Full field tonight–35 riders. Could be scary. Would most definitely be fast, with several B race regulars joining the fun. Right from the gun, I was at the front, and promptly took my pull. Based on conversations with a few other riders, five second pulls seemed to be the ticket, so I counted…one, two, three, four, five…look over my shoulder. Err. Where’s everyone else? Six, seven, eight. Hitting the bump out of turn four. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Time to sit up, I guess. By the time I reached turn two, the pack was finally there and I slipped in. In retrospect, this was an odd effort. I should have either sat up earlier or pinned it. Instead, I did a little of both and burned the wick at both ends. Not good one lap into the race.

The pace stayed very high, and I stayed near the back of the group for a few laps. The lead group was pretty big, but riders had already been shelled out the back. I was careful to keep an eye on things to be sure a selection wouldn’t be made, but the group mostly hung together. I moved up, and the pace climbed, and I was struggling to hold a wheel. I finally settled into a rhythm and was prepared to ride out the storm. So much for an earlier plan of being really active and hanging off the front.

The pace settled down about midway through the race, and I was content to sit in and recover. Every few laps I’d follow a wheel to the front, maybe take a pull, then settle to back. At this point I just wanted to get back some energy and get a decent position for the sprint. With six laps (or so) to go, somebody took a flyer off the front and immediately had a good gap. Everybody seemed content to hold the pace and wait for him to fade. Three laps later, this didn’t happen. I noticed Eric and Rob (Iron City riders) moving into position to attempt to either bridge or pull the break back, so I hopped on Rob’s wheel and followed. Half a lap later we cut the distance and the pack seemed to take notice and picked up the pace. I pretty sure I screwed up my pull–Eric pulled off, said “short pulls, short pulls” so I pulled for maybe three or four seconds, then slid off. Too bad there wasn’t anyone behind us. Eric accelerated again, and I caught his wheel. A few seconds later the pack caught us, and as we approached the start/finish line, the lone breakaway rider indeed faded and was caught.

No rest for the wicked, though, with the bell lap. I held my ground, maybe fifteen wheels back, still on Eric and Rob’s wheels. Figuring Eric was trying to set up Rob, I stayed where I was. I futzed with my gears in the last corner, and probably started my sprint a bit too late. I still managed to pass a handful of people, and ended up ninth. Not bad. Not in the points, but not bad. I was in a small group of four at the line, and with a slightly more focused sprint, I could have taken another spot or two. Still, a good night overall, and certainly a good workout.

One more points race and the season is over. Nutty. What am I going to do for the next seven months?

Posted on August 19th, 2008

As kids, our stock answer to most every question was nothing. What did you do at school today? Nothing. What’s new? Nothing. Then, somewhere on the way to adulthood, we each took a 180-degree turn. We cashed in our nothing for busy.

I’m starting to think that, like youth, the word nothing is wasted on the young. Maybe we should try re-introducing it to our grown-up vernacular. Nothing. I say it a few times and I can feel myself becoming more quiet, decaffeinated. Nothing. Now I’m picturing emptiness, a white blanket, a couple of ducks gliding on a still pond. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. How did we get so far from it?

– Amy Krouse Rosenthal, from An Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life

Posted on August 17th, 2008

Not what I had planned.

I am not often a good navigator. Even when given precise directions, I find ways to make the wrong turn (see here). Today was no different. I forgot the cue sheet, so I was working off memory (which is never a good thing). First, I went the wrong way on Route 910, then once we righted ourselves, the turn I had mapped (McClelland) turned out to be a rather steep dirt road. We had suffer a mile or two on 910 (never fun), then managed to get back on course. Mill Dam Road is a fine climb. Nice views on the ridge, too. I then proceeded to make another wrong turn, heading toward Saxonburg Blvd instead of Deer Lakes park, then made another wrong turn on Saxonburg, heading toward town instead of the Red Belt.

At least I could home from Saxonburg without incident.

A fine ride, though. Lots of moderate climbing with good company.

