New Gloucester—Maine Verge—Day 2 Cat 3: RMM FTW WTF?

All Photos are Courtesy of my lovely wife, who spent our first anniversary photographing this race. For Reals.



Those of you who know me know that I have perfected many ways to suck on a bicycle. Poor bike handling, lapses in training, general lack of fitness, advancing age, inability to produce and maintain adequate power, mechanical failures, chronic dehydration, under resting/poor sleep schedule, lack discipline, inability to lose weight, love of fine foods, un-preparedness, poor planning, attacking at the wrong time, inadequate warm-ups, going out too hard and blowing up: these are all part of my regular repertoire of bicycle racing maneuvers.

Somehow none of that applied on Sunday. Note: I ate poorly on Saturday night: meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy, fried samosas, coconut and chocolate mousse, and caramel and salt gelato; I had less than 6 hours of sleep that was interrupted more an average of once every 20 minutes (seriously); my bike was not running properly 3 hours before the race; and I didn’t feel warmed up on the starting line.

I got a front row start and was about 5th when we hit the mud. Serious mud. Deep terrible mud.





The whole race was a slog. While there was a woods section with hidden rocks and roots, for most of the race we were riding so slow through 3-5 inches of thick mud, that the penalty for crashing was nil. Since I had finished a solid 3rd the previous day, I was more confident than normal. I attacked riders and didn’t hesitate to leave the less-deep-mud (two inches and less viscous, as opposed to the 4-6 inch deep peanut butter mud in the less desirable line) to pass, often swerving wildly and burning huge matches.

I have a new power dosing strategy in cyclocross. I go out hard on hole shot and spend about 5 more minutes in the red zone. Then, instead of staying on the rivet and inducing the well-known gentleman’s slide, I dial it back to a sustainable pace. I still

But my real strength was the climbs (I never thought that I would say that). By sheer force of will and savvy line selection, I was able to ride all of the climbs, while most of my competitors were forced to run some of the climbs some of the time. As I am believer in the psychological side of cyclocross, I attacked people hard in the woods, on both the sketchy descents and on the tractionless climbs. To my way of thinking, if you are going to attack someone, do it with panache, make it convincing, make it look painful. My goal when I ride away from someone is to shut the door decisively. If you really dig in and accelerate through a difficult section, such as a muddy climb and your competitor can’t answer, you have dealt them a blow.

In lap one, I passed Cary. Despite having bested Cary the day before, it felt like a foolhardy move. Before this weekend, every time I have attacked Cary, I was made to regret it within minutes. Actually attacking Cary is usually the point in a race that signals my inevitable implosion. This time when I looked back over my shoulder a minute later…nothing but daylight.






Somehow after a lap, I was third or fourth on the road.

Chris La Flamme of Embrocation went off the front early and got a good-sized gap. When I finally realized that I was a contender, the gap seemed like an insurmountable minute. Greg Burbridge, Saturday’s winner and third in the Cat 3 Verge Series was in second.

La Flamme fell back. I could tell it was him by his bright orange gloves. I made fun of them on the start line. Then the announcer was making fun of them. Anyway. I caught Chris in the pit area heading towards the barn. I accelerated and moved away from him, but he swerved and got on my wheel. Unfortunately for me, this was leading into one of the few sections where a draft would help him.

I drilled it through the barn took the greasy cement corner at speed (lots of riders crashed here) and hung it out on the hard pack descent. At the bottom was a hot, wet right-hander studded with sharp rocks in the apex of the turn. I had been practicing railing this corner BMX style with my right foot out and both tires in a full drift. This corner led to another right that fed into to a speed-scrubbing mud bog followed by the start of the greasy forest climb.

My goal here was to take the corners at a higher-than-prudent speed (for a B rider) in order to enter the bog with enough momentum to carry me through it. I got the gap, but La Flamme stayed close at the base of the climb. La Flamme PVB’ed, but held on for a hard fought and well deserved podium spot. Interestingly, Chris’s gloves allowed me to monitor my gap. They were so bright that I could pick him out of a bunch of riders even when he was more than a minute back.

I’ve never beat Burbidge in a clean race. And after his convincing win on Saturday, I didn’t think that today was my day either. I was more concerned with getting passed than catching Greg. As I have stated before, I’d rather accept 2nd, than gamble first and end up 7th.

I kept the hammer down and looked over my shoulder on straight sections. I got mixed up with the juniors and had to make a bunch of sketchy passes. While I tried to be safe, the whole course was greasy and rutted. you could point the bike in the general direction that you wanted it to go, but you had to allow it to steer itself. Right after I passed Ryan Packard (seriously classy kid), I swerved wildly from one side of a sketchy descent to the other, chopping every possible line that Ryan could have taken to avoid me. Unflustered, Ryan braked and passed me while I bobbled and then allowed me to pass him after I was back under control.

