Wrong time to start riding to work

The ideal time to bike to work is in the middle of summer, right? Warm mornings, lots of daylight, and most importantly no parents rushing to get their kids to school on time.

But most of the time riding to work seemed to interfere with training: need an easy ride on Mon; Tues go to Westlake; Wed recover from Westlake; Thurs often go to Leroy for the TT; Fri need an easy ride. It’s hard to do an easy ride to/from work. There is a climb from the Chagrin River valley each way, and for some reason I find it difficult to go “recovery slow” when riding to or from work. I guess that same impatience that makes people drive frantically during rush hour carries over to the bike.

So I chose today to ride to work for the first time in months. And encountered the aforementioned parents rushing to get their kids to school on time. Riding up Cedar Road in the morning isn’t easy. It’s uphill and narrow. There is no shoulder to speak of — unless you want to ride in gravel — and what shoulder there is drops off quickly.

It was made worse by the steady stream of SUV’s — I was counting and it was easily 5-1 vs. cars — carrying kids up to Gilmour Academy. The same school where a student XC runner was hit by a car a few weeks ago while practicing (2 broken legs and fractured skull). You’d think the parents would give a cyclist a little breathing room on a narrow road.

Nope, sorry — HONK! (then weave across the yellow line even though there is oncoming traffic).

Then I managed to break off the key in my bike lock, which is now permanently attached to the bike rack at work.

Famous in Michigan

I wasn’t quite ready to say that I’ve done my last race for the season. But was I willing to get all my gear together, then get up at 5 AM then drive 3-plus hours in order for that to be so?

That’s always the test for me: do I feel motivated enough to go through the hassle of getting everything together? Bike, wheels, clothes, food, bottles, water jug, directions, etc.

My motivation passed the test, so I headed out in the darkness to do the Milford Criterium up in Michigan.

Sometimes I’m hesitant to tell people about new races because then a bunch more people might show. It’s nice to have a “stealth race” where you show up, unknown, and have a chance to bring home some cash. But I appreciate that the promoters work hard to put on a race, and they want people to show up.

So here it is: the Milford Criterium was a good race. Nice course, lots of people watching and ringing cowbells, coffee shop right across from the start/finish. And Frankie Andreu was announcing. As I rode over to the registration, I could hear his voice, familiar from having heard him on Tour de France TV broadcasts.

My mission for the day became: hear Frankie announce my name and “Carbon Racing”.

Early in the Masters 45+ race I bridged up to 2 guys who were away. Then sprinted to take the first prime. We started to build a lead. Mission accomplished already. When I sprinted for another prime late in the race (for a new wheel), he mentioned my “impressive burst of speed”. Obviously he’s not seen me sprint very often.

At least he didn’t say that I messed up the sprint for the finish and only managed second.

I put on a clean jersey, got an espresso, then did the 35+ race. Got off the front a number of times, but the field was determined to chase anything and everything. Not uncommon for a Michigan race (sorry to Michigan racers, but that’s the way it often seems).

After the masters races they put on the obligatory kids races. Only here they had a HUGE number of kids. Standing just after the finish, watching the mass of kids sprinting and weaving, I had the feeling that this could be ugly. Sure enough a couple of kids touched wheels and hit the pavement. Just like the real thing.

Itching to run

Watching others do sports can be contagious. After the last Winter Olympics I was seriously ready to go out and learn short-track speed skating. So now that my daughter has started cross-country practice, I’m getting the itch to do some running.

I don’t profess to be a big runner — in fact up until about 4 years ago I’d never done much running. But when I was over in Germany, where in December it was dark at 4:00 PM, putting on running shoes was better than sitting and suffering on the trainer.

There is a minimalist satisfaction in being able just slip on shoes and run out the door. No equipment hassles. No having to wash your bike. No real worries about the weather — it’s no problem running in the rain or snow or cold.

The favorite route I had in Germany was to run from my apartment — at night — over the Rheinknie Brücke into Düsseldorf and then back over the Oberkasseler Brücke. It was a nice 4 or 5 mile run, with 2 trips over the Rhein (which never failed to make me think … “cool”).

A few years before that, I never would have imagined myself running 4 or 5 miles. Or if I did, I never would have imagined actually enjoying it.

