Race Report: Tour of the Hilltowns 2009

If you know me, you know that this is not my kind of race. I can attack rollers and 3 minute climbs all day, but put a real climb in front of me and I wither. Despite the course's not suiting my skillset, I have raced Hilltowns 3 years in a row. It is one of the few selective, single loop hilly races in New England. If the word wasn't so overused, I may even call it epic.

The course is fairly simple, though quite a ball kicking 55 miles. Starts with a 20 mile descent/flat, turns onto East Hawley Rd (which is usually refered to as "The Infamous East Hawley Road Climb" when mentioned in print or IEHRC). After the IEHRC there is a decent, then some rollers and finally a grinding 10+ mile false flat broken up by short upkicks leading to a 1km finishing climb that feeds to a corner and then 200 meter to the finish.

The Race (before I got dropped)

Matt Spaits had aspirations of doing well in this race. Our team really couldn't figure out a way to help him other then keep the race together before the climb and then, if one of us was in his group, keep him sheltered and fresh for the finishing climb.

The start of the race was tame, smooth roads, fast descent. As usual, Leo Desforges was trying to start a break and various players covered, so he got nowhere.

About 12 miles in, the road surfaces deteriorated considerably. Chip seal, long longitudinal cracks and deep pot holes dominated this fast section. It was much worse than anything that Battenkill throws at you. Bicycle parts were breaking left and right. I saw a rear wheel explode, spokes hitting the frame, so far out of true that the wheel locked up; water bottles everywhere; riders swerving all over the road to avoid obstacles at 35-40mph. The wheel car ended up many minutes behind the peloton sorting out the carnage.

Both Threshold riders and about 5 others opened a gap on the first sketchy section. Immediately, I saw the danger. I commented to Jordan that we needed to get a man up. I knew that the road was bad enough that the main group was at a disadvantage to an organized break. Even if the break lacked organization, I knew that Leo would just pull them all away from us.

I slowly advanced to the front of the pack with the intent of bridging. I didn't plan on working in the break, merely sitting on the back in order to either cause them to stop working and bring them back or so that I got a free ride to the base of the climb ahead of the peloton. At this point, the break was clearly visible and within my ablities to bridge to.

There was a textbook sweeping left hand turn (no brakes needed) and some idiot in front of me basically locked his brakes up. I went from 3rd wheel to the back of the pack in less than a second. To top it off the road got even worse and much faster. This descent was bad enough that any prudent rider would avoid it even when alone. In a scared pack it was terrifying.

I am a mortal and a pussy. I don't take huge risks when road conditions are this bad. I remained with the pack, but every time that I dove into a gap to advance, I hit a jarring pothole or found my carbon tubular buried in a deep longitudinal crack. Eventually, realizing that no matter what I did, I wasn't going to win, I backed off and rode conservatively.

At this point the break wasn't visible. My teammates, in the confusion of shattering bikes, flats, lost water bottles and teeth rattling chip and seal, thought that I had bridged to the break. They wouldn't have blocked for me either way, knowing that I would get shelled on the climb, but they also didn't chase even though they had firepower massed near the front. By the time they realized that I was relaxing in back, it was too late to organize an effective chase. No other teams took any initiative either, despite CB's considerable cajoling.

On the first roller I allowed my momentum to carry me through the slower riders and was able to arrive at the IEHRC in the front 4/5 of the pack.

The Goddamned Climb

My plan was to stomp the pedals until I literally blew up. Normally on a selective climb, I back off before implosion so that I have gas in the tank to catch the front group on the descent. Normally, this strategy works out fine, as there are always a few determined sprinters to work with. This never works at Hilltowns. The descent is not steep enough and the roads are fairly straight and smooth, so the advantage is with a big group instead of a smaller one.

Basically, I was blocked or stuffed. I had no punch in my legs. I was dropped early, earlier than normal even. I wasn't even able to push hard enough on the pedals to bring myself to cardio vascular exhaustion and nausea. I am pretty sure that I was the last non mechanically delayed rider over the climb. I didn't have to swerve all over the road or anything, but I was slow.

My excuse is that I did some hill work on Tuesday, but more importantly, I went on a very hard (at least for me with my lack of handling skills) mtb ride with Colin R and Cary on Wednesday. In fact the ride was hard enough that I was limping all day Thursday and I still have pronounced bruises on my quads from going over the handlebars (normally, I don't bruise).

The Rest of the Race

I descended as fast as I could, but I never saw the peloton again.

I overtook a few riders. I worked with people briefly, but seemed to gap all of them on rollers and rode away from them. I wasn't trying to drop them, they just must have dumped it out on the climb.

The final false flat section was miserable. It climbs slowly into a moderate to severe headwind. I was overtaken by the master's front group and a couple of chases. I was struggling to keep a respectable pace seriously wondering why I enter races like this when I know that I am going to finish alone and 5-15 minutes off the leaders. There is nothing more frustrating than riding 12 mph in your drops in the little ring. 10 miles of this made me hate riding bicycles, not to mention racing them.

At the base of the climb, I saw D'Alessio of Threshold ahead. I didn't dig deep, but I rode faster than I would have if no one from my field had been up the road.

I caught him near the top, sat on his wheel and attacked him in the final corner. It was too far. It was the longest 200m I have ridden in awhile. D'Alessio came around me with 25 m to go. Colin Murphy claims that I was sprinting with my hands in the hoods, which may explain my crappy sprinting performance (though I doubt it).

