Pace Bend 2009 Race Review

I’ll provide more details below, but to summarize my feelings over the weekend – I think the training is working, and my form is coming. I just need a hard month of training and racing, and I’ll be ready for early April.

The weekend was supposed to be a back-to-back weekend of competition, similar to previous weekends, but due to a PR commitment with the League of American Bicyclists, I was unable to travel down to Walburg for the first competition. It was a good thing, however, because a front came through about 30 minutes after the race began, and winds whipped up to 30kts, while the temps dropped severely. So on Saturday, I skipped out on a date night, went to bed early, and arose early on Sunday to drive down to Pace Bend.

Pace Bend park is a county park with a 6.2 mile course of truly rolling terrain, overlooking Lake Travis, near Austin, TX. On this one day, the course is completely closed to traffic, so you have both lanes open. That makes for a 40′ wide track, with two ’serious’ climbs per lap, including the finish, which is about 400m of climbing at about 4.9% incline. This was apparently the first year they had the finish at this location, and everyone loved it.

I arrived in time to see Cindy, who finished fourth on the day, maybe higher, and was strong throughout. It was later revealed that she also set some new MMP (Mean Maximal Power) PR’s, so I’m proud of her for that. It was cold throughout the morning, but as the sun rose, and the winds stayed calm, the temps rose steadily, until by the time of my 12:35 start, it was right at about 70 degrees, and awesome.

There were a number of starters (over 80), and the race kept a good, solid pace from the beginning. I was lucky to have a great teammate in Robert Snedden, and with my reputation for being a worker, I stayed near the front (to avoid crashes), and did my part to contribute. I started some breaks, caught some breaks, and actually practiced what I was going to do for the last 400m every time I approached the Finish Line. With 10 laps, it ended up being some great practice. Robert got in to a break about 2/3 of the way through, and I tried to block a bridge effort, but all in all, most of the pack stayed together, more or less, for the entirety of the race.

Still, it was a great opportunity to practice some hard efforts, like ‘attack-counterattack’, and ‘pick the right place’ for a short climb. The rule of thumb that I use is “First at the bottom doesn’t necessarily mean First at the Top.” And today, that rang pretty true. Still, the hills just weren’t long enough for anyone to make a break stick. On the final lap, with over 40 riders bunched up, we were actually NEUTRALIZED by the race official as three P1’s in a break (Good Lord, do they have stamina) actually got about a minute up the road. So it kind of messed up our race, and made the final 500m a lot more risky. Robert was in front of me at that point, and I was right behind him. I told him – “Robert, I’m right behind you – when I say it, and you’ll know what “it” is, pedal like hell and then drift right.” He nodded in agreement.

It ALMOST worked.

At 300m, Robert was in about 10th place, and some riders started to go, a little early. I said, “wait”, and then, about 2 seconds later, “NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!” And he pedaled like he had a motor attached. The lead four riders drifted behind us, slowly, but other riders started to come by us. Robert pedaled and drifted right, and stayed out of trouble, but I got sandwiched behind two or three passing riders. And then, with <100m to go, there was the now ubiquitous grinding sound of shouts, confusion, and metal, as a rider went down behind me. I missed my opportunity to jump and stand, and that pause cost me a slightly higher finish. I don’t think either of us would have won it, but it was neat to work together, and push/pull ourselves towards the finish as a team. As it was, Robert finished 9th, I finished 10th, but it felt like an intrinsic victory, and both of us thought so.

Looking at the numbers, I’m pretty happy. It was a fast race, about 24.6mph average, and I matched my 20MMP PNorm, and I set some shorter MMP4, 3, and 1 PR’s for the season, and I recorded the highest 30 seconds MMP of my wattage recording career. It was a race where my body and bike felt like they were one and the same. I took the 90 degree corners fast and smooth, and picked lines that were aggressive, usually passing 3 or 4 riders every time. The aeolus 6.5 wheels feel balanced, smooth, and fast. They were worth the small weight penalty with their efficiency. I’ll try to link to a photo shot by Kevin Tokarski to demonstrate my emotions about this race. I’m taking a fast corner, in the lead, looking in to the turn, outside leg down, bike and body tilted just right.

