Sunday, May 30, 2004
Lyons to Trail Ridge Road Report
by Jeb Dunnuck
OK, so for some reason, I agreed to ride up trail ridge (yea, the one in Estes) with Kevin, Matson, Bill, someone nick named Roberto and a whole slew of other strong climbers. I mean, with my love for long, grueling climbs, you would think there would be no way I'd turn down this ride but I must admit, I seriously considered it.
On the way out to Lyons, we pass Kevin and Jeff riding from boulder to Lyons. Yup, they thought that Lyons to grand lake just wasn't far enough and thought they would get a little warm up in. I honk as we pass them thinking they're going to be way late and shake my head in disbelief. Once we get to the coffee shop everyone is rolling in and it takes some time to get all the bikes off the car and get all the gear ready. Traci was dropping both Bill and I off in Lyons and then I was going to catch a ride home with Bill in the RV the ride. By the time I've got my bike off the car and start to put my shoes on, Kevin and Jeff roll in. Here I was thinking they were going to be late and now they're ready to go and I've just put my damn shorts on. We hang out for a little while and amazingly, have a group of 10 people for the ride. Eric and Herb were planning on turning back halfway but it was still a huge group for this kind of insan.. I mean.. ride.
We roll out and set a nice casual pace heading out of Lyons. I had just watched one of the Giro stages yesterday and had dreams of dancing up these climbs. Once we get into the canyon, Eric and Herb pull off and Herb drops his chain right as he's pulling off. No biggie I think, we're going slow and hell, it's my turn to pull so we're not droppin anyone. That was the last I would see of either Eric or Herb. Kevin and I sit at the front for a couple miles and we're just cruising at a nice steady pace that I think I can hold for the remaining 6 hours of climbing. I'm spinning a 39x21 or 39x23 and Kevin of course is in a 53x17. Amazing.
After a little while, Matson pulls in front, saying something about helping us. Damn it, didn't he realize I was blocking! It's about this time that I realize I'm not having the best day. My legs are starting to hurt and feel, well, slightly full of lead. Oh well I think, it's a long ride and we're going to set a steady decent pace. I mean, why would you start a 6 hour ride with 9000 vert and be going hard in the first hour? Guess what happens? Ha, I think people were just playing and having fun by surging and what not but I was soon at redline and hurting. I yo-yoed off the back every time the pace would shoot up knowing there was no way I could handle that pace for any extended time. Bill would look back and see me dangling back there, have mercy on me and turn around and ride with me. He would do this numerous times through out the ride. After the turn off to peak to peak, we all slightly regrouped but then split again on the rollers heading into Estes. Bobby (aka, Roberto) is riding at the back with me as is Bill. Bobby says something about saving something for the climb to the top. I quickly reply that I ran out a half hour ago and am just hanging on.
We roll into Estes with a time of 2:14 minutes but we hang out at the motor home for quite sometime. By the time we head out, it's pitch black right over the park and James makes the quick call that he's getting the hell out of there and heads back to boulder. I'm still feeling bad but I had made it this far so I might as well keep going. It starts to rain on our way into the pay station and I'm almost relieved. Surely no one will pay money to ride in this stuff since it's obvious that we're going to have to turn around soon anyway. I decide that if it's 10 bucks per person to get in, I'm turning around. Of course, it's only 5 bucks (hence subverting my 10 dollar promise to myself) and everyone seems to be ponying up the money. I reluctantly hand over my dough and we're inside the park with only one climb to go. Course it's still raining and probably 45 degrees but, hey, it will clear up surely. Everyone calculated the climb to be about 20 miles (filling me with dread) so as soon as the road kicks up, I don't even make an attempt to stay with anyone and am off the back. Bill once again looks back, turns around and rides beside me. I almost wished he would leave me to my misery so I wouldn't be holding him up. We regroup a little ways up and then repeat the exact scenario of me going off the back and Bill turning around. At this point the weather has cleared up a little and it's just flat gorgeous up there. While I try to set a steady pace and resist the urge to get off the bike, Bill is just chatting away beside me about what songs he's listening too and all kinds of things. I try to respond and at least participate in the conversation but I'm still just blanking looking at the road in front of me and trying to pedal circles. After a while of this, I'm starting to feel better and really enjoy the ride.
As we get up to just below tree line, I suggest that Bill and I swap IPODs so we can listen to some different music. We pull over to the side and right about this time, we see Jeff coming down towards us. Jeff quickly tells us that he isn't feeling so well and is getting light headed. I suggest that I (hehe) should go down with him and Bill subcomes to the pressure and decides to head back with us too. Jeff doesn't even wait for us to turn around and is gone. We quickly throw our rain caps on as it has just started to snow and we can hear thunder in the distance. 30 seconds before we had just been lolly gagging along without a care and now we're wet and cold and it's snowing and starting to hail.
As we start the descent, things go from slightly alarming to down right scary. It's hailing so bad that you can't look up to see where you're going so you spend half the time with your head down and the other half peaking to see if you're still on the road. Every time you tried to see where you were going, it was like getting shot in the face with a paintball gun (slight exaggeration here but it still hurt like hell.) The road is soaking wet and completely drenches us and Bill and I both are shaking uncontrollably. On the faster parts, I would be shaking so much that my bike would start to shimmy wildly and it was hard to control. At one point the hail was so bad that I started to slow down to get the hell off the road but Bill and I both managed to keep heading down. Of course, I don't have any gloves except my normal fingerless riding gloves and quickly lose any feeling in my fingers/hands. Near the bottom, we get a reprieve with some hills that allow us to actually work a little and get our core temp back up. 40 minutes ago I was cussing any and all hills and now I was praying for them.
It starts to warm up the further down the mountain we get and while I can't stop shaking completely, I can at least control them. Once it flattens out, we're both riding no handed trying to get some circulation back into our hands. After we pass through the pay station, we pick up Jeff and pull off at the nearest public building, which just so happens to be a laundry mat. Ha, where ever one of us would stand there would be a big pool of water on the floor. We migrate to the visitors center before heading back to the RV. 30 seconds into the decent from the visitors center, Jeff pulls off and says he can't do it. Jeff is about 140 pounds dripping wet so the cold is hurting him a little more than Bill and I. I tell Jeff we'll come back for him with the RV but keep right on going. He contemplates his options for about another minute and then takes off after us. When we get back in town, it 10-15 degrees warmer than it was and the roads are dry. Bill comments that he can finally start to enjoy the ride again.
Once back in the RV, we throw in the 89 tour DVD and commence to shove food into our mouths. We probably hang out for 20 to 30 minutes before it starts storming hard. At that point, we start to get concerned for everyone else still outside so we head out in the RV to look for them. About a mile before we get to the pay station, we get flagged down by a car. I think the car was some type of small hatch back or something but there were four adults plus one baby.. plus three very wet and cold RM riders. I can't believe they all fit in there. Kevin was barely in the back with the hatch open, holding his bike and trying not to fall out. Jerome was the lucky one and had a hot chick sitting on his lap while Bobby didn't have the hot chick but he at least wasn't about to fall out. Matson apparently had gotten in another car and was already down. We head back to the original meeting place as fast as possible. Matson gets dropped off shortly by a not to shabby single woman driving a mustang. He jumps out and throws his hands in the air like he just scored a touchdown.
Awesome ride and I had a blast! I'm bumming that I didn't make it to the top but next time....
Thanks to Matson for organizing this, thanks to Bobby for footing the bill and thanks to Bill for letting us use the RV! Great ride everyone!
Ciao,
Jeb
by Jeb Dunnuck
OK, so for some reason, I agreed to ride up trail ridge (yea, the one in Estes) with Kevin, Matson, Bill, someone nick named Roberto and a whole slew of other strong climbers. I mean, with my love for long, grueling climbs, you would think there would be no way I'd turn down this ride but I must admit, I seriously considered it.
On the way out to Lyons, we pass Kevin and Jeff riding from boulder to Lyons. Yup, they thought that Lyons to grand lake just wasn't far enough and thought they would get a little warm up in. I honk as we pass them thinking they're going to be way late and shake my head in disbelief. Once we get to the coffee shop everyone is rolling in and it takes some time to get all the bikes off the car and get all the gear ready. Traci was dropping both Bill and I off in Lyons and then I was going to catch a ride home with Bill in the RV the ride. By the time I've got my bike off the car and start to put my shoes on, Kevin and Jeff roll in. Here I was thinking they were going to be late and now they're ready to go and I've just put my damn shorts on. We hang out for a little while and amazingly, have a group of 10 people for the ride. Eric and Herb were planning on turning back halfway but it was still a huge group for this kind of insan.. I mean.. ride.
We roll out and set a nice casual pace heading out of Lyons. I had just watched one of the Giro stages yesterday and had dreams of dancing up these climbs. Once we get into the canyon, Eric and Herb pull off and Herb drops his chain right as he's pulling off. No biggie I think, we're going slow and hell, it's my turn to pull so we're not droppin anyone. That was the last I would see of either Eric or Herb. Kevin and I sit at the front for a couple miles and we're just cruising at a nice steady pace that I think I can hold for the remaining 6 hours of climbing. I'm spinning a 39x21 or 39x23 and Kevin of course is in a 53x17. Amazing.
After a little while, Matson pulls in front, saying something about helping us. Damn it, didn't he realize I was blocking! It's about this time that I realize I'm not having the best day. My legs are starting to hurt and feel, well, slightly full of lead. Oh well I think, it's a long ride and we're going to set a steady decent pace. I mean, why would you start a 6 hour ride with 9000 vert and be going hard in the first hour? Guess what happens? Ha, I think people were just playing and having fun by surging and what not but I was soon at redline and hurting. I yo-yoed off the back every time the pace would shoot up knowing there was no way I could handle that pace for any extended time. Bill would look back and see me dangling back there, have mercy on me and turn around and ride with me. He would do this numerous times through out the ride. After the turn off to peak to peak, we all slightly regrouped but then split again on the rollers heading into Estes. Bobby (aka, Roberto) is riding at the back with me as is Bill. Bobby says something about saving something for the climb to the top. I quickly reply that I ran out a half hour ago and am just hanging on.
We roll into Estes with a time of 2:14 minutes but we hang out at the motor home for quite sometime. By the time we head out, it's pitch black right over the park and James makes the quick call that he's getting the hell out of there and heads back to boulder. I'm still feeling bad but I had made it this far so I might as well keep going. It starts to rain on our way into the pay station and I'm almost relieved. Surely no one will pay money to ride in this stuff since it's obvious that we're going to have to turn around soon anyway. I decide that if it's 10 bucks per person to get in, I'm turning around. Of course, it's only 5 bucks (hence subverting my 10 dollar promise to myself) and everyone seems to be ponying up the money. I reluctantly hand over my dough and we're inside the park with only one climb to go. Course it's still raining and probably 45 degrees but, hey, it will clear up surely. Everyone calculated the climb to be about 20 miles (filling me with dread) so as soon as the road kicks up, I don't even make an attempt to stay with anyone and am off the back. Bill once again looks back, turns around and rides beside me. I almost wished he would leave me to my misery so I wouldn't be holding him up. We regroup a little ways up and then repeat the exact scenario of me going off the back and Bill turning around. At this point the weather has cleared up a little and it's just flat gorgeous up there. While I try to set a steady pace and resist the urge to get off the bike, Bill is just chatting away beside me about what songs he's listening too and all kinds of things. I try to respond and at least participate in the conversation but I'm still just blanking looking at the road in front of me and trying to pedal circles. After a while of this, I'm starting to feel better and really enjoy the ride.
As we get up to just below tree line, I suggest that Bill and I swap IPODs so we can listen to some different music. We pull over to the side and right about this time, we see Jeff coming down towards us. Jeff quickly tells us that he isn't feeling so well and is getting light headed. I suggest that I (hehe) should go down with him and Bill subcomes to the pressure and decides to head back with us too. Jeff doesn't even wait for us to turn around and is gone. We quickly throw our rain caps on as it has just started to snow and we can hear thunder in the distance. 30 seconds before we had just been lolly gagging along without a care and now we're wet and cold and it's snowing and starting to hail.
As we start the descent, things go from slightly alarming to down right scary. It's hailing so bad that you can't look up to see where you're going so you spend half the time with your head down and the other half peaking to see if you're still on the road. Every time you tried to see where you were going, it was like getting shot in the face with a paintball gun (slight exaggeration here but it still hurt like hell.) The road is soaking wet and completely drenches us and Bill and I both are shaking uncontrollably. On the faster parts, I would be shaking so much that my bike would start to shimmy wildly and it was hard to control. At one point the hail was so bad that I started to slow down to get the hell off the road but Bill and I both managed to keep heading down. Of course, I don't have any gloves except my normal fingerless riding gloves and quickly lose any feeling in my fingers/hands. Near the bottom, we get a reprieve with some hills that allow us to actually work a little and get our core temp back up. 40 minutes ago I was cussing any and all hills and now I was praying for them.
It starts to warm up the further down the mountain we get and while I can't stop shaking completely, I can at least control them. Once it flattens out, we're both riding no handed trying to get some circulation back into our hands. After we pass through the pay station, we pick up Jeff and pull off at the nearest public building, which just so happens to be a laundry mat. Ha, where ever one of us would stand there would be a big pool of water on the floor. We migrate to the visitors center before heading back to the RV. 30 seconds into the decent from the visitors center, Jeff pulls off and says he can't do it. Jeff is about 140 pounds dripping wet so the cold is hurting him a little more than Bill and I. I tell Jeff we'll come back for him with the RV but keep right on going. He contemplates his options for about another minute and then takes off after us. When we get back in town, it 10-15 degrees warmer than it was and the roads are dry. Bill comments that he can finally start to enjoy the ride again.
Once back in the RV, we throw in the 89 tour DVD and commence to shove food into our mouths. We probably hang out for 20 to 30 minutes before it starts storming hard. At that point, we start to get concerned for everyone else still outside so we head out in the RV to look for them. About a mile before we get to the pay station, we get flagged down by a car. I think the car was some type of small hatch back or something but there were four adults plus one baby.. plus three very wet and cold RM riders. I can't believe they all fit in there. Kevin was barely in the back with the hatch open, holding his bike and trying not to fall out. Jerome was the lucky one and had a hot chick sitting on his lap while Bobby didn't have the hot chick but he at least wasn't about to fall out. Matson apparently had gotten in another car and was already down. We head back to the original meeting place as fast as possible. Matson gets dropped off shortly by a not to shabby single woman driving a mustang. He jumps out and throws his hands in the air like he just scored a touchdown.
Awesome ride and I had a blast! I'm bumming that I didn't make it to the top but next time....
