Joules Cross

As we head into the heart of the cx season, this weekend of racing in Kansas sounded like a good one to try. The course is laid out on private land, with the owner generously giving the local cyclists a place to race both cx and dirt track. They held a series this summer racing around a 300m dirt oval on fixed gear bikes (using cx tires-this isn't a smooth surface), which sounds like a lot of fun. Anyhow, the cx course was an excellent mix of wide open flats, hairpin descents, a board dismount and a in/out spiral. It was beautifully mown, with little need for any additional marking.The first day course was extremely bumpy in spots, especially on a long descent-none of us could find a good line and ended up feeling like we were operating jackhammers. There were about 40 in the entire masters heat, with 16 in my division (50+ masters) Saturday. The standard set of 360 Racing Team masters were there to beat on everyone, including Steve Songer (10th at Planet Bike USGP a few weeks ago in 45+). I knew that if I was not on his wheel after a 1/2 lap, I was racing for second. They started us in waves (30+, 40+ 50+ and 60+). I had a horrible start and was immediately gapped by Songer and David Moore, along with a couple of other riders, so vying for second it was. I worked my way through the group that gapped me, and after 1.5 laps, only David Moore (and, of course, Songer) remained in front of me, and he was riding extremely well. He's been tearing it up this year, and I started to wonder if I would catch him. I noticed that he was struggling on the climbs of the course. After another lap, I could see that I had made up 5 seconds on him, with another 10-15 remaining, so I redoubled my effort and reeled him in. When he saw me go by on the next lap, he tried to stay with me, but I sat in for a bit, then punched it up the first hard uphill and dropped him. Sailed in for 2nd place.

Other local racers fared well. John Rokke finished 2nd in the 3/4 race, Aaron Treadway 6th; Sydney Brown easily beat out the Open Women's field. The one downer was Rich Pearson's crash in the master's 60+ race: he was handily winning it, but slipped on a corner descent and broke a bone in his shoulder. 4-6 weeks of no racing. Ouch. Sheclismo rider Elisabeth Reinkordt from Lincoln did well in the women's 3/4, finishing 5th. Huge women's 3/4 field, rivaling the size of the men's 3/4, which is a great sign of progress.

Competition for the second day was tougher, with Songer and Moore's teammate Andy Lucas (9th at PB USGP 45+) joining in the fun. The course was fun and fast on Sunday, with hairpin descents that were a great technical feature. Much better start, but Songer and Lucas got away as I was stuck behind a rider with quick acceleration but poor handling skills through the turns. I was solidly in 3rd after a lap, with Moore chasing. Songer and Lucas worked out to a 20 second gap ahead of me, which they maintained. I struggled to get any closer, but a headwind on the flat stretches of the course gave the two teammates a big drafting advantage (though they later told me they were trying to drop each other on the rest of the course). Moore gradually fell back to about 20 seconds behind me, and it stayed that way for the rest of the race, with Lucas winning, Songer 2nd, myself 3rd, Moore 4th, and Dan Hansen (also riding for 360, great photo here) rounding out the top five. I was the VV in the middle of a 360 sandwich.

The Nebraska crew duplicated its efforts from yesterday: Sydney won (beating nemesis Catherine Walberg), Rokke finished 3rd in the 3/4, and Elisabeth Reinkordt 7th in the women's 3/4s.

Two podiums, a terrific course, a well-run event (Free State Racing did an outstanding job of promoting the event) and my wife there to cheer me on made for an excellent weekend of racing. Joules Cross is definitely worth the drive to Lawrence.

There is proof in the proof. Done, medaled, toasted and the Diet Coke Victory Salute! Chicago Marathon 2011, the Revenge Tour, is in the books!




I haven't had a sponge bath since I was a baby, but these sponges saved my bacon during the crispy hot run!

Added a couple of telling photos to supplement previous Marathon Madness blog below. It's Friday and I'm feeling all giddy again. Resting up after Sunday's marathon is done. Several yoga sessions, Panera's coffee visits, and some easy pedaling and I'm feeling human again.

Need to start training for Ironman Wisconsin 2012, starting tomorrow at the SW YMCA at 7 AM. Must confront the swimming demons and begin thrashing about. Actually, Carol has promised to reinvent me as a swimmer. Let the madness continue.

Maple Y represents at the 2011 Omaha Corporate Cup

Stacy and I went to the Omaha Corporate Cup Awards banquet last week. The Greater Omaha Metro YMCA lady team finished 2nd overall in the team event. The YMCA men, which included El Guapo Supreme, finished in 3rd. Good showing!

