Race Report: Wells Ave A Race--Cat 4's Have Their Own Race, Why Are They Cluttering Up the A?

I am not currently fit. This post is not a series of excuses about why I failed to win any primes, get in a break or contest the final sprint. The reason that none of these things happened is due to my lack of fitness. Even with a lack of fitness, I have the requisite skills to effectively participate in an A race at Wells Avenue. No everyone can say this truthfully.

Over the course of this season (and perhaps before that) there has been a quietly running debate about whether cat 4's should be allowed to race the A race on days where there is a seperate B race. The logic for excluding the cat 4's is that they lack the experience and as a result, likely the bike handling and pack skills to deal with the rigors of A race. The logic for allowing them to race the A is to allow the cat 4's the opportunity to "race up" and improve fitness and to get a preview of what a race may look like when and if they upgrade.

I made a few observations today that color my position in this matter.

1. Dirty bikes on the starting line. Generally this indicates a lack of care/maintenance. Racers in Belgium are forbidden to start if their bikes are dirty. It is considered a lack of respect for the sport. A bucket, a set of brushes and some dishsoap will set you back less then a new tire; cleaning a bike with the proper tools (see the former) takes less than 15 minutes. "I didn't have time" is a load of horseshit.
2. Swerving to avoid ridable obstacles. There are potholes on the course. They are in the same spot every lap. A rider with experience will correct their line well before a big pothole in order to avoid endangering other riders with a squirrelly lane change. I lost count of how many squirrelly swerves I saw today. It is safer to ride over a big pothole than to swerve in a pack. Worst case scenario is that you damage your rear wheel; but you are on your training wheels, right?
3. Non Bib Shorts. I am not sure what this means, but it means something. I saw lots of ass crack today and I am not happy about it. Racers wear bibs.
4. Braking in the corners. Riders were grabbing handfuls of brake IN the corners. Firstly, none of the corners at Wells require braking. Secondly, if you failto brake before the corner, braking IN it will only make your problems worse. I am not even mentioning what illogical braking does to the riders who are unfortunate enough to be on the braker's wheel.
5. Gaps opening up for no reason. Apparently tempo pace was too fast for some of the cat 4's. While this does not endanger anyone, its annoying. If you are not fit enough to hold a wheel at tempo pace, you are in the wrong race.
6. Unshaved legs. Again, bicycle racers shave their legs. There are notable exceptions of highly successful racers with hairleg, but they are few and far between.
7. Not holding a line. I observed a number of riders who were drifting, seemingly out of control for no apparent reason. One or two of them almost took me out. They were endangering everyone.
8. Huge teams that do no work. If you enter a race with 15+ dudes, you should have a goal. If none of you are fit enough to DO ANYTHING, then you are in the wrong race.

Originally, I took no position in this debate. While I was aware that the A race was a bit sketchier when it was combined with the B, I never really thought much about it. I just took note of the sketchy wheels and stayed ahead of them. When gaps opened up because of a flagging cat 4; I closed them. When a cat 4 swerved wildly to avoid a very rideable manhole cover; I gently asked the rider to hold his line (explaining the reason if I wasn't shouted down). I ignored the affronts to our sport.

My position has changed. Cat 4's (and less fit 3's) have their own race at Wells. When the race is combined, I'll deal with it, as I respect and understand BRC's reasoning behind combining fields. When there is a separate B race, cat 4's should be restricted to that race. Higher category riders have earned their upgrades based on experience, time served and results garnered. It is unfair to allow beginners to endanger higher category riders unnecessarily. Higher category riders allow less room when passing and generally ride much more tightly packed together. There is much less margin for error. When a bunch of higher cat riders are riding together it is not a problem. Add a beginner into a hotly contested race...problems.

If cat 4's insist that they should be allowed to race the A, there is nothing stopping them from requesting an upgrade from cat 4 to 3. If they claim that the B is too easy, then they should prove it by winning the race (and some other races as well) and upgrading. Furthermore, I have raced the B, it is not easy. Even today, Paul Curly his SpinArts teammate got a 5 man break going with Mike Wissell and stayed away. I watched them, it did not look easy for anyone.

I hope that the Boston Road Club considers barring cat 4's from the A race. It would be unfortunate if we had to have another series of devastating crashes in order to get their attention.

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.