Thursday, June 29, 2006

Mt. Tabor Series #4 6/28/6

I just had my spirits boosted enough by track tonight to type about road last night… so here it is:

Last night sucked. I almost didn’t race because I just had a bad feeling and didn’t feel like shelling out the $15 to jump into a race about which I had a bad feeling. (BTW: has anybody else ever realized what a rip this race is? If you get third in the Pro/1/2’s, not that I could, you don’t even break even. If you win the series, as in top-step-on-the-podium-for-all-to-see-that-everyone-in-Portland-is-weak-compared-to-you, you get a ribbon. Gee, thanks! Is this donation to RCB tax deductible?)

So, I get in there, sit in for 5 laps and then puncture my brand new Schwalbe tubie: out $75 and down a lap. I borrow a wheel from the very generous Mike Hilbrandt, and get back in just to try and help Molly any way I can.

What that came down to was trying to lead her out for the sprint for 3rd (a strong break was long gone). Then, on the bell lap, I drill it at the top of the hill to pull ‘er around the reservoir, and look to see she’s not on my wheel. Turns out I was giving her the lead out that I had wanted from her a week prior, and what she wanted out of me was the lead out that she had given me then. We’re two different sprinters. I’m learning… Anyways, the effort was completely futile.

And then I go to return the wheel to the very generous Mike Hilbrandt, and the mf’s flat: a Vittoria EVO CX tubie. Down another $80, and for nothing at all. Goddamn this is an expensive sport! Okay, okay, let’s see the positive… there’s got to be a positive side to all this…

Oh yeah, here you go: in my time alone as I got back into the race on a new wheel, I won an unofficial prime at the crest of the hill, where a renegade group of pink crazies, who will remain anonymous, were providing prizes out of their own stash of goodies. This was not the type of prime you go and collect later--they handed it up to me as I went by: the December 1986 Playboy. Well worn, too. I had to carry it around, but at least I had some reading material while waiting for Molly’s group to catch me.

Alpenrose Thurs. 6/29/6

Again, I didn’t feel like racing… what’s wrong with me? I got it together to ride to the track and just see how I felt. I got there and Candi says, “There’s already 20 something 3’s. You want to race with the 1/2’s?” Me: “If I can hang with them, can I be a 2?” Her: “Okay.” Me: “Yesssss.” Now my day had a purpose…

Miss and Out: I’m not sure I like this race. Jockeying for position is not a matter of asking. It’s insisting. It’s kind of gnarly. Anyways, I rode, I think, a smart race, expending a lot of energy to not get clipped; and choosing breaking a lot of wind over risking a miss. It worked, because I lasted until it was me, Steve and Taylor. I knew that was all I could ask for. And when they went… yikes.

Tempo: I got out there, attacked early in the 4th lap, aiming as I often do to simply avoid the shutout, took the points and then I realized that they had given me enough room that I could take some more. I dug deep and stayed out for a few more laps. When I came back in, don’t tell anybody, but I almost couldn’t stay with the group. That elastic was straining bigtime. Whoops. But I held that wheel (digging way deep) and I recovered to take a few more points later en route to another 3rd.

Points race: raced pretty smart, I think, for a relatively uneventful 3rd.

So, what happens when you get 3rd three times in a row behind the same two thoroughbreds? You get 3rd. Nice. And in this case, you go home a Cat 2.

Oh, and by the way, I raced Tabor in my short sleeves last night and, well, you know the story. I am now racing either in my skinsuit or not at all... and I'm changing my blog's name to honor my lucky kit.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

State Games of Oregon Track 5/25/6

First, let me say that this race isn't as big a deal as its name makes it sound. There were six Cat 3 men in my field. I was here for some upgrade points and I got 'em.

Coker messed up and I won. That's the story. In the first race, an unknown distance, I set up right where I wanted to be: on his wheel. No tactical mistake, here. He went, I went with him and he straight up beat me to the line. I didn't have the legs to come around him. I figured that's how the rest of my day would go.

In the second race, a miss and out, he and I were near the back at the beginning. I even jokingly threatened to box him in and get him caught in back. On the second elimination (I didn't do it--I was way up track), it happened for real. I still haven't decided whether it was unsportsman-like or not, but when I heard "Aaron Coker" from the announcer, I "yippee!"'d quite audibly. I was excited. He wasn't pissed, except at himself. He blew it and he knew it. I went on to win the event.

In the third race, a progressive points race, everybody had apparently decided that I was out of reach, because I jumped out front and took the third sprint just to get on the board (objective #1 was to not get shut out, or else I could be overtaken in the overall), and they let me go. I cruised around the track and got enough points to clinch the victory. And then I got my ass of the way to let them duke out 2nd place. Aaron got it.

So, I got some upgrade points, a gift certificate and a medal.