I was surprised when I saw Burbidge up ahead. Seriously, I was about to take the lead in a VERGE RACE!





I passed on a climb, riding hard. Greg cheered me on, stand up guy that he is.

I rode alone the rest of the race, passing juniors, eventually overtaking the junior leader. I dialed my effort back to hard tempo, saving energy for a late attack if I was reeled in. I kept looking back, waiting for Cary, or Hustin, or Wissell, or La Flamme, or Burbidge to shut it down.

After the race, someone asked me what it was like riding the last lap of the race all alone, knowing that I was about to win a Verge B race. Well, it was like the first time you have sex. You are thinking “Oh. My. God. I am really going to have sex! This girl/boy is going to let me hump them! This is seriously going to happen! Wait, do I have condoms? Do I know what to do?” You get idea.

Turns out I knew what to do. I looked over my shoulder, zipped up my jersey and and pointed at the photographer while making a stupid face.




But the aftermath…that I don’t know what to do with. Some have strongly suggested that I upgrade.

Am I really elite race material? I don’t feel any different than the dude who blew his front row start at Gloucester a couple weeks ago, the dude who was never able to beat Cary, the dude who…Anyway, I have the points, but have not entered “mandatory upgrade” territory. Also, while I raced well today, I didn’t crush anyone. I am not even close to approaching the point where I am dominating the B race.

I’ll spend my rest week thinking about it, but I don’t feel like an elite rider yet.

My Love Sent me More Pictures of Myself from Gloucester—Day 2

Natasha has been doing a brisk little business; furnishing people with pictures of themselves from races.

You should know, that her system is changing. She used to post pictures and allow you to pick out ones you like. Now she is taking orders before the races. Then she concentrates on getting good pictures of you throughout the whole race.

Party with the Cool Kids: Superb’s Grand Opening Party

My friend Jason over at Superb is having a grand opening party after a long and thorough remodeling/rebranding. His shop is closely affiliated with Cambridge Bicycles, in fact Superb is CB’s high end branch.

Jason knows how to throw a party. The last party of his I attended was huge, taking over the entire basement of a block long building, complete with DJ’s, beer sponsors, BoldSprints and complete cycling mayhem.

I’d expect beer, DJ’s, dancing and some fashionably dressed urbanites. In his press release he mentions the chance to “fraternize with Boston’s cycling elite” at the party. He certainly doesn’t mean me, but that may refer to you. Either way, you should check out the party.

This will be the hottest cycling event, outside of races, for weeks, perhaps month to come. Wear your “going out’ clothes and not you Lycra (unless of course you wear Lycra when going out).

I will be there, though I may have to head home early to rest up for the New Gloucester Verge race the following day.

Race Report: Mansfield Hollow Cyclocross Race: A Winner

Most race reports focus on the race and the action therein. This post represents a departure from the (my) normal format. While I will roughly outline my race, I think that my readers will appreciate my observations about the race in general more than my usual ramblings about my performance in comparison to others’.
This race has received many good reports from friends. It was highly recommended. With 3 other races in immediate driving distance on the same day, rider recommendations tipped the scales toward Mansfield Hollow.

