Chicago Crit

After a week of racing superweek races it was time to head down to Chicago for one of the big money races of the year. With a full week of 100k crits in the legs, and not much rest from the night of racing before (we got home (actually Bob's house, but it's like home) at 1o, then had to eat and prepare for tomorrow, then leave 7.30am for the cat 3 race), it was going to be a hard race. Add to that the large amount of money on the line for the top 25, as well as big primes and a field size of 186, it looked like it was going to be an intense day. It was, however, quite the opposite. With wide sweeping corners on a short, flat circuit, it surprised me how easy it was to just sit on near the back. Getting to the last 15 laps of 46, I decided it would probably be a good time to start moving up. This turned out to be a lot harder. With such wide roads and a slow pace, the peloton resembled more of a big blob, with riders just moving back and forth much quicker than any other race. Still, I kept trying to move up. At least until we crossed the line with 5 to go. With the wind coming in from the right, I was moving up on the left, and hit a rather deep manhole, blowing out my rear wheel. Damn it.

That left me with no free lap, and no race left. Just four laps left for Brad Huff from Jelly Belly to drop everyone else and reach the finish ahead of Hilton Clarke.

It wasn't the end of the mediocre day there though. This was then followed by a horrible 13 hour drive back the Richmond. We left Chicago a 5 pm and still couldn't beat the morning rush hour in DC. How early do you have to leave these days? At least I found the love of my life on the way home. I wasn't actually looking for her, but she fell into my arms at Dairy Queen. [ed. I've since found out she isn't the love of my life, damn it].

Computers suck!

I apologise for my lack of updating this thing, but to all those friends back home, who have been a bit worried that I might be dead, I assure you I am still live and kicking. Well, I'm not kicking, but I am still alive. 

My computer f***ed up, and with soo much travel it's not till now that i've actually fixed the problem. I will endevour to write some blog posts to catch up. Other than that nothing exciting is happening, so keep watching.

Rock Hill: Patriot's Trail Road Race

After a good fast day in the saddle during yesterday’s crit, it was time for my preferred style of racing in the road race. The race was 2 laps of a 45mile (72km) lap. The course was nice and rolling, with no real big hills. The wind today was unfortunately pretty minimal. There was a fair few little potholes, bits of sand, gravel and roughed up roads, but not enough to upset the race to much.
The day started off very unusually today. Unusual in that we were the first to arrive at the race, as opposed to running a bit late. We even got to park closest to the start/finish line, and right by the road for a quick exit. It was an early start for us heading off at 8am, and when we arrived at the race it was still dark. We met up with Eric, who was kind enough to feed us today. This would be more important today with the longer race, and since it was so cold in the morning, the extra clothes we’d have on even when it got a little warmer. Though pulling off arm warmers ain’t too much of a hassle.
Just before the race was due to kick off we met up with Dan and Phil (Phil missed yesterday’s crit as he was ion CA, but flew in time for the RR) ad were having a chat as the rest of the bunch were staging. As we sat there talking, we heard a gun go off. Is that our race? Oh s***!!! Next thing you know the four of us are chasing down the moving peloton as they ride away on the course.
The first 5-10mins were a pretty slow steady pace, as I tried to move up the peloton, which was quite hard with the yellow line rule. Pretty soon I came near the front, and the pace was picking up a bit. Not long into the race we took a right hander and some rider hit the deck. He prob took down a few others with him, but I couldn’t see. I just followed the line I was taking and moved back into the slipstream off the riders in front. Shortly after that we hit a couple of rollers, and the attacks really started to heat up. The peloton was hitting it over a hill as I saw Phil follow a move. With a teammate up the road, I wasn’t too concerned in chasing them down, but soon after I did have to boost round the side to make sure I didn’t miss a split. The bunch really was blowing to bits. I was then hoping the pace would stay like this while teams that weren’t up the road try to get across, and the race would be thinned down to a lot less than started. But no, instead everyone stopped pedaling, the bunch came back together and the race for first was effectively over for all those not in the break. We then had a big peloton, not quite as big as when we started, but still bigger than it could have been.
The next portion of the race was a pretty easy affair. We just cruised along pretty slowly. There were at times a few guys who decided it was an easy race, and would attack solo. This would generally last a km, a couple at that most, before we returned to a pedestrian crawl. It wasn't until the last 10-15km that the pace began to ramp up as everyone was going for the sprint. I was still feeling good, and tried to get into a good position for the sprint. With about 5km to go I was perfectly placed, but it only took about 3 sec for a big swarm to come round me on either side. I lost position and had to start all over again. I kept trying to move up, but couldn't quite get in the right place, then just rolled in with the remainder of the bunch.

Rock Hill: Old Downtown Criterium

This weekend marked our furthest travel from home yet with a pair of races down in Rock Hill, South Carolina. The race consisted of a crit on Saturday and road race on Sunday. Since it's still Sat night, I'll only be talking about the crit for now. It was 40 laps of a .8mi (1.28km) for a total distance of 32 miles (51.2km). The course had 6 turns, a slight downhill run down the back straight, then uphill and round the corner to the finish.