That’s how this race felt – it felt just right. I think my form is coming on, I think I know where my weaknesses are, and I think I will be adressing them over the next 6 weeks. My clients who are racing are showing equally strong results, and I think it’s further proof that no matter where you are, the Consistenty, Safety, and Effectiveness of indoor intervals on a CompuTrainer can yield some absolutely incredible results, given the amount of time you have available in a busy week’s schedule. The preseason set us up properly, the early season yielded a leap in fitness, and now, we’re on track for some strong spring results. I can’t vouch for tactics (I recently asked a Chessmaster if surviving 30 moves at Level 1 was good… He laughed and said I needed to keep practicing and thinking about more moves ahead and possibilities. I hope I can learn that), but my athletes and myself are coming in to this season strong, healthy, and better prepared for the hills, attacks, and Time Trials that are ahead.

(edit) – I purchased a commercial copy of the image. Here it is.

Rounding the top corner at Pace Bend 2009

Oh – one more thing. This was the second time I’d raced with the Rotor Agilis crankset hooked up to a Quarq Saturn Cinqo. The thing worked completely flawlessly. Combined with the 705 from Garmin, it showed everything I needed it to, there were no data drops, and the whole bike, race ready with the Aeolus wheels, weighed 17.5 lbs. I considered throwing some lightweight wheels on there to take it to 16 lbs, but theadvantage would have been less than 1% overall weight, and the aero advantage is almost always worth it. I may change my mind on some races with longer uphill finishes, but honestly, that Quarq/Agilis combo with aero wheels on an aero bike with a rider that’s as dialed in as I am really makes it the right machine at the right time.

Thanks for reading.

OUCH! That hurt…

After watching the Amgen Tour of California Prologue, I was inspired yesterday to go play on my TT bike, especially since I was really disappointed with my performance at the Alsatian TT. So I went to bed at a reasonable time, got up early, but not too early, and headed out to Texas Motor Speedway for some 40K simulation.

The day was windy, but I used the opportunity to calibrate my final Ergomo with the Ptap, and once I got that dialed in (I also tried out another saddle, which I’m now convinced won’t leave me numb), I replaced the Aeolus 6.5 with an Aeolus disc, and threw my trusty Nimble trispoke on the front.

The goal was to hit roughly 12 minute laps, maybe a little quicker over 5 laps, so I could try and break an hour. So it was a threshold workout, but it was also a great way to test my aero equipment, seat position, and stamina.

Well, the wind wouldn’t quit. It was out of the North, and what was supposed to be an 8kt wind ended up feeling like 15 or more, especially from miles 1-2 when you turned straight in to it, UPHILL. I could feel the front wheel whipping around a bit, but I was convinced that I could control it, especially since it’s supposed to be a better wheel in gusty conditions than the standard HED3’s that everyone uses.

Well, on Lap 3, I was getting to the top of the hill, when a monster gust of wind (must’ve been 25kts, because I abruptly slowed to <15mph) literally hit me from the 1 o’clock position, stalled my front wheel, and literally picked up my rear wheel and flung my bike and myself about 5′ in to the next lane. WHOOSH. I could see that this wasn’t going to end well, but I sort of pulled my left leg up, and landed on my right butt cheek, then the helmet, before I skidded to a stop.

OW!!!!!!!!

Quick body check, though. Nothing really seemed to be broken. No collarbone (whew), no hip (double whew). I checked the helmet, and thank God for a strong shell – it was just scraped up. Then I checked where my butt’s strawberry would be, and touched skin.

DAMMIT!!!! My Windstopper bib! Shredded! Then I noticed a hole on the front, where my right knee must’ve smacked something on the frame. Another hole. DOUBLE DAMMIT! Blood? Who cares? This clothing is expensive!

Well, I got back on my bike, finished the last two laps, and headed home. I downloaded the information after showering, and then started to analyze the data.

… Whoa.

Let’s see what just happened.
In August of 2007 (I can’t believe it’s been that long since I went out to do this), I blew basic 12-minute laps at roughly 221w. Today, I did them at roughly 230w. Now, you’d think that that was worse, but actually, here’s the difference. It was the atmosphere. Average temperature today was 50 degrees, while in August of ‘07, it was 77 degrees. The air was thicker today, the wind stronger and gustier, and yet it cost me about 9 watts and about 10KiloJoules. I’m hoping that maybe, just maybe, as the weather warms up, and hopefully some of the winds die down, that 230 will turn in to a 220 or maybe less. I know I can hold 250 for 60 minutes, so hopefully, this will translate in to a faster 40k come summer.

So maybe it’s not all bad. Still, I’ll be sore tomorrow. My butt still hurts. Dammit!

