Nevermind

Countersteering helps a lot, but it's no panacea. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that my 'cross results are so poor, since I haven't done any real training other than racing since July.

As the World Turns

So, I haven't written here for a while.  Long story short, I've been racing a lot.  The track has been good to me (found that I have a bit of talent for sprinting) and the road hasn't been that bad either.  Finished the season with a good start toward a Cat 2 upgrade on the track, and even a few points toward a Cat 2 upgrade on the road.

Big accomplishments...

Had a really good OBRA Track Champs race.  Upgraded from Cat 4 to Cat 3 right at the start of the weekend, and ended up with three gold medals in the kilo, pursuit, and match sprint and a silver in the points race.  All in small fields though, which tempers the glory.  But hey, my times in the kilo and pursuit weren't terrible, and my match sprint performance was not bad either.

Got a silver medal on a breakaway at the OBRA Crit Champs.  That was fun.  Spent over 10 laps off the front; at 5 to go, had a guy bridge up to me and we ended up finishing just ahead of the pack.  The other guy got first, I got second.

Final decent result was a second place finish at the kilo in the OBRA Masters Track Champs.  I raced the match sprints as well, but I really mis-timed my eating (didn't have anything to eat but a bowl of cereal between 8:00am and 3:00 when the race was over) and didn't win a single match.  I could've done better for sure.  On the other hand, there are a lot of very fast guys in the 30-39 age group I was racing against.  Fast and savvy...  I might be somewhat fast, but I have a lot yet to learn about match sprinting.
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With that, the 2010 season comes to a close, except for cyclocross, which I suck at.  Base training for 2011 is right around the corner, and I am in the process of deciding whether to obtain some coaching.  I want to make a serious run at Cat 2 on the road.  A coach will be useful in this.  On the other hand, Cat 2 isn't a destination, it's a threshold.  The aesthetic side of me wants to cross the threshold on "natural" talent (a better term might be "uninvested" talent); the thinking goes if I can do this, I stand a chance of being competitive on the other side of the threshold with the benefit of coaching.

I also have to decide what I need a coach to do for me.  A "generic" coach I have less use for.  I can pull workouts out of a hat more or less the same as any other person.  A "real" coach would be working with me across multiple seasons and get to know my abilities almost better than I know myself.  That might be too much to ask though, either for a coach I hire or for myself and my own commitments to what is still an amateur sport, regardless of category.

Anyway, it's enough to make my head spin a bit.  Having a little talent is somehow vexing.  It seems the path is pretty clear if you are dominant.  Likewise if you suck.  Having a few little successes as I've had this year makes me want to see where the rabbit hole leads, but it also makes me question how much time and energy to place into the endeavor.  But this is the time of the year (with the non-existent training and the play-in-the-mud 'cross fun) to be philosophical.  Wax poetic and philosophical now, put the head down on the trainer in a few weeks.

A Year Review and a Look to the Next

I left the road season this year in a blur of track frenzy and exhaustion from the road.  I haven't ridden a road bike in a couple weeks and the 'cross season has started with a bang.  What to make of all this in the whole scheme of my amateur racing career?

For one thing, I've matured as a racer.  My equipment, after two years of upgrading and buying, is finally sufficient for all aspects of road competition.  I have two road racing bikes - solid, fast steeds; three specialty bikes (cyclocross, time trial, and track); and my trusty commuter.  All the components on these bikes are sufficient; they are not holding me back.  I feel like I am in a good spot, equipment wise, between top-of-the-line and budget.  That means that until my results catch up to my bikes, I am down to spending only on consumables, clothing, and races.  If I play it right, the sport should be getting cheaper for me.

In competition, I'm racing in the Cat3's on the road, Cat4 on the track, and CatB in 'cross.  I still have upgrade aspirations for the track, and with 'cross I don't especially care, but for road, I am where I will be for the next couple years at least.

I feel like I have room to improve.  Even after being 20lbs less than I was two years ago, I can still stand to lose another 20lbs.  This is make or break.  At 175lbs, I am an average Cat3.  At 165lbs, I'll crush.  This is not idle tough guy talk.  It's just fact.  Right now, due to the off season, I'm 182lbs... but I'm racing (cross) again, and will soon start building my mileage from the current near zero to 10-15 hours a week.  This isn't a fantasy.  I am still, if not fat anymore, not skinny.  But it will take work.  Now that equipment is not holding me back... I simply need to put in the hours.

And here's the thing.  I have time for that too.  The first year I was racing I was terribly inefficient with training time.  I drove to lots of team rides instead of riding.  I hesitated and watched TV for an hour before hoping on the trainer or rollers.  I scrubbed training rides due to weather instead of simply bucking up and getting out there.  Second year, I am more efficient, but still not as efficient as I could be.  Much of this is simply about knowing what to do and doing it.  Hesitation and uncertainty is the bane of my life.  But with experience, training becomes smoother and more efficient.  I don't need half an hour to get ready anymore because I know with my eyes closed what needs to be in the car and/or in my pockets.  I know what to eat, I know what to drink.