Posted on August 16th, 2008

The officials didn’t mention how big the field was, but I reckon it was maybe 25 or so. Iron City Bikes and CMU had a few riders each, and with Ted and Rob there, I figured things would be interesting at the front. The pace was brisk from the start, and I settled in near the front of bunch. As usual, I found myself stuck on the inside when interesting things happened at the front, and I never spent any time working at the front (though this wasn’t from a lack of trying). There were numerous attacks off the front, but, as usual, nothing stuck for more than a lap or so.

With about 15 laps to go, there was a prime (cookies!!). I found myself in decent position in the last corner, on the outside, and only one person made a jump from the field. I wound it up a bit and took off from the corner. I passed the other ride, and figuring someone had to jump on my wheel, kept my head down and sprinted over the line. I looked back briefly and saw I already had a small gap on the field, so I put my head down again and kept turning the pedals. The officials rang the bell for another prime (no doubt an effort to try to keep me off the front), and I heard Doug and Steevo yelling for me keep up the pace. Carpe diem and all that, so I kept pushing. I looked back entering the final corner, and it didn’t seem that the group made up much ground. As I crossed the line, those jokesters rang the bell again, but after careful deliberation, decided that it would be better to actually finish the race, so I sat up in the back straight and let the group catch me.

I settled in near the back of the first bunch and tried to recover. After a lap or so, the pace really climbed, and with about six laps to go, I thought I was done. I had flashbacks to the beginning of the season, getting dropped, unable to turn my pedals fast enough. How embarrassing–take a flyer, win two primes, then tap out. I gave up any hope of a decent finish, and tried to spin my legs back to normal. About half a lap later I didn’t feel like dying anymore, and moved up a bit in the group, slowly nudging to the outside in hopes of getting a good position for the sprint. At the start of the bell lap I did indeed have a good position, about 15 riders back and on the outside. Entering the final corner, I felt okay about my chances for finishing in the points. Then, somebody swerved up a bit, and the few us up high on the bank had to slow a bit, and that was that. I managed to pass a few folks and finish 15th.

No points, but still a successful race in my book. It nice to attack for a change, and I managed to recover from the effort in time for the finish. The attack was by far the hardest effort I’ve put out in awhile, and that felt good. I’d like to spend more time at the front of the bunch, but I always, always, always seem to be boxed in. Sometimes I’m a bit disappointed that I only have 7 series points (with only three races to go), but then I remind myself that only two months ago I was getting lapped. Repeatedly. I should be chucked that I have 7 points (3 top eight finishes) and several primes to my credit at this point.

And I am.

I should note that this video of the finish of the 1985 edition of Paris-Roubaix provided motivation for tonight’s race.

Posted on August 12th, 2008

I was, oddly, unmotivated to ride on the road today, likely due to the strong-ish winds, which meant, given my desired route around Deer Lakes Park, meant lots of headwinds. Lots. So I pulled out the Monocog and headed to Frick, hoping that nothing would fall off since I haven’t even looked at the bike since May or June. The high RPM, low speed spin to the park was just what I needed to warm up and get motivated, and I rode for about 90 minutes in the park, looping up the Fire Road trail and coming down either Iron Grate, Concrete, or Rollercoaster. Today was the first time in nearly ten years that I’ve ridden Concrete, and I happened upon by mistake. This is probably the closest Frick comes to a rock garden, albeit with chunks of discarded concrete.

The Monocog did just fine, though I am considering two modifications:

1. Mounting the Origin 8 Gary bars (flared drops)
2. Mounting a TomiCog, just because.

I think the position of the drops, with the higher rise stem I have, would be perfect, and my hands would appreciate an additional hand position or two for climbing. I just need to get a set of drop bar levers that will work with V-brakes. As for riding fixed, well, what the heck?