Thanks to Matson for organizing this, thanks to Bobby for footing the bill and thanks to Bill for letting us use the RV! Great ride everyone!
Ciao,
Jeb
Sunday, May 23, 2004
Boulder Roubaix - Cat. 3 Race Report
by Jeb Dunnuck
I have to admit, I wasn't really looking forward to this race. My experience last year was a flat in the first 10K followed by the major blunder of running smack into the back of a dude at about 30mph. I guess it would be hard to actually have a worse time than that so that was one good thing. Seeing as how the race was for ~70 miles, I opted for no warm-up other than cruising around the parking lot for 5 minutes.
First Lap
I lined up right in the front row and stayed in the top 10 or so heading onto the dirt. Even with the pace not being too bad, I immediately had cotton mouth and was breathing pretty hard. I'm guessing this was due to the no warm-up routine but I'd deal with this in exchange for a little extra energy later in the race. Going up the second roller on the dirt before Neva, a dude on my right goes down hard really hard and barely misses me as he goes flying into the ditch. Matson gets caught up in this but thankfully was able to get back on pretty quick. The pace was surprisingly mellow for the first lap and once we turned north onto Ouray Road and started the sweet sweeper corners, I spot Kevin on the right side of the road and I had a major dilemma. I didn't expect to do well in this race and Kevin and Matson were certainly the team leaders. I pull off and start to drift back a little debating about what to do. It looked to me like Kevin had just run off the road instead of flatting (he indeed did flat). I reasoned that he would get back on easily since the pace was slow and if it wasn't, he would just drop me on his way back to the pack anyway. I sheepishly jump back into the pack and console myself that Kevin will be back in the pack in no time. Matson is riding really strong ahead of me and I can just see Noah's yellow helmet as he takes a flyer off the front. Yes, this is the first lap and I had my doubts about this course of action, but I cheered for him none the less.
Once we turn onto 63rd, we're moving along at a nice 40-50ish kph but it feels easy and we're just soft pedaling most of the time. This quickly comes to an end once we turn back onto the gravel but I'm still in a decent spot coming through wipeout alley.
Second Lap
Somewhere between the feed zone and niwot, a small group of 20 guys is off the front. For the life of me, I can't remember how this happened and it seems to be completely wiped from my memory. I'm in chase mode and catch them right before turning onto neva only to get gapped again at the turn back onto the dirt. I work hard with one other guy and the group is agonizingly just out of reach. I would literally be within a 100 meters of the rear of this group and just could not close it down. I kept telling myself to just stand up and sprint to close it but, ah, politely refused and told that voice to shut the hell up. I get dropped by the guy I'm working with and start to TT. I get caught by two more guys and work with them. We turn onto Nelson and we're probably only a minute behind the lead group. We keep working together on 63rd and drop one of the guys. I drop the other dude turning onto the canal trail and just keep my head down for the rest of the lap.
Third Lap
I go through the feed and grab a bottle from Traci (Thank God she was there). I'm still in no mans land but when I look back, a decent size group is right behind me. I sit up for a sec and jump in with them. Thankfully, these guys are riding a pace I can manage. There are 4 or 5 CIAO riders in the group so I feel no obligation to set the pace. I still ride near the front and take my pulls but I'm not staying on the front longer than I have to and I'm trying to just conserve my energy and keep my cadence up. This lap was pretty casual. The CIAO guys did the majority of the work with another pro peloton dude who kept going off the front. He looked to be the strongest in the group so I was happy to see him dangling off the front of the group by himself.
Fourth Lap
More of the same really. Everyone is tired but the pace certainly picks up. I'm more alert and always up near the front, even if that means I'm working a little more. I had to close down a couple gaps but I was happy to let someone else do the work if I could. We catch another group of 3's on 63rd and I'm the first one onto the canal trail. Two guys pull through on my left and there's a gap between them and the group. I didn't want to pull through this section anyway so I do a mad sliding dash into the other lane and grab the wheel. Once we cross Monarch, a CIAO dude goes off the front and I close the gap. Another CIAO guy pulls in front so now it's two CIAO guys and then me. I'm happy to let them lead but I'm just sure they're going to pull something so I keep peaking around the guy in front making sure there isn't a gap. Once we make the sharp left turn and start the small downhill, sure enough, I look around the guy and there's a 100 meter gap. Oh no you don't... I'm off the guys wheel and have the gap closed by the time we turn back toward the reservoir. Amazingly, the guy stays right in front and keeps hammering. I'm quite thrilled about this and stay right on his wheel. Once we're onto the dam, two guys attack, and the monster in front of me who has just attacked and then pulled for like the last two minutes, closes the gap(yea!). At the end of the first dam section, the two guys in front take a drastic inside line around the left hand turn. The guy in front of me starts to follow and I'm right on his wheel and actually overlapping wheels on the outside. Halfway through this, the guy in front of me decides he doesn't like this line at all and bails hard right. I swerve, struggling to keep him from taking out my wheel. We both stay up and make it onto the last section before wipeout ally all together. I go into wipeout alley pretty hard and pass one guy on the down hill only to pay for it with a bad inside line coming up the hill. Luckily, the pace lets up a little at the top and we're all grouped together. I feel pretty good and I should have just went right then. I could have gapped everyone and no one would have chased. As it worked out, a guy pulls to my outside and then does a nice outside/inside line through the first corner. Unfortunately, I was on his inside and get pinched, sticking me solidly in 4th wheel for the next corner. I pull hard coming out of the next one but don't have enough time to get anywhere before crossing the line in 15th place.
All in all a great race. I had no flats or crashes and never even unclipped once in the race. I also felt comfortable on all the dirt sections. Both Kevin and Noah had multiple flats but Matson had a great race and finished 9th. One of these days, I'm going to get strong enough to stay up in the lead group with my teammates and then we'll really have some fun!
Hope everyone had a great weekend!
Ciao,
Jeb
by Jeb Dunnuck
I have to admit, I wasn't really looking forward to this race. My experience last year was a flat in the first 10K followed by the major blunder of running smack into the back of a dude at about 30mph. I guess it would be hard to actually have a worse time than that so that was one good thing. Seeing as how the race was for ~70 miles, I opted for no warm-up other than cruising around the parking lot for 5 minutes.
First Lap
I lined up right in the front row and stayed in the top 10 or so heading onto the dirt. Even with the pace not being too bad, I immediately had cotton mouth and was breathing pretty hard. I'm guessing this was due to the no warm-up routine but I'd deal with this in exchange for a little extra energy later in the race. Going up the second roller on the dirt before Neva, a dude on my right goes down hard really hard and barely misses me as he goes flying into the ditch. Matson gets caught up in this but thankfully was able to get back on pretty quick. The pace was surprisingly mellow for the first lap and once we turned north onto Ouray Road and started the sweet sweeper corners, I spot Kevin on the right side of the road and I had a major dilemma. I didn't expect to do well in this race and Kevin and Matson were certainly the team leaders. I pull off and start to drift back a little debating about what to do. It looked to me like Kevin had just run off the road instead of flatting (he indeed did flat). I reasoned that he would get back on easily since the pace was slow and if it wasn't, he would just drop me on his way back to the pack anyway. I sheepishly jump back into the pack and console myself that Kevin will be back in the pack in no time. Matson is riding really strong ahead of me and I can just see Noah's yellow helmet as he takes a flyer off the front. Yes, this is the first lap and I had my doubts about this course of action, but I cheered for him none the less.
Once we turn onto 63rd, we're moving along at a nice 40-50ish kph but it feels easy and we're just soft pedaling most of the time. This quickly comes to an end once we turn back onto the gravel but I'm still in a decent spot coming through wipeout alley.
Second Lap
Somewhere between the feed zone and niwot, a small group of 20 guys is off the front. For the life of me, I can't remember how this happened and it seems to be completely wiped from my memory. I'm in chase mode and catch them right before turning onto neva only to get gapped again at the turn back onto the dirt. I work hard with one other guy and the group is agonizingly just out of reach. I would literally be within a 100 meters of the rear of this group and just could not close it down. I kept telling myself to just stand up and sprint to close it but, ah, politely refused and told that voice to shut the hell up. I get dropped by the guy I'm working with and start to TT. I get caught by two more guys and work with them. We turn onto Nelson and we're probably only a minute behind the lead group. We keep working together on 63rd and drop one of the guys. I drop the other dude turning onto the canal trail and just keep my head down for the rest of the lap.
Third Lap
I go through the feed and grab a bottle from Traci (Thank God she was there). I'm still in no mans land but when I look back, a decent size group is right behind me. I sit up for a sec and jump in with them. Thankfully, these guys are riding a pace I can manage. There are 4 or 5 CIAO riders in the group so I feel no obligation to set the pace. I still ride near the front and take my pulls but I'm not staying on the front longer than I have to and I'm trying to just conserve my energy and keep my cadence up. This lap was pretty casual. The CIAO guys did the majority of the work with another pro peloton dude who kept going off the front. He looked to be the strongest in the group so I was happy to see him dangling off the front of the group by himself.
Fourth Lap
More of the same really. Everyone is tired but the pace certainly picks up. I'm more alert and always up near the front, even if that means I'm working a little more. I had to close down a couple gaps but I was happy to let someone else do the work if I could. We catch another group of 3's on 63rd and I'm the first one onto the canal trail. Two guys pull through on my left and there's a gap between them and the group. I didn't want to pull through this section anyway so I do a mad sliding dash into the other lane and grab the wheel. Once we cross Monarch, a CIAO dude goes off the front and I close the gap. Another CIAO guy pulls in front so now it's two CIAO guys and then me. I'm happy to let them lead but I'm just sure they're going to pull something so I keep peaking around the guy in front making sure there isn't a gap. Once we make the sharp left turn and start the small downhill, sure enough, I look around the guy and there's a 100 meter gap. Oh no you don't... I'm off the guys wheel and have the gap closed by the time we turn back toward the reservoir. Amazingly, the guy stays right in front and keeps hammering. I'm quite thrilled about this and stay right on his wheel. Once we're onto the dam, two guys attack, and the monster in front of me who has just attacked and then pulled for like the last two minutes, closes the gap(yea!). At the end of the first dam section, the two guys in front take a drastic inside line around the left hand turn. The guy in front of me starts to follow and I'm right on his wheel and actually overlapping wheels on the outside. Halfway through this, the guy in front of me decides he doesn't like this line at all and bails hard right. I swerve, struggling to keep him from taking out my wheel. We both stay up and make it onto the last section before wipeout ally all together. I go into wipeout alley pretty hard and pass one guy on the down hill only to pay for it with a bad inside line coming up the hill. Luckily, the pace lets up a little at the top and we're all grouped together. I feel pretty good and I should have just went right then. I could have gapped everyone and no one would have chased. As it worked out, a guy pulls to my outside and then does a nice outside/inside line through the first corner. Unfortunately, I was on his inside and get pinched, sticking me solidly in 4th wheel for the next corner. I pull hard coming out of the next one but don't have enough time to get anywhere before crossing the line in 15th place.
All in all a great race. I had no flats or crashes and never even unclipped once in the race. I also felt comfortable on all the dirt sections. Both Kevin and Noah had multiple flats but Matson had a great race and finished 9th. One of these days, I'm going to get strong enough to stay up in the lead group with my teammates and then we'll really have some fun!
Hope everyone had a great weekend!
Ciao,
Jeb
Boulder Roubaix - Cat. 4 Race Report
by Eric Coppock
Y'know I'm darn proud of the way we rode today. Bummer that we came up empty, but Roubaix truly is a roll of the dice (unless you can just drop everybody and go solo .... not me). This is kinda long ... it's so much easier to ramble on when you're happy.
With a wholly lame staging position and completely zero warmup, I rolled out behind the backsides of around 50 or 60 of Colorado's finest 4s. Another 25 or so brought up the rear. I felt fresh and strong, and hoped it would last through the 51 miles of mayhem to come. When would the first crashes begin? My first answer came not more than 3 miles into the race, right smack in the middle of the road for no apparent reason. I managed to get around the pileup without putting a foot down, and a quick chase put me back in. My plan was to be very scarce the first two laps, running the risk of getting caught behind gaps in favor of not showing my face at the front. I was thrilled to see Jeff, Jon, and Bill prowling the front up ahead.
The next few miles were uneventful; the crashes were all around but none of them were close enough to cause me any pain. Until we made the turn from Neva onto the canal path .... the path was a lot more restrictive than I thought, legit 2-track with no passing options. One guy on the right bailed into the canal (I don't think he actually made it into the water, but it was quite a climb to get back out. 10 seconds later somebody on the left decides to lay it down right in front of me. I ride over his bike and have to take my feet out to save it. No getting back in as the only rideable lane has a long line of guys flying up it. I wait for a break, and start the chase. It takes all the way to wipeout alley to get firmly back in the bunch, which is starting to thin out.
Lap 2 a few more folks bail off their bikes for no apparent reason, but my plan to hide out seems to be working. The 3 amigos are still up front looking good and I'm Mr. Incognito. Time for some comic relief. Remember that guy I "pushed" at Carter Lake who totally wigged out on me and just about caused a crash because I had the gall to touch his hip in the bunch? He's BAAAAAACK. Tall Denver Spoke dude on a red/white/blue Merckx. I'm riding nonchalantly up 49th and pass this guy on the left. Didn't even know it was him. "Hey, what the !#$&@, don't do that #$@!!" he yells at me. Now when I rode by him I moved over less than half a bar's width, to sweeten up my draft. Dude had all kinds of room on both sides. "What's your problem?" I ask him. He froths something about me cutting in on him (he wasn't on the wheel I took) and how I "shouldn't even be over there anyway." Now I have no idea what his moral crisis is ... is he upset that I'm flirting with the yellow line (I'm not, and we're on unmarked gravel anyhow) or does he think he's been hooked? So I ask him which he's complaining about. Fortunately he gives up. And, just for poetic irony, a short time later I see him make a useless move forward several places by riding clear over next to the left ditch. Whatever. If he comes up again you'll know I'm talking about him because I'll use the name "WhinerBoy." But not today, cuz when the race actually got down on lap 3 he was nowhere to be found.
By the time we hit pavement again the expected let-down in the bunch was happening. After somebody threw in a pointless attack downhill on Nelson (with a headwind), the pace went to sleep. Not bad, cuz there seem to only be about 30 folks left in the race, and 4 of them is us. Now's the time I'm thinking Bill or somebody should slip off the front ... the bunch is likely to give them a lot of rope. Next thing I know, sudden change of plans, somebody decides the crash timer has expired and lays it down in the middle of the road. Jon goes under. Crap, I liked having 4 guys in the front group, but it's obvious Jon isn't actually hurt so I pull over. We didn't take long enough to check things out before we got busy chasing, cuz now he's riding with his bars slightly off to one side. But we made good use of the pack's generous pace and a nice 2-up rotation got us back in the fold before they even got off of 63rd. Back in the hunt with 4.