Alsatian Country Road Race

Sorry this continues to drag out. I had a discussion with Katy yesterday, and both of us are still pretty wiped out from the weekend. I’ve had some poor workouts since Monday, and while I’m inspired, my heart and legs are just whipped. Still, I know it’s going to get better. I just need to balance things out, get some regular sleep, and get outdoors some.

The Alsatian Road Race on Sunday had the Cat 3’s starting at High Noon. The wind that I had complained about on Saturday was even worse on Sunday, and while the terrain was gently rolling, the wind was right out of the South, blowing at a minimum of 15 knots, with gusts up to 25, later 30. We had a neutral roll out through town, and soon after we left the city limits, the fight was on.

The outbound leg was on the TT course, with a set of descending rollers backed up by the wind, so we were humming along at 30-35mph in a pack of 45-50 riders. There were a few faux attacks, but quickly a Moritz rider and a TxTough rider, I think, got away and were soon 1, 2, and then 3 or more minutes up the road. THEN we started these turns in to a strong crosswind, and everyone got guttered.

Let me sidetrack a little bit. There’s a real art to guttering a peloton. The lead rider basically rides about 2 to 5′ from the yellow line, allowing maybe one or two riders behind him some shelter, but everyone else is strung out, fighting for a visual wheel that actually provides zero shelter. The smart thing to do is to form another echelon, but it rarely happens, especially in the amateur categories. I’ve set up a second echelon before, and I have actually done it in recent months, but when you’re racing, it’s just sort of the last thing to come to mind. However, I have a tendency to ride at or near the front, in order to avoid crashes, respond better to attacks, and maybe, just maybe, make my own breaks occur. So when I pull, I usually allow for at least 5 other riders to echelon behind me, and I take strong, steady, long pulls, just so no one can claim that they never saw me at the front. When I pull off, I usually verbally ask if I can take #5, and honestly, they usually let me in. But they ain’t no 5-man echelons in racing crosswinds when I’m not pulling. Theyr’e just gutterfests.

The pack got guttered. Within 15 miles, we were down to 30 riders in the lead pack, with 2 off the front. Over the course of 2 hours, it was winnowed down to 15, including the break, which we caught at lap 2.5 with me pulling.

Let’s sidetrack again and have a little chat about strategy. I witnessed some real racing this weekend, most of it having something to do with teams and leadership and tactics of the moment. It made the rest of us work that much harder.

Moritz had three riders, all of whom were strong. San Jose had at least 3 riders, again, all of whom were strong. TXTough had at least two strong riders. OKC Velo had two strong riders. There was a team from somewhere in white and red jerseys, and they were, you guessed it, two strong riders.

When the break went, it was a Moritz cyclist and a guy from that red and white team. Their teammates did everything they could to block, break up the echelon, break up the paceline, etc. Scott from Moritz was a genius. He randomly launched attacks that were strong and popped quite a few riders, only to come back to the pack and slow us down. It drained our collective energy. When he pulled, he pulled slow. He pulled short. He basically banked his arsenal and waited. When we pulled the break back in, one of the other Moritz riders went off the front and took some guys with him. This went on and on, until finally, with less than 12 miles to go in the race (I like to call it “Running out of real estate”), Moritz, San Jose, and one other team launched what basically became the winning break. I’d been chasing breaks all day, trying to get riders to work together, and trying to forge alliances, but when the chips fell, I was tired and my legs were cold. I missed the break. I lost the race.

Team identity is sort of like fraternities at WASP colleges. Everyone’s pretty much the same, but your colors dictate the terms. You can be friends in class, friends outside of class, but when push comes to shove, you look at your “Brother” first, and your college buds second. Riding for Mirage, I may as well have been a “GDI”. Just like yesterday, I rode hard, I rode fast, I took risks, but I played my hand too early, and while I finished strong and just 5 seconds behind the lead pack that was behind the lead 3, it was not good enough for a placing. I would have thought that perhaps my ’strength’ in hills (this was a 2-minute hilltop finish at 4%) would have allowed me to at least finish with the pack, but dammitall, when push came to shove, I was spit out the back like a watermelon seed at the State Fair. I was picked apart well before the finish by some excellent teamwork from two or three teams. Kudos were had at the finish, but kudos again won’t get you points for the upgrade. So once again, I question whether this team affiliation is worth it.