Now, I’m looking forward to doing some nice trail runs in a few weeks. I just have to remind myself to start slow, and keep it short at first. While the lungs will say “no problem” the cycling-legs will surely rebel.

Mind your equipment

Some things don’t belong in races.

To the rider in the Shreve road race: you must remove that giant saddle bag attached to your bike. Especially since it contains a bunch of tools that clank around every time you hit a bump. But if you do insist on racing with it, you must at least keep your bike on the road at all times. Otherwise, people will really think you have no clue what you’re doing.

I’m thinking this guy unknowingly jumped in the wrong race. It was a bit chaotic at the start, with all fields rolling out of the school to the actual starting point. When the 1/2/3 field took off, I’d guess this guy just followed along. I think he disappeared the second time up the hill.

I’ll admit to doing early spring races on questionable equipment. Like this year, on my winter bike with fenders that kept rubbing on the tires (why was it so hard going up hill???). And a few years go, on my winter bike with only a front brake (it was a Team Columbus race, so the “only rule is green” format applied).

I remember a guy doing the Malabar Farm race in the 1/2/3 field on a mountain bike … with fat tires, bunny-hopping the pot holes.

And a spring Covered Bridge race, where the super-strong XC skier (forget his name), wearing plastic grocery bags over his shoes, rode away from the field because no one knew who he was.

My most memorable equipment oddity is the time when Jon Hensel showed up at the New Waterford Race for Sight on his time trial bike. It wasn’t a sanctioned race, and the promoter had no rules against it. In the opening miles Jon took off in the aero position at 30+ mph. I managed to go with him, and then let him drag me all the way to the finish. There was no point in me pulling, because given Jon’s height, I literally gave him no draft. Well, because of Jon’s height he gave me little draft also: I was pretty much below any ’sweet spot’ following him.

I’m pretty sure it was the fastest overall finish time for that race (which, sadly, is no more).

When I rode back to my car after the Shreve race finished, the guy parked next to me was packing up. He had a day-glo orange, 1990-ish, Lemond bike with downtube shifters. I said, “old-school, eh?”.

He told me it had just started riding a month ago. Had just bought the bike (used, obviously), and that this was his first race.

I won’t make fun of that equipment. If it were me, and I arrived at the race and saw all the new bikes, shaved legs, and pro-looking kits, I think I would have found an excuse to go do the coffee shop ride. So he’s got more guts than I have.

Racing with a pig?

I’ve been told that I’m a hypochondriac. A little sniffle or scratchy throat, and I proclaim that I must be coming down with something.

The truth is that when you ride just about every day, you notice when your body feels even a little different. And then you start thinking about how you’re training is going to be compromised. Most guys I know try to ride through if possible. Just dial down the intensity. I usually feel better if I can ride even a little.

Usually this happens in winter, or early in the racing season. But this year, the day after returning from Superweek I woke up tired. Not really a surprise. But by the next day it had turned into a sore throat. It was so nice I went out and rode anyway. I just traded packets of Gu for Cold-Eeze. The next day I was so tired I slept through the alarm and ended up taking my first sick day of the year at work.

The sore throat then morphed into a full blown cough. Somehow I managed to race that Saturday, Sunday, then Tuesday night. A bit too stubborn perhaps? The cough morphed into swollen glands in my neck.

So then the other day I was reading an article about H1N1, aka “swine flu”. It talked about the symptoms and how for most people the symptoms are not severe. Then another racer told me his mom had it. And then a neighbor.

And so I’m wondering. Would I be a hypochondriac if I thought I actually had it? I figured being among a bunch of other racers at Superweek, with people spitting, using porta potties, being out at restaurants every day, it wouldn’t be a shock.

Not that it really matters one way or the other … except that maybe now I’ve built up antibodies. Which would be nice.

And I could boast about racing back to back days, one in the pouring rain, while being sick with the swine flu. That would be epic.

Change of seasons

I’m officially marking the beginning of a new season. The other night I was flying down Winchell Road out by Hiram, and as I prepared to turn left onto Rapids, I found a recent batch of chip-and-seal waiting for me. Including a nice, deep pile of loose gravel in the turn.

The jogger on Rapids got a bit a show watching me try to keep my front wheel from washing out.