Lap 3 and I'm starting to notice that Jeff and Bill are doing a lot of turns at the front. Hmmmm... I'd rather see 'em attack or draft, but maybe today it's just as well they're up front and out of trouble. They lead 1-2 through the particularly nasty corner onto Ouray road, and the 3rd guy pulls a spectacular low-side right behind them. Coming back from that mess on the uphill wasn't fun, but I got there and we're still 4 motors in a dwindling group. Next thing I know the marshals are pushing us over single-file, cuz there's a big moving truck blocking 90% of the road. We ride through that and I'm a bit perplexed to see a big gap between me and a front group of about 7. What gives? We shut the gap down right pronto and I roll up the side of the front group, and with my best bullhorn voice go "All right .... whoever jumped on the gas coming around that truck back there ..... you're an A**HOLE." I'm not kidding, I actually did it. It's lap 3 and I've got my battle axe out.
Upon my arrival at the front, Bill looks at me and says "I didn't know you were even still in the race!" Jeff sez "wow, good to see you, where the heck have you been all day?" A Swift guy next to me looks up, sees 4 aquamen at the head of the arrow, and goes "oh cr@p." I'm practically getting goosebumps. "If you don't want us all up here, we'll try and send somebody up the road OK?" I tell him.
Whaddyaknow, coming out of the corner onto 63rd, Jeff gets a little gap with somebody else at the front. Sort of an accidental gap, but there it is. I'm right at the front and going nowhere. Jon comes up a little too briskly on the left and I tell him not to chase. The group hauls the pair back at the top of the first roller, and I oblige by taking a flyer on the left. Handy little gap. I put my head down for a few, and then take a look back. It's a bit early, and I'm coming back. Jon comes up to me, we discuss our options, and he puts his head down to take the next go. For the next 2 or 3 K Jon holds a very useful gap while Jeff does an absolutely textbook job of shutting down anything resembling an organized chase behind. When a mini-swarm starts to form on the left, I move up with it and relieve Jeff.
Alas, Jon catches a group of something-or-other (dropped masters?) and seems to get bogged down. Our group turns onto Neva and we catch Jon, who is now towing a bunch of bicycle-mounted barnacles it looks like to me. I decide to take advantage of the confusion of catching a small group and go again on the left.
This, it turns out, was the beginning of the tragedy. A couple glances under the arm and I think I'm away, but there's no real gap and a long single-file line of chasers is stalking me. I keep my head down and the throttle open, liking the idea of making it to the canal path in front. Besides, Jon and Jeff are ready to pounce on the next move right? But Jeff got caught behind a gap here, and two guys get by me before the corner. I'm redlined, and miss the line on the corner just enough that I can't catch the wheel. 5 or 6 more come through before I can get back in, and I'm bummin' cuz none of them are wearing blue. Uh-oh... the race is coming apart at the front and I don't know where my fellas are.
The chase is on but the gap to the front pair is growing. It takes me a minute to reload before I can move forward and light up the chase. A big CU guy trades pulls with me across the dam but if we don't get those guys back before wipeout alley, they're not coming back .... and we don't. I settle for leading the race for 3rd into the alley, and start thinking about how to set these fellas up for the sprint. Coming out of the alley we swim through the pea-gravel. The CU guy is challenging me on the left and I'm thinking yeah, you look like a good leadout man. Then with absolutely no provocation or stimulus whatsoever, he goes wildly sideways and lays it down right in front of me. This one I can't escape, and my race is over. Just for additional comic relief I stand up quickly, cramp both quads, and lurch into the ditch with my bike to fall over again. The second fall actually did more damage than the first, but I had no intention of waiting around to see how many guys could run over me. Jon and Bill come by before I can get my wheels under me again, and I take an easy ride down to the finish for what, I don't know, probably around 20th somewhere.
Jon and Bill got 11th and 12th, Jeff was up there somewhere but I don't know where. Great ride fellas, proud to make the race with you and bummed that the Roubaix roll-of-the-dice left us with no coin. But we done good. This is why you gotta start a lot of races. :)
Hung out long enough to debrief a bit and see the 3s come through the first time. Tracy hands me a bottle that's for Jeb just as Maston comes through looking for a handup. Sorry dude ... I wasn't thinking fast enough to get it to you. I don't know where Jeff was standing. Then I was off to the office to keep ahead of the impending deadline wave.
EC
by Eric Coppock
Y'know I'm darn proud of the way we rode today. Bummer that we came up empty, but Roubaix truly is a roll of the dice (unless you can just drop everybody and go solo .... not me). This is kinda long ... it's so much easier to ramble on when you're happy.
With a wholly lame staging position and completely zero warmup, I rolled out behind the backsides of around 50 or 60 of Colorado's finest 4s. Another 25 or so brought up the rear. I felt fresh and strong, and hoped it would last through the 51 miles of mayhem to come. When would the first crashes begin? My first answer came not more than 3 miles into the race, right smack in the middle of the road for no apparent reason. I managed to get around the pileup without putting a foot down, and a quick chase put me back in. My plan was to be very scarce the first two laps, running the risk of getting caught behind gaps in favor of not showing my face at the front. I was thrilled to see Jeff, Jon, and Bill prowling the front up ahead.
The next few miles were uneventful; the crashes were all around but none of them were close enough to cause me any pain. Until we made the turn from Neva onto the canal path .... the path was a lot more restrictive than I thought, legit 2-track with no passing options. One guy on the right bailed into the canal (I don't think he actually made it into the water, but it was quite a climb to get back out. 10 seconds later somebody on the left decides to lay it down right in front of me. I ride over his bike and have to take my feet out to save it. No getting back in as the only rideable lane has a long line of guys flying up it. I wait for a break, and start the chase. It takes all the way to wipeout alley to get firmly back in the bunch, which is starting to thin out.
Lap 2 a few more folks bail off their bikes for no apparent reason, but my plan to hide out seems to be working. The 3 amigos are still up front looking good and I'm Mr. Incognito. Time for some comic relief. Remember that guy I "pushed" at Carter Lake who totally wigged out on me and just about caused a crash because I had the gall to touch his hip in the bunch? He's BAAAAAACK. Tall Denver Spoke dude on a red/white/blue Merckx. I'm riding nonchalantly up 49th and pass this guy on the left. Didn't even know it was him. "Hey, what the !#$&@, don't do that #$@!!" he yells at me. Now when I rode by him I moved over less than half a bar's width, to sweeten up my draft. Dude had all kinds of room on both sides. "What's your problem?" I ask him. He froths something about me cutting in on him (he wasn't on the wheel I took) and how I "shouldn't even be over there anyway." Now I have no idea what his moral crisis is ... is he upset that I'm flirting with the yellow line (I'm not, and we're on unmarked gravel anyhow) or does he think he's been hooked? So I ask him which he's complaining about. Fortunately he gives up. And, just for poetic irony, a short time later I see him make a useless move forward several places by riding clear over next to the left ditch. Whatever. If he comes up again you'll know I'm talking about him because I'll use the name "WhinerBoy." But not today, cuz when the race actually got down on lap 3 he was nowhere to be found.
By the time we hit pavement again the expected let-down in the bunch was happening. After somebody threw in a pointless attack downhill on Nelson (with a headwind), the pace went to sleep. Not bad, cuz there seem to only be about 30 folks left in the race, and 4 of them is us. Now's the time I'm thinking Bill or somebody should slip off the front ... the bunch is likely to give them a lot of rope. Next thing I know, sudden change of plans, somebody decides the crash timer has expired and lays it down in the middle of the road. Jon goes under. Crap, I liked having 4 guys in the front group, but it's obvious Jon isn't actually hurt so I pull over. We didn't take long enough to check things out before we got busy chasing, cuz now he's riding with his bars slightly off to one side. But we made good use of the pack's generous pace and a nice 2-up rotation got us back in the fold before they even got off of 63rd. Back in the hunt with 4.
Lap 3 and I'm starting to notice that Jeff and Bill are doing a lot of turns at the front. Hmmmm... I'd rather see 'em attack or draft, but maybe today it's just as well they're up front and out of trouble. They lead 1-2 through the particularly nasty corner onto Ouray road, and the 3rd guy pulls a spectacular low-side right behind them. Coming back from that mess on the uphill wasn't fun, but I got there and we're still 4 motors in a dwindling group. Next thing I know the marshals are pushing us over single-file, cuz there's a big moving truck blocking 90% of the road. We ride through that and I'm a bit perplexed to see a big gap between me and a front group of about 7. What gives? We shut the gap down right pronto and I roll up the side of the front group, and with my best bullhorn voice go "All right .... whoever jumped on the gas coming around that truck back there ..... you're an A**HOLE." I'm not kidding, I actually did it. It's lap 3 and I've got my battle axe out.
Upon my arrival at the front, Bill looks at me and says "I didn't know you were even still in the race!" Jeff sez "wow, good to see you, where the heck have you been all day?" A Swift guy next to me looks up, sees 4 aquamen at the head of the arrow, and goes "oh cr@p." I'm practically getting goosebumps. "If you don't want us all up here, we'll try and send somebody up the road OK?" I tell him.
Whaddyaknow, coming out of the corner onto 63rd, Jeff gets a little gap with somebody else at the front. Sort of an accidental gap, but there it is. I'm right at the front and going nowhere. Jon comes up a little too briskly on the left and I tell him not to chase. The group hauls the pair back at the top of the first roller, and I oblige by taking a flyer on the left. Handy little gap. I put my head down for a few, and then take a look back. It's a bit early, and I'm coming back. Jon comes up to me, we discuss our options, and he puts his head down to take the next go. For the next 2 or 3 K Jon holds a very useful gap while Jeff does an absolutely textbook job of shutting down anything resembling an organized chase behind. When a mini-swarm starts to form on the left, I move up with it and relieve Jeff.
Alas, Jon catches a group of something-or-other (dropped masters?) and seems to get bogged down. Our group turns onto Neva and we catch Jon, who is now towing a bunch of bicycle-mounted barnacles it looks like to me. I decide to take advantage of the confusion of catching a small group and go again on the left.
This, it turns out, was the beginning of the tragedy. A couple glances under the arm and I think I'm away, but there's no real gap and a long single-file line of chasers is stalking me. I keep my head down and the throttle open, liking the idea of making it to the canal path in front. Besides, Jon and Jeff are ready to pounce on the next move right? But Jeff got caught behind a gap here, and two guys get by me before the corner. I'm redlined, and miss the line on the corner just enough that I can't catch the wheel. 5 or 6 more come through before I can get back in, and I'm bummin' cuz none of them are wearing blue. Uh-oh... the race is coming apart at the front and I don't know where my fellas are.
The chase is on but the gap to the front pair is growing. It takes me a minute to reload before I can move forward and light up the chase. A big CU guy trades pulls with me across the dam but if we don't get those guys back before wipeout alley, they're not coming back .... and we don't. I settle for leading the race for 3rd into the alley, and start thinking about how to set these fellas up for the sprint. Coming out of the alley we swim through the pea-gravel. The CU guy is challenging me on the left and I'm thinking yeah, you look like a good leadout man. Then with absolutely no provocation or stimulus whatsoever, he goes wildly sideways and lays it down right in front of me. This one I can't escape, and my race is over. Just for additional comic relief I stand up quickly, cramp both quads, and lurch into the ditch with my bike to fall over again. The second fall actually did more damage than the first, but I had no intention of waiting around to see how many guys could run over me. Jon and Bill come by before I can get my wheels under me again, and I take an easy ride down to the finish for what, I don't know, probably around 20th somewhere.
Jon and Bill got 11th and 12th, Jeff was up there somewhere but I don't know where. Great ride fellas, proud to make the race with you and bummed that the Roubaix roll-of-the-dice left us with no coin. But we done good. This is why you gotta start a lot of races. :)
Hung out long enough to debrief a bit and see the 3s come through the first time. Tracy hands me a bottle that's for Jeb just as Maston comes through looking for a handup. Sorry dude ... I wasn't thinking fast enough to get it to you. I don't know where Jeff was standing. Then I was off to the office to keep ahead of the impending deadline wave.
EC
Monday, May 17, 2004
Flagstaff and the Monkey: It's Monday Isn't It?
Today visiting low-land, Midwestern friend Jeff McCoy and I headed west on the bike path and soon picked up Bernard "Frenchy" Vachon. Jeff was working on two hours sleep and riding my old steel bike, which weighs nearly as much as Fat Bastard. I half-heartedly offered to switch bikes with him, but he declined, knowing that if he mounted the Magic Bike there would be no excuses for his performance. As it was the high altitude, lack of sleep, and heavy bike were enough. Jeff was dropped early and often, including on the approach hill up 6th street. Bernie and I headed down to Chautauqua to pick up Matson, who would only be riding "tempo" up the hill. Now we all know that when Matson rides tempo, that means he's trying to drop everyone. At least that has happened every single time I've ridden with him.
Sure enough, as soon as we start up Flagstaff, Bernie is popped off the back. Jeff probably never was even on the train. Matson is riding comfortably, as usual. He had the same annoying trait that Eric Coppock has: never seeming to show much effort. He even says to me, "Your breathing hard there, Bill." I don't even have the lungs (or the wit for that matter) for a comeback and just think "Well, yeah, it seems like we're moving along a bit." I don't pop off the back though and I'm determined not to pop off. I know Matson is riding SuperFlag and there was no way I was going to pop off just getting up the Amphitheater road junction. Well, that was my intention anyway. When Matson couldn't get rid of me easily, he moved over and let me lead for a bit.
At the hairpin beyond the Monkey Traverse, we were held up by road construction - paving sections of the Flagstaff Road. We circled on our bikes for a minute or so. It was like the yellow flag at a stock car race and everyone had a chance to get back on and I expected Bernie to turn the corner at any moment. He didn't though. When we were given the go-ahead, I was facing the right direction and Matson wasn't. Now, there were just some emails this morning with Matson gloating about cracking HC on the climb up to Wondervu yesterday. And Matson also attacked HC on the descent. When I first read this I figured it was good pay back for HC's attack on Jeff Knutson on the Carter Lake recon ride, but I know how ruthless Matson is and I figured any chance you get to stick it to him you have to take. I attacked. I got a big jump and pushed hard, continually looking over my shoulder to monitor his progress. At first it looked like he was chasing, then not, then chasing again. I couldn't tell really. At times it looked like he was closing and then I stretched the gap. I knew it was only six minutes to the finish and buried myself to hold the gap.