There was an incident again with David. On one section, something happened where he was at my 11 o’clock, and he either braked, or looked left and drifted right, and he put his rear wheel right in to my fork. I braked, someone hit my rear derailleur, and then the guy behind him went ass over teakettle and ended up breaking a collarbone. NUTS. I certainly know how that feels. It’s not painful so much as it’s knowing that you can’t put pressure on the handlebars. Tyler Hamilton pulled it off, finishing 4th in the TdF in ‘03, but he ground his teeth to the root in the process and had to get them all capped. After the race was over (David had actually won the field sprint, but was relegated to 25th), he was incredibly remorseful. The other riders, however, were without shame as they verbally threatened him with harm if he caused another crash. I know emotions get high after a race. Heck, I’m one of them, but you don’t threaten someone with harm over what is essentially an accident in a hobby activity. The right guys won, the official relegated David for acting like a squirrel, and he and I spoke to each other immediately afterward, and he asked for my help in improving his skills. So the situation essentially resolved itself. I’m hoping he can meet up with me on Saturday.

I know this is getting choppy, and I’ve replayed a bunch of the events in my head, but now with a few days’ distance and rest, I’m pretty philosophical about it. I rode myself in to the ground, I played hard, and I engaged in the moment. A Sports Psychologist I worked with said that one time Andre Agassi was so in to a game, that when the opposing player had to default due to an injury, Agassi was so in to the moment, so in to the act of playing the game, that he basically didn’t want it to end, or even end that way. He tried to cajole the guy in staying on the court. He offered him points, serves, games, even a set, just to keep him on the court. I don’t know how it was resolved, but for me, those 3 hours that I was out there on the chess board of the Cat 3 peloton, I was living in the moment. I could hear my breath, even in the wind. I could feel my outsized heart thumping against my ribcage. I could feel my legs as the strained and stretched the chain. I heard the gears shift on my own bike and others’. I talked. I gasped. I joked. I coerced. I encouraged.

I coached.

I’m not a professional cyclist. I’m a cycling professional. My field is coaching, and as an athlete, I coached myself, I learned, and I intend to apply those lessons to others in the future.

I’ll throw in numbers and details later. I better git. 0430 beckons.

Castroville Alsatian Classic, TT and Crit reviews

You know, sometimes you wonder why you beat your head against a wall. I think the Spartans had a term called “F***ing the Tree”, where their warriors-in-training would be punished by pushing against a tree in some vain effort to make it yield. Later, if the effort was not considered adequate, entire teams would be employed to basically crush each other in some fraternal display of homoerotic love as they lined up, chin to back, and pushed until the tree fell over, the young men next to the tree were crushed to death, or the leaders called a halt to the display, either feeling that the young men had learned their lessons, or the future of Sparta was at stake for lack of a continuing bloodline.

That’s how this sport feels sometimes. We certainly court a cruel mistress who demands much, and returns few extrinsic rewards. Yet we return to the tree… and push with all our might.

Ben and I awoke at a regular hour, had breakfast, and headed out to Castroville, rested, fed, watered, and ready for the day’s events. Katie had left at 5am to do her early events, and we got a report from her that the Time Trial was an out-with-the-wind, back-in-to-the-wind affair, complete with an ascent of a couple hundred feet. Warmup went well, the bike was set up as aero as possible, and I elected, based on some research I’d done on the HED website, to go with the Aeolus disc wheel, and my Nimble trispoke up front. I looked aero, I felt aero, and I felt pretty strong, so I was hoping for a strong placing in the 10 mile event.

When you transition from a more upright position on a road bike, to an aero position, a rule of thumb is to subtract maybe 10% from your threshold power. I figured a 261, and wanted to try and get as close to 265-270w Pnorm as possible. Well, I nailed that, averaging a 267 Pnorm over 23:45, but it wasn’t nearly strong enough, or fast enough, for a strong placing. Winning time was over 2 minutes faster, and while I passed 3 cyclists, I got passed by my 30 second man. Looking at my results, it’s clear that I paced this completely wrong… I went out too hot, even in the descending tailwind, and on my way back, while I did have a strong 10 minutes, it wasn’t where it should’ve been. Peak 20 was the first 20, not the last 20. Peak 10 was the 10 after the turnaround, but most of that is attributable to the climb out after the TT. Peak 5, 2,  and 1 were again, right after the turnaround… So, I basically lost power on the return leg, and my chart shows it, below. Perhaps a better strategy would’ve been to keep the HR and wattage down on the out bound leg, leg the wind help, and then turned it in to a 2-part TT, doing everything to let the legs grow my PNorm over the course of the 5 miles (8k) back.