Aftermath

Spaits and Ryan were within throwing distance at the top of the climb, but weren't able to make contact. The break stuck and as far as we all know, Leo Desforges was the first Massachusetts rider over the finish line, which makes him the category 3 Massachusetts State Road Champion. Congratulations Leo and to Threshold, well played, seriously well played.

Artificially Beefing Up Elite Fields: Why?

Both mountain biking and the Verge series have taken steps to allow (read force) lower category riders to race as pro and elites respectively.

Mountain bike categories changed this year, which effectively combined the former semi pro category with the pro category. Squirtgunshow (1, 2, 3) has done a great job of pointing out the various follies in the new scheme, so I won't belabor the point.

Verge had split the 2/3 field so that 3's race alone, while cat 2's will now race with elites. For 2's this is a mixed blessing. Some 2's are excited about racing elite cyclocross, some are upset that they will be deprived of thier chance to shine in the B's this year (yes there are non-sandbagging 2's who would have done well this year) and others are indifferent or have not formed an opinion. Still other 2's are upset about the huge race fee increase that they will incur now that they race with the elites ($45 per race plus they need to purchase a $90 UCI license, ouch!).

In thinking about and discussing the various advantages and disadvantages of the artificial influx of elite riders in both New England cyclocross (with 14 races scheduled for 2009, we can effectively say that the Verge series is NE CX) and mountain biking, I have been forced to question both the motivation and the wisdom of the schemes.

Firstly does it make sense to effectively upgrade your semi pros to pro or your cat 2's to cat 1? My argument would be that while this may be good for individuals with aspirations of becoming pros or elites, this is not so good for everyone else.

I am now a 3. Early indicators point to me having a decent cross season in 2009. But will I upgrade to 2 if I get some decent results? No. I have a job, friends, a wife and other interests that I care about. At 37 years of age, I am not looking to become a elite rider. So if I get a few decent results, I may end up in the untenable situation where I can either sandbag in the 3's or upgrade and be lapped by Trebon and pulled before the race is halfway over. Both situations suck. I use myself as an example because I know that there are lots of people in New England who are in the same boat. There is also that real possiblity that my results won't qualify me for an upgrade, which would suck on one hand but also eliminate the dilemna.

Others have argued that Verge is trying to cultivate US elites so that they can be competitive in worldwide competition. How the hell does filling the elite field with cat 2's make cat 1's faster or more competitive? Personally, I have never gotten faster by riding with riders who were slower than or less skilled than me.

After listening to various thinkers on the topic and thinking deeply about it (it is summer and I am a teacher, so I have time to burn), I have concluded that both the mtb and the CX "upgrades" have the same goal: create a sense that the respective disciplines are thriving. It just looks bad when your elite races are poorly attended and when no one sticks around to watch them. Obviously, this has not been a problem at big races like Gloucester. But at many UCI races feilds are small (1,2,3)and lower category riders often chose to go home rather than watch elite race.

So the upgrading of semi pros in mtb and cat 2's in cx will make the pro and elite fields look bigger on paper. Maybe this will bring in sponsors or give organizers some traction with the UCI.

But I have to ask a question: other than the 25 guys actually racing for UCI points, does anyone really care about the UCI points? I ask this question in all seriousness. I know that I don't care. And watching Johnson or Trebon beat 60 guys instead of 25 won't make the race any more exciting to watch.

As others have noted, there are serious problems with both the new accomadations for cat 4's and for lower category women.

It's almost as if Verge feels like it is doing us a favor by allowing us lowly lower category riders to race. But I ask, where would the Verge series be if it wasn't for our entry fees? Would there even be a series? And outside of us (cyclocross racers) who in the US gives a shit about elite cyclocross racing? Answer: no one. Beefing up the elite feild (or pro feild) with lower category riders is not going to increase the popularity of the sport.

Maybe there is something else going on and I just don't get it (I am serious here). If you will be kind enough to explain...

Creeping Fees in Competitive Cycling: An Economics Lesson.

Race fees are rising steadily. One expects race fees to rise over time due to inflation. In some cases the costs associated with putting on a race also rise, requiring promoters to increase race fees to meet basic expenses. These price increases are natural and perfectly acceptable. While we may complain that races no longer cost $15, for the most part, our salaries keep pace with inflationary pressures, allowing us to pay the increased race fees without having to make sacrifices in other areas.

But this season there has been a couple of trends that I would like to note and discuss. First, many race fees have risen significantly this year. Second, there appears to be less people registering for races this season. Third, the overall economy is contracting. My main question is: How do these trends interact? Do the former two trends feed each other or are they merely correlated without causation one way or the other? And how does the overall contraction in the economy affect both of these trends in competitive cycling?

While economic indicators point to our recession ending in the near future, I don't think that anyone would argue that our economy is not faltering. Many of us have accepted wage freezes, no bonuses, reduced hours or pay decreases. Some of us have found ourselves laid off and unemployed. There are people losing their homes. Furthermore, many people are scared of one or more of these things happening.

Curtailing discretionary spending is a logical reaction to the economic downturn. Personally, I am spending less money on non essential items and I have been streamlining my household expenses in an effort to keep precious dollars set aside for the rainy days (if you didn't know, I spent 6 months unemployed last year and am currently looking for a position for the fall).

My 2009 racing budget is less than half of previous years'. I am not traveling as far for races and I am avoiding stage races and expensive one day events. Instead of racing 2 days a weekend, I only race one.