I finished in 17:03, including the minute or so we spend circling. Granted this time was a good rest for me, but that's still a smoking time on Flagstaff. Matson rolls in 20-30 seconds later all casual and chatting things up like nothing unusual happened, not even acknowledging the silly attack by me, either to say "Good move" or "What the heck was that, you dork? We were having a nice tempo ride together, chatting things up, and then you fly off the front like it was a race or something." Certainly it was a juvenile move, but that's my style. I'm always racing. I probably leave more good efforts in my training rides and leave little for the actual races. It used to be all I had, but now that I'm racing maybe I should modify my style.
I wished him well on SuperFlag and descended with Michelle, who had just come down from SuperFlag. We down together until catching Bernie and then turned and rode back up with him. Bernie finished in around 20 minutes. We rode back down again to the construction site and were held up there, watching Jeff toil up the road. I tried to convince him to head down so that we could start bouldering, but he wanted to make the junction, so Bernie and I turned and headed up again. Jeff finished in a time of 35+ minutes. He was taking things pretty easy and mostly spinning the triple the entire way.
We descended to the Monkey Traverse and continued Jeff's harsh introduction to Colorado lunchtime workouts. Already I had taken him out to solo four routes on the Flatirons this morning, but the guy is a good sport and wouldn't turn down any activity. Bernie expertly demonstrated the opening third of the Monkey, eschewing the rest at the end of it. He made it a bit further before getting too pumped to continue and came off. I went next and skipped the first rest, as is my custom these days. I made it through the middle section, unlike last week, and then milked the kneelock rest for all it was worth. I had Bernie and Jeff both spot me on the finish so that I could solely concentrating on going to "get the jug", as Jeb so enthusiastically urged me on last week. His words were going through my mind as I set up for the last move and went and got it! Sweet! I was glad to get this clean again after failing the last two times up here. Having two very ready and experienced spotters was the key to alleviating any worry about the fall, which is potentially nasty. All I had to think about was getting the jug. If I came off, that was their problem, not mine. It worked nicely, but if my left foot had popped off, it would have been ugly.
Jeff got on and onsighted the first third, but failed to get into the rest before coming off. Bernie gave the middle section along go and got most of the way across before coming off. He then headed back to work while Jeff worked the Monkey a bit more. Lastly, we stopped at the Pratt Mantle and I was completely hopeless here. I couldn't even set up for the throw. It all felt so incredibly slick and greasy. Oh well, at least the Monkey went. We hopped back on our bikes and did the very fast, very fun Flagstaff descent and headed back to work. Another great Flag/Monkey Monday.
Bill
Today visiting low-land, Midwestern friend Jeff McCoy and I headed west on the bike path and soon picked up Bernard "Frenchy" Vachon. Jeff was working on two hours sleep and riding my old steel bike, which weighs nearly as much as Fat Bastard. I half-heartedly offered to switch bikes with him, but he declined, knowing that if he mounted the Magic Bike there would be no excuses for his performance. As it was the high altitude, lack of sleep, and heavy bike were enough. Jeff was dropped early and often, including on the approach hill up 6th street. Bernie and I headed down to Chautauqua to pick up Matson, who would only be riding "tempo" up the hill. Now we all know that when Matson rides tempo, that means he's trying to drop everyone. At least that has happened every single time I've ridden with him.
Sure enough, as soon as we start up Flagstaff, Bernie is popped off the back. Jeff probably never was even on the train. Matson is riding comfortably, as usual. He had the same annoying trait that Eric Coppock has: never seeming to show much effort. He even says to me, "Your breathing hard there, Bill." I don't even have the lungs (or the wit for that matter) for a comeback and just think "Well, yeah, it seems like we're moving along a bit." I don't pop off the back though and I'm determined not to pop off. I know Matson is riding SuperFlag and there was no way I was going to pop off just getting up the Amphitheater road junction. Well, that was my intention anyway. When Matson couldn't get rid of me easily, he moved over and let me lead for a bit.
At the hairpin beyond the Monkey Traverse, we were held up by road construction - paving sections of the Flagstaff Road. We circled on our bikes for a minute or so. It was like the yellow flag at a stock car race and everyone had a chance to get back on and I expected Bernie to turn the corner at any moment. He didn't though. When we were given the go-ahead, I was facing the right direction and Matson wasn't. Now, there were just some emails this morning with Matson gloating about cracking HC on the climb up to Wondervu yesterday. And Matson also attacked HC on the descent. When I first read this I figured it was good pay back for HC's attack on Jeff Knutson on the Carter Lake recon ride, but I know how ruthless Matson is and I figured any chance you get to stick it to him you have to take. I attacked. I got a big jump and pushed hard, continually looking over my shoulder to monitor his progress. At first it looked like he was chasing, then not, then chasing again. I couldn't tell really. At times it looked like he was closing and then I stretched the gap. I knew it was only six minutes to the finish and buried myself to hold the gap.
I finished in 17:03, including the minute or so we spend circling. Granted this time was a good rest for me, but that's still a smoking time on Flagstaff. Matson rolls in 20-30 seconds later all casual and chatting things up like nothing unusual happened, not even acknowledging the silly attack by me, either to say "Good move" or "What the heck was that, you dork? We were having a nice tempo ride together, chatting things up, and then you fly off the front like it was a race or something." Certainly it was a juvenile move, but that's my style. I'm always racing. I probably leave more good efforts in my training rides and leave little for the actual races. It used to be all I had, but now that I'm racing maybe I should modify my style.
I wished him well on SuperFlag and descended with Michelle, who had just come down from SuperFlag. We down together until catching Bernie and then turned and rode back up with him. Bernie finished in around 20 minutes. We rode back down again to the construction site and were held up there, watching Jeff toil up the road. I tried to convince him to head down so that we could start bouldering, but he wanted to make the junction, so Bernie and I turned and headed up again. Jeff finished in a time of 35+ minutes. He was taking things pretty easy and mostly spinning the triple the entire way.
We descended to the Monkey Traverse and continued Jeff's harsh introduction to Colorado lunchtime workouts. Already I had taken him out to solo four routes on the Flatirons this morning, but the guy is a good sport and wouldn't turn down any activity. Bernie expertly demonstrated the opening third of the Monkey, eschewing the rest at the end of it. He made it a bit further before getting too pumped to continue and came off. I went next and skipped the first rest, as is my custom these days. I made it through the middle section, unlike last week, and then milked the kneelock rest for all it was worth. I had Bernie and Jeff both spot me on the finish so that I could solely concentrating on going to "get the jug", as Jeb so enthusiastically urged me on last week. His words were going through my mind as I set up for the last move and went and got it! Sweet! I was glad to get this clean again after failing the last two times up here. Having two very ready and experienced spotters was the key to alleviating any worry about the fall, which is potentially nasty. All I had to think about was getting the jug. If I came off, that was their problem, not mine. It worked nicely, but if my left foot had popped off, it would have been ugly.
Jeff got on and onsighted the first third, but failed to get into the rest before coming off. Bernie gave the middle section along go and got most of the way across before coming off. He then headed back to work while Jeff worked the Monkey a bit more. Lastly, we stopped at the Pratt Mantle and I was completely hopeless here. I couldn't even set up for the throw. It all felt so incredibly slick and greasy. Oh well, at least the Monkey went. We hopped back on our bikes and did the very fast, very fun Flagstaff descent and headed back to work. Another great Flag/Monkey Monday.
Bill
Sunday, May 16, 2004
Koppenburg Circuit Race Report
by Kreighton Bieger
Olan knows the story, since he spent a few hours yesterday hearing me
re-tell it...
I was, as he put it, "pretty softened up from Saturday", and I knew it.
Thinking I would get selected out on the hill, I tried to limit my losses
and maximize my slippage distance by hitting the dirt first. I did not
expect the headwind, and was promptly swallowed up on the dirt. I looked
back just before we hit the climb and I was at the tail end of the first
group of about 30. There were some stragglers and then what remained of the
field about 100 meters back. The climb was totally rideable, but I had no
no no gas, and just went backwards. I was a bit off the back at the top, in
the crosswind, and that was it. I got caught by a few guys and about six of
us were riding in the gutter. I pulled out into the wind, started an echelon
and motioned for others to pull through. The two guys behind me promptly
attacked... By the time we hit Marshall, there was lead group of about 20 10
or so in no man's land, and me, in reverse.
2nd time up the hill, Bill came by me on his MagicBike and I could only
watch and weep. I tried to "dig deep" , as they say, but the hole already
extended to China... He was on his way to an excellent finish, as you know.
I ended up getting in a group with two CU guys and one big tall fella who
was very smooth. We rotated well and caught a few people here and there and
at least two people were able to bridge past us. With one lap to go tall guy
had a mechanical and one CU was faltering. I traded pulls with the other
guy, my heart barely in it, and rolled in figuring I was 40th or worst.
Turns out I was 28th out of probably 80-90 starters. Could've been worse,
but man, it was like riding with a 40lb bag of dog food lashed to my seat.
kb
by Kreighton Bieger
Olan knows the story, since he spent a few hours yesterday hearing me
re-tell it...
I was, as he put it, "pretty softened up from Saturday", and I knew it.
Thinking I would get selected out on the hill, I tried to limit my losses
and maximize my slippage distance by hitting the dirt first. I did not
expect the headwind, and was promptly swallowed up on the dirt. I looked
back just before we hit the climb and I was at the tail end of the first
group of about 30. There were some stragglers and then what remained of the
field about 100 meters back. The climb was totally rideable, but I had no
no no gas, and just went backwards. I was a bit off the back at the top, in
the crosswind, and that was it. I got caught by a few guys and about six of
us were riding in the gutter. I pulled out into the wind, started an echelon
and motioned for others to pull through. The two guys behind me promptly
attacked... By the time we hit Marshall, there was lead group of about 20 10
or so in no man's land, and me, in reverse.
2nd time up the hill, Bill came by me on his MagicBike and I could only
watch and weep. I tried to "dig deep" , as they say, but the hole already
extended to China... He was on his way to an excellent finish, as you know.
I ended up getting in a group with two CU guys and one big tall fella who
was very smooth. We rotated well and caught a few people here and there and
at least two people were able to bridge past us. With one lap to go tall guy
had a mechanical and one CU was faltering. I traded pulls with the other
guy, my heart barely in it, and rolled in figuring I was 40th or worst.
Turns out I was 28th out of probably 80-90 starters. Could've been worse,
but man, it was like riding with a 40lb bag of dog food lashed to my seat.
kb
Wheels of Thunder Crit and Koppenburg Circuit Race Report
by Eric Coppock
...made 'burger out of my legs, that is. This weekend I paid the price for my "all power and no fitness" training program. Seriously underperformed with a 14th at the WoT crit and 21st at Koppenberg. I think I can now officially write off that quick upgrade before state crit. But I had a great time anyhow.
The story of my WoT performance went like this: threw up a lung going long for the first prime sprint, got second, spent the next 30 minutes hanging on for dear life, and finally got mad enough at myself to get back near the front for the finish, only to get swarmed on the backside. Finally got out of the box and moved up several places to take 14th in the final. While I was acting pathetic at the back, Jon and Patrick were riding a great race up front ... always in the mix and very nearly took a couple of primes. I was seriously cursing myself that I wasn't up there to help out. This is supposed to be what I do best. Except what I really do best is go deep deep deep into oxygen debt, and in a big hurry. Look for my new book "How to Completely Destroy Yourself in 60 Seconds or Less" coming to a store near you soon.
Koppenberg. Ah Koppenberg. I love this race! It's so cool. If I ever show up fit for it I'm going to win it going away. I was still seriously reeling from yesterday's damage to my legs, and even a good 45+ minutes of warmup didn't bring the magic back. Still managed to ride it correctly. Got the sweet spot by the curb while staging, and stood there with my bike all crooked so I'd have some elbow room at the start. Boom, right to the front, but out of the wind on the gravel. I was kind of surprised it didn't seem all that frantic here. Pulled through to the front with about 200m to go to the climb and nobody challenged me. OK, thanks for the charity guys, let's climb. Went hard but not crazy up the climb, scored some camera time at the top (thanks John Black), and got ready to work. We had a group of about 10 and a handy-looking gap, and the race was on. Unfortunately, I could already tell I had no kick in the ol' legs today.
As expected, the pseudo-climb on Marshall Road was the most painful part of the course, and made much worse by the fact that nobody in the lead group could ride a steady pace. 20 surges later I found myself gapped as we started down the hill towards Costco. I was chasing with a Denver Spoke guy and was sure we'd get 'em, but the pistons failed me. I fought until we got up the climb again, and when they weren't coming back I sat up and started looking for Bill. At least we still had Jeff K in the front group. The second group caught me shortly and there was Bill, so I jumped in and got busy. The group wasn't pulling a very smart echelon on the crosswind, but we got that squared away quickly. Alas, group 2 was as erratic as group 1 on Marshall road, and I cracked again. OK, JK's in group 1 and BW's in group 2, how 'bout I go looking for group 3.... :).
Group 3 found me just after the top of the 3rd climb, and thank God they were actually riding a smooth chase. After I joined there were 5 of us, and we made good time. I actually started feeling better. Whew. These guys were kind enough to let me take the lead at the foot of the last climb, and I rode them off my wheel on the way up. Nice to have something left at the finish, such as it was.
I am gonna be good for Roubaix... !! :)
EC
by Eric Coppock
...made 'burger out of my legs, that is. This weekend I paid the price for my "all power and no fitness" training program. Seriously underperformed with a 14th at the WoT crit and 21st at Koppenberg. I think I can now officially write off that quick upgrade before state crit. But I had a great time anyhow.
The story of my WoT performance went like this: threw up a lung going long for the first prime sprint, got second, spent the next 30 minutes hanging on for dear life, and finally got mad enough at myself to get back near the front for the finish, only to get swarmed on the backside. Finally got out of the box and moved up several places to take 14th in the final. While I was acting pathetic at the back, Jon and Patrick were riding a great race up front ... always in the mix and very nearly took a couple of primes. I was seriously cursing myself that I wasn't up there to help out. This is supposed to be what I do best. Except what I really do best is go deep deep deep into oxygen debt, and in a big hurry. Look for my new book "How to Completely Destroy Yourself in 60 Seconds or Less" coming to a store near you soon.