Descending Watts

This is one of the advantages of the Ergomo, despite its’ other limitations due to quality control and weight, and complexity. No one else does Pnorm, and if we can ever get the code, it’d be nice throw in Skiba’s calculations as well. But you live and you learn, and you don’t worry about it much, because it’s still early in the season, and honestly, I haven’t ridden the TT bike as much as I’ve wanted to or should. I’ll make a sincere effort to pull it out every Tuesday and Thursday, and at least ride tempo. My forearms still get numb, and I’m beginning to question my entire fit process for the thing. However, I still need to give this thing time and learn to adapt.

The results were equivocal – 18th place, and zero points towards the Omnium. I’ll comment about Omniums later, but it’d be nice if they required 2 of 3 or even 3 of 3 finishes or starts to score the overall. As it was, well, after three races, I earned maybe 1 point (it said 5, but I don’t know where it came from, other than the road race), and like the allegory above, it was sort of like “F***ing the tree”. You get nowhere.

Katie was done with both her TT and Crit by the time we finished our “ContraTiempo”, so we met up with her, ate lunch, and scouted out the crit course. We didn’t go off until at least 3:30 in the afternoon. Plenty of time to recover, and relax. I watched some of “Iron Man”, changed out my wheels to the Shimano Tubeless (the course was rough and narrow, so I needed as much contact patch and cornering capabilities as possible), and we actually scouted out the final miles of the road race course we’d be doing on Sunday.

For the Crit, we had over 45 racers, on a .8 mile course. There were two 90-degree turns, one a little dusty, the other patched with asphalt and pretty rough. The final turn before the last 200m, was a bit of a hairpin, which was also a little sketchy on the outside. More than once, even with the tires at 90psi, I slid out or rear-wheel-hopped and put myself at risk of a perpendicular ride, both in terms of direction and vertical position.

I need to interject and talk about some stuff that we learned over the course of the ride. There’s a new rider in the 3’s, a really young, talented, fit Spaniard who moved to the N. Texas area last year or maybe two years ago. David was a professional rollerblader who fell in love with cycling, and caught the bug. However, he doesn’t know the boundaries of his bike. He’s used to the small area around his blades and body, not around the 1 meter + that is a bike, plus shoulders. So his lateral moves to either get out of the way or to launch an attack were more sudden than most riders are used to, and while not unsafe, were risky, especially in the “Gruppo Compacto”. He got some verbal warnings, and honestly, he’s a great kid, but there were some warnings and pushing that only made the situation worse. I tried to talk to him in Spanish, and he understood, but it sort of soured people a bit. More on him later. Call him my latest WIP.

Remember – part of my agenda for these past few weeks and weekends has been to race my brains out, race hard, and not necessarily consider the extrinsic results, in the hope that I’ll be as fit as possible for the April Ft. Davis race, and maybe later. But when you’re in the moment, you not only want to race, you also want to win. You get sick of being an “also-ran”. So I raced, and I raced my brains out. I took pulls, I took moderate flyers (still need to work hard on my escapes and attacks and repeat attacks, and my pulls through the corners when I was in the lead were strong and consistent. We shelled over 20 riders. But in the end, when it really counted, I got swallowed like Jonah by the Whale, and ended up 16th to a bunch of nobodies who did ZERO work the entire time. Instead of a big red “S” on my jersey that made me feel like Superman, I was silently labeling myself “Sucker”.

I don’t HAVE a sprint. I don’t HAVE 10 more years. I raced well, I raced hard, I probably didn’t race smart, but again, when you get in there, and the adrenalin is rushing, you start thinking that maybe, just maybe, this time will be the time that you break through, that you leave the others beyond your wake, that you can and you will have no one ahead of you when you cross that finish line. So you work. And you push, and you pedal, and you bump, and you dig in to the corners, and you dig in to your soul, and you work with people, and you forge alliances, but every single time that you think you’re going to pull it off, fate intervenes, in terms of another rider speeding up, one slowing down, your heart rate going through the roof of your skull, your lungs bursting as they try to vainly purge the Co2 from your acidic system, and you end up…. 16th.

God only knows I can’t pursue a Cat 2 upgrade on merit. Slaps on the back and “attaboys” won’t get you scoreboard. Harvey Keitel said in “Thelma and Louise”… “Skill will only take you so far, and luck always runs out.” My skills are there, my fitness is there, but I haven’t created my own luck. Still, it was a hard race, and the moment was pretty fun, but I did pitch a small fit about half an hour afterward, when I realized that, once again, I had zero points to show for my effort. Upgrade remains elusive. But I won’t quit trying, and I know that the fitness is there. More on that in Part 3.