I have made some concessions in equipment as well; I am racing on less expensive rubber, my bartape is changed less frequently, I patch tubes, cleats remain unchanged until really worn out, I buy lower level chains and cassettes and I use generic cables and reuse cable housing.

For 90% of us, race fees are a purely discretionary expense. As such race fees are elastic, meaning that increases in race prices will cause consumers to spend less on them. Of course we can note some examples that defy the law of elasticity, such as The Tour or the Battenkill, which climbed to $45+ a head in 2009 and still had over 1500 registrants. For the most part, as racers find less money in their pockets and as race fees rise, racers will either chose to race less or will seek out races with more reasonable fees.

Many promoters fail to understand this simple law. Instead of lowering fees, or at least holding them steady, in the face of a recession, they have chosen to raise fees to make up for the income that has been lost from lower attendance at races. This will not work. In the case of unique events such as Battenkill, race fees appear to be inelastic; racers will pay ever increasing amounts of money to participate in this unique race. Though I suspect that at some point Battenkill's promoter will raise fees high enough to figure out exactly how elastic or inelastic race fees are.

Promoters of less unique events have also raised fees. Notably, the 2009 Verge races are becoming exorbitant. For cat 4's there it costs $30 for 30 minutes of racing and it pays MEDALS 3 deep. Cat 3's get a payout 0f $250 5 deep, but they will pay $35 for 45 minutes. Cat 2's, who now race with the UCI elites (which requires the purchase of a $90 UCI license that expires on 12/31/09) now will pay $45 for the privilege of getting lapped. Sure there is a $2171 payout that goes 25 deep, but I have seen $17 pay envelopes for people who finished "in the money" at UCI races.

Though it may seem like it, I have not put this post up to merely complain about race fees. I am arguing that increasing race fees will not bring more revenue to promoters. In fact, in many cases, the increased race fees will cause promoters to get less revenue than they would have if the fee was kept lower, as many racers choose to go to a training race or on a group ride instead of spending precious dollars on race fees.

If you increase the race fee by 20% and lose 20% of your racers, you lose 4% of your revenue. For example: if you brought in $100 charging 100 racers a $1 race fee and you increased the fee to $1.2 and only 80 racers came, you'd take in $96. Even worse, you'd probably still have alienated some of the racers who still chose to show up.

A good example of this trend has been the New England Velodrome, which I frequent. In 2007 and 2008, the race fee was $10 and bicycle rental was $2. With transportation from Boston, the whole experience was under $20. In 2008 increased gas prices and the beginnings of the recession decreased attendance at the velodrome.

The management responded by raising the race fee to $15 and bringing bicycle rental to $5 (though they also replaced the grouchy curmudgeon who was running the rental area with a great Goguen kid [maybe Manny?], which is probably worth the price increase). With gas and fees, the NEV now costs almost $30, depending on what kind of vehicle you are driving.

NEV attendance has been sparse in 2009. This morning, I just received an email informing me that race fees will increase to $20 in August in order to cover USAC sanctioning of events. I am going on record to note that USAC sanctioning will not increase track attendance. In fact, I know that my wife and I are unable to pay this race fee on top of our other cycling expenses. From asking around, I know that other riders have largely abandoned track racing at least partially due to price increases. The higher fee will definitely exacerbate this problem.

Bicycle racing is expensive. Even before you pay a race fee, you've dropped $1000's or even $10,000's on equipment and spent countless hours training. Oftentimes transportation costs outstrip race fees. For many years, race fees were an afterthought. But when it starts to cost $75-95 (I include Bikereg.com fees in my accounting) in race fees for a Verge weekend, one starts scratching their head and wondering if its worth it.

Just to put the fees in perspective, my perspective, teachers make about $50,000 a year (my salary is a mandated by contract and is a matter of public record, so I don't feel strange discussing it). After taxes, retirement, health and related expenses I take home about $700 a week. More than 10% of my weekly take home salary is going to cover race fees! Obviously we don't have a race every weekend...wait, actually I race almost every weekend.

Do the math. Now ask me why I am racing less.

Verge Addresses Sandbagging: Will It Have Any Effect?

For years people have been justifiably complaining about blatant sandbagging in cyclocross. The accepted wisdom is that as you progress and come to dominate a category, you should graciously upgrade. Of course no one begrudges you a good result here and there, but if you are consistently placing top ten, along with 9 other guys who are also consistently placing top ten, then you and your 9 friends are effectively racing against each other. This situation leaves the rest of the 120+ person field upset. One could argue that the sandbaggers should go and have their own 10 man race and allow everyone race without them for the remaining 115 places without them.

For years various solution have been proposed and some implemented. Shaming, heckling and anonymous letter/email writing have proved ineffective at bringing the most blatant and consistent sandbaggers to justice (it is taking every once of decency in me not to include links to people's results. Wait, f*** that I am not decent: 1, 2, 3, 4 (2007), 5 ...). Please note that according to USACycling 2 wins equals a mandatory upgrade. Every one of the riders noted in this post have more than 2 wins and are still racing in the category that they achieved those wins in.

Now, I realize that sometimes someone just has a breakthrough season and does not want to upgrade because they have points in a series. In fact I caught lots of shit for sandbagging on the track in 2007 when I remained in a lower category so that I could continue to accrue points in a series. What I learned in 2007 is that you may get some results and maybe even some prizes, but along the way you lose the respect of your friends and peers. I now upgrade in a timely manner (mtb cat 1 upgrade coming after Hodges Dam on 8/2/09)

It is safe to say that people have plenty of motivation to sandbag and often little incentive to upgrade. In fact, other than personal pride, there are no rewards for upgrading, while there are plenty of rewards for dominating the lower categories (prize money, good results, podium girls/boys). I mean seriously, when you go back to work on Monday, would you rather tell your coworkers that you won a cat 4 race or that you got lapped by a pro? Remember, your coworkers have no clue about the categories and the nuances therein.

