2011 Masters Criterium Championships
Masters 45-49, 40km (25 miles)
Bend, OR
02 Sept. 2011
Bend is a gem of a town, and quite a contrast especially since our Sonoma County summer has bounced around between "cool" and "dreadful." Here, it's 78 degrees, dry and not a cloud in the sky. The town itself is charming, with eight (eight!) local breweries, a river through the town and lots of gorgeous people.
Bend is small but very athletic. Think of it as smaller version of Boulder Colorado, just as homogenous, yet not quite so precious (I can say these things because I used to live in Boulder). But it's also humbling: It's the kind of place where in any given coffee shop in town the barista looks like he could whip out a 4:30 mile and the lady with the two kids behind you in line just crushed a 100 km ride in three hours.
The Masters National Championships are held here for all sorts of age groups, starting at 30 years old and ending with a few athletes over 80. That's what I like about this sport: the shelf life of the racing cyclist rivals that of the legendary Twinkie™. It's possible for guys in their 50s to better their trained counterparts in their 20s, using cunning and treachery to make up for any diminution of pure power. By contrast, I haven't heard of a Masters' tackle football league. And maybe there are some half-century old gymnasts who can give the 15 year olds a run for their money, but I haven't heard of them.
My goal for the criterium was to place in the top-ten. I thought that was a reasonably-optimistic expectation. Looking at the start list online I saw a few names of guys I'd want to follow around, maybe get in a break with.
The downtown course is a very long rectangle, which appears on it's face to be not too technical. Not a place to shine by better bike handling.
The day was spent preparing for my 2:15 pm race, and my prep was very good. The ritual of race prep can be comforting when you are getting ready for a big one. It gives the mind something concrete to focus on, obsess over. I finished up on my noisy set of beat-up rollers, with them screaming like a Southwest flight at takeoff. At 2:04 I jumped off and rolled down to the start line, where, unfortunately 92 of my fellow racers had already assembled. Dang. It looks like I was going to start at the back, but I was in good company. Norcal locals Pat Briggs (Yahoo) and Craig Roemer (Specialized) were back there with me.
As it turn out, one of us would get 2nd, one of us 22nd, and one would crash out with three cracked ribs.
The race exploded out of the gate, the peloton stretching into one thin line almost immediately until turn 3, when the three lanes of backstretch compress into a thin and bumpy single lane between a playground and a high old masony building, and we were an anxious and compressed group, everyone trying to find somewhere to move up. At the back we were at a near standstill as we all had to funnel down into this small dangerous aperture. And then coming out of turn four the race at the back exploded again with the rubber band of riders attempting to un-stretch down the homestretch. My cyclometer routinely hit 36 mph early on due to the stretching and unstretching that the riders at the back were forced to do.
But it didn't take too many laps to realize that it was not only more difficult at the back, it was also more dangerous, as riders were consistently being forced off the road at the entry to turn three. I absolutely knew that I had to move up. The only problem was that everyone else back there with me were about as desperate to do the same. The the front and homestretch were spent frantically passing, and the corners were spent trying to consolidate position.
It was about at this time that I changed my goal for this race. I threw out the idea of a top-ten. My readjusted goal now was just to get to the front.
And I slowly got my crit mojo working. Take turns one and two on the outside. Take turn 3 on the inside (to avoid being run off the road). drift to the left on the homestraight and to the right on the backstraight to take advantage of the crosswind. Ride wheels when someone is killing themselves to move up. Move up but conserve for later when you'll need it.
Turn one and three guys go down at 27 mph. Right in front of me. The high pitch zing of racewheels skidding. the sharp crack of carbon bits snapping. Full bottles of Red Bull or whatever skidding off in odd directions. The smell of brake pads. I'm on the outside and am able to just miss the pileup by drifting wide when the guy to my right just centerpunches the fallen riders. As I'm going by a pair of high zoot sunglasses sails under my front wheel which cracks with a satisfying snap under my weight.
With too many amped up guys going for a limited space of real estate every lap, it was, simply put, a dangerous race. I also noticed a large range of bike handling abilities on the course. Darwin was working his magic by sending those guys to the back but there were still strong guys toward the front to be avoided, like they were mines ready to be tripped at any moment.
It was about at this time that I changed my goal in this race. My goal now was not to crash.
... and I did find the front, about halfway into the race. I was methodically moving up, consolidating, moving up some more, when a Safeway rider jumped hard on the outside and I followed him right up to the clot of riders at the front. The pace here was not as frenetic as there was not nearly as much stop and start. The only problem was that everyone knows this and there was intense competition to stay at the front once there.