Stacy teaches a mean Body Pump class and Group Cycling. She has a loyal following for good reason. Your truly teaches Group Cycling and Yoga at the Y. If you are interested in attending, let me know. I can drum up some guest passes. Love my Y family!

Marathon Madness

Race Report for Chicago Marathon 2011:

El Guapo Supreme and his little enchilada Millie celebrate the final result!

The pressure was on after the 2010 Chicago fiasco. You remember last year, where I melted down in the 85F October heat at Mile 20. Walked two miles after cramping and finished at 3:58. Illusions of qualifying for Boston in my 1st ever marathon evaporated as quickly as my bi-weekly paycheck. It gnawed at me ever since. I wore my orange World Vision wristband all year as a daily reminder. I had UNFINISHED BUSINESS!

So, I trained hard for this. I changed tactics. I understood now what to expect.

Game day this year was on, Sunday, Oct. 9th. My goal was harder this year. New Boston qualifying times meant I had to run 3:30 or less. This year I followed WV training plan. No free-lancing. This year I rode my bike around Chicago before the race. No 10 mile death marches the day before the race. This year I had breakfast on race day. Last year nada. This year I ran with Nike pace group. Last year surged out of the gates way too fast. This year more Gu, water and Gatorade.

Started in Corral C next to the 3:30 Nike pace group. Running naked. No clocks, no timers, no Garmins. Just me and my iPod. Took a minute or two to get to the start line after the Kenyans started the clock. The first "X factor."

The crowd was electric. Music and bands everywhere. Millions of spectators. It was so great. One should experience this as either a competitor or a fan! I high-fived some Husker fans. I did some dances. I rallied the crowds. I was into this. No demons this year like last year at mile 7. Good frame of mind. Got to 13.1 with juice. Now down to bizness. Next obstacle was to run thru mile 20 where last year's meltdown started. Did it!

Then at mile 23, the Reaper visited, as you knew he would. My right hammie seized. Arggghh! Not again. No! Decision time. Submit to the pain like last year or refuse to lose? Teetering at the edge of the abyss. Called on old reliable. The Diet Coke. The DC brought me back from the abyss. I was not going to allow this opportunity go. I dug deep. Then deeper. The 3:30 group pulled away when I cramped. I tried vainly to catch back on. They are tantalizingly close, maybe a 100 yards ahead. Finally, mile 25 arrives. 1.2 miles to go. A minute or two to play with. The X factors; the time it took to get to the starting line, coupled with the 3:30 group slightly ahead of pace and the perceived 59 second cushion. Previously, you could finish in 3:30.59 and still qualify.

I could still do it. I'll never do it if I don't give 100%. I ran as hard as I could. I round the final corner. The FINISH LINE was .2 miles ahead. The Nike pace group finishes. I'm a 100 yards behind. My face is contorted in pain as I "sprint" for the line. The clock reads 3:31.50. Was it enough with the X factors?

I think I've made it by the hair of my chinny chin chin. Then someone tells me there is no longer a 59 second cushion offered by Boston. I sink. I despair. So bleeding close. I desperately needed that cushion. Without it I am forked. I am low. Lower than whale poop. Lower than a snake's belly.

I muddle my way towards the World Vision hospitality tent. I am grim. I've been reaped. CK approaches. She had runner tracking on her cell phone. She shows me. Unofficially, 3:29.56.

I'm dumbfounded. I am rescued again. My spirits soar. I have done it. I qualify for Boston by 4 freaking seconds! You know, one banana, two banana, three banana, four banana. The planets align. My guardian angel escorts me. I enter the tent and scream it out....Boston Baby!!! Everyone in the tent claps and cheers. I reach for a Diet Coke. Pop the lid and drink it all in. The DC. Next up, Boston 2013. The Boston DC party!

THE Mullet Classic

This race has been bouncing around in the back of my head for a few weeks now. Originally I had thought about making the long journey for the WORS season finale in Sheboygan (WI), but work commitments nixed those plans and left me searching for something to sate my desire for one more mountain bike race. After my crash and subsequent shoulder injury last week I figured that racing the Mullet Classic was out of the question. As things slowly got better over the course of the week and I grew restless, I started to consider racing again. I figured if nothing else it would serve as a nice long aerobic workout, which is something I felt I’ve been missing lately. Besides, how can you resist a race that has “mullet” in the name. A spot in the Feagan’s vehicle sealed the deal for me, and we took off bright and early Sunday morning for Lake Ahquabi.