Many of us have been petitioning the organizers of the Verge Series to consider breaking apart the 2/3 field. My suggestion was that they eliminate B masters (a sandbagger category if there ever was one) and allow both cat 3's and cat 2's to have their own race. This would eliminate the huge jump from 4 to 3. As it stood in 2008, a newly minted cat 3 was racing against seriously hardened cat 2's. It just wasn't fair. It made many cat 4's reluctant to upgrade. Many that did upgrade began racing 3/4 masters to avoid the thrashing that they'd take in the 2/3 race.

Breaking apart the 2's and the 3's would also give people upgrading from 3 to 2 a meaningful upgrade. As it stands now, the upgrade from 3 to 2 only has an effect on your racing at smaller regional races. With the Verge Series taking up more and more of the race calendar, the 3 to 2 upgrade in New England is just a number on your license for most races.

So word has trickled down that Verge will have a dedicated cat 3 race. Cat 2's will race with the elites. It appears that the B masters will still exist and may even have their own series, as opposed to the Podunk regional feel of the B masters races last year (no call ups, no series, no points).

There is one lingering problem in the B field. Since there has traditionally been no reason to apply for a 3 to 2 upgrade, many of the people who were dominating the B's last year are still cat 3's, despite having enough points for multiple "mandatory" upgrades. It would be nice if USAC would to follow up and enforce their own rules...

Here's a link to a more reputable source than RMM: http://cxmagazine.com/changes-coming-to-verge-neccs-series-categories-start-times

Product Review: PBK Chamois Creme--Big T Says it Smells Like Cheap Old Lady Lotion

So a teammate has this huge tub of chamois creme at the track. It makes my diminutive jar of the good stuff look silly. He says that it is Pro Bike Kit branded chamois creme by Morgan Blue. He also says that he likes it.

The next time I am ordering from PBK, I throw a jar of the bum grease into the basket. It was cheap enough...

PBKCC comes in this brittle plastic container, that would shatter into a million pieces it you drop it on the bathroom floor or on the pavement at a race. If your trainer rolls over on your race bag your PBKCC will surely explode all over your bag. Also when you unscrew the equally brittle lid, there is a brittle top cap, sort of like the seal on a Mason jar. When you remove this second lid, it is coated with chamois creme.




It made a mess. The jar was so over stuffed that i made a mess of it the first 3 times that I opened it. Bad packaging all around.

The smell. Seriously, it smells like old lady lotion. Vaguely floral, perfumy, artificial and definitely cheap. I hate to get all upper class, but the stuff smells like bargain brand lotion. My lovely Russian wife pointed out that this is how Russian old ladies smell. Thanks PBK, now I know what my wife will smell like in 40 years. I suppose that you could point out that the application area in question can use all of the purfuming possible...

Now I have stated before that I like my chamois creme to be the consistancy of Crisco. PBK Chamois Creme is on the thinner side, more like lotion than true chamois creme.





I had trouble getting it to stay in place on application. Usually, I like to scoop off enough chamois creme for a full application in one swipe to avoid double dipping. With PBKCC, I found that my big scoop dripped off my finger as I spread it on the undercarriage. A quarter to half the portion ends up on the floor if you aren't careful. This is not the case with the thicker CC's. With the CC, I have altered my application procedure so that I am now double dipping. Borrow chamois creme from me at your own risk.

No tingle. Booo. No 100o tiny angels licking your _____. Just as I like my Embrocation to burn, I like my chamois creme to tingle.

Longevity. Despite its other shortcomings, PBKCC appears to do the job. I have not noticed any discomfort when I have used it on long rides. On the trainer, it seems to remain in place and active even during the sweatiest and hottest of workouts.

This chamois creme is not a luxury product. You aren't going to feel like you are using a premium body care product when you open it and smell it. In fact the piss poor packaging may cause you to permenantly slime your race bag with its floral aroma. If you apply to your undercarriage instead of directly onto the chamois, you may have trouble getting it to stay in place. There is no tingling to assure you that you are protected. But despite the shortcomings, PBKCC appears to be a servicable and inexpensive alternative to some of the top shelf chamois cremes out there.

My advice is this: If you are financially pressed (as I am right now), try this out, maybe it will offer an inexpensive alternative to the boutique brands. If your cycling budget is healthy and you are happy with ------chamois creme, then stick to what you are already using.

Race Report: Pat's Peak Mountain Bike Festival Cat 2 30-39 2009

I hate mud. I hate it so much that I don't even own mud tires. My bike and my team kit has an excess of the white colorway. Secondly, I hate roots. I suck at descending. Roots covered with mud have haunted my dreams since I began regularly racing mountain bikes this year. Roots covered with mud on a steep descent are enough to transform me from my normal placid self into a raving lunatic, which is exactly what happened today.

Pats Peak has lots of climbing, which suits me. But the flipside is: what goes up...

Earlier in the week, there was intelligence on the HUP wire that only 75% of the course was rideable. Then my beloved and I were awaken in the early am by a rollicking, rowdy thunderstorm. I can't catch a break. After months of rain in New England, I figured that I was finally going to get a moderately saturated race course as opposed to the fully and supersaturated courses that we have come to expect now that we are on the same weather circuit as the Pacific Northwest. Did I mention that I don't own mud tires?