So, the plan for next year, subject to change.  Currently I'm kind of idling myself, merely developing my handling skills and keeping myself sharp by racing cyclocross.  November 1st rolls around and I start ramping up the indoor trainer and weekend rides.  This rolls through January on a gradual ramp; a 12 week program to develop my functional threshold and lose weight.  In February, the long outdoor rides start.  I want to be doing 4-5 hour rides a couple times a week.  I'm not certain the logistics of this yet, but I want to be doing about 15 hours a week on the bike at this point.  Just steady miles to build base with FTP interval sessions in between.  The racing season starts at the end of February.  At this point I start trading training miles for race miles.  I peak first for the April spring stage races.  I want to weigh 170lbs at this point.  At the end of April, I take a couple weeks break and start building for another peak in July.  I peak in July for the Cascade Classic stage race.  I want to weigh 165lbs.  I end the road season with a generous helping of crits and track racing.

That's the plan.  I now know my body, and I know I've executed parts of this plan over the last couple years.  It's year three and it's time to put it all together.  The goal is to be able to win in Cat3 road races.  I don't suspect I'll get the points to upgrade to Cat2, but I want to show myself I have the potential to win in the P/1/2 field in the next couple years.
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As an aside, I almost scrubbed the last sentence of the last paragraph above.  Is it going too far to even state that I'd like to win a P/1/2 race?  I dunno.  Aim to the sky to skim the trees?  Is it a fantasy?

Let me put it to rest.  I can roll with the big boys on a sprint finish.  All that's needed to win a P/1/2 race is to make it to the end with the field.  I won't be the best'est mountain goat.  I won't be the strongest TT'er.  But I can sprint and that's my ticket in the big boy races.

Yin and Yang of Road Racing

In participating in this sport for the better part of two years now, I've come to a realization: the yin and yang of road racing.

The sport of road racing takes on two face. One is speed and efficiency. It's all about keeping in the draft. Using energy wisely. Sprinting at the finish. The other is suffering. Riding hard in the gutter until there's only one lone man behind you. Shedding him like a used tissue in one, final, devastating attack.

The pure sprinters, or the purest of the pure, the trackies, value speed and efficiency. Racing to them is a constant battle of energy conservation and position. All the effort in the race is condensed into the last couple miles. There is no suffering because there is no time to suffer. (Suffering is not just effort. It's effort in time. A 1500W burst is effort, but it's not suffering.) A win is a combination of outright strength and tactical skill. It's a chess master maneuvering himself in a sea of riders at 30mph.

And then there are the climbers and time trialists. These riders aren't concerned about speed; they are purpose built to suffer. Winning a race is to suffer the most for the longest. A sprinter, if he could hang with them to the finish line can plink them without trying. But hanging till the finish is the trick. These are the guys who ride people off their wheel. They don't nip people at the line for the win; a burst of speed from a sheltered position. They bludgon their competitors with hammers and attacks until not a one of them is left standing.

Two sports within a sport; within the same race even. Even the flat races are a constant war between the hammers and the sprinters; the guys who flog themselves (and others in the process) for their bread and the ones who snatch it like a thief. I've played both ends. I've played the strongman, and I've played the sprinter. I've been the hammer and I've been the sneak. Oh what a rich sport this is!

Sprinters

"I'm fascinated by the sprinters. They suffer so much during the race just to get to the finish, they hang on for dear life in the climbs, but in the final kilometers they are transformed and do amazing things. It's not their force per se that impresses me, but rather the renaissance they experience. Seeing them suffer throughout the race only to be reborn in the final is something for fascination."

--Miguel Indurain

The reason why I love bike racing is because there is a place for everyone.  It's not a sport that penalizes whole segments of the population.  There are big people like me who can sprint and (one day) time trial, and there are little guys who can climb hills.   It results in a richness of strategy and tactics to make use of strengths and weaknesses that isn't seen in any other sport.

When I despair about my climbing ability or my power numbers or my power to weight ratio or any such measuring stick bullshit, I remember the quote above.  I am a sprinter.  It's my lot as a bike racer to suffer like a dog on the climbs so I can taste the finish.  Don't ever give up, because if I can get there to the line, I can blow the doors right off of all those little climbers without even breaking a sweat.

My "don't care" bike

Today was my first commute into work of the year.  22 or 23 miles, over some hills on some quiet roads mostly free of traffic.  Beautiful. 

Last night I went about re-configuring my commute bike to be a zippier, more fun, machine.  I took off the rack and fenders, lowered the handlebars and put some larger tires on it.  I saw that the computer had run out of batteries, so I just took it off.  I put on some road pedals.  Cleaned it up and trued up the wheels.  Perfect.  

It's still probably the heaviest bike in my fleet.  But it's fun to ride!  No instrumentation.  No fancy brifters - just good, old fashion big tires and downtube shifting.  It's a race bike again, but from the 80's, not present day.  It's my "don't care" bike.  The one I'll ride when I just want to re-connect to cycling.  The one that I'll waste precious training days to just have fun.  The one I ride junk miles on; when I ride just to ride.  

So, when I did my commute today, I did it on my "don't care" bike.  I have been falling into a rut lately.  My motivation has been low.  I needed miles, but moreover, I needed to just reconnect with cycling and have pure driven fun on a bike.  In amoungst all the training rides and races I do, every once in a while, or maybe more than once in a while, I need to just get out and ride.  And on those days... I have my "don't care" bike.  

Waterlogged...

Riding in the rain when it isn't cold.

No rain jacket; just a vest and wool.

Wet but not miserable.

Leaves on the road; beware hidden holes and rocks and branches.

Flat tires - wait for teammates three times, miserable now in the cold.

Perfect pace on a fixie - 20mph at 100rpm steady, leading the group.

Throw the bike in the car; a beeline to the coffee shop to change.

Hot coffee and an omelette.

Friends.