After arriving and kitting up we took survey of the trails before start time. I had heard/read ahead of time that the course was fast, with lots of doubletrack and swooping turns. The pre-ride/warm up did not disappoint as the course was fun and barn-burner fast! I decided pre-race to set up some bottles on the Feagan’s aid table as I didn’t really have a good feel for how many bottles I would need or how long the race would take. I positioned a couple cold water bottles in my cooler so that they would be available for a quick exchange, and headed to the start. Despite the fact that this was supposed to be a low-key race for me I was still nervous. Nobody likes getting their ass kicked, and this was my first cat. 1 mountain bike race. Even if it was a small race there were still fast guys in it.

As the starter sent us off Cam Kirkpatrick and Matias Perret went to the front and lead the group out with Ryan Feagan, Jay Chesterman, and Ryan Nenninger in tow. I started slow, partly as a result of pedal fumbling and partly out of trepidation. I tucked in about 8^th wheel and eventually moved up to get on Matt Gersib’s wheel. The leadout train was moving quickly, and Matt didn’t seem overly concerned with catching them, but at the same time wasn’t riding slow either. I debated trying to get around or just settling in. In my mind I was worried that an overzealous start would result in a very unpleasant death march to the finish on lap 4. When the majority of your races are barely more than an hour in Cat. 2, riding for 2 hours or more is a bit intimidating. So I hung back. After bogging down on a steep pitch behind Matt I went around and decided to set off on my own. I couldn’t even see the top guys anymore and just sort of resigned myself to riding alone for most of the race.

I tried to keep an even hard tempo and ride as smooth as possible with hopes of maybe picking up a straggler or two. I hated the idea of getting beat by Ryan, who although a far better bike handler than me had spent most of his time since Dakota 5-0 training minimally and eating fried food (by his own admission). At this point though Ryan was out of sight and I figured it wasn’t worth worrying about at the moment. I was pleased to find that the backside of the course which we had not been able to ride during the warm-up had some challenging climbs on it. I like hills.

After two laps my bottle was empty and I stopped briefly at the start/finish to pick up a fresh bottle. It wasn’t long after getting going again that Gersib showed up and promptly went around me. I hadn’t realized that he was still relatively close when I stopped for a bottle change and that I had effectively erased any gap I had by stopping. It was then that I regretted not starting the race with both bottle cages full. Matt was wearing a camelbak under his jersey and thus didn’t need to stop for a bottle change. I let Matt tow me around for a while, dutifully scrambling to make up the ground I lost on the descents or fast corners. With my recent shoulder injury still fresh in my mind I was perhaps still a bit afraid to fully let it rip on the fast and loose sections of the course. After swooping around on Matt’s wheel for a while and making a few sketchy passes of lapped riders we all of a sudden came upon Jed Clampet (errr…Ryan Feagan) poking along in his denim and flannel cut off kit. Ryan let out an audible sound of disappointment as we caught him, but nonetheless he kicked up the pace so that we had a three man NE train going! It was kind’a fun.

A little while later the NE train came rolling up on the familiar orange Powerade/Indy Fab jersey of Jay Chesterman. Chomp. Jay was absorbed by the train and we continued to roll. Knowing that we were headed into another section of the course with some significant climbing followed by some fast descents, I decided it was tactically in my best interests to try to get some breathing room on the climbs. As we approached a left turn going into a prolonged moderate climb I whipped around and threw down the attack. I knew that someone had taken up the chase behind me, but I didn’t look back to see who. I just put my head down and tried to build a gap. Not long after that we picked up and subsequently dropped Nenninger. From that point on I built a lead, although I don’t know how big it got at it’s largest point. About midway through lap 4 I realized that I had company, and as we hit the prolonged climb this time it was Gersib throwing down the well-timed attack. After getting the gap on the climb he kept the pressure on in the downhill sections and put some time into me. I tried my best to keep him in my sights, even slamming it into the big ring for the long flat section by the lake. By the time we hit the steep grinding asphalt climb I had made up a little ground, but he was still far enough ahead that catching him would have taken something pretty heroic. I stayed strong for the final climb on the course but wasn’t making up any ground and the gap remained to the finish. After all was said and done Matt was able to put about 30 seconds into me. We finished in just under 2 hours and averaged about 13 mph, which is totally ridiculous for a mountain bike race.

After the race we stuck around for the food and beer and waited for Roxy and Todd to finish the marathon race. When the results were posted it turned out that Gersib and I were battling for the final podium spot. Doh! I wish I had known that during the race. There’s always a little extra motivation to be found when you know you’re in contention for glory and/or cash! I don’t know that I could have caught Matt, but perhaps I would have had a little more motivation to turn myself inside out trying. After an hour or so of eating drinking and socializing we finally loaded up and hit the road. A good time was had by all, and I’m already thinking about where we can get a Camaro with a bike rack for the road trip to next year’s race.