The venue itself is luxurious compared to many MTB race venues. The ski lodge was open and air conditioned (though not freezing), huge clean bathrooms (seriously the bathrooms were clean after 1.5 days of racing), multiple bike washes, ample parking, well run snack bar with decently priced well presented food and a PA system that was audible in the entire parking/lodge/staging area. Seriously good showing Pats Peak, thanks!

The course had been abused by 24 hour, 12 hour and 6 hour races Saturday and lower category XC riders all morning. By my noon start the course was seriously degraded.

The course started on an steep squelchy uphill. If you got out to the saddle, you spun out. I didn't get the hole shot, but I was in the lead group or 3 or 4.

The first 5th of the course is not very demanding, comparatively. There is some twisty slowsingletrack, broken up by saturated traverses across the grassy ski slopes. There were plenty of opportunities to bobble, lose traction, get bogged down and generally waste energy. I did all of these and still kept the leader in sight, Tim Trottier of Claremont Cycles. I trading blows with the Root 66 series leader and eventual winner, Craig Kennedy, from the starting line. I'd falter, he'd come around me. I'd catch him on a flat or a climb, come around him, open a gap, then falter again.

Kennedy and I traded blows and reeled in Trottier on the first significant fire road climb, permanently shelling the rest of the field in the process. Wisely, Craig allowed me to ride tempo up the climb and then only attacked me right before the gnarly singletrack. I didn't think to dig in and remain in front, though knowing my bike handling skills, or lack thereof, that would have been a serious dick move.

This section housed a plethora of roots growing in all directions. There were longitudinal roots to force your line. Roots running perpendicular to the course in tight off camber corners to throw you off of your line and kill what little traction there was. Did I mention the mud. Everything was covered in thick sucking mud. It was super slick. Furthermore, it was deep in the low lying parts.

Tim caught me and I allow him to pass uncontested. After gamely trying to ride this section several times, I settled on the humiliation of a run. I ended up nearly regaining contact while Trottier picked his line and I just long strided while wheeling my steed. My degradation in to 2/3's of a triathlete allowed me to keep the 2 leaders in sight.

I took some time back on the second major climb. This climb was a real spirit breaker. It ran up a steep winding fire road. If you picked your line well you could avoid the saturated grass. But as will happen, I'd sometimes have to correct and end up squandering my momentum by spinning my wheels in the mucky grass. To top it off, at the "top" after 100's of vertical feet of climbing, it curled to the left into the woods, but when you got to the left, you saw that you were actually little more than half done climbing.

The first part of the descent was manageable. It ran perpendicular to the ski slope and while fast, it didn't offer many threats otherwise. I was able to keep Tim in sight.

But then conditions changed rapidly when the course reentered the woods. It started out loamy and winding with a few roots to negotiate. Then it got steep and fast while the root multiplied. Everything slick with mud. Many of the corners had devilish off camber sections with slick roots running perpendicular, like tracks to help your tires loose purchase. I lost minutes in here.

After many minutes of struggling and riding the brakes, the course fed onto a series of fire road descents and comparatively less difficult single track. I dropped many hammers, convinced that the leaders were just ahead. I didn't catch any sign of them.

The finish is a cyclocross style downhill, complete with course tape and grassy off camber turns. It fed into a finish area with a big inflatable Red Bull gate right in the logical line coming into the finish. Seriously the course tape feeds you into the Red Bull gate. When you see a big gate while riding fast, you ride through it, right? We had been warned not to ride through the Red Bull gate while we were staged. Sure they warned us, but would you remember to veer out of the logical line to go under a gate off to the side? Yeah, you can make a mental note. But are you going to read that Post It while the snot is flying, while you are trying to claw back mere seconds from riders who had been sticking it to you for weeks?

Sorry, I just follow the arrows and course tape. Every indicator on the course told me to ride into that gate. I never even looked up to see who sponsored the gate; I was too busy trying not to vomit on myself.

I ended up getting balled out for riding into a spectator area. There was no tape to stop me, no person to guide me. I threw a curse word studded tantrum while I corrected. I am ashamed to have ruined Mike and Kathy Rowell's pre race lunch with my antics. Sorry.

There was tape on the next lap. But I still hate Red Bull.

Lap 2 and most of lap 3 were uneventful. I overtook riders from other fields and no one passed me. I ran when it was faster. I tried to stay off the sissy switches in the rough stuff and on the descents. Obviously, I was miserable and considered dropping out, which is how I knew that I was riding hard enough. Any point where I began enjoying myself or thinking of anything other than vomiting or dropping out, I shifted into a harder gear and/or increased my cadence.

I saw Trottier's yellow and green kit up ahead on midway through the 3rd lap, near the end really. He was blown, swerving all over the climb(s) like he was delivering the mail. I slowly reeled him in, finally catching him on the final climb. He told me that the win was about 2 minutes up the road; he's really a good guy. But he didn't hesitate to repass me on the sketchy descent and then put so much time into me that I couldn't even see him on the wide open finishing descent.

I got 3rd out of who knows how many guys. In my mind, there were only 3 guys in my race, Trottier, Kennedy and myself.

Natasha got 2nd out of all the cat 2 women and 1st in her category. Considering that she has not trained or even really ridden her mountain bike, it was a stellar performance. She has decided to upgrade. Is it humiliating or hot to have a wife who races in a higher category than you?