And on the subject of bike maintenance–I just finished what is, I think, the fifth bar swap on the Steamroller in the last four weeks. Yes, adding the Origin 8 bars to stock was a good idea, but not at the cost of the Albatross bars. Why did I get rid of those? The Surly went back in time a bit, as I stole the Nitto Promenades from Jen’s bike (replaced with the Nitto risers). This, of course, led to a host of unintentional repairs, as the struts for the CETMA rack have done a number on one of the nuts of my front hub, enough that it won’t engage the axle threads with the strut in place. Humm. Off went the tire and wheel, and on went the 36 hole touring wheel I inherited last year. As an added bonus, I can actually mount the tire without a tool. Novel, that. The whole process, however, reminded of an analogy Matt Chester made (though he was referencing frame building, it still works for general maintenance, I think):

…I built my own bike out of blems (wavily extruded tubing, machining marks on track ends, etc.) and for good measure I totally f**ked it up. If it had been a customer’s bike it would gotten the hacksaw, the recycle box, and the DO OVER button. But, like the BMW mechanic who drives a tatty 2002tii covered in primer with no passenger seat/carpet/headliner/working dash and an exhaust note to rattle windows, I have my long term partner 2+ years and counting. STFU and pedal.

Yep, this describes the Steamroller. In the interest of time, my goal in maintenance is usually “will it get me back and forth to work without falling apart?” The bike has its little idiosyncrasies, things that, if I were working on someone else’s bike, I wouldn’t tolerate, but since it’s mine, and I know it well, I live with it.

Posted on August 10th, 2008

The threat of rain kept the field size a bit more manageable last night, with 21 riders starting. Notably absent were the CMU team and Rob L. (a reliable motor at the front of bunch), but another strong rider who wasn’t around last week was back. I had two plans going into the race:

1. Be very active at the front and not worry about the sprint.
2. Don’t be very active and worry about the sprint.

I ended up with a combination of the two. I spent a bit of time at the front, including taking a pull or two, and worked to bring back a break or two, but otherwise, I spent a lot of time about 10-15 wheels back, making efforts to move up when I sensed a selection might be in the cards. When we were chasing, the group at the front was very well-organized–tight paceline, short pulls–but once we hauled in the break things quickly became disorganized. The issue last night seemed to be that people were willing to pull (a switch from other weeks), but they pulled for too long and the pace would drop. Chatting with a few people last week, we decided that unless you’re going for the MAR or your name is Paul Carson, you’re better off taking a 3-5 second pull and then swinging off (the biggest issue with this plan is that it’s often difficult to jump back into the paceline, which is odd, considering that most people don’t really want to pull, so why not let somebody in front of you since you don’t want to be at the front anyway). My pulls were short, and based on a few quick glances at my computer, I was able to keep the pace reasonable high.

With about 15 laps to go, I settled into the group. With about six laps to go, I swung outside and moved up, hopefully into a good position for the sprint. Going into the bell lap, I was in a good spot, and I felt very good. Coming out of turn 4, I saw a clear sprinting lane in front of me, so I jumped. I was maybe 10 wheels back, but I quickly started reeling riders in. Then I noticed the guy in the black jersey to my right moving in my direction. Under my breath, I started chanting “please hold your line, please hold your line.” As he moved closer, this became louder, until finally he nearly moved in front of me and I yelled “number 2! Hold your line!!” I sat up (he was moving slower), then he realized what was up and moved out of my way. I sprinted again, and pipped at least a few wheels at the line, managing 8th place. I reckon top 5 would have been pretty reasonable without having to sit up, but hey, there’s always next week. The rider apologized after the race, and it’s all good.

Takeaways:

• I probably should have been a bit more active during the earlier stages of the race. There’s no reason to not take a flyer early on, since there’s plenty of time to recover.
• Third place in the MAR required taking only five laps. That sounds pretty reasonable, I think.
• I should move up further before the sprint next week. There are maybe two or three guys who are really fast sprinters, so there’s no reason to think that if I’m right at the front heading into the final turn that I can’t hold a good position. Otherwise, it’s just a crap shoot in the pack since inevitably someone is going to cut you off or sit up in front of you.