It turned out to be a good thing, I think, that they didn't combine the fields today. Before the race, while it was still a possibility, Beardsley strolled by and said, with a friendly smile, something along the lines of "lotta orange here today, Mark." Molly? When’re you racing track again?

Friday, June 23, 2006

Alpenrose Thurs. Series 6/22/6

I felt just like a crap sandwich this morning. Worse than usual. Sulked around and drank coffee. Almost didn’t race. I got it together to just ride out with Molly and Tony. We got there and I decided to race. After an hour of sitting in the grass and sun with a Diet Pepsi, just looking at all the beautiful people and all the beautiful bikes, I was suddenly ready to rock. The best part: they combined the 3’s (me) with the Senior category, so it was on. I’m always eager to race against the fastest people the officials will allow me to.

So: 80-lap points race. I played it cowardly at the back for a while and then Molly and Steve flew. That was my motivation for getting involved. I shot up to the front to oversee the pace, not that those two needed any help getting around us. Once they finished lapping us, I flirted with going myself for a while and then had an opportunity to go and probably have Zac come with me. And then we were gone. We made up the first half lap in no time and then started hovering. He was hurting. I started taking longer pulls. I cracked the whip verbally a couple times, but he was dying. So I left him to the wolves. It’s like that joke about the bear chasing the hikers. (Tho he didn’t get around, Zac ate up so many points while in exile that he still got 4th). I got back on and had gotten some good points while away, too. Molly and I started trying to eat points. I kept trying to stay ahead of Steve in sprints, and had occasional success. I may have been wearing him out a bit, too, in retrospect. All the while, James was unflinchingly attacking and eating points. You know what you get to do when your teammates attack? You get to rest. Yes. So, I was waiting for a new break to get involved with, when none other than the Mighty Molly Cameron went. I got on. I thought it was stupid, cause we’re teammates currently placed 2-3 and I thought nobody would stand for it, but I did it anyways. And then, they let us go. Hmm. Rather than catch the group and let Steve beat us in the last sprint (double points), we hovered behind, eating up points. Molly wanted me to win so I could upgrade, but we sadly couldn’t afford it. Even though she gave me all the remaining sprints, she still won, with me taking second. Still damn good. Damn good. Yes. YES. Molly rejoiced later over having outnumbered the opposition for maybe her first time ever. Up Velo.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Mt. Tabor Series #3 6/21/6

Holy crap it wasn’t a fluke? I got 6th again. It’s not like I’m winning, but against these guys 6th kind of feels like it.

So, compared to going up that damn hill 15 times at 22 mph, I feel like the wind is practically a non-issue in this race. So, I’m not shy about spending time up front, trying to be proactive about how my race plays out instead of just being a passenger on the bus. But when the three strongest guys in the race go up the road… um, what can be done? When that happens, my proactivity starts looking a lot like this “waste of energy” that Molly’s always scolding me for. But, what? Now do we just let them lap us? I have a lot to learn. I’m clearly missing some point somewhere.

A bright spot in this shindig: this bridge I did. I haven’t done that in forever. Molly was up front, and the single-file pack kicked into this big acceleration starting the descent, so I let a little gap open in front of me, nobody came around, and suddenly the front half of the pack was just gone. A lap later, I was getting the feeling that nobody still with me was ever going to do anything about it, so when we crested the hill next, I peaced those guys out and took off. It was super fun to attack and go that fast for half a lap, just absolutely flying. I love bikes. When your approach to that bend at the bottom is best described as ‘diving into the turn’, you know yer freaking movin’. I think that gap turned out to be permanent, too.

Monday, June 19, 2006

Masters PIR 2/19/6

22 laps of a 2 mile flat course with the 1/2/3’s that are 30 or older.

Super boring. And not good, either. I rode near the front and filled gaps just to try to keep it together, thinking I know how to sprint. Then I set up poorly for the first prime and lost it. With a subsequent break off the front, I wasn’t taking pulls very generously and a guy from HFV (Saul) gave me some grief, so I pulled through a couple times like a good sport and then noticed that he wasn’t pulling through. So I went back to him, asked him where he was and glued myself to his wheel for about half an hour. It was kind of childish, but kind of funny. One time he let a gap form in front of him, and I swear it was for my sake, so I sprinted around him and bridged, leaving him to fill it for himself. Ah, fun. Afterwards, we had a handshake and a smile about it. It’s all fun and games. A threesome went at 3 laps to go, and I was too stubborn to fill yet another gap. So was everyone else. So they won. We all lost. I did shitty in the sprint for 4th, too. (FYI: when there’s a headwind in the sprint at PIR, setting up 3rd wheel is no good… be like 8th or 9th. Now you know.) All in all, a forgettable day. Bene was right behind me. Without the legs to win, there wasn’t much we could do for each other, I think. We both hung in and got decent pack finishes. Bo. Ring. But it was 1:33 at 180 bpm average with countless jumps. Good workout.