Overall, the Red Bull gate debacle notwithstanding, this was a great race. Challenging course, logistically well run, good vibe, well supported, well attended. Swag for podiums was thin (basically Gu-type products and an XL T shirt), but hey they had to give me something to complain about, right?

Product Reviews: Handlebar Tape Mini Reviews.

I have used a few different bar tapes and they all have their advantages and disadvantages. While I believe in trial and error, I also believe that hearing what I have to say could allow you to avoid getting something that you will definitely not like.

Cinelli Cork Ribbon

For many years this was the benchmark by which other tapes were rated against. I have had lots of experience with this tape. In fact, due to an ordering glitch, I currently have this tape on my road bike.

The tape is easy enough to apply. It stretchs and conforms well enough. On problem in application is that the adhesive strip in the center of the tape can seperate from the tape when you stretch it out. While this is disconcerting and annoying, most of the adhesive remains in place and does its job. Once applied the tape remains in place.

The tape offers good vibration dampening and decent grip when dry.

The problems start when it gets wet. The tape becomes slippery when wet. Gloved, barhanded, it doesn't matter, it is slick. Think sweaty summer crits, intense trainer session, passing showers or driving rain: in any scenario, your grip will suck. In fact, if you are riding without gloves and get caught out in the rain, you should pull over and wait for the dampness to pass lest your hands slip when you hit a bump and you knock your teeffs out.

Another issue is the bits of cork in the tape. Even out of the box, the "white" tape is not Kyle Smith, gleaming white. For many this is not an issue. It puts me off. Kyle probably would ride tapeless...That said, the tape cleans up well enough, so you can bring it back to its original "whiteness" with a quick scrub.

The tape does not appear to collect bacteria. Sweat seems to stay on the surfuce instead of burrowing in and causing stink.

Stella Azzura Techno Spungna

For years this was my goto tape. It has great vibration dampening, it is gleaming white and it has great grip when dry, gloved and bare handed. In the rain or with a sweat I would rate the barehanded grip as just over the acceptable line. With gloves in the damp/wet grip it acceptable to good.

When wrapping bars, I have found that this tape will tear if you pull too hard on it. But you'd have to pull real hard to rip it.

Amongst its disadvantages are its releative obscurity; few local shops stock it and those that due are often running low.

Also, it does not clean up well. Once you sleaze it, it will never be the same. I have experimented with various cleaning methods and products and the best that I could do was get a light grey to off white after many minutes of scubbing with strong cleaners.

As with Cinelli tape, this does not collect stinky bacteria.

Fizik Microtex

I have given this full review already.

It has great grip in all conditions with moderate vibration dampening. It is difficult to apply, but once you get it on it looks great. You can clean it easily.

The only real problem is the stink. It has a serious BO problem if you use it on the trainer. The micro perforations allow sweat in. And most of us don't hose down and scrub the bike after an indoor training session, so the sweat festers inside. Enough said.

Insane though it is, the tape will look PRO but stink like a piss bum. After the stink sets in, you can't scrub it out, believe me, I tried everything, bleach, degreaser, worse.

SRAM Superlight

This tape has many of the positive attributes of the Microtex, often surpassing it, but it doesn't appear to collect stink.

It has great grip in all conditions and better vibration dampening than Fizik, though it does not approach the cushiness of Stella Azurra or Cinelli Cork tape.

I actually find the grip on this tape to be best in class. It has a confidence inspiring suede texture. I have never slipped on this tape.

I got grey bartape, put it on my cross bike. I have not noticed any change in color, so I can not comment on whether the tape cleans up or not. But I imagine that the lighter colored tapes may be difficult to clean because of the grippy texture. Grippy texture grips dirt too.

My biggest complaint was how stiff the tape was when trying to wrap the bars. It does not conform easily. It has a tendency to crease and fold unattractively instead of molding around obstactles such as brake hoods. If you are an expert handbar wrapper, you will work it out. If you are starting out, practice on something more pliable first. I found it frustrating, but after a couple of attempts I achieved an acceptable wrap.

Deda Elementi

I have this on my track bike. I only use this with gloves in dry conditions. I have never slipped, so the grip is perfect for normal track racing. It has decent vibration dampening (not really necesary on the track), cleans up well enough.

Since this tape has seen limited usage, I can't discuss whether it will perform well in adverse weather.

You should also see Justin Spinelli's tutorial on wrapping handlebars so that no matter which bartape you choose, it will be properly applied.

The Pastry Ride

Competitive cyclists abuse the hell out of themselves all week and especially on weekends. We spend a good portion of our waking hours with sore legs. We put in inhuman efforts at Tuesday night training races (which mind as well be PRO races), intense weeknight track racing, viciously fast and dangerous downtown criteriums, grinding multi-day stage races, grueling all-out one day road races and epic 100+ mile rides with friends when there are no races.

But Mondays are traditionally reserved for recovery. In fact, the Monday rest day is so ingrained in my cycling psyche, that I forgo completing long rides with friends on Monday holidays. Some competitive cyclists also forgo "opener" efforts on Fridays and use this as a recovery day before the weekend's races.

Road cyclists recover from high intensity bicycle racing and training by riding a bicycle at extremely low intensity. Pedaling at low intensity warms the muscles and helps them loosen up. The blood flow helps remove built up toxins. Stretching is recommended before, during and after the ride.

Many of us choose to complete these workouts in a group. This is known as a Pastry Ride. Generally, everyone meets at a central location after work on Monday evening and pedals very slowly to a coffee shop that is less than an hour away. It is understood that you are to appear on time in full team kit on a clean racing bicycle.