Koppenberg. Ah Koppenberg. I love this race! It's so cool. If I ever show up fit for it I'm going to win it going away. I was still seriously reeling from yesterday's damage to my legs, and even a good 45+ minutes of warmup didn't bring the magic back. Still managed to ride it correctly. Got the sweet spot by the curb while staging, and stood there with my bike all crooked so I'd have some elbow room at the start. Boom, right to the front, but out of the wind on the gravel. I was kind of surprised it didn't seem all that frantic here. Pulled through to the front with about 200m to go to the climb and nobody challenged me. OK, thanks for the charity guys, let's climb. Went hard but not crazy up the climb, scored some camera time at the top (thanks John Black), and got ready to work. We had a group of about 10 and a handy-looking gap, and the race was on. Unfortunately, I could already tell I had no kick in the ol' legs today.
As expected, the pseudo-climb on Marshall Road was the most painful part of the course, and made much worse by the fact that nobody in the lead group could ride a steady pace. 20 surges later I found myself gapped as we started down the hill towards Costco. I was chasing with a Denver Spoke guy and was sure we'd get 'em, but the pistons failed me. I fought until we got up the climb again, and when they weren't coming back I sat up and started looking for Bill. At least we still had Jeff K in the front group. The second group caught me shortly and there was Bill, so I jumped in and got busy. The group wasn't pulling a very smart echelon on the crosswind, but we got that squared away quickly. Alas, group 2 was as erratic as group 1 on Marshall road, and I cracked again. OK, JK's in group 1 and BW's in group 2, how 'bout I go looking for group 3.... :).
Group 3 found me just after the top of the 3rd climb, and thank God they were actually riding a smooth chase. After I joined there were 5 of us, and we made good time. I actually started feeling better. Whew. These guys were kind enough to let me take the lead at the foot of the last climb, and I rode them off my wheel on the way up. Nice to have something left at the finish, such as it was.
I am gonna be good for Roubaix... !! :)
EC
Saturday, May 15, 2004
Wheels of Thunder Crit Race Report
by Andrew Couch
Okay, inspired by the movie Troy, which Jeb and I took in on Saturday, I'm
going to pepper my race review with all three Greek words that I know.
Bonus for whoever finds the most Greek-derivitive words.
1. Hubris (pride):
So, it's probably a testament to our hubris as much as our moxie, but Kevin
and Jeb and I actually thought that we were going to dominate the prime
count at the Wheels of Thunder this Saturday.
And look at our hero's lineup:
Jeb, he with the mega-quads, sails the wine-dark asphalt on his Trek OCLV,
and regularly wins the weekday Smackdown, so who wouldn't put money on
"Adonis?" (okay, normally we call him Fabio, but since this is Greek day,
we're changing a little: work with me). And our second hero: Kevin "HC"
Cawley, the Atlas of the one-day Argonauts: A Herakles of the Classics who
is stooping to try to fit this Procrustean bed of pack riding, sprinting,
and leadouts.
With protagonists like these, who wouldn't like our odds?
2. Anagnorisis (Realization of your place)
Usually, the high point of Greek tragedies. Example: Odysseus realizes
after searching for half the play that in fact *HE* killed his father.
3. Catastrophe (to overturn):
I think that we can all see where this one is going....
Synopsis:
So Jeb, Traci (going by her street name "Trey") and Kevin and I carpool it
out to the mesa about noon. We pull a little Odessey of our own on the
way, as we wander the streets of Golden for just short of 10 years looking
for Quaker street leading up to the top of the Mesa where the race takes
place. The course is on a police training course much like a Formula 1
course. It is a 1.4 mile loop: wide and mostly flat and curvey. Very fun.
Anyhow, I also knew from experience that there wasn't a lot of room to warm
up on the Mesa, so I reverted to my Superweek formula: get up early and ride
easy for an hour. When I get to the course, I sleep until the bell lap of
the preceding race. Naps are very good for clearing the old RAM cache.
That part all worked according to plan.
None of us are at all fazed to find 82 other people in the race besides us
on the line. HUBRIS After watching the 4s make a few sprints, Jeb decided
that we might be better off waiting out the first sprint lap and seeing
where the group dynamics would lie. Unfortunately, some brave soul ventures
off the front by himself and gets such a gap that there is no chance for the
sprinters to catch him, so we learn nothing, except that the field is moving
fast and we unceremoniously scoop up the attacker on the lap after the
prime. On lap #3, the powers that be are ringing the prime bell which is my
Pavlovian stimulus to get my sprinter to the front. I slide up the left
side, tap Jeb on the back and keep a nice tempo up until we're sitting
alongside several other people at the front. I just want to keep him at the
front of the field chaos created by any turn that is more than 5% greater or
lesser than 90 degrees. Kevin was off on the right and I'd sort of figured
that he was boxed in, but then he comes up to the front and gives me his
wheel and we're looking like Champs. HUBRIS And then the competing train
comes to town: haulin' ass has a 4-man train to our right and after a few
pedal turns neck in neck with these guys, I'm starting to think that, maybe,
"Titans of Industry and Leadout" that we are, we still might be outnumbered
for a side by side duel. Then Kevin peels off and I'm looking at about 800
meters of bare pavement between me and the finishing line. ANAGNORISIS We
may be a little bit shorthanded for a continual big ring throwdown on every
other lap for 18 laps. So I run neck in neck for another 200 meters and,
unbeknownst to Jeb, decide that if you can't beat em: do the trojan horse
gig. I nod at Jeb to jump on the HNA train ("The other A-train", if Duke
will allow) and get out of Jeb's way. This wasn't good lead out technique,
but neither is letting your sprinter get boxed in. Unfortunately, I've left
Jeb in a bad place and he can't get into the HNA train. I slide back to
30th place and put a bandage on my ego. The next couple laps saw some
attacking in small groups, but the high pace of the field kept the race
together. Kevin or I would pull Jeb toward the front, but either there
would be a small group up the road, or Jeb would get bumped off our wheel,
or we'd get bumped into a bad spot. Basically good experience, but no
payout. On lap 14 or thereabouts, they ring the bell and it's up the left
again and give Jeb a tow to the front and plant him near Kevin. Kevin is a
harder body to move and keeps Jeb at the front in the phalanx of sprinters.
Jeb gets in the right draft this time and throws DOWN. He tears off into
the distance and it looks like he wins the sprint. Then I see him coming
backwards through the field like he's got both brakes on: there's a sort of
"Clashing Rocks" effect where the field will part for him to pass through
then close in front of him. And someone at the front is doing a little bit
of rock and roll at the front to boot. This is not good, b/c i'm doing the
tail gunner thing. So I roll up next to Jeb and tell him to hang on b/c
he's at the end of the rope (where else do you find Couch, but the back of
the field?). So we hang out at the back for another lap while someone else
goes ballisto at the front. At the start of lap 13 someone starts ringing a
bell, so Jeb and I advance up the left when there commences that curious
noise of metal scraping pavement. Dang. Bodies start flying and tires
start popping. So I cut to the left and bodies start falling left, so I cut
a little more to the left and bodies continue to cascade in that direction.
Now I'm going through the dirt and thinking that I am getting around the guy
who's crashed in front of me, but then his bike flips over into my path and
I realize: nope. earth/sky/earth/sky. What's that Greek C-word?
CATASTROPHE So I pick myself up and retrieve my water bottle and, except
for a knock on my knee scab from march's crash: I'm good. Jeb is still
waiting for me. Now THAT is a gutsy move: waiting for someone who might be
incapacitated. Anyhow, we take our free lap, chase like heck to join back
in, and then hang out at the back for the duration. We watch Kevin storm
off the front somewhere around lap 4 to take a prime and he's WAY off the
front in a group of 7 or so. I'm thinking "go babe, go." But it's not to
be and he drifts back and the field chases down the remenants off the front
on the 3rd lap except for one guy whose making time. The next lap, things
are getting sketchy for the finish. Some people are riding a moderate tempo
at the front, but no one wants to blow themselves chasing the lone break. I
get separated from Jeb as we pass the site of the crash and I see he's taken
the left line. Not I: I'm playing it safe, so I move through the wind up
the right side following some guy in orange with a really big ass. As we
make the front half, we pass Kevin, so I move off to the right and make room
for him behind our one way windless ticket to the front. Then Orange-butt
stops, so I tell kevin to follow me and we go to the front to stay clear.
Just at the point where we were all at the front in the first lap, I drop
kevin off in about 5th place and I go to the front to put in a turn to up
the pace and keep Kevin in the front and the field behind. As I get to the
front, we turn into a headwind and I fold completely and absolutely. The
guy is maybe 5 seconds off the front and I'm just dead.
Anaerobia gives me a one-way ticket to the back of the field and I notice
that no one really takes the lead in chasing. The field bunches up and
Kevin gets swamped anyhow. I tag along for the last lap and a half and just
as we're reaching the spot where I had my previous crash, there's another
catastrophe bikes 20' in the air, tubies popping. Just chaos. I go right
this time and get around this and almost get t-boned by some guy who comes
charging back onto the pavement. He only lifts his head to see me when I
scream at him to look up. Dude, we're sitting very solidly in 50th place:
it's too late for heroics now.
We find out later that Jeb wasn't awarded his prime, but I still feel pretty
good about our results: 3 guys against 82 (kind of like the Greeks at
Thermopoly) and we came out with 2 of 10 primes. I think that we have a
future in the speed department.
by Andrew Couch
Okay, inspired by the movie Troy, which Jeb and I took in on Saturday, I'm
going to pepper my race review with all three Greek words that I know.
Bonus for whoever finds the most Greek-derivitive words.
1. Hubris (pride):
So, it's probably a testament to our hubris as much as our moxie, but Kevin
and Jeb and I actually thought that we were going to dominate the prime
count at the Wheels of Thunder this Saturday.
And look at our hero's lineup:
Jeb, he with the mega-quads, sails the wine-dark asphalt on his Trek OCLV,
and regularly wins the weekday Smackdown, so who wouldn't put money on
"Adonis?" (okay, normally we call him Fabio, but since this is Greek day,
we're changing a little: work with me). And our second hero: Kevin "HC"
Cawley, the Atlas of the one-day Argonauts: A Herakles of the Classics who
is stooping to try to fit this Procrustean bed of pack riding, sprinting,
and leadouts.
With protagonists like these, who wouldn't like our odds?
2. Anagnorisis (Realization of your place)
Usually, the high point of Greek tragedies. Example: Odysseus realizes
after searching for half the play that in fact *HE* killed his father.
3. Catastrophe (to overturn):
I think that we can all see where this one is going....
Synopsis:
So Jeb, Traci (going by her street name "Trey") and Kevin and I carpool it
out to the mesa about noon. We pull a little Odessey of our own on the
way, as we wander the streets of Golden for just short of 10 years looking
for Quaker street leading up to the top of the Mesa where the race takes
place. The course is on a police training course much like a Formula 1
course. It is a 1.4 mile loop: wide and mostly flat and curvey. Very fun.
Anyhow, I also knew from experience that there wasn't a lot of room to warm
up on the Mesa, so I reverted to my Superweek formula: get up early and ride
easy for an hour. When I get to the course, I sleep until the bell lap of
the preceding race. Naps are very good for clearing the old RAM cache.
That part all worked according to plan.
None of us are at all fazed to find 82 other people in the race besides us
on the line. HUBRIS After watching the 4s make a few sprints, Jeb decided
that we might be better off waiting out the first sprint lap and seeing
where the group dynamics would lie. Unfortunately, some brave soul ventures
off the front by himself and gets such a gap that there is no chance for the
sprinters to catch him, so we learn nothing, except that the field is moving
fast and we unceremoniously scoop up the attacker on the lap after the
prime. On lap #3, the powers that be are ringing the prime bell which is my
Pavlovian stimulus to get my sprinter to the front. I slide up the left
side, tap Jeb on the back and keep a nice tempo up until we're sitting
alongside several other people at the front. I just want to keep him at the
front of the field chaos created by any turn that is more than 5% greater or
lesser than 90 degrees. Kevin was off on the right and I'd sort of figured
that he was boxed in, but then he comes up to the front and gives me his
wheel and we're looking like Champs. HUBRIS And then the competing train
comes to town: haulin' ass has a 4-man train to our right and after a few
pedal turns neck in neck with these guys, I'm starting to think that, maybe,
"Titans of Industry and Leadout" that we are, we still might be outnumbered
for a side by side duel. Then Kevin peels off and I'm looking at about 800
meters of bare pavement between me and the finishing line. ANAGNORISIS We
may be a little bit shorthanded for a continual big ring throwdown on every
other lap for 18 laps. So I run neck in neck for another 200 meters and,
unbeknownst to Jeb, decide that if you can't beat em: do the trojan horse
gig. I nod at Jeb to jump on the HNA train ("The other A-train", if Duke
will allow) and get out of Jeb's way. This wasn't good lead out technique,
but neither is letting your sprinter get boxed in. Unfortunately, I've left
Jeb in a bad place and he can't get into the HNA train. I slide back to
30th place and put a bandage on my ego. The next couple laps saw some
attacking in small groups, but the high pace of the field kept the race
together. Kevin or I would pull Jeb toward the front, but either there
would be a small group up the road, or Jeb would get bumped off our wheel,
or we'd get bumped into a bad spot. Basically good experience, but no
payout. On lap 14 or thereabouts, they ring the bell and it's up the left
again and give Jeb a tow to the front and plant him near Kevin. Kevin is a
harder body to move and keeps Jeb at the front in the phalanx of sprinters.
Jeb gets in the right draft this time and throws DOWN. He tears off into
the distance and it looks like he wins the sprint. Then I see him coming
backwards through the field like he's got both brakes on: there's a sort of
"Clashing Rocks" effect where the field will part for him to pass through
then close in front of him. And someone at the front is doing a little bit
of rock and roll at the front to boot. This is not good, b/c i'm doing the
tail gunner thing. So I roll up next to Jeb and tell him to hang on b/c
he's at the end of the rope (where else do you find Couch, but the back of
the field?). So we hang out at the back for another lap while someone else
goes ballisto at the front. At the start of lap 13 someone starts ringing a
bell, so Jeb and I advance up the left when there commences that curious
noise of metal scraping pavement. Dang. Bodies start flying and tires
start popping. So I cut to the left and bodies start falling left, so I cut
a little more to the left and bodies continue to cascade in that direction.
Now I'm going through the dirt and thinking that I am getting around the guy
who's crashed in front of me, but then his bike flips over into my path and
I realize: nope. earth/sky/earth/sky. What's that Greek C-word?
