Over the weekend, I finally installed the Sturmey-Archer 3 speed wheel on the Surly (this particular AW is a 1972 vintage). Yes, yes, fixed gears are great, except when you haul 15 pounds of stuff back and forth to work everyday, or drag 60+ pounds of children in a trailer behind you. I fantasized briefly about selling the Steamroller and getting a long tail bike (like an Xtracycle or Kona Ute), but realized that for the cost of a rear brake and lever from Jerry Kraynick, the Surly would be nearly as practical for the fraction of the cost. So off went the track hub, on went the Sturmey (along with a rear brake, lever, and the trigger shifter).
So I can coast. And spin up hills. Kinda.
Posted on 9 July 2008
28 racers. Warm. Humid. Kinda windy.
The pace was mostly pretty reasonable, and there were lots of attacks. Nothing stuck, though, due in part to the group chasing the moves down and in part to the winds, which discouraged solo efforts. I mostly stayed in the group. The few times I thought I could cover a move, I was boxed in and really couldn’t move around. I did manage to help chase down one move, and put in a sad, sad, sad effort at one of the primes (I suppose I need to lose the “happy to be there” attitude and burn the wick at both ends a bit). The group was, as usual, a bit wobbly in the turns, and I’ve decided it’s almost better to be a bit higher in the turns, as racers tend to just drift down in the corners, meaning you either have to hit the brakes or move over the inside line.
One odd moment–two riders were off the front. I moved with a small group to chase them down. I put my head down for a moment, then looked up and saw one of the riders in the grass in the turn. Huh? You’re in a break with one other person. How did that happen?
I managed 10th, after being ill-positioned during the final lap and not exactly going all out on the sprint. I’m content, though I should have done more during the race, given the generally reasonable pace, and I should have perhaps gotten out of the saddle in the sprint. I’m bummed I missed the points, though–I’d like to finish in the top 10 overall, and I’m sitting just outside in 12th (funny how I’m obsessed with my results after not really caring much about these silly races earlier in the spring).
Another observation–if you are sitting in the top ten-ish heading into the last corner, either actually sprint or sit up at the beginning of the lap. Trying to maintain a reasonably straight line in the sprint whilst dodging riders with their hands off their bars isn’t cool. Take a lesson from the master or something.
Posted on 8 July 2008
Middle-Bairdford-Saxonburg
35 miles.
I had forgotten how pleasant Middle Road Extension is. My goal for the rest of the season will be to explore the roads to the north without a map, just to see what happens.
An epic rain storm moved in during the last five or six miles–pounding rain, a bit of hail, high winds, and at least of water on the road surface.
Posted on 6 July 2008
Miller’s Run
This was my trip south of the city, and it was worth it. I’m spoiled by quick access to farm roads north of the city, and always put off a bit by the West End Circle, but the circle isn’t bad at all, especially when approached via Carson Street. There is actually very little “sprawl”-ish riding, too, with a bit just outside of Carnegie, which is easily avoided via Thoms Run. Sygan Road is really great–a long, gravel climb passing the usual mixture of farms and McMansions, with absolutely stunning views from the ridge (I should add that I tapped into my inner Oscar Swan when finding Sygan–I spied the road surface and thought “this has to be it”). The descent back to Noblestown via Nesbitt is also good fun, though reminded me that I should really adjust my brakes, as I wasn’t entirely sure I was going to be able to stop before Noblestown. Noblestown itself is also amazing–mostly flat and false flat, with a rollers for good measure.
Who knew southern roads were so swell?
Posted on 6 July 2008
As of today, I have backed out of doing the 101. I could enumerate my reasons, but I won’t. Mostly, I fear I won’t be in shape (zooming around the Oval is all well and good, but I’m not sure it’s the best training for a 100 mile MTB race with 11,000 feet of climbing), and I fear for my life. I haven’t been out on the mountain bike as much as I would have liked by this point, and knowing what nutty lies in wait on that course is at least slightly scary. Perhaps next year. I will, however, probably do some of the Month of Mud, which involves 1) significant less miles and climbing and 2) slightly more reasonable terrain.
Posted on 1 July 2008
Apparently at some point today this blog fell prey to a WordPress cookie hijacking vulnerability, and there was a spam posted. This was actually heartwarming in a way, as six different people alerted me, which is, I think, five more people than I though actually read this blog.
Part of the issue is likely that I am running a really, really old installation of WordPress, and I cannot bring myself to suffer through an upgrade. I suppose, however, that I should bite the bullet, lest that happen again.
Posted on 1 July 2008
It was ACA picnic night, meaning everybody raced, and the Cs raced in the dark, mostly. Good thing I wore my navy blue jersey. And forgot my lights for the ride home.
The pace was really fast from the start, thanks in part to some B race regulars making an appearance as well as a prime a lap (at least my oxygen-deprived brain heard a bell every lap). I was struggling to hold a wheel, and there were several times I thought it was over. Gaps were chased down, though, and I managed to hang on until the group sat up a bit later in the race. The group was jittery tonight, and there was lots of drifting in the corners. On the last lap I was guilty of drifting inside a bit on the back straight, as I followed someone diving below a group who had sat up. I should have moved to the outside, but live and learn, and don’t do it again.
I managed sixth place (provisionally), again, though the initial move away from the group sucked much of the oomph from my legs. Still, not a bad result, and I would have been chucked to just finish with the group. At least last week’s result wasn’t simply a flash in the pan.
Also, I got an appreciation of the work the marshals do during our race while what Sebastien and Oren mix it up with several other kids on their bikes riding around a traffic circle in the infield. I’m not entirely sure how there wasn’t a wreck.