Me by the course near Winthrop University.

Despite the fact that it was quite a technical crit I actually quite enjoyed it. Below is a pic of me rocking out in the crit.


Though I wasn't flying through the course like my team mate Dan, seen below off the front off the race.

Instead I was just sitting in the bunch making fun of my team mate (I'm forthback, kinda blurry, but you might be able to make out what I'm doing with my middle finger), who should have been in the race still, but needs to HTFU!!!

But really this little guy looks a lot better on his bike he does.


But to cut a long story short, I felt a lot more comfortable in that crit than I would have in the past. Last year I would have been one of the many riders being shelled, or at least one of the others left having tear myself apart to stay in contact. Though I do still have a lot of improving to do, as I couldn't quite wriggle my way far enough up to finish near the front, instead only finishing mid pack somewhere. Still, every race I'm learning, and every ride I'm getting stronger. Better luck tomorrow, I hope.

Jefferson Cup

Despite the low prize money, and typically crap weather, this is the race that everyone in Virgina wants to win. I'm pretty new to the region, but it seems this is the race that cyclists want to have on their palmares. The entries list only takes a few hours to fill up. A lot of riders in the Cat 1 wanted to win it as it meant they could ride for the Nature Valley amateur team at the Nature Valley Grand Prix, so a lot was on the line.

The race was 7 laps of a 10 mile circuit (16km), or 70 miles (112km) total. It was consistently rolling, with no flat roads on the course. Though in saying that, there are no big hills. Typically this race is known for its miserable conditions, but somehow this year it was beautiful. There was a bit of wind, but not enough to do any damage, unless you're a retard who has no idea how to ride in breeze. Unfortunately there were a few of these guys.

We started the race with a neutral roll out to the start finish line before the start of racing. The Cat 1,2,3 field went first, followed by the Masters 35+ field. Not long into the neutral section I heard the sound that no rider likes hearing. Yep, I'd punctured my rear wheel. I stuck my hand in the air as I drifted to the back of the 125 rider field. When I got to the back I told the moto I needed a wheel. "Sorry, the wagon's behind the masters' race, keep riding." Keep riding usually isn't what you want to hear when you have a puncture. Why the hell was our service vehicle behind a different race? They pulled the service vehicle through, and I was given a crap wheel, with a horrible looking tyre fraying on the sides. It also had a bright purple hub. I could see my wheel right next to it, and I was asking for it, but no, I had the purple monster. As I was changing the wheel, the masters rolled past. I then had to fight my way round their race, with a whole lot of old buggers not letting me through as they tried to defend their place in the bunch. I'm not in your race you retards, just let me through. I did get on just before the racing started, so all was good.

The first couple of laps where a shit fight to stay near the front. Everyone wanted to be there, whether it was good riders who wanted to stay out of trouble, crap riders who wanted to be able to drift back when it gets hard, or muppets who have no idea what they're doing but think everyone else is trying to get to front, I should do the same. After a few laps some of the fatties started to tire, and only the halve decent riders were fighting for position, typical racing really. It was pretty dodgy trying to stay near the front with idiots doing stupid stuff.

I managed to stay out of trouble in the race, but Simon didn't have the same luck. He had a mechanical after 3 laps, and after some very slow servicing, found himself a long way back putting the grupetto further in the hurt box than they already were. With about 2 laps to go the pace began to get serious, and cracks looked like they were starting to appear in the group. I was hoping it would blow apart, but there were a few teams far to intent on ending the race in a sprint. On the last lap a group of 4 got away, and were dangling insight the whole way round. With about 5km to go they looked doomed and were almost back in the fold until someone stacked in the field. The crash was off to my right, and I luckily avoided it. The riders that were pulling the break back began to hesitate and look around for their riders. About another km down the road and break were moving away. It was no or never, so with the wind coming from the left I laid it down on the right side and began bridging up. With 2k to go I had more than halved the gap and I thought I had them. The final turn and a spectator yells, "Yea man, you got it. 8 sec". I was well in the hurt box, and dug deeper. With 1k to go, I hadn't closed the gap anymore, but I thought I had it over the bunch. With 700m to go though it was game over. The bunch round me and I was spent. I dug deep, gave it everything, but it wasn't quite enough. Looking back, I probably should have gone right after the crash, as I might have caught the break. But that's racing, you take your chance. Sometimes you ride away to glory, other times you get caught and spat out.

I don't have any photos or exact results at the moment, but will post them as soon as I get them.

Note:

I finshed 49th from 125th

Out Like a Lion

The road race on Saturday was called out like a lion, but I think this weekend should have just been referred to as WTF?? weekend. Everything that could have gone wrong did (well almost everything), everything that couldn't go wrong also still did, and somehow what should have gone completely wrong didn't. Hmm... Well let's start from the beginning.