I wasn’t disappointed.
From the moment you arrive until when you reluctantly leave, it is clear that the organizers of Mansfield Hollow race love putting the race on and are concerned that you enjoy yourself, whether you are there to race or support/watch a racer. The organizers had a huge table/tent with free homemade pastry (including cupcakes), coffee and hot cider. They made sure that everyone knew about it. Racers were encouraged to have a hot drink, chat and eat a brownie. And when stuff ran out, they restocked it! I should mention that the cookies and brownies were great. There was even a cup of coffee for the road after the last race.
There was a prime on the first lap of every race. A pair of Tifosi sunglasses. The first rider to go past the dude in the chicken suit won the glasses. The chicken moved all over the course, so it was unpredictable and great. Furthermore, there were signs all over the course, “Cluck, Cluck Cluck,” “Where’s that Chicken?” etc. When you were in oxygen debt, these signs become puzzling. Nice effect.
And one of the organizers (sorry, I am terrible with names) circulated around when top riders were collecting their prizes and pay. He wanted to know if we were happy with what we got! Seriously. After having so many promoters grudgingly hand me a gargantuan sized Vanilla Pepsi T Shirt and some expired Clif Power Bars (real talk), I was shocked that an organizer cared so much what I thought of his prize package. For the record I received $40, a cyclocross specific tube, a Men’s Medium Louis Garneau rain cape (which fits well and replaces the one that I misplaced at Gloucester), a cycling magazine (commuter focused) and a pink LG mussette bag for my 3rd place in the men’s 2,3,4 B race.
Then the organizer asked how we liked certain sections of the course. While we were discussing this topic, I was made to feel like he would actually take MY suggestions into consideration when laying out the course next year.
The races all went off on time and ran smoothly.
The course is conscientiously laid out, taking note of feedback from prior years. The effect is a fast, challenging course that has a great combination of power sections interspersed with some sketchy off cambers turns and long deep sand sections and a ridable runup.
My race went off as expected. I shouldered my way though gaps in the staged riders from the last row to about 2nd/3rd row. While it may have offended the riders who had left me room to do it, this turned out to be the best move that I could have made.
I was about 5th after the initial shaking out. There was a huge crash on a long off camber section behind me that took many riders out of contention for a top placing. After the race, I was told that 2/3’s of the racers were forced to awkwardly dismount and run a long section, which caused them to lose considerable time.
By the end of the 1st lap, I was in 3rd and chasing hard on second place. 4th was nowhere in sight, so I didn’t bother thinking about getting overtaken. Every so often, Rosey and I would pass each other on opposing sections and I’d get worried that he was reeling me in. I’d grit my teeth and drop a cog.
Meanwhile, 1st was burying us, eventually putting more than a minute into the rest of the podium. Basically, I spent the whole race yo-yoing behind 2nd, about 10-20 seconds behind. In the sandy running sections, I would gain a couple of seconds, then I’d bobble a corner or the ride up (I had trouble with traction on the climb since I was running file treads). In the final lap, I dug in and closed the gap considerably. On the final grassy straight away, which was about 500 meters, I laid down some serious power (feeble by objective standards, but for me it was WATTAGE) and really started closing it down.
My competitor was cooked and had sat up, thinking that he could just mail it in. Someone cheered for me, causing 2nd to look back. He feebly got out the saddle and gave it just enough gas to hold me off. I passed him 10 meters after the finish line. I am convinced that I would have overtaken 2nd before the line if no one had caused a ruckus. In retrospect, I should have made my move 500 meters earlier. Live and learn.
After my race, I went over to the goodies table and ate more than my fair share of brownies, while the locals offered me more. I was getting cold fast, beginning to shiver. A nice lady fixed me a hot cup of coffee. I was thanked for coming out to race at every opportunity. I considered doing the Men’s Elite race, but by the time I felt recovered enough to truly make a decision, the big boys were staged and getting instructions. I changed out of my damp chamois and began cheering encouraging things to passing racers.
Though not very emotional, I was touched by the genuine happiness of the locals at this race. They clearly loved hosting us. They were gracious and friendly, quick to offer a smile and to help you out if they could. While I knew that I had been missing the grassroots, local races, I had forgotten why. Mansfield reminded me. These guys aren’t putting on a race to make money, to get UCI points for Pros or to promote a product. If I had to guess, they are putting on the race because they like to see people race their bicycles. My second guess is that they plough any profits back into the race.
This race is a winner.
Mansfield Hollow is already on my calendar for next year.

I Suck at Updating

So here are some pics of me sucking at day one at Gloucester. Courtesy of Natasha

Race Report: Great Brewers Grand Prix of Cyclocross Day 1 cat 3 2009

I had a front row call up and my father was at the race. I knew that I was screwed. I always, always do poorly at things when my family comes out to watch. Ever since I was a little kid. Its not like I get nervous, there just always seems to be bad luck.

We sat shivering on the starting line. Looking at our shoes, taking what little shelter we could from the salt-water-filled wind whipping, literally whipping off of the water. When I licked my lips, I tasted salt. The weather was severe, even by New England standards. Rain mixed with the swirling salt spray and sort of stung as it pelted us. The tension was thick; no one spoke after the official called "One Minute;" I even refrained from my usual jabbering. Cary somewhat ironically (or not) wished Brain Wilichoski "good luck" in his loud booming man voice.

There's not too much to say. Diane blew the whistle and I blew my front row callup and slid back. I'm not really sure what happened. I just didn't push all that hard when the whistle blew. Maybe I did push hard and it didn't matter. Either way, I was in a inopportune spot going into turn one and it just got worse from there.

The course itself was a trecherous beast. Mud filled ruts, greasy corners and energy sucking squelchy grass. Roots threaded under the mud. The course was so soft that it changed every lap. Preriding the course gave me a rough idea of what it would like once the race was on, but not really.

The corners weren't too difficult, but back in the pack, riders were jostling, shoving and pushing for any advantage. It has been awhile since I have been in the scrum in the first lap of a major cross race and I forgot how cutthroat it could be. Instead of an orderly movement through the course like at the front of the race, riders would chop your wheel in a tight corner and then blow apart and sit up. You'd have to pass them on the next section.

I fumbled in the mud with the riff raff, jamming on the brakes, sprinting only to jam the brakes on again. People were popping off the course all over the place. It was mayhem and I was frustrated and angry to have fallen back so far so quickly. The leaders got a minute on me in the first 2 minutes of the race. Meanwhile, I was fighting for 40th spot with some gibroni who was just going pop seconds later and slide back to 67th. I couldn't believe how much wasted energy there was at mid pack.

