Finally, after many starts and fits (due in equal part to weather and other obligations), I made it down to the Oval on Washington Blvd. for the bi-weekly track races. I was genuinely nervous about it–unlike an alleycat, your lack of speed is readily apparent. My goal was to simply not embarrass myself. I had spent the better of two days obsessing over gear selection. By Thursday evening, I had it narrowed down to 48×16 or 45×14, with the latter providing a few more gear inches. After talking with Dave, I settled on 45×14, convincing myself that I would need everything I could. So, I left work early, rode home (likely my second error–my commute is hilly, and even on a slow day, it takes a little something out of my legs), and prepped the Surly by swapping out the cog, replacing the Midges with the track drops, and removing the front brake.

Five other riders showed up, three of them messengers, the others two serious looking racers with rather nice track bikes. It was at this point I made my peace with being last in every race (good thing, too). The first race was a two lap points races. Most of the first lap was slow, then the speed was turned up on the second lap. The group was together heading into the final corner. Here I made tactical mistake number one: I was in front coming out of the turn.

But wait. Before I continue, I think it is important to clarify something. The Oval is not a velodrome. It is an old driver’s licensing test course which, thanks to the city and a few deep pockets, was converted to a cycling track. Yes, the corners are banked (nothing like a proper velodrome), but it is considerably longer than your typical track, and the home straight has a hill. That’s right. A small rise. Nothing that bothers the roadies, but one a track bike, geared for the flats, it’s enough to redline your engine every lap. To make matters worse, corner four dips a bit on the inside, forcing another small rise before the steady incline to the start/finish line. Yes, the inside line is faster, but it is harder. Much harder.

So where was I? Right. Tactical mistake. I was leading the group out, and the stronger riders blew by me. My chance at redemption was to take fourth place, and move in the next race. I was holding it as we approached the crest, but at the last moment the thought of racing immediately made me think “do I really want to do that again?” and I allowed someone to take me at the line. I did manage fifth, but that was little consolation.

Race two: a pursuit, styled like a 1500 meter speed skating event. Two riders started together for a two lap race. Each rider had to hold a lane (inside and outside) for a lap, then at the start/finish line, they would cross. I took the inside line for lap one. I rode steadily, picking up some speed in the back straight (where I could), and I extended that lead a bit more coming out the final corner. Switching lanes I held the lead through the back straight into the turn, but my partner, a rather large fellow named Pat, was gaining, thanks to the shorter line through the corner. I didn’t take enough advantage of the higher line coming out of turn four (which carries you beyond the slight rise), and he slipped ahead on the finishing straight. I could hear him coming, the Mavic disc on his Fort humming from the effort. I managed to finish on his wheel, though our times where the slowest of the bunch. I was fairly content though, having actually made a race of it.

Race three: six laps, one point for each lap winner. I had one shot–lap one. I was sitting second back coming out of turn four, and I thought maybe, just maybe I could do it, but someone with bigger legs than I came flying (I mean flying) out of the high line to take the lap. Pat spent it all right there, and sat up. I managed to stay with the bunch through another two laps, then I faded and pulled out. Not bad, I suppose, for someone not used to going that hard over that distance.

Race four: A Madison. 15 laps. We were paired off by organizer, and I would act as a dead weight for the current points leader, Randy. I apologized for my lack of speed while we were warming up, and he just laughed it off. We were a good pair if only because we were the odd men out. Randy was wearing cut-offs, a t-shirt, and a pair of Vans. I was kitted out with cotton shorts, a t-shirt, and my “casual” cycling shoes. Randy, however, was riding a new 3Rensho keirin bike, kitted out with full NJS gear, including Araya rims with Gan Well Pro tubs. I knew seven laps at speed would absolutely crush me, so my goal was to keep contact for as long as possible. This lasted through perhaps four of my laps. Then slowly, the other riders pulled away, and at the last exchange, I apologized again. No worries, he said. All in good fun.

My poor performance managed to drag Randy down from the points lead, though he did take second overall for the evening. I was dead last, as expected. Was it fun? Absolutely. I had no delusions of grandeur–I simply wanted to give it a try. Will I go back? Yes, with a slightly lighter gear. I just don’t have the legs to power through the final straight will a tall gear. I never felt terrible on the back straight; it was simply a matter of being able to start a good sprint from turn four. I may fiddle with 48×16 and head down to the track for a spin before the weekend is up, just to see what it feels like. And my goal for two weeks from now? Well, I have two. First, to finish with points (even just one). Second, to drag along a few friends. Misery loves company.

Posted on 28 July 2006