CATASTROPHE So I pick myself up and retrieve my water bottle and, except
for a knock on my knee scab from march's crash: I'm good. Jeb is still
waiting for me. Now THAT is a gutsy move: waiting for someone who might be
incapacitated. Anyhow, we take our free lap, chase like heck to join back
in, and then hang out at the back for the duration. We watch Kevin storm
off the front somewhere around lap 4 to take a prime and he's WAY off the
front in a group of 7 or so. I'm thinking "go babe, go." But it's not to
be and he drifts back and the field chases down the remenants off the front
on the 3rd lap except for one guy whose making time. The next lap, things
are getting sketchy for the finish. Some people are riding a moderate tempo
at the front, but no one wants to blow themselves chasing the lone break. I
get separated from Jeb as we pass the site of the crash and I see he's taken
the left line. Not I: I'm playing it safe, so I move through the wind up
the right side following some guy in orange with a really big ass. As we
make the front half, we pass Kevin, so I move off to the right and make room
for him behind our one way windless ticket to the front. Then Orange-butt
stops, so I tell kevin to follow me and we go to the front to stay clear.
Just at the point where we were all at the front in the first lap, I drop
kevin off in about 5th place and I go to the front to put in a turn to up
the pace and keep Kevin in the front and the field behind. As I get to the
front, we turn into a headwind and I fold completely and absolutely. The
guy is maybe 5 seconds off the front and I'm just dead.
Anaerobia gives me a one-way ticket to the back of the field and I notice
that no one really takes the lead in chasing. The field bunches up and
Kevin gets swamped anyhow. I tag along for the last lap and a half and just
as we're reaching the spot where I had my previous crash, there's another
catastrophe bikes 20' in the air, tubies popping. Just chaos. I go right
this time and get around this and almost get t-boned by some guy who comes
charging back onto the pavement. He only lifts his head to see me when I
scream at him to look up. Dude, we're sitting very solidly in 50th place:
it's too late for heroics now.
We find out later that Jeb wasn't awarded his prime, but I still feel pretty
good about our results: 3 guys against 82 (kind of like the Greeks at
Thermopoly) and we came out with 2 of 10 primes. I think that we have a
future in the speed department.
Wheels of Thunder Crit Race Report
by Jeb Dunnuck
Man, what a weekend. I almost called in sick today just so I could stay home in bed and sleep some more...
Sorry this is soo damn long.
So I meet up with Kevin and Couch around noon on Sunday to carpool down to the race. Once we get there and cheer for Bill and Eric for awhile, couch changes, and then promptly curls up in the back seat and goes straight to sleep. Kevin and I do oh about a 5 minute warm-up before heading to the line. Andy and I ride a lap of the course and Kevin saves us a spot right on the front.
The original plan was to go for the first prime but after watching Eric do that and then go straight to the back of the pack, I opted to skip the first one and try for the second. Once the race starts, everyone is a little squirrelly in the corners but we're holding a pretty steady pace. In fact, the pace rarely let up and even after the primes, it stayed fairly high. I don't feel too bad and I'm staying toward the front. When we get the Bell for the second prime lap, both Kevin and couch are right beside me and go right to the front. Problem is that we're still on the back hill. The guys are awesome though and string it out all the way to the base of the descent before we get swarmed. I jump into the passing swarm at the corner and start to sprint. Halfway up the hill I sit up since there is no way I can get my sorry ass up anywhere near the front and I'm trying to save any/all energy I can.
On the next prime, we try again only this time, we're not going to go to the front quite so early. Couch pulls up beside me and I grab his wheel. Kevin is right up front just waiting for us to get on his wheel but as Andy and I go through the left hand S-turn on the inside, the guy to my right cuts the corner and send me careening into the gravel. By the time I get back on the pavement, Kevin and Andy are long gone and I'm back in the pack. I lose track of which primes but I think on the next one, we try again. Once again, couch pulls up beside me and gives me a free ticket to Kevin's wheel. We take the last corner wide and Kevin floors it. I'm barely holding his wheel. I pull around on his left coming up the hill and there is one other guy who has about 2 bike lengths on me. I sprint for all I'm worth and pull up to within a half bike length of the dude but I'm way spun out. I go to shift and magically, I hit the lever, shift and pull past the dude. He throws his bike at the line but I've still got him by a foot or so. I'm so relieved. Kevin and couch have been working hard for me and finally, I've got something to show for it.
I soft pedal for a sec. Unfortunately, I'm still soft pedaling and completely gassed when the pack pulls up beside me and I desperately trying to get some power on the pedals so I can latch on. I barely catch the back and I'm telling myself just to make it to the downhill. Once again, couch is right there beside me, encouraging me to hang in there. I make it around the next lap and I'm trying to make it up the hill. I'm slowly moving up but the hill is still killing me. Up near the top of the hill, a crash happens near the back right in front of Andy and I. I get boxed in but I'm able to slide/stop in time. Andy headed for the ditch only to continually find someone in his way no matter how far over he goes and ends up flying over the bars, luckily not landing on a cactus. I hang out waiting for Andy to get back on his bike so we can help each other get back on until someone mentions a free lap..
Hummm, a free lap, now that is a grand idea! Three or four of us head back down the hill to get back in and we're sitting on the right side of the road by the finish when the pack comes screaming up the hill. Ha, problem is that the pack is taking up the whole road.. and they don't appear to be moving over for us. Everyone is screaming for them to move left and they just move enough to let us start to pedal up the hill. Of course, we start pedaling as they're going past so by the time we're at speed, they're gone. Couch once again pulls past me and takes us from 20mph to probably 27+ (on the hill) and closes the gap single-handedly. Once back in the safety of the pack, we move up and things start to settle down. Kevin and couch are again right beside me just itching to lead out again. I was continually in awe of these guys. After my last sprint experience, I tell them to just forget about me until the last lap cuz I only had one more sprint left in me. I just sit in the rest of the laps and start to feel pretty good. Kevin goes all the way to the line with another dude for one of the remaining primes and barely gets beat. It was a double prize though so he still gets the 20 bucks. It's awesome to be back in the pack and watch one of your teammates up there sprinting up the hill.
At two to go, the three of us get right up near the front and then coming through the line at one to go, couch once again stick his head into the wind and pulls us right up to the front. Kevin is of course already there. Cresting the last little roller at the top, 4 haul-n-ass guys take off and I hear one dude shout some encouragement for Chad. I'm thinking, Chad, from HnA, that dude was like the BAR last year of something. I jump on their train and we go flying around the first right hander. So it's three HnA dudes, one other guy and then me. I'm thrilled to be here too. My teammates have sacrificed themselves the whole damn race and finally, I'm in a spot to pay them back. I look back and there is a small gap to the main field. The lead HnA dude floors it going around the first corner and I get gaped. I stand up and close the gap and I'm desperately trying to hold on. The dude stays full on the gas through the next two S curves and then drops off. I never can get on. I'm full on the gas pushing as hard as I can and just can't seem to get up in the slip stream. Once the first HnA pulls off, the next guys goes screaming around the last right hand corner before the long downhill straight and just kills it. I'm just too far back and I can't close the gap. I sprint for all I'm worth and go cross eyed but crack just the same. So far, this is one of the worst moments I've had in racing. It's one thing to do this by yourself but quite another to do it after other people of worked hard for you. I'm off the train coming down the hill and gasping for air as another group goes flying by. I try to get on but I've got nothing and basically just sit up and coast in.
To make matters worse, when I go to collect my prime, they gave it to the other dude! I ask if there is a protest only to find out you can't protest primes. Ahhhh, I I wanted to scream. Hat's off the both Kevin and Couch for some awesome work sat. I was crushed not being able to show them any results but I'll find some way to make it up to them.
The average speed, including the slow ride down the hill was 43kph for just over an hour of racing. It was awesome to ride as a team, the course was sweet and I'll definitely do this race again. I finished the weekend doing the climb up to wondervue with Kevin and Matson Sunday morning and then working in the yard the remainder of the day. I'm beat!
Hope everyone had a great weekend!
Jeb
by Jeb Dunnuck
Man, what a weekend. I almost called in sick today just so I could stay home in bed and sleep some more...
Sorry this is soo damn long.
So I meet up with Kevin and Couch around noon on Sunday to carpool down to the race. Once we get there and cheer for Bill and Eric for awhile, couch changes, and then promptly curls up in the back seat and goes straight to sleep. Kevin and I do oh about a 5 minute warm-up before heading to the line. Andy and I ride a lap of the course and Kevin saves us a spot right on the front.
The original plan was to go for the first prime but after watching Eric do that and then go straight to the back of the pack, I opted to skip the first one and try for the second. Once the race starts, everyone is a little squirrelly in the corners but we're holding a pretty steady pace. In fact, the pace rarely let up and even after the primes, it stayed fairly high. I don't feel too bad and I'm staying toward the front. When we get the Bell for the second prime lap, both Kevin and couch are right beside me and go right to the front. Problem is that we're still on the back hill. The guys are awesome though and string it out all the way to the base of the descent before we get swarmed. I jump into the passing swarm at the corner and start to sprint. Halfway up the hill I sit up since there is no way I can get my sorry ass up anywhere near the front and I'm trying to save any/all energy I can.
On the next prime, we try again only this time, we're not going to go to the front quite so early. Couch pulls up beside me and I grab his wheel. Kevin is right up front just waiting for us to get on his wheel but as Andy and I go through the left hand S-turn on the inside, the guy to my right cuts the corner and send me careening into the gravel. By the time I get back on the pavement, Kevin and Andy are long gone and I'm back in the pack. I lose track of which primes but I think on the next one, we try again. Once again, couch pulls up beside me and gives me a free ticket to Kevin's wheel. We take the last corner wide and Kevin floors it. I'm barely holding his wheel. I pull around on his left coming up the hill and there is one other guy who has about 2 bike lengths on me. I sprint for all I'm worth and pull up to within a half bike length of the dude but I'm way spun out. I go to shift and magically, I hit the lever, shift and pull past the dude. He throws his bike at the line but I've still got him by a foot or so. I'm so relieved. Kevin and couch have been working hard for me and finally, I've got something to show for it.
I soft pedal for a sec. Unfortunately, I'm still soft pedaling and completely gassed when the pack pulls up beside me and I desperately trying to get some power on the pedals so I can latch on. I barely catch the back and I'm telling myself just to make it to the downhill. Once again, couch is right there beside me, encouraging me to hang in there. I make it around the next lap and I'm trying to make it up the hill. I'm slowly moving up but the hill is still killing me. Up near the top of the hill, a crash happens near the back right in front of Andy and I. I get boxed in but I'm able to slide/stop in time. Andy headed for the ditch only to continually find someone in his way no matter how far over he goes and ends up flying over the bars, luckily not landing on a cactus. I hang out waiting for Andy to get back on his bike so we can help each other get back on until someone mentions a free lap..
Hummm, a free lap, now that is a grand idea! Three or four of us head back down the hill to get back in and we're sitting on the right side of the road by the finish when the pack comes screaming up the hill. Ha, problem is that the pack is taking up the whole road.. and they don't appear to be moving over for us. Everyone is screaming for them to move left and they just move enough to let us start to pedal up the hill. Of course, we start pedaling as they're going past so by the time we're at speed, they're gone. Couch once again pulls past me and takes us from 20mph to probably 27+ (on the hill) and closes the gap single-handedly. Once back in the safety of the pack, we move up and things start to settle down. Kevin and couch are again right beside me just itching to lead out again. I was continually in awe of these guys. After my last sprint experience, I tell them to just forget about me until the last lap cuz I only had one more sprint left in me. I just sit in the rest of the laps and start to feel pretty good. Kevin goes all the way to the line with another dude for one of the remaining primes and barely gets beat. It was a double prize though so he still gets the 20 bucks. It's awesome to be back in the pack and watch one of your teammates up there sprinting up the hill.
At two to go, the three of us get right up near the front and then coming through the line at one to go, couch once again stick his head into the wind and pulls us right up to the front. Kevin is of course already there. Cresting the last little roller at the top, 4 haul-n-ass guys take off and I hear one dude shout some encouragement for Chad. I'm thinking, Chad, from HnA, that dude was like the BAR last year of something. I jump on their train and we go flying around the first right hander. So it's three HnA dudes, one other guy and then me. I'm thrilled to be here too. My teammates have sacrificed themselves the whole damn race and finally, I'm in a spot to pay them back. I look back and there is a small gap to the main field. The lead HnA dude floors it going around the first corner and I get gaped. I stand up and close the gap and I'm desperately trying to hold on. The dude stays full on the gas through the next two S curves and then drops off. I never can get on. I'm full on the gas pushing as hard as I can and just can't seem to get up in the slip stream. Once the first HnA pulls off, the next guys goes screaming around the last right hand corner before the long downhill straight and just kills it. I'm just too far back and I can't close the gap. I sprint for all I'm worth and go cross eyed but crack just the same. So far, this is one of the worst moments I've had in racing. It's one thing to do this by yourself but quite another to do it after other people of worked hard for you. I'm off the train coming down the hill and gasping for air as another group goes flying by. I try to get on but I've got nothing and basically just sit up and coast in.
To make matters worse, when I go to collect my prime, they gave it to the other dude! I ask if there is a protest only to find out you can't protest primes. Ahhhh, I I wanted to scream. Hat's off the both Kevin and Couch for some awesome work sat. I was crushed not being able to show them any results but I'll find some way to make it up to them.
The average speed, including the slow ride down the hill was 43kph for just over an hour of racing. It was awesome to ride as a team, the course was sweet and I'll definitely do this race again. I finished the weekend doing the climb up to wondervue with Kevin and Matson Sunday morning and then working in the yard the remainder of the day. I'm beat!
Hope everyone had a great weekend!
Jeb
Monday, May 10, 2004
Flagstaff Intervals
We go to ride some intervals on Flagstaff today and Jeb and Eric and are going four (FOUR!) laps up to the Monkey Traverse (about 10 minutes at a hard pace). I'm late because of a reporter here at the office. I go solo up the first time, passing the Flagstaff House around 4:25 and getting to the end of the TT course at the road junction in a respectable 16:32 (PR is 15:35). Man, that hurt, but at least it was under 17. I descend right away and find Eric and Jeb working hard about 3 minutes up from the bottom. Now the bottom 3 minutes are the steepest of the entire ride, so I swing around and join them, knowing I have a huge advantage. Oh, and this is their third lap, no less.
Now earlier Eric sent out an email where he mentioned some excitement about riding with me after a two-week layoff. When Jeb took a 10 days off and went to sea level we immediately took him to Lee Hill-Deer Trail and so I figured it was payback time. But I wasn't lollygagging for my two weeks. I was bagging climbs, hiking, and doing 100 miles of mountain biking and even some road riding, including five trips up to the Zion tunnel (3.6 mile climb with 800 feet of climbing). More importantly, I was determined not to be dropped. The last time I rode with these guys, they dropped me so many times, you'd think I had a contagious disease.