Through the S/F I jumped hard to see if I could get away, maybe begin a selection. In a race like this it's my only hope to do well. Hey look ma! I'm leading the National Championships! But the rest of the field is on my wheel and I get off the front pretty quickly as towing the field around is not my style.
I notice Max Mack perfectly placed, about 12 back from the front. He's got very dark skin and a barbie-pink skinsuit so he's kind of hard to miss. I see that lap after lap he could keep his position, missing the danger and effort that being toward the back has. What's his secret? As he's a sprinter of note, this race is definitely playing into his capabilities.
Meanwhile after my raid at the front I dropped back 30 or so places instantly. How did that happen? Another several lap scrape to move up, with Max Mack as my pink beacon.
I got close to the front a few more times but was unable to hold position. At the front it really didn't feel too fast, it's just that every attack was immediately shut down by everyone else and the race didn't really light up and get long and thin. A race contested at high speed that rewarded cornering and power would have suited me better. A swarm of shorn, primary colored men jockeying for position lap after lap was not playing to my strength. It actually is a sort o purgatory. But still I kept trying to move up, consolidate, and move up more.
On the final lap I was about 28 riders back and trying to find a way to move up (along with everyone else) and was able to pick off a couple guys in the narrow section, out accelerate in the final corner and sprint on the headwind side (to avoid traffic) to finish in 22nd. 100 meters to go, behind me and to my left I heard more of the dreaded sound. Roemer is taken down by some other guy and lands on the sidewalk, cracking ribs. Briggs holds his own and is only beaten by phenom Rich Meeker. Mack inexplicably finishes only five places in front of me.
So I'm a little dissapointed but in all honesty the race did not shape up to be one that I had a realistic expectation of doing well in. Hoewever, in the 50-54, the race blew apart from the start, with groups coalescing and re-fragmenting. Big Bubba Melcher put in a hell of a ballsy ride to ultimately solo in for the win, Northern Cal riders finishing with four of the top five in that one. I wish I was in that race! I guess I have something to look forward to when I turn 50.
Road Race tomorrow. I'm off to pre-ride the course now.
Masters 45-49, 40km (25 miles)
Bend, OR
02 Sept. 2011
Bend is a gem of a town, and quite a contrast especially since our Sonoma County summer has bounced around between "cool" and "dreadful." Here, it's 78 degrees, dry and not a cloud in the sky. The town itself is charming, with eight (eight!) local breweries, a river through the town and lots of gorgeous people.
Bend is small but very athletic. Think of it as smaller version of Boulder Colorado, just as homogenous, yet not quite so precious (I can say these things because I used to live in Boulder). But it's also humbling: It's the kind of place where in any given coffee shop in town the barista looks like he could whip out a 4:30 mile and the lady with the two kids behind you in line just crushed a 100 km ride in three hours.
The Masters National Championships are held here for all sorts of age groups, starting at 30 years old and ending with a few athletes over 80. That's what I like about this sport: the shelf life of the racing cyclist rivals that of the legendary Twinkie™. It's possible for guys in their 50s to better their trained counterparts in their 20s, using cunning and treachery to make up for any diminution of pure power. By contrast, I haven't heard of a Masters' tackle football league. And maybe there are some half-century old gymnasts who can give the 15 year olds a run for their money, but I haven't heard of them.
My goal for the criterium was to place in the top-ten. I thought that was a reasonably-optimistic expectation. Looking at the start list online I saw a few names of guys I'd want to follow around, maybe get in a break with.
The downtown course is a very long rectangle, which appears on it's face to be not too technical. Not a place to shine by better bike handling.
The day was spent preparing for my 2:15 pm race, and my prep was very good. The ritual of race prep can be comforting when you are getting ready for a big one. It gives the mind something concrete to focus on, obsess over. I finished up on my noisy set of beat-up rollers, with them screaming like a Southwest flight at takeoff. At 2:04 I jumped off and rolled down to the start line, where, unfortunately 92 of my fellow racers had already assembled. Dang. It looks like I was going to start at the back, but I was in good company. Norcal locals Pat Briggs (Yahoo) and Craig Roemer (Specialized) were back there with me.
As it turn out, one of us would get 2nd, one of us 22nd, and one would crash out with three cracked ribs.