Thoughts on yet another road trip

Okay – it’s Tuesday, and my head’s a little clearer, though I didn’t get all the sleep and recovery I needed, but here goes anyway.

I started road-tripping for bike races back in 1993, and I can remember my first one – a 3 hour jaunt from Bozeman to Missoula for the “Mud, Sweat, and Gears” mountain bike race. I remember that the race was, at the time, the toughest thing I’d done up to that point in my life, even harder than the XC running events I’d participated in throughout high school and college. Micah McKee traveled with me as my coach, and we bonded as buddies. I still miss him, and I try to google him every now and then. I think he’s in commercial real estate in Boulder, but I’m not sure. Rack him up as the first true cycling coach I ever had, and Micah, if you’re out there, thanks. You set me on this path, and I’d love to share some adventures with you sometime.

Anyway, the road. I’m pushing 40, my eyesight isn’t what it was, and responsibility, as much as I’ve tried to avoid it, continues to creep up on me, along with graying whiskers, tougher whiskers, and just the general fatigue that comes with age and that intensity that I give to my clients and classes throughout the week.

So, when a road trip to a race is required, there’s dread, there’s apprehension, there’s the determination to leave early, there’s the usual melee of bad drivers, gas and pit stops, crappy roads, and jaw-clenching speed and congestion.

And then you get to Austin…

Last week, I drove AROUND the damned I-35 fiasco that goes straight through the place, by taking 130, a new tollroad. It was great — until I got to the airport, when it kind of all started up again. You’d think that the state capital would get prime placing on road and infrastructure projects, but sometimes the anachronism that is that town just allows it to be overlooked. It’s almost like the politicians have their own area, and the townsfolk have another. Even the burbs aren’t included. Violet Crown, indeed.

This week though, you kinda had to go through Austin, via I-35 to get to San Antonio, where Ben and Katie were awaiting me at a hotel. So I get to the outer ring, no problem. The inner ring? Well…. Slow. To. A. Crawl. No radio stations that I can identify. Finally finding NPR. Setting sun… Getting caught in the canyon. Finally getting over the lake. Still crawling, until you get to the turnoff that goes to Johnson City, which I’m unfortunately not taking this time. Nuts.

Lessee, what else makes road trips so special, and why am I so much more disinclined to take them? Ah, road food. I know, I know, I should be making PB & J’s, drinking purified water, and generally listening to my iPod, all while driving the speed limit, but hey, where else am I going to get a chance to try one of those new “Fish & Chips” specials at Long John Silver’s?! I mean, the closest LJS on Lemmon Avenue just shut down, after decades of neglect from me and about 100,000 other vehicles per day (I moved to Dallas in 1980, only to visit the place for the first time in, oh, 2007… I can’t believe what I missed! Well, maybe I can).

So, you fill up on artery-clogging crap, sip a coma-inducing high fructose corn-syrup concoction, void your bladder, bemoan the general condition of your car, the headwinds, and the 2 more hours that you have to spend driving, this time in lower light conditions than your right eye will really allow, and turn over the ignition.

Approaching the destination, you end up calling Air Traffic Control (heretofore called “Ben”), and beg directions every 5 minutes. Panic slowly sets in, as blood sugar spikes, then craters, and the trans-fatty acids start raising your BP and blocking off the smallest of arteries, which happen to be either in your nether regions (numbness tomorrow), or your eyeballs, which sucks, because that right eye continues to blur out, and you glasses are, well, 250 miles over your left shoulder. Speaking of your left shoulder, oh man, is that puppy aching. Of course, it’s 5cm shorter now, and has been since ‘06, and the shoulder strap of your beloved basic Subaru just happens to go right over that spot. Irritating. Should’ve had it shaved by Dr. Krishna. Well, whatever.

Inbound to my destination, I finally gain enough sense of place and location (have I lost that much of my innate sense, my 6th sense, that “Whipadilling” that I was so famous for when I was younger? Or is it just that I haven’t been to San Antonio since, oh, 1999?) to arrive at Ben and Katie’s dinner destination of choice, Johnny Carino’s. FINALLY, I can relax, and place myself in the savvier guiding skills of my client and erstwhile teammate, both of whom are friends from a good ways back.