Things started to not look to good for the weekend last Monday night, when I woke up feeling a little queasy. I went to the bathroom, where I realised I wasn't just a little queasy, but down right sick. I then spent the majority of the remaining evening with my head above the toilet regurgitating what ever it was I shouldn't have eaten. I then spent a few days without riding, and by the time Friday came along I found myself really struggling to keep up with anyone on the bike. Having been sick, my blood sugars did there usual reaction and just went crazy.

We headed down to NC on Saturday, and things weren't looking like improving. I had an occlusion and 400 mg/dl (22.2 mmol/L) blood sugar. hmm, not a good start. I then had to clamber into the back of the tank to get my new pod, bolus, and before you know it I was back in range for the first time in a week.

After getting my BG's down, and nearing lunch time, we went to reach for some lunch we had packed. This enlightened us to our next problem, we left cooler behind. Bugger. Well, that had most our food for the weekend in it, bugger.

Me rummaging round the back of the tank for a pod while we cruise down the highway.

This trip did mean me reaching my 31st State, and first new one for 2009; North Carolina.

After stocking up with some 'race' food at the gas station where we filled up we were back on the road hopping that the worst was behind us. A little way down the road we get a message from Shelia the Slapper (our Garmin GPS) saying, "20min of battery remaining". We then checked the power adapter and realise that it was hanging by a thread and not really working. After frantically writing down the turn by turn directions (which we were really hoping we wouldn't need), we then began a repair job. Sticking a metal object in the cigarette lighter didn't work, it just sprayed sparks out. Even for Simon when tried it the 2nd time for some reason!?! However What did work was a little electrical tape. I think a warranty may be required for this job.

We did have some technical difficulties on the way down, but thanks to a little ingenuity with electrical tape we were away laughing again.

It was a good thing we got Shelia working, cause the roads around here were confusing. 3 lanes and 3 stop signs at a T intersection, hmm. We also had to turn down Random Rd, which was a real road, not just the Slapper not knowing where we were.

We did eventually get down to the race, early even, and set up for the race. One thing (of many) I hate about racing after being sick is guessing my insulin requirements. The last week I had been running with 40% more than usual, and still running high. This should mean that I should stay on that much more except with a racing rate right? Well, I had been feeling a lot better and BG's were coming down, so would it be too much? Dilemma. I ran pretty close to what I normally would and decided to see if it was enough.

The race didn't really go well for any of us. Simon was the only one of us 3 to actually finish the race, that's never good. I just felt empty, and halfway through the race couldn't even hang onto the back of the group. Goodnight. I then crawled back to the van, feeling absolutely rubbish, to test my blood. I was expecting some 3 or 400 ridiculous blood, but to my utter amazement it read 99! I couldn't believe it, 99! Not 100 or 98, but a perfect 99. I think it was about the only time I've ever been pissed off that I was 99. Just sums up the WTF theme of the weekend. Matt also exited his race early, and Simon came in a little after the bunch.

Our only finisher for the day.

WTF? The 'worst' 99 I've ever had, if such a thing exists.

The next day was a crit, and although I felt a million times better than the day before, crits have never been my forte. So much so that our sponsors wanted my bio to say, "Tim's goal is to ride a crit..." We'll I've already achieved that goal twice this year, and although I still wasn't feeling good, I made it through this one as well. I managed to get pretty well positioned for a lot of the race (not all), but when the winning moves went I just didn't have the legs. I did get in front of the massive crash though, in which Simon was caught up, but didn't go down (apparently there is a video of this, hopefully I can get it soon). They then let the 20 odd riders back in between the break and field, effectively closing the gap.

The trip home we were finally looking for some peace at the end of a crazy weekend. We had a quick dinner stop at the Olive Garden, which I had been wanting to visit for a long time, ie since I got to the US. Not due to the reputation for fine food, but rather the funny adds and tv/movie references, "Olive Garden, When you're here, you're family".

After that we just cruised home without any problems, except when our slapper went spastic on us. While still on the highway she tried to tell us to turn left, and kept recalculating. Below is her showing we are off the road.

It wasn't the most successful weekend, but certainly an eventful one. One to bigger and better things.

Part 3

Part 3Host House.

Our first host house for the year, and it was to be a new experience for Simon. Not knowing what to expect, we turned up at the address, knocked on the door, and was greeted by our host. I introduced us Team Type 1, but received only a blank expression in return. Hmm..awkward, are we in the right place? “I think we staying here”, I said. This sparked a realization and we felt a lot more at home. After this Jeff and Kristen were nothing less than wonderful hosts. They provided some ridiculously good food, and made sure we felt completely at home. At home enough that we even joined in on the trampoline basketball game. That was a workout, especially for Matt, who found it harder work than the race. Maybe he should have finished it. Though the basketball must have done something for him, cause he came back pretty strong in the crit the next day.

Matt and I watch the net from afar during a round of tramp basketball.


Matt takes a shot during tramp bball.

Matt kitting up with his knee warmers, not that he needed it.