The race exploded out of the gate, the peloton stretching into one thin line almost immediately until turn 3, when the three lanes of backstretch compress into a thin and bumpy single lane between a playground and a high old masony building, and we were an anxious and compressed group, everyone trying to find somewhere to move up. At the back we were at a near standstill as we all had to funnel down into this small dangerous aperture. And then coming out of turn four the race at the back exploded again with the rubber band of riders attempting to un-stretch down the homestretch. My cyclometer routinely hit 36 mph early on due to the stretching and unstretching that the riders at the back were forced to do.
But it didn't take too many laps to realize that it was not only more difficult at the back, it was also more dangerous, as riders were consistently being forced off the road at the entry to turn three. I absolutely knew that I had to move up. The only problem was that everyone else back there with me were about as desperate to do the same. The the front and homestretch were spent frantically passing, and the corners were spent trying to consolidate position.
It was about at this time that I changed my goal for this race. I threw out the idea of a top-ten. My readjusted goal now was just to get to the front.
And I slowly got my crit mojo working. Take turns one and two on the outside. Take turn 3 on the inside (to avoid being run off the road). drift to the left on the homestraight and to the right on the backstraight to take advantage of the crosswind. Ride wheels when someone is killing themselves to move up. Move up but conserve for later when you'll need it.
Turn one and three guys go down at 27 mph. Right in front of me. The high pitch zing of racewheels skidding. the sharp crack of carbon bits snapping. Full bottles of Red Bull or whatever skidding off in odd directions. The smell of brake pads. I'm on the outside and am able to just miss the pileup by drifting wide when the guy to my right just centerpunches the fallen riders. As I'm going by a pair of high zoot sunglasses sails under my front wheel which cracks with a satisfying snap under my weight.
With too many amped up guys going for a limited space of real estate every lap, it was, simply put, a dangerous race. I also noticed a large range of bike handling abilities on the course. Darwin was working his magic by sending those guys to the back but there were still strong guys toward the front to be avoided, like they were mines ready to be tripped at any moment.
It was about at this time that I changed my goal in this race. My goal now was not to crash.
... and I did find the front, about halfway into the race. I was methodically moving up, consolidating, moving up some more, when a Safeway rider jumped hard on the outside and I followed him right up to the clot of riders at the front. The pace here was not as frenetic as there was not nearly as much stop and start. The only problem was that everyone knows this and there was intense competition to stay at the front once there.
Through the S/F I jumped hard to see if I could get away, maybe begin a selection. In a race like this it's my only hope to do well. Hey look ma! I'm leading the National Championships! But the rest of the field is on my wheel and I get off the front pretty quickly as towing the field around is not my style.
I notice Max Mack perfectly placed, about 12 back from the front. He's got very dark skin and a barbie-pink skinsuit so he's kind of hard to miss. I see that lap after lap he could keep his position, missing the danger and effort that being toward the back has. What's his secret? As he's a sprinter of note, this race is definitely playing into his capabilities.
Meanwhile after my raid at the front I dropped back 30 or so places instantly. How did that happen? Another several lap scrape to move up, with Max Mack as my pink beacon.
I got close to the front a few more times but was unable to hold position. At the front it really didn't feel too fast, it's just that every attack was immediately shut down by everyone else and the race didn't really light up and get long and thin. A race contested at high speed that rewarded cornering and power would have suited me better. A swarm of shorn, primary colored men jockeying for position lap after lap was not playing to my strength. It actually is a sort o purgatory. But still I kept trying to move up, consolidate, and move up more.
On the final lap I was about 28 riders back and trying to find a way to move up (along with everyone else) and was able to pick off a couple guys in the narrow section, out accelerate in the final corner and sprint on the headwind side (to avoid traffic) to finish in 22nd. 100 meters to go, behind me and to my left I heard more of the dreaded sound. Roemer is taken down by some other guy and lands on the sidewalk, cracking ribs. Briggs holds his own and is only beaten by phenom Rich Meeker. Mack inexplicably finishes only five places in front of me.
So I'm a little dissapointed but in all honesty the race did not shape up to be one that I had a realistic expectation of doing well in. Hoewever, in the 50-54, the race blew apart from the start, with groups coalescing and re-fragmenting. Big Bubba Melcher put in a hell of a ballsy ride to ultimately solo in for the win, Northern Cal riders finishing with four of the top five in that one. I wish I was in that race! I guess I have something to look forward to when I turn 50.
Road Race tomorrow. I'm off to pre-ride the course now.
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