We refuel, get back to the hotel, realize quickly that there’s no wifi in this modern establishment, have a look at our start dates for the TT, giggle ourselves silly watching something on TBS, and promptly fall asleep — exhausted, yet eager to push some air and resist some tarmac and leave some salt on the road for the next two days…. And then drive home, this time, hopefully, at a slightly more leisurely pace, on a less-traveled road.

Final notes: I love taking less-traveled roads… 281 runs parallel to I -35, and is much more enjoyable. 67 takes you to some good cycling destinations, and 177 is a great alternative for the late-season races near Brenham. 287 is a viable alternative going NW, and believe it or not, it goes all the way to the Canadian border in this broad, fish-hook loop. I have never found it’s origin, which is somewhere in Louisiana, I think.

The iPod Touch has got to be one of the smartest inventions ever. I downloaded a new Clive Cussler book, and listened to that on the way down, and back up, and I also rented “Iron Man”, a show I’d never seen before, and watched it on Saturday betwen races. Surely the iPhone G2 will have all that, and more, along with ample memory, so I won’t have to keep using two gadgets, or even 3 if you include my 705 from Garmin.

Road tripping is fun, but it’s still a stress that you want to minimize as much as possible. Plan your route, avoid stressful routes, drive the speed limit, start early, bring EVERYTHING you may need, and stop often.

Part 2 is forthcoming. Thanks for reading.

Early thoughts on Weekend in Castroville

I think I want to break this up in to 3 or 4 parts, so bear with me.
Part 1 will cover my thoughts on the way down to Castroville, TX.
Part 2 will cover comments to self before and after each race on Saturday, with complete details on performance issues.
Part 3 will review the Road Race, complete with wind, squirrels in the peloton, team tactics, and fitness vs. everything else, including luck.
Part 4 will cover my thoughts as I returned home, and recovered/reviewed on Monday.

It may take a while, especially if you look at the last 17 hours, when I ended up wind-whipped and tingling from the experience and the alterness required to drive home on an unlight highway, complete with tailgaters and horizontal rain.

I’ll try to post as fast as I can tonight, so you don’t have to keep checking.

New Braunfels Road Race, Day 2

Ouch. This one really hurt.

I spent Saturday night just hanging out, eating, resting, reading, and catching up on some movies, since we don’t have HBO at home. Looking at the race info sheet, I confirmed that my race really didn’t begin until 12:03pm, so I ended up sleeping for almost 9 hours – a real luxury. I got up and rolled out in time to visit with Cindy, my client, and learn more about her race. Her chief comment, “The wind was atrocious!”

YES. IT. WAS.

I’ll summarize her results before going on — she took 3rd, was in control the entire time, and just made one mistake – letting someone else glom on and suck a wheel so she could save her energy at others’ expenses. I hate that, but honestly, it’s good tactics, especially on days when the wind is blowing right across the finish line at 10, no, 15, no, make that 20 kts…

During warmup, I met up with Andy Kutach again, and we got our bikes ready, bodies ready, etc. Knowing that I have a tendency to cramp on humid days, and seeing that it was going to be hot, with winds coming right off the Gulf, I made sure both he and I carried at least 3 bottles, with juice in them. We ended up needing every ounce.

From the time the whistle blew, you could tell that this was going to be absolute hell, and it didn’t disappoint. Looking at my power meter numbers, I hit my MMP60, MMP20, and MMP5, both absolute and normalized, within the first 90 minutes. They were also records, not just for the season, but for at least two years (since May of ‘07).

By the end of the first lap, the pack had splintered in to a lead group of 5, then another group of maybe 6, and then another group of 17-20. Everyone else had already popped. For the next two hours, I worked extremely hard, with several erstwhile allies, to try and reel in at least one breakaway, and to try and make some time on the lead group. However, Andy was in that group, so I didn’t want to spoil his chances, though by the 3rd lap, they were several minutes up the road, and we couldn’t even see their chase vehicle.

Kurt Wolfgang, the tour guide whom I rode with in Spain, Moab, and now here, was spectacular. We ended up controlling the pack, urging each other on, complaining together about wheelsuckers (there were plenty), and keeping the pace high when we thought we could get in a decent breakaway of 5 or so, on the 3rd lap.