Road cyclists have a subtle, but inviolable style code and violations are punished by severe ostracism. For instance, Spaits and myself almost shunned each other on a 3 person pastry ride yesterday. Both of us were properly attired, except that both of us were wearing unacceptable socks, Spaits had shorty cotton tube type socks, while I had "hidden" triathlete-style socks. We both took note of each other's transgressions and agreed to defend each other when the other attendee made fun of us.

Pastry rides are a chance for teammates to deconstruct the weekend's racing, complain about sketchy riders, poor tactics, brag and boast, make excuses, and just shoot the shit. It also allows friends from other teams and different racing categories to catch up. Team switches are discussed; new teams are formed and old dissolved on these rides.

For folks who make their living in the cycling industry, these rides are major networking events, trumping sales meetings and Blackberries. With all of this racing expertise in one place, people are bound to discuss equipment choices...who better to ask than the local ------ rep about why your ------ front derailleur shifts poorly in moments of need?

The rules of the ride are quite simple. Ride slow. Real slow. You are not to attack hills, sprint for town lines or even shift into the big ring. Conversation is king, so you ride 2 abreast, even 3 up if road width permits. Less experienced riders sometimes "attack" the pastry ride. There is nothing less embarrassing that trying to race against a bunch of people who are not racing.

It is quite a sight: groups of PRO-looking kitted out cyclists on gleaming high zoot steeds, riding at exaggeratedly slow speeds.

Non-competitive cyclists often take the opportunity to drop the group of road dicks when they happen upon a pastry group. I am sure that they go home and brag to their significant other about it. Meanwhile the road dorks make fun of the aggressor's ill-fitting clothing, riding position, poor bike fit, equipment choices, creaky drivetrain, squeaking derailleur pulleys and general lack of PROness.

Most importantly though, you stop for coffee and pastry in the middle of the ride. Normally anorexic road cyclists indulge in buttery, sugary pastries; they'll have a blended coffee drinks with whipped cream and if they are feeling particularly reckless, they'll have both.

Observe:

While the Rest of You Were Racing Fitchburg...Domnarski Farm MTB Race Report 2009

I have caught lots of shit about my decision not to race Fitchburg this year. From teammates who would have liked support, to friends who feared that I was leaving road racing, to competitors who were deprived of an another opportunity to thrash me; I found myself explainng my reasons for not stage racing repeatedly. For the record here are the reasons:

1. Money- I am broke and stage racing costs. $160 registration fee, gas to and from F-burg 5 times (annoyingly, you have to drive out and pick up you numbers the night before), TT gear (I don't own a TT bike), food (obviously with the time commitment of daily racing and travel you eat out more). I made the choice to compete in 6 races over 6 weekends instead of blowing all my money on this one race. If I raced Longjo, I'd be staying home for the rest of July and most of August.

2. It is not a race I excel in. I don't ever TT well (literally, I pull out the clip ons and wing it) and once your TT time is slow, you are out. I can climb with a pack, but this RR always kills me and leaves me dropped, losing minutes. The circuit is basically a climber's sprint, again, not for me. So the crit. $160 for a crit, no thanks.

3. Fitness. I have been mtb biking lots, which has left me strong, but without a sprint. So $160 for a crit that I am sure to lose since I left my sprint in the Fells.

4. The promoter. I have had run ins with him before (as in he jerked me around for a couple of months and then refused to allow a teammate to take my prereg spot even though I gave him 3 months notice and was super polite. He suggested that my teammate pay for a 2nd spot instead, leaving me holding a $150 spot that I couldn't use. The team mate actually told the guy off). Obviously, this isn't a reason not to do a race, but I need to point it out.



So what was I doing? On Thursday, while everyone dorked up in TT gear in the rain, mist, fog and stickiness, I rested. I read books, cleaned bikes, watched a video, cooked some food. Very relaxed, very civilized.

Friday while the real racers were hitting potholes and repeatedly sprinting into the hairpin turn on John Fitch Highway, I went for a 3 hour mtb ride with Rosey and Natasha in the Fells. Rosey showed me much I have to learn about off road bike handling. He is loving his new Ibex full suspension hoopty.



On Saturday, Rosey, Bramhall, Wilcox, Yash and various HUPsters, rode to Harvard and then the R, B and W and I continued on to Fitchburg and back.




Bramhall and I attacked each other at every town line...I contested KOM's until Harvard center.

Seriously, this was a hard 110. While I am able to sprint repeatedly, I am not able to attack hills forever. I was slain when we passed through Harvard the first time and that was only 40 miles in! I am not sure who got the Sprint jersey, but I know that Bramhall got the combo climber's/sprint points.

The incessant rain has left me without any long endurance. I am able to do a 2 hour ride in the rain or on the trainer, but the 4+ hour endurance rides have been off the schedule for almost a month.
When we got to road race finish, Richard Fries gave us shout outs and big compliments over the mic. He seemed to be the only guy not giving me shit for not racing (other than my ride companions). More than one person on the sidelines asked me how my race was or if I had been pulled for not making the time cut.

I am sure that I will catch some flack for this, but I think that our ride was as hard as the Fitchburg Road Race, if not harder. Though I did hear a vicious rumor that Rapha/Embrocation hardman PVB was reduced to walking in the cat 3 road race.

Sunday. Criterium day. I raced my mountain bike at Domnarski Farm. I heard a rumor that Rooter and Parsons don't like this race. I did, though I actually wish that it had been longer.