Posted on 1 July 2008
There was a small-ish group for Tuesday’s race–only 21–and quite a few first time racers. A handful of riders promoted themselves to the B race, but a few of the fast guys were still around. I suspected that the quick Roomful Express rider, who is usually in the thick of things, would just go ahead and lap the field tonight. My unstated goal was to stay with the pack, and given my performance in Oakmont last Saturday, who knows what tonight would bring.
Off we went, and up went the pace. I sat in the last quarter of the group. The pace began to climb a bit more as a rider went off the front. The group strung out a bit, and I was worried that I might be missing a selection, but before I needed to move around and catch on, someone else a few bikes pushed forward a bit, and we remained in the bunch. Someone next me (a relatively new face at the Oval, though apparently a racer) was complaining about the pace. I wanted to point out that this was, you know, a race, but kept my mouth shut. I made the mistake of looking at my computer when we went over the start/finish line, and when I saw 30mph, I was just about ready to accept the inevitable and give up staying with the group. What’s worse, on the next lap, I looked up to check the lap count, and saw “25” on the board. Mistakenly, I thought “oh my, we’ve only done 5 laps. My goose is cooked.” A lap later my brain sorted it out, and informed me that we had, in fact, done 10 laps, and if I hung on just a little longer, the pace would become more reasonable.
Around lap 15 things did, indeed, calm down, and soon enough I was coasting down the back straight and enjoying the pace. The group was a bit squirrelly, and there was one interesting moment in the first corner, but no one actually went down (lesson learned: always stay low in the turns–it’s safer there). With five laps to go, I heard one of the marshals say “it might get pretty hard now” to one of the new racers, and I prepared myself to suffer a bit more, but the surge never happened, at least until the last lap. The pace quickened, but it wasn’t completely unreasonable, and as we entered the last corner, I was happy to achieved my goal. Then, people started going backward. Certainly, I picked up my pace, but I was hardly sprinting (and I wasn’t out of the saddle), yet there I was, passing people. I shifted and passed a few more people. Hmmm. Maybe I can catch those guys? I went again, a bit harder, and nearly pipped them at the line, and ended up with 6th place. Not bad, not bad.
Let’s see if I can keep this up.
Posted on 25 June 2008
“I was in the pain cave and I had dropped the flashlight, so it was pretty dark at that point.”
Mike Friedman, describing his effort in the 2008 Het Volk.*
The skinny on the race: 20 laps of a .8 mile on-street course in Oakmont for a total of a whopping 16 miles. Six corners, two railroad crossing, and a stretch of pavé.
16 miles, I thought. I can suffer for 16 miles and stick with the group. Two things would work against me, though: the fact that the “fast” cat 4 racers would be in my race, and the looooong, slightly downhill straightaway. What’s so hard about going downhill, you ask? Well, you would be surprised. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.
As usual, at the start line I found myself at the back. Bad, Brian. Move up. Within a lap I was in a group struggling to maintain contact. The acceleration out of the first corner, into the downhill, was crazy. I was literally red-lining it on the second lap, and losing contact. Not good. My group managed to hold on for about four or five laps, and several us were spat off the back. We weren’t very organized, and the results were predicable. Too many long pulls left me off the back of this group, and I managed to organize with one of the few women brave enough to ride with the men. We lasted a few more laps, then the pack came around and tried like the devil to hold on to the bunch. This lasted for another two laps, I think.
At this point, things get pretty fuzzy. I had dropped the flashlight laps ago, and was now in a section of cave with limited oxygen. I was dreaming of flat, or a dropped chain. Or, I could just cowboy up and drop out. I think I was with another guy, but dagnabit, he never took a pull. I would simply put my head down in the straights and pedal as hard as my rapidly fading legs could, and I would fly through corners1, wondering when I might push the boat out a bit too far and crash. I wasn’t paying attention to the lap count (this is not entirely true–I would note on the back straight to take a look at the lap count when I passed the start/finish area, but every time I would forget). Finally, I heard the pack approach again, and as we passed the start/finish, the bell rang for the last lap. I held on for maybe half a lap, then popped again and finished just off the back.
And to think, I paid $20 for that.
The cat 2/3 race actually made me feel better about myself. A break went immediately (no, really, immediately. Like, before the first corner), and within two laps there were people all over the course, getting lapped left and right. And these were the “real” racers.
The course was more fun than I thought it would be, and despite my massive lack of speed, I seem to be enjoying this racing thing (blissfully ignoring the fact that speed is a critical element to doing well). This week’s goal at the Oval will be to stay with the group the entire race.
* Any comparison to myself and Friedman ends there. Friedman went on to finish in the top 15 of a semi-classic. I went on to get lapped about 30 times by the field in a 4/5 race.
1Interesting observation: at the back of the course, folks were riding on the right side of the yellow line, even though the optimal line in the corner was on the left. Closed course, dudes! Take the whole road!
Posted on 21 June 2008
Fox Chapel Loop
I snuck out at 8:00 PM, after the rain passed, for a short ride through the hills above Fox Chapel. Through Sharpsburg, I made my usual navigational error of climbing to Sharps Hill instead of Dorseyville, meaning a bit of meandering through the neighborhood before I (re-)discovered the correct sequence of roads to bring me the last bit of Sharps Hill Road and, eventually, Dorseyville Road. It had just rained on the ridge, with puddles and condensation rising from the dense, green valleys. I rolled up and down, up and down, to Fox Chapel Road, and began the descent home. I drafted a container truck along Freeport Road. Fun.
18 miles in a little over an hour. This was the first ride, I think, that I could really feel the fitness gains from suffering at the Oval. That was nice.
Posted on 20 June 2008