Posted on August 6th, 2008

Apparently the Russian novelist, dissident, and fist-shaker at the ills of modernism has died. If you are unfamiliar with his work, I recommend his commencement address at Harvard, given in 1978. Time Magazine also has an article from 1974 detailing his expulsion from the Soviet Union as a dissident.

Posted on August 3rd, 2008

Deer Lakes Meandering, with Guys Run and Fox Chapel Road (no map, for reasons that become apparent)

Rode with Chris M today. The intention was to ride up to Deer Lakes Park, and work our way over to Dellenbaugh Road, then hit the Red Belt and Middle Road. Then I forgot the directions and we missed the turn up Little Deer Creek Road. Improvising from there, we rode up Crawford Run, over to Bailey’s Run (I think) then eventually over to Deer Creek. Using my keen (read: horrible) navigational skills, we ended up back on Freeport Road. From there we climbed Guys Run and came back on Fox Chapel Road. I had my usual crack near the top of Guys Run (that hill is about 400 meters longer than my conditioning), but otherwise I felt pretty good. It was good riding with Chris, as the pace was probably a bit higher than I would have maintained on my own.

Odometer read a bit over 42 miles.

Posted on August 3rd, 2008

Large field tonight–33 racers. Lots of newcomers, too. This translated to a bit of sketchy race, and there was a wreck. But more on that later.

I started at the front, and ended up taking a flyer with three other riders for the lap and half. This effort wasn’t too taxing, but, then again, I didn’t work much, either. I sat in for awhile, got boxed inside, then when the group went high (because everyone was following either Ted or Rob, who were, you know, pulling off so someone would pull through) I’d accelerate through. This happened several times, including once solo, but nothing stuck. It was a bit frustrating, as most people were content to sit in and let a few CMU and Iron City guys do all the work. This has the effect of causing the pace to yo-yo pretty radically, too, as when the stronger guys pull off to rest, no one actually pulls through. I feel like I spent a lot of time in the wind, and I realized I don’t have the legs to pull off the sort of efforts required for a long turn at the front.

The wreck happened with about 15 laps to go. There was quite a bit of sketchiness in the corners, and even in the straights (side note: thanks for Chris Mayhew’s contact drills a few weeks ago–I made contact (hips to my bars) at one point but managed to stay relaxed and neither us thought much about it). Coming out of the final corner, someone went down just behind me, and I heard the clatter of plastic and metal pavement, meaning at least a few other people went down too. This led to a serious conundrum within the group. Everyone immediately sat up, which is one of those conflicting things–you need to keep racing, since there are 30 other people who are expecting to go fast (well, maybe not that many) but you feel like a jerk for racing when someone could be hurt. Coming back around, the group was literally doing 19mph on the back straight.

Heading into the last lap, I wasn’t in a bad position, maybe middle of the pack, but I couldn’t get far enough outside to have a clear shot up the finishing straight. Two guys sat up in the front of me, and knowing that a full sprint would only mean 13th place instead of 18th, I was content to pull slowly around when I was sure it was clear, rather than jamming over and sprinting hard.

A few takeaways:

* I’d really prefer to be more active at the front during the race. Sitting in and sucking wheels (and then accelerating at the finish) may feel good for placing higher, but it’s much interesting (and safer, it would seem) to be off the front during the race.
* In order to do this, I need to be a bit stronger. Any sustained efforts (like my nearly lap long solo effort) are just too slow to stay away.
* I’ve been trying to play the position game during the last lap, and I’ve been failing miserably. I’m not sure if the pace is higher than the weeks I’ve done well (doubt it) or if I’m just over-thinking things. I vote for the latter.

Posted on July 29th, 2008

Logan’s Ferry to Murraysville

(Sorry, no map)

Rode up Logan’s Ferry from New Kensington, then looped down Hanlkey Church Road just because, finishing at my dad’s house. Logan’s Ferry is really one of the nicer “classic” climbs in the area–windy, shady, low traffic, relatively consistent grade. The ridge riding on Sardis Road also, I think, rivals anything south of the city.

26 miles, 17.9 mph average speed.

Posted on July 27th, 2008