However, by the 4th lap, first crosswind, it became obvious that we weren’t going to merge with the first five, and it became even more obvious that my energy was waning. I made it to the 2hr 14min mark, before popping on the last smooth hill, and then rallying, only to make it within about 10 yards of the group of 10 on the gravel, and then pop again. Half out of my mind, I remember screaming in to the headwind, “DAAAAAAMMMMMIIIIIITTTTTT!” before dropping my head and withering to 15mph.

About 10 seconds later, I passed two guys who blew up just after my wail. I tried to rally them so we could work together – no joy.

I then spent every ounce of energy that I had fighting a brutal headwind, fresh chip-seal, and then the same wind as it crossed my left shoulder out by the feed zone. I drank every last ounce of fluid that I had. I passed several Cat 1-2’s who had also blown up in the wind, heat, humidity, and intensity, but was rejoined by two C3’s and 3 C1’s, in the final 3 miles. We basically huddled together like scared puppies until we crossed the finish line. Thanks and congratulations on surviving the effort were passed all around, and with what little energy I had left, I crawled back to my car to try and recover.

When you complete a race like this, you sort of end up half out of your mind for a while, and anything you eat or drink tends to taste bad. The one thing I did that seemed to help the most was to brush my teeth with a disposable toothbrush. Getting all the sugar out of my gums and off my enamel sort of revived me, and I was able to finish my Ultragen and even drink a little Coke, which seemed to keep my stomach settled. I congratulated Kurt (9th), and Scott Simmons of Moritz (winner), and several others, and then crawled in to the driver’s seat to begin the trek home.

STATS and LESSONS

Like I said – this one hurt.

I set new MMP’s for 5, 20, and 60 minutes, both actual and normalized, and even under the new estimated threshold, I averaged 88.2% of threshold for 2hrs 14min. Under the old number, it was over 92%. I burned, what, 2800 kcals? I may correct this- I’m too tired still to look it up. But suffice it to say that for over 2 hours on Sunday, I was completely on the rivet. I later got a lot of compliments for the amount of pulling I did, and for the work I did to keep the trailing pack together, but in the end, you know, it’s still about scoreboard. I’d love to be able to say that I upgraded on merit and character, but with zero points in 3 tries, well, the effort remains elusive. Still, I know that the indoor interval training has at least paid off somewhat – no one could touch me on the hills. Too bad they weren’t long enough to merit a break. Also, I have NOT been training my AC repeats – something that will be coming up in the very near future. The weekend was a bust points-wise, but it was NOT a bust when you consider all the experience and training I got out of it.

You can’t train indoors completely for something like this, and expect to do well. You have to spend time outside. You have fight your own headwinds, learn how to handle blustery crosswinds, learn how to avoid crashes when there’s a gust, learn how to get people to work with you, forgive them (and yourself) for stupid things, and correct, not cuss or shout, when things go wrong. Still, the intervals we’ve been doing have definitely helped, and I’m proud of the fact that out of 75 starters, there were only 21 true finishers, and depending on how you gauge it, I was either 19th or 18th. No points, but fitness, friends, and the ability to gain some confidence instead of feeling like pack fodder all the time.

It was unmerited, but Andy gave me $20 for assists for the weekend. It felt like a million. If you read this, thank you. You’re just like your brother – UNIQUE. It was a pleasure riding with you, and I hope we get to do it again soon.

What else…. Oh – this may be the last time I use the Ergomo-equipped Soloist, but the Ptap and the Soloist read within 1% of each other for every single MMP marker. They varied in trip distance by .04 miles. They varied in Kilojoules by less than 12. I think I’ve entered the realm of “Don’t F with it!”

So what went right on Sunday? I stayed hydrated, I came in rested and confident, I stayed on top of my KiloCalories, and my equipment worked flawlessly. What went wrong? I missed the break, I worked too hard, too early, and I bonked slightly after 2 and a quarter hours. Considering that I’m not doing the crits, and my racing is really just now resuming after missing most of 2008 or doing poorly (thanks, Hammie, you rick with a P), and, well, I’ll take the result, I’ll take the fitness that I get out of this, and I’ll make a vow to return to the scene and perform better next time in the results department.

A Sports Psychologist I worked with for a while told me “think about that which you can control, and that which you can’t control.” I need to spend more time on the bike, but I’m improving on optimizing my time, my wattage, my strengths, and my attitude. Intrinsically, I can’t ask for much more.

One last note… This RaceDay is uncanny. I did a 20MMP test today, even though I was completely trashed. The test prediction was a 280.2, with a probability factor of .9936. … I blew a 281.

Good luck in your endeavours, and thanks for reading.