I ask Jeb how far they are riding the intervals as it wasn't clear whether they'd go to the road junction or the Monkey Traverse. He ignored me completely because of the blaring music in his ears courtesy of his iPod. I repeat the question to Eric and he gives me the answer. Good. I know I have only six minutes left to climb. I go to the front with the intention of setting the pace for a bit, but I gap them immediately. I ease up a bit and we're all together at the Flagstaff House. I pick up the pace and bit and look back. Eric is glued to my wheel. I crank it again. He's still there. Again. Still no gap. Damn, these guys are working. I shift up and really start to work. I work hard all the way to the switchback and when I look back no one is there. Oops. I guess I went too hard. I continue hard so as not to be caught. Eric has left Jeb and finishes shortly after I do. When I finish I descend a bit and join Jeb, thinking we'll sprint it out and he'll crush me. I figured this would make up for my cheap victory of joining the climb after the hard part. He doesn't go though.
We descend back down for their fourth interval and my first one starting with them. I haven't done as much climbing, so I know I'm cheating again. This is a difficult position, though, since I have no excuses. I've got to take these guys. I lead for the first minute and then Eric comes by, towing Jeb. I had convinced these guys that a slower start to the Flagstaff House is key. They had been doing 4:10 each time. Jeb takes the lead, gaps us a bit, but we latch on and he tows us by the House in 4:30. That's more like it. The pace doesn't ease, but the effort does, since it isn't as steep now. I creep forward a bit and wait about 30-40 seconds before I attack. I shift up three gears (two too many) and go like the climb ends in 200 meters. It's a huge attack and I gain a big gap in no time at all. The pace is so insane that no one responds. Thirty seconds later I realize the foolishness of this move and I'm about to blow up. I don't want to blow until I'm out of sight, though, and keep working until I round the bend. I shift down one gear and keep the pressure on until the switchback, where I shift down another gear. The gap is big and it will hold since I have less than three minutes to go. I cross the finish and descend for the others, but don't get anywhere before they come by, setting up the sprint, which Jeb takes. Now why wouldn't he sprint me? I guess I'm not worthy. Eric's a lot faster. I must have had 25 seconds at least on these two at one point, but they finish only 15 seconds down.
We head down to the Monkey Traverse and, just like Eric said, I do a very bad job on casting their two jobs. Jeb is a very strong boulderer and has the muscles and experience for a solid spot. Eric was well meaning, but the real fault was with me. I fell off the damn traverse not once, but twice. The last time high on the exit. I just didn't have the endurance and fell without much warning to help Eric out. Luckily, my feet didn't hit any of the sharp rocks on the ground. My butt did, but I have copious amounts of padding there. I'm laying on the ground, looking up at Eric, having not been touched at all by him, and thinking maybe I should have defined the word "spot" to him. Maybe he thought he was to spot the exact point of the traverse from where I fell. Or maybe the location where I impacted the ground. No worries though as the only injury is to my ego and off we go for the high speed descent, the big blue train flying down the mountain... A fun ride to be sure...
Bill
We go to ride some intervals on Flagstaff today and Jeb and Eric and are going four (FOUR!) laps up to the Monkey Traverse (about 10 minutes at a hard pace). I'm late because of a reporter here at the office. I go solo up the first time, passing the Flagstaff House around 4:25 and getting to the end of the TT course at the road junction in a respectable 16:32 (PR is 15:35). Man, that hurt, but at least it was under 17. I descend right away and find Eric and Jeb working hard about 3 minutes up from the bottom. Now the bottom 3 minutes are the steepest of the entire ride, so I swing around and join them, knowing I have a huge advantage. Oh, and this is their third lap, no less.
Now earlier Eric sent out an email where he mentioned some excitement about riding with me after a two-week layoff. When Jeb took a 10 days off and went to sea level we immediately took him to Lee Hill-Deer Trail and so I figured it was payback time. But I wasn't lollygagging for my two weeks. I was bagging climbs, hiking, and doing 100 miles of mountain biking and even some road riding, including five trips up to the Zion tunnel (3.6 mile climb with 800 feet of climbing). More importantly, I was determined not to be dropped. The last time I rode with these guys, they dropped me so many times, you'd think I had a contagious disease.
I ask Jeb how far they are riding the intervals as it wasn't clear whether they'd go to the road junction or the Monkey Traverse. He ignored me completely because of the blaring music in his ears courtesy of his iPod. I repeat the question to Eric and he gives me the answer. Good. I know I have only six minutes left to climb. I go to the front with the intention of setting the pace for a bit, but I gap them immediately. I ease up a bit and we're all together at the Flagstaff House. I pick up the pace and bit and look back. Eric is glued to my wheel. I crank it again. He's still there. Again. Still no gap. Damn, these guys are working. I shift up and really start to work. I work hard all the way to the switchback and when I look back no one is there. Oops. I guess I went too hard. I continue hard so as not to be caught. Eric has left Jeb and finishes shortly after I do. When I finish I descend a bit and join Jeb, thinking we'll sprint it out and he'll crush me. I figured this would make up for my cheap victory of joining the climb after the hard part. He doesn't go though.
We descend back down for their fourth interval and my first one starting with them. I haven't done as much climbing, so I know I'm cheating again. This is a difficult position, though, since I have no excuses. I've got to take these guys. I lead for the first minute and then Eric comes by, towing Jeb. I had convinced these guys that a slower start to the Flagstaff House is key. They had been doing 4:10 each time. Jeb takes the lead, gaps us a bit, but we latch on and he tows us by the House in 4:30. That's more like it. The pace doesn't ease, but the effort does, since it isn't as steep now. I creep forward a bit and wait about 30-40 seconds before I attack. I shift up three gears (two too many) and go like the climb ends in 200 meters. It's a huge attack and I gain a big gap in no time at all. The pace is so insane that no one responds. Thirty seconds later I realize the foolishness of this move and I'm about to blow up. I don't want to blow until I'm out of sight, though, and keep working until I round the bend. I shift down one gear and keep the pressure on until the switchback, where I shift down another gear. The gap is big and it will hold since I have less than three minutes to go. I cross the finish and descend for the others, but don't get anywhere before they come by, setting up the sprint, which Jeb takes. Now why wouldn't he sprint me? I guess I'm not worthy. Eric's a lot faster. I must have had 25 seconds at least on these two at one point, but they finish only 15 seconds down.
We head down to the Monkey Traverse and, just like Eric said, I do a very bad job on casting their two jobs. Jeb is a very strong boulderer and has the muscles and experience for a solid spot. Eric was well meaning, but the real fault was with me. I fell off the damn traverse not once, but twice. The last time high on the exit. I just didn't have the endurance and fell without much warning to help Eric out. Luckily, my feet didn't hit any of the sharp rocks on the ground. My butt did, but I have copious amounts of padding there. I'm laying on the ground, looking up at Eric, having not been touched at all by him, and thinking maybe I should have defined the word "spot" to him. Maybe he thought he was to spot the exact point of the traverse from where I fell. Or maybe the location where I impacted the ground. No worries though as the only injury is to my ego and off we go for the high speed descent, the big blue train flying down the mountain... A fun ride to be sure...
Bill
Sunday, May 09, 2004
Boulder Stage Race Report
May 7-9, 2004
Friday, Stage 1: Morgul-Bismark TT
I worked on friday and asked for a late start time, and for my sins, they gave me one.
I swapped shifts with a guy at work, so I could get off at 4, so I'm thinking 'great, I'll get a last of the 3s starting time of around 5, so I can ride there and do it and be all warmed up. ' Nope, I get a start time of 7:25:20 p.m. which puts me square in the middle of the pros with a window about 20 minutes of daylight, a headwind from the west, and falling temps. Gu-reat. So I start out like a house afire for the first hill, and i'm about half way up and my body begins talking back to me. It's telling me: "You and I are going to have a basic disagreement for the next 20 minutes." I didn't take a heart rate monitor, but I put myself into hard core debt up that first hill and then I just couldn't get over the top of any gear. The first pro passed me on the downhill from the hump. My goal was to limit the ego damage to being passed by 5 pros. This was not an auspicious beginning. My 20 second man is disappearing into the gloom ahead like he's on a motorcycle. So I'm plodding along trying to get over my 53x17 wondering if you can get dq'd in a time trial for falling outside the time limits when we hit the Wall. I still believe that if you want to do well in this time trial, you have to big ring the wall, so I give it the old college try. First I'm in the 17, then the 19, then the 21 and lo and behold, I'm bringing back the pro who passed me earlier. I"m starting to feel good about my theory. Then I hit the wind that he's been fighting. oops. (big ring + head wind)/Wall = no positive numbers. So I'm in the small ring now, chasing a pro in his small ring and praying that Rocky Flats might explode, so I can die quickly. But there are several dozen hard core, bell-ringing fans there and I am inspired to keep trying to and hoping that the legs will come around. Not to be. The pro in front of me tops out over the hill and is GONE into the head wind. I come up the hill and start plugging away in my 53x19/17 into the wind when I get passed before the down hill by not one, but two pros who are apparently working together. Hmm. Okay. Well, I'm only going to count them as one passing me then. Big roaring downhill followed by big uphill to to the windfarm. Two more pros pass me on the uphill. They aren't working together, but they're definitely riding together. Make it past the wind farm and now I"m beginning to feel a little better: I ride down in my 53x13 then 12 and i"m beginning to feel more like a bike racer, when another pro zips past me. Who was handing out 11's at the start line and why didn't I get one?
So I finish, ride down the hill on 93 and finish the Morgul Loop. Finishing time of 22 minutes and change puts me slightly ahead of toilet mold in the placings. I was 4th from last and two of the people behind me were DNS. I hope that the other guy had flatted or had some similar excuse. I learn later from Matson that there was a tailwind for the 3s start times. wankers. Anyhow, the team has now found its stage race "biatch."
Saturday Stage 2: St. Vrain loop:
Having done 4 laps of this course the previous weekend, I felt pretty comfortable that a) I knew the course and b) the ride would be anything but comfortable. I have been soaking my contact lenses in rubbing alcohol for 2 days now hoping to kill the pink eye bacteria and my eyes are recovered enough so that I can put the contacts in, as I cannot ride for 3+ hours in my regular glasses. Sidelight: putting contact lenses in after soaking them in alcohol gives a whole nother meaning to the terms "different light" and "pink eye."
Anyhow, so Rachel and I leave at 9 to toodle out to the course to get our warm up in. I'm toting a 30# backpack with 8 water bottles and a spare set of wheels and my eye medicine and more sunscreen and food. But that's okay, b/c I'm the team biatch and I need to get in the mindset. On the way out Chris Wherry and Danny Pate pass us and give us a "top of the morning." Apparently, riding to the race is still hip in Boulder. Im feeling okay, not great. The race gets delayed by 30 minutes, so now it's even warmer.
But who cares, b/c I'm really just hoping that somewhere in the next 2 days that I'll slip backwards enough to slide one more place and get the Lanterne Rouge. Yeah, I"m an underachiever. At least I play one on TV... And the delay allows me to strike up a conversation with Jeff Hartman's folks who are in to watch him. Ray Hartman is a nice grandfatherly gent who is pretty dang funny. It also gives me a chance to pump RM 4s for course intelligence. Apparently, the dirt is gone to crap, so I have to figure out a way to get my team leaders to the front before we hit the clay. Shades of Arenburg forest.
So finally they start off the 3s race, and I follow the pro 1,2 follow vehicle through the bunched up 3s and get to the front. We go easy up the climb the first time and I surprise myself by feeling pretty good. Then we get to 36 and the pace stays moderate. Matson goes to the front to keep the pace moderate plus+ and this bothers me, b/c that's MY job as team biatch: keeping people out of the wind. So I go to the front and sit in front of Matson and ride tempo to the first turn. I continue to ride tempo down the hill a little bit until gravity-boost helps some flat landers past me. No problem. I stay at the front. Then a few more people pass me, but generally things are going a lot slower to the dirt than I thought. I think that this means that people are generally uniformed about how crappy it is, so I'm enjoying my vacation. I'm looking around for Corey Collier and/or HC to get them up ahead to the front w/Matson, when hey, wait, Matson is AT the front. Damn, so I give a last look around for HC or CC and not finding them, I weasel my way between a Ciao kid and some Vitamin Cobbler kid and go to the front and start providing draft for, well, at least his front wheel. Then the Excel guy (I think Eric's OGWLH from the busstop) comes by and leads the turn onto the dirt. I hit the dirt in 4th, behind Matson. The first half mile is okay and then: What the hell happened to my road? All the sudden we are skating and slithering through 4 inches of dust and sand. And not slowing down.
A few people over shoot turn some turns and other people are tangling bars behind us. I slide through a couple turns and lose ground in all of them. HC passes me and then Corey passes me. Well, at least I know that they're doing okay. On the turn before the hill, Rob Love slides into me and we're bumping elbows. So, I start heckling him about how he is supposed to be a good mtn biker and how he's not helping his rep. He tells me that he's brought the wrong bike. I couldn't agree more. 4th on to the dirt. 34th off of the dirt. I come back onto the pavement in a group of 4 right behind Kimberly Bruckner. We're about 40 meters down on the main field which is not strung out at all. The guy at the front of our group punches the gass and we jump right back on. Now, if I were a smart biatch I would go to the front and take my 3 team leaders and 30 other friends for a ride to try to gap the 60 people behind us. But it's wall to wall people and I can't get to the front w/out knocking three people down and going through the dirt. Eventually, someone starts cranking at the front and people begin queuing up on the right side of the road leaving a lovely little path up along the yellow line. So I move left, tap corey on the butt and tell him it's time to go forward. I pull him to the front and leave him about 8th in order to go patrol the front. I take up station sitting on the wheels of two guys who are riding pretty moderate tempo. Our plan is to keep it all together until the 2nd lap, so I go into "follow and squash" mode. There's a few half hearted attacks over the next couple miles of false flats, but the same 3 guys are either "attacking" or following, so I just keep swapping out wheels and am very consistently sitting in 3rd position while others do my dirty work.
