I rolled and was up and remounting as five guys passed me. If I had a yellow card I would have used it.

My left knee hurt and I looked down and didn't see any blood. I drilled it for a minute and was back in the mix.

As the laps added up, my left quad was hurting, and while I didn't think it was slowing me, it was. I finished in the high teens and my nemesis passed me with one lap to go and I couldn't match the power output. After the finish I was cooked. I am satisfied with my place considering the places lost as well as the injury.

The first aid tent cleaned up a scrape and gave me an ice pack for my knee. My doctor was also racing and I asked him how to treat it. He said ice and Aleve. Then he added, this will be bothering you for months.

It feels good to be racing.

The red badges of courage

Scott's legs, post-race

I’ve only done one race and I already have scrapes on both legs. Nothing big or gross, but a couple scrapes of unknown origin. On my right calf there are two lines that are about 5.9mm apart. Since a bike chain is exactly 5.9mm wide, I am guessing the source. When it happened; I have no idea. On my left knee there is a red scrape with an equally dubious pedigree.

My right shoulder had a spot that was tender, and as I was wondering, “what the heck…” I realized it was a bruise from my top tube when I was shouldering the bike running through the never ending sand pit of despair at Lake Sammamish last weekend.

They say that if you like suffering, bike racing is the perfect sport for you. I don’t look forward to getting cuts and scrapes, and my feelings about really suffering are mixed at best. Yet the satisfaction of succeeding at something that is hard is very rewarding. The visible mementos that you get for going to battle tell a story that many are proud to share.

The weather forecast is for possible showers on Sunday. The current chance of rain is 60%. I would not mind if it was dry enough for me to employ my file treads and gain a slight advantage over my nemesis. Historically I have not done well on this course, but history is just history. My only win was on a flat grass course. Hmmm. Stay tuned.

That’s it ?

Like a game show contestant with a parting gift I could not believe my eyes.. – Bare Naked Ladies

Aside from a handful of borrowed moments I feel summer completely missed us this time around. I have little compassion for people who decide to live below airport runways and then complain about the noise. We do live in Seattle, so it can’t be a total surprise; but as far as warm weather goes, this so called “summer” just sucked.

Summer usually starts the weekend after July 4^th and ends just before the elite men race in Starcrossed. This year summer began Labor Day weekend and appeared to end right on time the evening of Starcrossed, September 17^th. Thirteen days is not the length of summer we dream of around here.

Despite the cool summer I am adjusting to the idea of Cyclocross, sweaters and darkness. Thursday morning I rode to work with a light rain kissing my face. I was warm enough and didn’t push at all and had a pleasant journey. For those of you keeping track, I set a record on my homeward commute last Tuesday with an average pace of 19.8 mph. I don’t plan on challenging that until next spring.

I am still wondering if I am sitting on good form or not. We will find out Sunday. My prediction is that I will be in my usual early season ‘teen finishing position. I said it out loud and I will confess the result after my race in this blog.

A bright spot is that I never actually put pen to paper to make a summer projects list. If I had made such a list, I would be reporting another dismal showing. I never made a list, so no points get deducted.

One of your Teammates...

In addition to competing in my race this weekend, I was spectating and cheering during every other race as well. I was wearing my team jacket, so I was easily identified. In one of the other races I had three teammates competing. As the racers went past us on the first lap, a competitor from another team, who was at the back of the pack said to me, “One of your teammates is a douche bag.”

I knew the three guys competing in that race very well and each one is the kind of guy to stop on the side of the road and help a stranger change a flat tire. I also knew they were each experienced racers who knew the rules and etiquette of cyclocross. I didn’t feel any “us versus them” emotions, but instead thought, “You must have really screwed up to be blaming one of those guys.”

While I do subscribe to the whole autonomy and affiliation needs theory, I think my team does have a defining trait; character. I feel honored to claim these guys as my team and hope they feel the same about me. There are no little league parents screaming at their kids to win at all costs. We don’t win a lot of races, but we do compete and we do have fun. At all times we strive to respect the sport and others.

When someone wearing our colors rode too close to a pedestrian last summer our president received a phone call. He promptly communicated to the whole team a reminder to honor the Maglia Bruno and remember that when you do you represent the entire team.

A post-race email exchange confirmed my belief. There had been a crash at the first corner and our rider was where he was supposed to be, and the other rider was out of control and paid the price with epidermal currency.

I understand crashes, and I understand excitement and adrenalin, so the emotional reaction is easily explained. Besides, if you don’t think we are a bunch of nice guys and gals, we will find where you park at night and slice your tires.