A few miles later I ran into another stretch on Stafford Road. Why is it that some road departments seem to look for the biggest chunks of rock they can possibly find? What are they thinking? “Hey Buford, let’s use the boulders on this one.”

The chip-and-seal season has begun. (Interestingly, the official term seems to be “chipseal or chip seal” — no “and”.)

And the racing season is quickly coming to an end. I know this because I’m finding it difficult to make myself ride hard these days. July was packed with races. Getting sick right afterward didn’t help. Now I look at the empty spaces on the calendar now, and it doesn’t seem worth the effort to try to maintain a super-high level of fitness.

I look at the calendar again and realize that we’ve been going hard now since the last week in February, with races almost every weekend since then. That’s a lot of racing, considering this is supposed to be a “hobby”.

While driving to the Garrett Wonders criterium in Westerville, I thought how it will be nice to just roll out the driveway for a casual ride under the changing leaves. Or going for a trail run if I feel like it. Or not do anything at all on a Saturday afternoon. Or do some of the house or yard work I’ve been neglecting.

But then the race starts, and it’s fast and fun, and I come home and start looking at the race calendar again.

Some things should not be said

There are some things you just shouldn’t say out loud (or in email) before a race when there is even a chance of rain:

“2-1/2 hours to race time, so I think it will be mostly dry at that point”

“We may be a little wet at the start, but I don’t think it will be a soaker like 2 years ago”

“I don’t think the hard stuff’s gonna come down for a while”

The first 2 were emailed (one by me, the other by Tris). The last one I actually said out loud, before the start of the Zoar Road Race. And it ended up raining about as hard as the rainstorm in Caddyshack.

I won’t make that mistake again.

The only race I can remember where it rained harder was one year at the Chippewa Creek Road Race, where on the downhill the rain felt like it was hail. Zoar wasn’t quite that bad, but it did make me wonder about the intelligence of screaming downhill at speeds approaching 50mph while barely being able to see. I tried without glasses (was afraid of losing my contacts), looking over the top of the glasses (same), with glasses (a complete blur). I mostly tried to follow wheels and hope no one did anything stupid.

It finally let up just in time to flat, with about 10 miles to go. And the bike still would have to be cleaned later

Not-so-deep post-Superweek thoughts

After the last few weeks my jerseys are beginning to resemble pin cushions.

9 races in 15 days (Tour of the Valley + Westlake + Superweek) weakens your immune system, allowing you to catch the dreaded summer cold and waste the race fitness you just built.

A VW Passat wagon can fit a bike, 4 wheels, work stand, bucket, pump, shoes, helmet and assorted other bike gear PLUS 4 people and their clothes for a week. And all without putting the bike up on a rack.

4 people in a room for a week will result everyone getting annoyed at least once about something or someone. Even when it’s family. Especially when it’s family.

If you go to a multi-day race, bring a bucket, rags, cleaning supplies and a work stand. It sucks washing your bike in a hotel parking lot. But having supplies makes it at least doable.

Compared to Milwaukee, Cleveland’s lakefront is an embarrassment.

Blowing past the toll booth lines because you have an EZ-Pass is very cool.

After racing 5 days in a row, it feels weird to wake up in the morning and not have to get ready to race. It also feels weird to just go out and ride easy.

The drive up to Wisconsin seems easy. The drive back seems horrible.

I do not like the smell of fast food in my car.

In every race, at least one person will do something stupid.

In a criterium it’s usually best to stay away from riders who look like Mike Ditka.

If you’re going to fall, fall on someone else instead of the pavement.

More races should have beer primes.

How long will it be until losers stop yelling “go LANCE” out of their car windows, thinking they were the first to do it?

The 5 lbs you lose during a week of racing comes back with the first beer you open.

Not the same old …

When you find yourself staring at the same jerseys, same bikes, same wheels week after week it can get a little boring. It’s often the same guys in the breakaways, same guys sprinting at the end.

One of the reasons I like going to Superweek is to race against different guys. And not just a different set of locals, but guys who come from all over the country to race. Looking down the start list you see WI, IL, CA, CO, FL, MN, TN, and a handful of other states.