I am training nothing but starts for the rest of the season.

The run up was hell. It was steep with a thick coating of mushy peanut butter mud. You slid back one step for every 2 you took. Add screaming fans (read hecklers) and you can imagine the confusion.

On the runup, I felt the rear of my bike getting caught on something. I pulled to dislodge it. Oops.

After the remount, my rear derailleur stopped working. I spent the requisite quarter to one half a lap messing with my shifters while pedaling tempo. The derailleur was making for funny noises, but otherwise the pedalling seemed smooth.

I opted not to stop and have a look. I figured that just continuing to ride would be the best choice. I mean, could I really have diagnosed and fixed the problem in a timely enough manner to justify stopping?

I had 2 gear options, 46 x 25 and 38 x 25. But getting into the big ring was difficult, so I effectively had only the 38 x 25. Of course, as the drivetrain became progressively more gunked up, it, became exponentially more difficult to get into the big ring. The little ring was fine for riding the course, but I was unable to really drop hammers, since shifting to the big ring wasn't possible (I think that I only succeeded in getting into it once. I thought about going to the pit for a bike, but decided that if Parsons can race single speed, I could race with 1.25 gears easily. Not so much.

Instead of mailing it in, I raced the best race that I could. I used my lower gearing to my advantage and accelerated hard out of corners. I rode uphill sections that other riders were running. My cruising speed was lower than other racers in my category, but I really concentrated on taking good lines and keeping momentum in turns.

I was even able to pass a few of my rivals. Chris Bailey seemed to be having trouble when I passed. I didn't have the heart to tell him I was riding single speed. Not so sure what happened there, but after the race he said that he didn't like cross anymore. Bailey beat me in all but one CX race last season and pimped my teammate Spaits in a breakaway in the Attelboro Criterium this summer, so beating him is a high priority in any race.

I had trouble passing the newly upgraded Jeff Bramhall and my team mate Nick Mashburn (also recently upgraded). They were both riding strong and taking good lines. These will be guys to watch later in the season, as they are on an upward trajectory.

In the final lap, I started to feel bogged down. The sucking mud was taking a toll. Was my lower gearing actually an advantage? Would I have slid even further back if I had had the option of over gearing throughout the race?

On the last two laps, I was really only quickly walking the runup. My spirit was broken. I realize that mechical failures are going to happen, but when they do I take them very personally. Like Campagnolo singled me out for a failing derailleur.

I got 29th. Which, under the circumstances, seems acceptable.

My rear mech had a number of problems, some of which did not become entirely apparent until day two. Check back to hear about how my rear derailleur nearly ruined day two also.

A Post Where I have Nothing Negative to Say

I am aware that I sometimes say things that are offensive or that rub people the wrong way. This is part of my charm. Sort of like Gorgeous Gary, except less lovable and without any cutting edge hair situations.

Today, I have nothing controversial to say. So, if you are here get pissed and then post a comment, move on.

Last night Natasha and I went to the MM Racing party, her as photographer and me as reluctant guest. I say reluctant, because by Thursday nights I am beat. I usually go to bed right after school and have been known to sleep almost straight though the night.

As always the party was great. It was filled with important cycling personalities and friends. And as always, the cupcakes were ridiculously good.

I won an awesome pair of Mavic Fury mtb shoes. Seriously. I got $20 worth of raffle tickets and won something that I actually need and want (my Sidi Dragons are showing their weaknesses).

Sure I won the raffle, but that's not why I am posting. I am posting to point out how incredible Matt and Mo really are. Here's the backstory: Natasha has a new Igleheart frame and didn't have a build kit ready. Money is tight so she considered waiting to build it (she wouldn't let me buy her any parts).

So even with all of the confusion of getting their party together, organizing one of the best cycling raffles on the East Coast (do they even do raffles out west?), planning to dominate Gloucester this coming weekend, even with their day jobs going full force, Matt and Mo assembled a build kit out of their parts shed and just gave it to Natasha.

Over email Matt told me that it was a Rival build, but it only had one Rival part that I could see. Matt tried to point out that everything is used, but all of it is gleaming and looks newer than even Kyler's build. We're talking everything through cabling and cable hangers here, tires even. Matt even called Butch to get a 165 mm crank.

Mo is racing at the highest level of cyclocross. Matt is PRO like no one you know. Yet they care that my little wife has a build kit to put on her new frame. I'm tearing up just writing about their consideration and thoughtfulness, never mind their generosity.

Obviously Natasha and I have thanked you already. And we will thank you again this weekend. Natasha will thank you by slaying the women's B race on your drivetrain. But again thank you. Your generosity left Natasha speechless and she may or may not have been crying on the car ride home.

Thank you.