We climb the hill at a more energetic, but still relaxed pace the second time. Obviously, this course has everyone's respect and no one is too fired up to fly solo yet. So I'm sitting on Kimberly B's wheel and she's spinning like a pinwheel in a hurricane, and slowly fading backwards, but she's a solid wheel and doesn't squirrel around, so I fade with her a little on the hill to about 8th. People swamp me on both sides. But HC and Matson are in front of me and I'm feeling okay. Then I hear a psst---psst---psst sound ahead of me: please god, I think. don't let it be matson or HC. Well, I obviously did something to p-o the Big Man, as Matson gets over the first pitch, but pulls over at the bottom of the second and begins looking at his tires. Uh-oh, this looks like a job for supa-biatch. But I'm boxed in. I have to get almost to the top of the climb before I can get over and ride back down to help. But by then the other 80 riders have gone past and there are just small groups of chasing stragglers. I watch with a sick feeling as the field starts down 36. Then the wheel van arrives and gives Matson a tire,so I start riding up the hill. After a long pause, he finally starts riding up toward me. So we get on 36 and I'm in my 12 and Matson is in his, heck, I don't know: 10. We're flying. I pull for awhile then matson comes through and pins me against the pylons on the left. No draft. I'm yelling for him to move to his right, but no go. So then he gives me the elbow and I come around again and pull to the hygiene turn. On the way, we pick up 2 more big kids for the chase. We turn east on hygiene road and then Matson drops the "Giddy Up" gear. Holy cow, we're now doing 40+ mph. We start rotating. I take two pulls through before I can't pull any more. I drop to the back and rest a little bit, then pull through again, then I get juked off during the left hand bend and there's no coming back in that headwind. There's no point in calling Matson back, b/c they're making serious time, and, after all: I'm already second from bottom on GC. So, they catch a group of 4 or 5 and see them charge across the dirt together. I figure with a group of 8, he has a fighting chance of getting back to the field, if they are as lacksidasical going upslope again. at the top of the hill on lap 2, I meet Rachel (who quit b/c her tire was acting like it was flat and so she bagged as a preference to taking a chance on rolling it); she tells me that Matson was almost on the back of the field. I'm feeling good about my team's chances; i need to survive until the morrow.
I adjust my paradigm to "tempo-survival mode" and start hooking up with small chasing groups and tagging at the back of fields that are catching me: the pro leaders, the pro chasers, the pro field, the 35+ field. The next 55 miles are a kaleidoscope of dirt, wind, chasing, cramping, etc. Imagine a 50 mile training ride in your big ring on a road well-trafficked by bikes. But I didn't get lapped and I made sure that the officials saw me cross the line, as I stopped in front and yelled "Cat. 3 finishing" and then stayed around begging for water. Anyhow, after a small debacle getting tainted water at the medical center, I filled up my stuff and rode home. 98 mile day. 5.5 hours in the chamois.
Sunday: Sunshine Canyon Hill Climb:
this probably would have gone better if I'd gotten more than 4 hours sleep over Saturday night. I just couldn't go to sleep at all. Bad things. Results weren't posted until after I went to bed, so I didn't check the results until I got up the next morning. I was not listed as a finisher. Normally, this would be a good thing after a 98 mile day, but I am the supa' biatch, and I don't quit for nobody. I was looking forward to being lantern rouge and dammit, even if I couldn't get the spot officially, I was determined to be the worst in the race. I mean, what if someone had a flat? At least I could give up a wheel or carry a water bottle to the finish for someone. So I put on my number and started with everyone. Matson charges up the road, but tempo brings him back in short order. I start off feeling pretty good, and then, about a mile in, I start feeling bad. About 10 pedal strokes later, I just stop dead and I'm groveling in the 39x 25 and 27 for the duration. Even the fat boys were climbing faster than me. Pretty painful, but I"m glad that I did it, as Matson did flat and I got there after he'd pumped up his spare (yeah, way slower than matson and everyone else) and I could at least hold his bike as he put his wheel back on. I even got a time and a final GC place, although no lantern rouge.
I won't be doing Koppenburg next week, as I have found that the whole "riding at the beach" experience is not my cup of tea.
Andrew Couch
Team Caption, Rocky Mounts Racing Team
May 7-9, 2004
Friday, Stage 1: Morgul-Bismark TT
I worked on friday and asked for a late start time, and for my sins, they gave me one.
I swapped shifts with a guy at work, so I could get off at 4, so I'm thinking 'great, I'll get a last of the 3s starting time of around 5, so I can ride there and do it and be all warmed up. ' Nope, I get a start time of 7:25:20 p.m. which puts me square in the middle of the pros with a window about 20 minutes of daylight, a headwind from the west, and falling temps. Gu-reat. So I start out like a house afire for the first hill, and i'm about half way up and my body begins talking back to me. It's telling me: "You and I are going to have a basic disagreement for the next 20 minutes." I didn't take a heart rate monitor, but I put myself into hard core debt up that first hill and then I just couldn't get over the top of any gear. The first pro passed me on the downhill from the hump. My goal was to limit the ego damage to being passed by 5 pros. This was not an auspicious beginning. My 20 second man is disappearing into the gloom ahead like he's on a motorcycle. So I'm plodding along trying to get over my 53x17 wondering if you can get dq'd in a time trial for falling outside the time limits when we hit the Wall. I still believe that if you want to do well in this time trial, you have to big ring the wall, so I give it the old college try. First I'm in the 17, then the 19, then the 21 and lo and behold, I'm bringing back the pro who passed me earlier. I"m starting to feel good about my theory. Then I hit the wind that he's been fighting. oops. (big ring + head wind)/Wall = no positive numbers. So I'm in the small ring now, chasing a pro in his small ring and praying that Rocky Flats might explode, so I can die quickly. But there are several dozen hard core, bell-ringing fans there and I am inspired to keep trying to and hoping that the legs will come around. Not to be. The pro in front of me tops out over the hill and is GONE into the head wind. I come up the hill and start plugging away in my 53x19/17 into the wind when I get passed before the down hill by not one, but two pros who are apparently working together. Hmm. Okay. Well, I'm only going to count them as one passing me then. Big roaring downhill followed by big uphill to to the windfarm. Two more pros pass me on the uphill. They aren't working together, but they're definitely riding together. Make it past the wind farm and now I"m beginning to feel a little better: I ride down in my 53x13 then 12 and i"m beginning to feel more like a bike racer, when another pro zips past me. Who was handing out 11's at the start line and why didn't I get one?
So I finish, ride down the hill on 93 and finish the Morgul Loop. Finishing time of 22 minutes and change puts me slightly ahead of toilet mold in the placings. I was 4th from last and two of the people behind me were DNS. I hope that the other guy had flatted or had some similar excuse. I learn later from Matson that there was a tailwind for the 3s start times. wankers. Anyhow, the team has now found its stage race "biatch."
Saturday Stage 2: St. Vrain loop:
Having done 4 laps of this course the previous weekend, I felt pretty comfortable that a) I knew the course and b) the ride would be anything but comfortable. I have been soaking my contact lenses in rubbing alcohol for 2 days now hoping to kill the pink eye bacteria and my eyes are recovered enough so that I can put the contacts in, as I cannot ride for 3+ hours in my regular glasses. Sidelight: putting contact lenses in after soaking them in alcohol gives a whole nother meaning to the terms "different light" and "pink eye."
Anyhow, so Rachel and I leave at 9 to toodle out to the course to get our warm up in. I'm toting a 30# backpack with 8 water bottles and a spare set of wheels and my eye medicine and more sunscreen and food. But that's okay, b/c I'm the team biatch and I need to get in the mindset. On the way out Chris Wherry and Danny Pate pass us and give us a "top of the morning." Apparently, riding to the race is still hip in Boulder. Im feeling okay, not great. The race gets delayed by 30 minutes, so now it's even warmer.
But who cares, b/c I'm really just hoping that somewhere in the next 2 days that I'll slip backwards enough to slide one more place and get the Lanterne Rouge. Yeah, I"m an underachiever. At least I play one on TV... And the delay allows me to strike up a conversation with Jeff Hartman's folks who are in to watch him. Ray Hartman is a nice grandfatherly gent who is pretty dang funny. It also gives me a chance to pump RM 4s for course intelligence. Apparently, the dirt is gone to crap, so I have to figure out a way to get my team leaders to the front before we hit the clay. Shades of Arenburg forest.
So finally they start off the 3s race, and I follow the pro 1,2 follow vehicle through the bunched up 3s and get to the front. We go easy up the climb the first time and I surprise myself by feeling pretty good. Then we get to 36 and the pace stays moderate. Matson goes to the front to keep the pace moderate plus+ and this bothers me, b/c that's MY job as team biatch: keeping people out of the wind. So I go to the front and sit in front of Matson and ride tempo to the first turn. I continue to ride tempo down the hill a little bit until gravity-boost helps some flat landers past me. No problem. I stay at the front. Then a few more people pass me, but generally things are going a lot slower to the dirt than I thought. I think that this means that people are generally uniformed about how crappy it is, so I'm enjoying my vacation. I'm looking around for Corey Collier and/or HC to get them up ahead to the front w/Matson, when hey, wait, Matson is AT the front. Damn, so I give a last look around for HC or CC and not finding them, I weasel my way between a Ciao kid and some Vitamin Cobbler kid and go to the front and start providing draft for, well, at least his front wheel. Then the Excel guy (I think Eric's OGWLH from the busstop) comes by and leads the turn onto the dirt. I hit the dirt in 4th, behind Matson. The first half mile is okay and then: What the hell happened to my road? All the sudden we are skating and slithering through 4 inches of dust and sand. And not slowing down.
A few people over shoot turn some turns and other people are tangling bars behind us. I slide through a couple turns and lose ground in all of them. HC passes me and then Corey passes me. Well, at least I know that they're doing okay. On the turn before the hill, Rob Love slides into me and we're bumping elbows. So, I start heckling him about how he is supposed to be a good mtn biker and how he's not helping his rep. He tells me that he's brought the wrong bike. I couldn't agree more. 4th on to the dirt. 34th off of the dirt. I come back onto the pavement in a group of 4 right behind Kimberly Bruckner. We're about 40 meters down on the main field which is not strung out at all. The guy at the front of our group punches the gass and we jump right back on. Now, if I were a smart biatch I would go to the front and take my 3 team leaders and 30 other friends for a ride to try to gap the 60 people behind us. But it's wall to wall people and I can't get to the front w/out knocking three people down and going through the dirt. Eventually, someone starts cranking at the front and people begin queuing up on the right side of the road leaving a lovely little path up along the yellow line. So I move left, tap corey on the butt and tell him it's time to go forward. I pull him to the front and leave him about 8th in order to go patrol the front. I take up station sitting on the wheels of two guys who are riding pretty moderate tempo. Our plan is to keep it all together until the 2nd lap, so I go into "follow and squash" mode. There's a few half hearted attacks over the next couple miles of false flats, but the same 3 guys are either "attacking" or following, so I just keep swapping out wheels and am very consistently sitting in 3rd position while others do my dirty work.
We climb the hill at a more energetic, but still relaxed pace the second time. Obviously, this course has everyone's respect and no one is too fired up to fly solo yet. So I'm sitting on Kimberly B's wheel and she's spinning like a pinwheel in a hurricane, and slowly fading backwards, but she's a solid wheel and doesn't squirrel around, so I fade with her a little on the hill to about 8th. People swamp me on both sides. But HC and Matson are in front of me and I'm feeling okay. Then I hear a psst---psst---psst sound ahead of me: please god, I think. don't let it be matson or HC. Well, I obviously did something to p-o the Big Man, as Matson gets over the first pitch, but pulls over at the bottom of the second and begins looking at his tires. Uh-oh, this looks like a job for supa-biatch. But I'm boxed in. I have to get almost to the top of the climb before I can get over and ride back down to help. But by then the other 80 riders have gone past and there are just small groups of chasing stragglers. I watch with a sick feeling as the field starts down 36. Then the wheel van arrives and gives Matson a tire,so I start riding up the hill. After a long pause, he finally starts riding up toward me. So we get on 36 and I'm in my 12 and Matson is in his, heck, I don't know: 10. We're flying. I pull for awhile then matson comes through and pins me against the pylons on the left. No draft. I'm yelling for him to move to his right, but no go. So then he gives me the elbow and I come around again and pull to the hygiene turn. On the way, we pick up 2 more big kids for the chase. We turn east on hygiene road and then Matson drops the "Giddy Up" gear. Holy cow, we're now doing 40+ mph. We start rotating. I take two pulls through before I can't pull any more. I drop to the back and rest a little bit, then pull through again, then I get juked off during the left hand bend and there's no coming back in that headwind. There's no point in calling Matson back, b/c they're making serious time, and, after all: I'm already second from bottom on GC. So, they catch a group of 4 or 5 and see them charge across the dirt together. I figure with a group of 8, he has a fighting chance of getting back to the field, if they are as lacksidasical going upslope again. at the top of the hill on lap 2, I meet Rachel (who quit b/c her tire was acting like it was flat and so she bagged as a preference to taking a chance on rolling it); she tells me that Matson was almost on the back of the field. I'm feeling good about my team's chances; i need to survive until the morrow.
I adjust my paradigm to "tempo-survival mode" and start hooking up with small chasing groups and tagging at the back of fields that are catching me: the pro leaders, the pro chasers, the pro field, the 35+ field. The next 55 miles are a kaleidoscope of dirt, wind, chasing, cramping, etc. Imagine a 50 mile training ride in your big ring on a road well-trafficked by bikes. But I didn't get lapped and I made sure that the officials saw me cross the line, as I stopped in front and yelled "Cat. 3 finishing" and then stayed around begging for water. Anyhow, after a small debacle getting tainted water at the medical center, I filled up my stuff and rode home. 98 mile day. 5.5 hours in the chamois.
Sunday: Sunshine Canyon Hill Climb:
this probably would have gone better if I'd gotten more than 4 hours sleep over Saturday night. I just couldn't go to sleep at all. Bad things. Results weren't posted until after I went to bed, so I didn't check the results until I got up the next morning. I was not listed as a finisher. Normally, this would be a good thing after a 98 mile day, but I am the supa' biatch, and I don't quit for nobody. I was looking forward to being lantern rouge and dammit, even if I couldn't get the spot officially, I was determined to be the worst in the race. I mean, what if someone had a flat? At least I could give up a wheel or carry a water bottle to the finish for someone. So I put on my number and started with everyone. Matson charges up the road, but tempo brings him back in short order. I start off feeling pretty good, and then, about a mile in, I start feeling bad. About 10 pedal strokes later, I just stop dead and I'm groveling in the 39x 25 and 27 for the duration. Even the fat boys were climbing faster than me. Pretty painful, but I"m glad that I did it, as Matson did flat and I got there after he'd pumped up his spare (yeah, way slower than matson and everyone else) and I could at least hold his bike as he put his wheel back on. I even got a time and a final GC place, although no lantern rouge.
I won't be doing Koppenburg next week, as I have found that the whole "riding at the beach" experience is not my cup of tea.
Andrew Couch
Team Caption, Rocky Mounts Racing Team