Race Report:

I woke up so dehydrated that I my mouth tasted salty and felt crystallized. I swear that there were solid chunks of salt in my urine...It was bad enough that I drained 5 24 oz water bottles in 2 hours and only then emitted a thin, short, neon yellow dribble at a rest stop. Seriously, I thought that I that it may be a medical emergency.
Obviously my legs were cooked from the 110 miles and the Rosey mtb ride Friday.
But I am using none of these as excuses, since my race was about what it would have been even if I was well rested, well fed and properly hydrated: mediocre. In mtb, I kill myself to achieve mediocrity.
The course is gnarly. Seasoned pros were saying that it was hard. Stories of waist deep mud and lots of "walking" abounded. Not my strong suit.
The race flyer had suggested inflating tires with extra pressure to avoid pinch flats and bringing two tubes just in case. Luckily for me, I had left my only inflation devise at home, so I put 32 psi in the front/34 in back and gambled, hoping for the best.
On the starting line, people who had pre-ridden the course were discussing which of the many stream crossings were ridable, ridable if you took the correct line and which would swallow your whole front wheel.
Also, I was told that there was a technical climb right away, so I made sure that I was in the big ring and ready to take the whole shot. Then they stacked the men 19-29 in front of my front row spot and started us all at the same time. Thanks.
I didn't get the hole shot. Instead, I spent the first 1.5 miles trading blows with other riders. It was like the back of the sprint in a cat 5 crit. We were all changing our line, chopping each other's front wheels and generally acting like dildos. Testosterone yelled at unhearing testosterone.

Once it was sorted out, I got a gap on the climb, then a line 0f 6-7 dudes stacked up behind me and came around me when I bobbled.

I was able to get on the back of the train and use the other rider's lines and judgement to keep me moving. I find that if I see someone railing a hard corner in front of me, I am more likely to stay off the brakes.
There were lots of places that running was faster than riding. It was especially faster if you dismounted while you still had momentum instead of flailing around in a mud pit or spinning out on a tech climb. From the back of the line of riders, I was able to pass multiple riders when they tried to ride stuff that I ran through at full running speed. I laid down my best cyclocross remounts for good measure. In my mind, my demonstrated skills deflated my rivals, causing them to give up. Sure enough, I didn't see most of them again.
Mud. It was deep. I routinely found my tall socks fully submerged, twice to my knee and once I put my foot in a bog deeper than my knee. It was like a crap shoot, I'd see a bog, puddle or stream and if there was no one riding going through, you'd have no way of knowing if it was inches or feet deep. I risked riding a few, luckily, I only lost my front wheel once.
I had a few persistent rivals. About 7 miles into the 10 mile race. I was hoofing it up a technical climb. I could have ridden it, but I am convinced that running/walking was faster. Then I saw Maison Chen closing the gap behind me. Last week he had nearly beat me on the final climb at Putney; I was only able to hold him off with a full on track sprint for the line. Out sprinting him wasn't going to do the job today.
Instead I kept my walking pace high, but remained rested. When the climb became manageable, I remounted and finished accelerated, digging deep. I felt strong and reopened the gap, eventually widening it to over a minute.
There was some descending, my weak point. I figured that the thrashing and rustling behind me was Maison, but it was Richard Person, who shared the podium with me at Stering's Baystate Cyclocross last year. I had passed him early on when I was picking off the line of riders who had passed me. He held my wheel for a bit, until I allowed him to come around. It was obvious that I was hindering him and besides, I figured that he'd help me hold Maison off.
Richard gapped me, but I kept him on sight. The gnarly sharp rock studded descent gave way to rutted, but smooth double track with puddles and occasional rocks. I slowly reeled Richard in and then followed his line. He was on a 29er, which presented problems when I had to roll my puny 26 inch wheels over the occasional obstacle that he had cleared easily.
I knew that we were near the end. If I was going to attack, it had to be soon. The race ends on a descent into a sweeping corner. I wanted to be in front for this so that Richard couldn't gap me here.
I saw the bog before he did. Or maybe he saw it but was unconcerned. I had been running all of the questionable mud bogs. I unclipped well before the bog, Richard hit it and came to a clumsy and ungraceful stopped. I entered the bog in full stride with all of my momentum. It was a small victory and an even smaller gap.
There was some winding single track with some logs, which I took well, hopping everything and staying off the brakes, since I could feel Person bearing down. When I saw the staging/finish, Person was on my wheel. I threw caution to the wind and bombed the descent. Luckily, I was already in the big ring.
After coming out of the corner, I sprinted so hard, my rig was bobbing and creaking. I thought that I made have broken something or that a quick release was loose. I held him off. People love a sprint and I could hear them cheering, probably for Person, since no one likes a road dick and everyone especially hates me.
I hosed off the bike, had a cursory shower under the bike wash and left without checking results.

Turns out I got second. I was probably in line for some swag. The winner put over 6 minutes into me...sandbagger.

Immediately to Fitchburg to watch the pro crit. Those pros rode their bikes in circles lots of times. Holmes is shilling Spooky shirts. Buy one.

02139: RMM Pesters City and They Cave, Check Out RMM's Bike Rack

Actually, I just emailed the city bicycle office and asked them to install some bike parking in front of my house. It took a few weeks, but they called late last week to tell me that they had approved my request.

Yesterday I awoke to the sound of jackhammers...







Just another reason that Cambridge is the best city in the world.