Omaha Cyclocrash Weekend

Everybody seems to get pretty fired up for the local races, and the hype machine was in full effect going into the Omaha weekend, which for all intents and purposes serves as the first race of the CX season for most of us. This year I already had a tune up race in Iowa and some big time racing at the USGP in Madison under my belt, so I was ready to rock out in the open race. I helped Randy set up the course and organize the registration in the morning so I had a chance to peruse the start lists and noted that while the field wasn’t huge it would be filled with some quality riders. The course at Swanson is a real doozy with lots of grunty short climbs, one sustained climb, and plenty of off camber turns to keep you from getting too fancy. On top of that was a nasty maze slammed down on the side of a hill that was giving riders fits during the practice laps.

After a hard weekend of racing in Madison, and a pretty solid week of training leading up to the Omaha weekend my legs were a little less than fresh, so I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect after the warm-up. As a result of too much dinking around prior to staging I had to start on the third row…oops. I burned some matches trying to move up early on, and probably got myself up to about 7^th wheel before we hit the maze. I got gapped a bit coming out of the maze and really got on the gas to try and make contact again. As a result I came into one of the downhill off camber turns a little too hot and slid out…right in front of a mob of pac man ghosts. I got up quickly for fear of being eaten.

Things happen fast in CX and just like that I lost about 5 positions and almost got eaten by ghosts. I had to take a moment to get my chain back on and get rolling again. I was annoyed with myself for having made a mistake that I knew would cost me, especially so early in the race. Eventually I clawed back most of the positions I had lost, but not without a herculean effort. As the race wore on I found myself locked in a battle with Tyler Carmichael as we went back and forth alternately attacking each other. I had a good gap going for a while, but eventually Tyler worked his way back onto my wheel. We were together flying through the sweeping downhill left known unofficially as the “walnut turn” when I heard the unmistakeable commotion behind me that signifies a crash (usually the sound of grunting, swearing, and bending metal). I didn’t look back, but I knew that was probably the end of that battle for the day. I went on to grab another spot as a tiring Nate Woodman gave me some encouragement as I went by. I finished the race 8^th overall out of 18 starters, which was o.k. I felt like I could have done better, but people always think that, it’s just human nature. I promised myself that on day 2 I would avoid the costly mistakes of day 1. Boy was I wrong.

After a restless night of lazing about with achey legs I headed back to Swanson early on Sunday morning to help with course set-up and registration again. I watched the early races with anticipation and cheered on my girlfriend Emily in her second-ever bike race. I was proud of her for bucking up after a tough first day on Saturday which was capped by a less than fun crash. I reminded her that crashing is part of the framework that makes up the learning curve in cycling…or at least in off-road cycling. And of course by this logic I should be learning a shit-load this season because I’ve hit the turf in every single race so far!

I had a nice start on Sunday, but I was too tentative on the fast downhill section and lost some positions I would have liked to have kept. My legs didn’t feel awful, but had no real pop. I lost the front group early on, and again had to fight back after dumping the bike on a dry slow 180 turn. After that the top 7-8 guys were just gone, and I didn’t have the legs to bring any of them back. Eventually, Steve Jarrett caught up to me and we waged a nice back and forth battle for a while. I fought hard to stay in front of Steve knowing that he would likely gap me in the technical sections if I let him get ahead. I could tell he was working hard by listening to his breathing, and I decided to keep applying pressure when I could, namely in the running or power sections. Eventually, I was able to get a gap that stuck going into the last lap, and was somewhat happy that I would come out on top of this battle.

After completing the climb I bombed the downhill leading into the maze to maintain my gap. Unfortunately, I “got a little too big for my britches” (as Stamper was fond of saying) heading into the sweeping left at the beginning of the maze and slammed hard. In fact it’s probably about as hard as I can recall crashing for quite a while. I landed directly on my left shoulder and the impact was stunning. After I regained my wits I started to worry I had broken my arm or shoulder. After a few moments Steve passed by and told me that we had a good enough gap that I could probably maintain my position (minus what I’d lost to him) if I could ride it out. I checked the bike and assessed the usefulness of my arm. In an effort to see if I could finish, I mounted the bike and gingerly made my way through the maze using the left arm as little as possible.