PS yeah, this was my first Masters race. Old.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Side note

I go thinking nobody reads this tripe, and then I talk to people and they've read it. Why doesn't anyone ever comment? Cat got yer tongue? I'm not looking for textual back-pats here... my favorite comment so far is still "Mark is slow." Anyways...

BTW, Veloshop's own Jess Graden got up Larch Mountain third fastest in the 3's yesterday. Finally, a great result (in the midst of a disappointing season) for one of the fastest climbers I know.

Alpenrose Thursday Series 6/15/6

When a team goes 2-3 in a race, you’d think, “good result”, right? Like, “2nd place is good… and 3rd place is pretty good, too… and we got both! Yippee!”

NO!

Especially in a 3-mass-start-event omnium at the track with plenty of time to strategize before each race, against a guy without any teammates, this is actually somewhat shameful. Granted, not as shameful as going second-to-last/last as a team, but when somebody finishes 1st in front of a 2-3, it couldn’t have been a close race. The teammates must’ve agreed that 1st place was simply out of reach… or they messed up. That’s where I come in. I messed up. Luckily, it was a pretty low-profile race in the middle of a busy month and nobody really cares. And Molly and I still respectively won $20 and $10. Yippee!

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Mt. Tabor Series #2 6/15/06

I’m starting with #2 because I missed #1 due to a missed connection at the Portland airport… anyways:

11 laps of a 1.3-mile course that goes up, then down. In the Pro/1/2 combined field. Short, hard and fast.

Tonight, a good result: 6th out of like 40 starters. Not too shabby. Especially when the race was all about not getting dropped: ride near the front, hammer up the hill, hitting my max pulse halfway up it each time, recover on the descent, repeat… and always, always jockey for position. Breaks went, breaks came back; I went with one break and then dropped my chain and “bridged” back to the peloton with my hand in my chainwheels, cursing at myself (my mechanic). On the last lap I was in what I thought was good position, but then we slowed at the bottom of the descent and I just felt in my stomach the riders surging from behind. I got over to the side and accelerated as they attacked around the sides. I got like 7th wheel and we FLEW up the hill, and, here’s the difference between cat 3 and Pro/1/2 racers: I couldn’t hammer past most of the attackers for a podium spot. I only passed one guy up the ascent to the line and got a gasping, lightheaded 6th.

Now, this is not like other 6th’s where I’m like, shit, I could have done this and won…. These guys are stronger. I could have done a couple things different and maybe finished higher up, but really, shit, I’ll take the 6th. These are the big boys.

Good race, but it started at 8:10pm, and now it’s like 12:30 and I’m totally still rockin’ full gas. Sleep is nowhere nearby.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Mt. Hood Cycling Classic ‘06

This was my last 3’s race, and I ironically didn’t have any shot whatsoever of competing in the GC. Every stage requires riders to climb and climb. I’ll keep it short. It was disappointing. I’ve done Hood now and will never have to do it again.

Stage 1: Circuit race.
We went down for 8 miles, then up for 8 miles… three times. I hoped to somehow keep contact with the group up these long, gradual climbs. Worst case, I wanted to make it to the last climb with the group and not lose too much time as they raced off to the top of it. Instead, I drifted up the first climb, and bridged back on the descent (now THAT I can do). Then I drifted off again up the second climb, but drifted too far and couldn’t catch back up by the bottom of the descent. Dropped. Lost 13 minutes.

Stage 2: Time trial
I was 13 minutes down, expected to lose another 30-40 minutes on the last day, and had the crit to race later this day. You think I gave a running, jumping, flying f*ck about the time trial?

Stage 3: Criterium
There were two reasons for me to go to Hood: 1) to, whenever I had the welcomed opportunity, help my teammates that were still fighting out the GC, and 2) win the crit. Seriously. It was a great course for my strengths and I was racing against a bunch of guys that could out-climb me. Second place would not suffice. I raced like a pirate. My position mattered, and nothing else. I bumped, I pushed, I cut off and I risked life and limb on countless occasions. And with one to go I had my whole plan of attack laid out, and was right where I needed to be in order to implement it. Then one of the guys in front of me pumped his fist in victory and sat up. The race was over. The counter had said 2 to go last time around, and only EVERYONE else around me had been able to hear the announcer say ‘one to go’. I discovered a new tactical weakness: my damaged hearing. I haven’t been that pissed since I was 14 years old. I almost went home and sold my bikes. Nights kept awake by my lingering rage: two and counting.

Stage 4: Road Race
I had a nice, mostly-solitary training ride on a beautiful 70-mile stretch of mountain road. Then I had some beers and the greasiest chicken breast I’ve ever made the poor decision of eating.

Mt. Hood Cycling Classic: never again.