I first went to the race in 1999 or 2000 and have come back most years. Many others do the same, so we’re no longer complete strangers. I know Chris Halverson will be there to drive a breakaway (and ride guys off his wheel); Chris Black will recount every lap of the race in detail; Gary Doering will shout out instructions to his Mack teammates. It’s great fun.

Riding around before or after the race, you can hear, “remember that time in Kenosha, when …”. Just like a bunch of geezers. Except when you look around and see how fit everyone is, and how fast the racing is, it almost makes you want to check the birth dates on drivers’ licenses.

***
Day 4 update:
Racine criterium: 8 turns with a long stretch of rough pavement. They patched the main craters, but it was still rough enough to launch a half dozen water bottles the first lap. Add some light rain in the opening laps and it was enough to have guys pulling out of the race.

After the usual series of attack-chase-attack, once again I found myself off the front solo. After a couple laps another rider joined me and we were holding a 15 second lead. A few laps later and another rider made it across and we grew the lead until we had the tail of the field in sight in the closing laps. Always a good feeling, but better still is to be able to finish the race with a win. Unfortunately my sprint wasn’t up to it, and I had to settle for third.

***
Day5 update:
Kenosha criterium: 4 corner, fast, 1km course. With some tired legs, I figured I had probably 2 or 3 good efforts so tried to make the best use of them. Was in a couple of promising moves, but as often happens the winning move went as I was caught.

Actually the field was putting in a good chase until a rider — right in front of me — rode over the legs of the barriers in the S/F section. He went down hard. Both he and his bike were tumbling end-over-end. I still don’t know how I managed to avoid going down also.

The crash took the momentum out of the chase. The break of 3 stayed away. I tried several more attacks but everything was chased. Right idea … just not the best timing. More than anything I was just happy to have avoided the crash.

One race left: the race against the traffic through Illinois until it magically opens up when you hit the Indiana turnpike.

Acting your age

There’s a little bit of the Tour de France at Superweek. And not just racing every day.

The racers at the Tour de France occasionally find reasons to stage protests: over unsafe road conditions, treatment by police during the doping scandals several years ago. To protest, they will sit at the start line when the race is supposed to begin.

It’s hard to imagine a group of 40+ Masters racers at Superweek doing this because they are unhappy with late starting times.

This is what happened at the Lakefront Road Race. Upset because of the 40 minute delay, a couple of the local riders decided to stage a ‘protest’. The whistle blew, and no one on the front row started. Well one guy who apparently was not informed (or who did not want to go along) did take off.

After about 40 seconds and some shouts of “Go!” from the back rows, we started. I could see protesting dangerous conditions, but to do it because of late starting times just seems embarrassing to all of us.

The Lakefront course is on the waterfront in Milwaukee, and requires a significant amount of logistics to close the 4.2 mile course to traffic. It is completely closed to cars. The races on this course, in my experience, have always started late (both the ‘long’ and ’short’ courses). So you show up 30 minutes later than normal and expect that you won’t start on time.

The race hasn’t been held the last few years, due in part to construction, and probably due in part to the hassles with closing the course. How often do you get to race on a road course, closed to traffic, in a downtown setting?

Aren’t we old guys supposed to have gotten beyond the phase of taking yourself too seriously? Guess Masters racers can be ‘young at heart’ in more ways than one.

***
PS. Over the next couple days, all of the half-dozen guys I talked to thought this was embarrassing also. So not all of us are whiners.

***
Day 3 Update:

The Lakefront course is one of my favorites, but I was not excited to do it in the rain. It was pouring at the hotel, but dry at the course only 12 miles away, and the sun was out. But shortly after the race started, it began to rain. On only half of the course. The other half was dry. Unfortunately the wet part included the twisting downhill plunge to the lakefront.

Guys were crashing in the sharp curve at the top of the descent, even though (it seemed) we were barely moving. I stayed near the front and made it through the first few times just fine. Then at the bottom, on the left turn onto the lakefront road, someone went down, the guy in front of me went down, and his bike took my wheels out. Fortunately for me, I mostly fell on him, and had only some minor road rash (and the next day a sore body).

After chasing back to the group, then recovering a bit, I went with several attacks. One looked promising but was caught with 2 laps to go. It was looking like a field sprint but 2 guys got away in the closing couple of miles. Not in a position to go, I missed the move and rolled in just out of the money (but with most of my skin).