I was initially so defeated that I didn’t entirely care if anyone else passed me. As I reached the Omaha version of “hooligan hill” the assembled crowd started chanting “beer, beer, beer”, collectively urging me to take a handup. Normally I’m so focused on going fast that I wouldn’t even notice, but in the wrecked state I was in I was happy to oblige. Half a Miller High Life and a few turns later, I limped in for a 10^th place finish among the 19 starters. This was the start of basically a week of moping, poor quality sleep and partial disability. Happily I’ve been able to get back to riding recently, and the shoulder/arm doesn’t seem to be broken or anything. It’s weird what the combination of a bad day on the bike compounded by an injury does to your mindset. For most of the week I didn’t even want to ride, but as things got better I eventually began to think about Mullets…

( I should also add that a number of other VV rides had great races this weekend. Todd Eyeberg, Dave Randleman, and Jonathan Neve raced well in the Cat. 3 races, Ben Swan got after it in the Cat. 4 race, and Randy Crist competed in a stacked masters race.)

U.S. Grand Prix of Cyclocross #1 Planet Bike Cup Day 2

After all of my whining (in jest) on day 1 about the perfect weather and conditions being inappropriate for cyclocross, mother nature took note and delivered on the weather for day 2. Before the race, I opted for an early brunch at one of my Madison favorites, El Dorado Grill. I watched the rain coming down in sheets from the gray sky as I scarfed down a warm stack of blue corn pancakes with cascabel chili maple syrup and red chili butter and a side of bacon. Today would be a good day for cyclocross. After breakfast we rushed to the venue to see the homies (Josh and Tim) roll out in the SS race. I recon’d the course and took note that all of the off camber sections were shredded to pieces. With continued rain and thunderstorms forecast throughout the day I knew things would only get more awesome.

For some reason getting to the start line always seems to be an adventure for me in that there always seems to be more things to do than I have allotted myself time to do them in. This day was no exception as I scrambled around trying get things in order before staging time. But, because this was a big important race it seems that the adventure/drama factor had to be cranked up a notch. I headed out for my warmup at the normal time after pinning my number to my jersey and leaving it in the car. About a ½ mile to a mile from the venue I stood on the pedals to accelerate as I crossed a major road. Ching! I looked down to see what I intuitively knew, but did not want to acknowledge. Chain broken. After muttering a few curse words I quickly collected my bike and busted chain and started running back to the venue to search out the SRAM neutral support tent. Luckily, I found them and they hooked me up with a new chain no questions asked. Disaster #1 averted. I rolled back to the car to don my jersey and get back lickety split for staging.

As I got back to the car the rain started to fall hard again, and I ducked inside to stay warm and dry while getting ready. After pulling on my jersey I tried several times to zip it up but couldn’t quite get it done. After inspecting the zipper a little more closely I realized that the bottom piece of plastic on the zipper had broken off inside the…thingy. Anyway, the bottom line was that unless I wanted to rock the flying tails look, this jersey was done. I invoked Arrested Development in my head as I yelled to nobody in particular “come on!” Luckily I was wise enough to bring an extra jersey, and quickly made the number switch, being careful not to mess up the zipper this time.

As staging time drew near the weather only seemed to get worse. I was waiting underneath the shelter area watching water pouring off the eaves and lighting flash in the distance when I heard the distinct “tack…tack, tack…tack, tack, tack” of hail. As things went from awesome to more awesome the announcers got on the p.a. and told us that they were delaying staging by 20 minutes to let the worst weather pass. Somehow the race management timed things perfectly as the weather seemed to clear up right around the time we were called to stage. I had starting position that wasn’t terrible, but not great either. I was probably about 5 rows back from the start, with 3-4 rows behind me. I prepared myself mentally for the start.

At the gun I got clipped in fairly quickly but was hesitant to give it full gas, knowing we were going to be flying into a right hand sweeper off the pavement into wet grass and mud. This fact didn’t seem to deter anyone else though as guys flew buy me leading into the first turn. Amazingly nobody went down, and not amazingly I got shuffled to the back of the pack. This is normally a sucky position to be in, but when you are in a muddy race with about 60 guys in front of you it REALLY sucks. I went to work passing guys as soon as I could, but I knew that being hesitant at the start had cost me some spots I would most likely never get back. Once again, the importance of a good start in CX racing was made abundantly clear as I slogged along in the latter third of the field.

Happily I was able to pass a lot of guys during the race and claw my way back up into the top ½ of the field by races end. I might have done even a little better had I remembered to put in toe spikes before the race. Total amateur mistake. I got killed every time we had to dismount and run as I had zero traction. Ah well. Although I would have liked to have done better overall, a top 30 placing in a 35+ masters field at a well attended USGP race was not something to go home and cry about. I actually left the race hopeful that I had room for improvement, and could legitimately be in the top 10-15 in a USGP level 2/3 race and in the top 20-25 in a 35+ race. Time will tell I guess.

Omaha Cyclocrash...err cross Weekend recap coming soon