Race Report: 2007 PCRS #6

I came out of the Coolest 24 race feeling a bit run down, and I didn't ride at all Monday or yesterday, so I wasn't expecting a great result from this race. After a couple practice laps, my legs felt OK but not great. The course was longer and harder this week, with some technical terrain and much more climbing, which I welcomed. I told Doug that some new people will rise to the top in this race.

Doug and I both started poorly and had to pick our way through the field. Jerry (517) was flying.



I lost Doug pretty quickly, and I figured I was going to have a bad day.



My legs felt dead.



At the beginning of the second lap a large rock flipped off someone's tire, hitting me in the right shin. It hurt like hell, but it made me forget all about my dead legs. These things happen in racing, and you just have to block it out. I refused to even glance down at my leg to see how it looked.

I kept plugging along, my throat burning from the dust. Towards the end of the second lap I saw my nemesis, Jerry, up ahead of me on a climb. I knew I could get him if I took back a little time on every climb. At his size, regardless of how strong he is, I just didn't think he could out climb me.

So I set about executing my plan, hitting every climb hard, but not too hard.



Slowly but surely I reeled him in. Before a gradual climb towards the end of the race, I rested on a downhill and then gave it full gas going by him. I held my speed all the way over the top and hit the downhill with a big gap on him. He came back a little on a flat section, where he could use his power, but when we hit another steep hill I hit it hard again. That broke him. It was so very sweet. I put about 45 seconds into him by the finish. What made it even sweeter was how he completely ignored me after the race. He was very willing to talk after races when he was beating me, but not today.

I came in fourth while Doug once again took the win. I feel good about my progression in the last three weeks: sixth, fifth and fourth.

My lumpy shin after the race:

I wrestled back first overall from Jerry, again leading him by one point. (Click for a better view.)



With six races down and six to go, I feel good about a podium finish.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 Coolest 24

As promised the year before, the Noble Riders returned to the Coolest 24 in 2007 to defend our crown. Unlike the previous year, there was no debate as to which class we would enter. As defending champions we would be racing in the pro/expert class. My childhood dream of racing as a pro finally happened at 39 years of age.

Craig could not make it this year so we recruited Steve's friend Alan who came down with Steve from Bellingham, Washington. Alan was the perfect replacement and we never missed a beat.

This year we arrived earlier and set up camp at a more relaxed pace.

We again erected Casa Grande, but nobody complained about our opulent lifestyle this year.

Alan would lead off. Here he is looking relaxed and confident.

Thankfully they did away with the Le Mans start.

Alan taking off.

Steve waiting for his run.

Alan and Steve making the exchange.

Alan happy to get one lap in the books.

Steve bringing it home.

The exchange with Doug.

Steve after getting that first lap in.

Doug bringing it home.

At this point it was time for me to take my lap. I felt OK but not great. I lacked any power and this surprised me. After all, at that point I was leading the 40-49 Sport class in the Prairie City Race Series and feeling very strong.

Even after missing the first two races, Doug (7th) was rocketing up the standings.

Me out on the course.

Bringing it home.

In the first round we turned in laps of 50, 45, 48 and 49 minutes. This was about 15 seconds faster than the previous year, which was a great start for the defending champs. Alan's 50 minutes was not indicative of his speed. He had to deal with first lap traffic.

My next turn came around and off I went for my second lap. I turned a 51 minute lap and just wasn't feeling like myself.

Doug after his second lap.

After I finished my second lap. Bask in the beauty that is my outfit. I can't believe I went out in public with that kit.

Again, I just wasn't feeling right. I simply couldn't comprehend why the sluggishness persisted. I was flying on Wednesday nights. But within a couple days I would understand: I was simply getting sick.

I raced the next Wednesday sick, gutted out a fourth place to maintain my lead in the series, and in the process took the illness up a notch. I ended up with a lung infection and ten days of antibiotics. My dream of winning a series dashed yet again.

***

After our second round, we were at the top of the leader board, just like last year. At this point, we started getting serious and the cameras were put away until morning.

When my turn came around again, it was decided I would take the first set of double night laps. This was the same strategy we used in 2006 and it seemed to work well. I turned laps of 1:03 and 1:04. I still sucked riding in the dark, and I was the slowest on our team, but I was still a little faster than last year.

Morning came and we were still leading the race, but our lead was slim. We had to keep grinding. I got the first full morning lap. It's always cool to be racing as the sun comes up. It really does give you a burst of energy.

Unfortunately I turned a pedestrian 59 minute lap on my fifth time around.

Doug and Steve getting ready for more laps while Alan was on course.

Alan bringing it home.

When my time came around again, I improved to 57 minutes for my sixth and final lap. Still shitty, but better. Thankfully my teammates were taking up the slack.

Knowing my race was over, I changed clothes and started my PR campaign. I always take time to take pictures with the fans, especially the ones who bring me an iced coffee.

Steve ripped through his last lap with a time of 49 minutes. He finished with a little over 50 minutes remaining in the race, so we opted not to send Doug out. It would have been a Herculean effort to turn a sub 50 lap. Our 26 laps would have to do. Now we had to wait to see if anyone else completed a 27th lap.

 Doug and Steve walking back after Steve's last lap.

Walking back to camp. I just thought this photo reminded me of a film promo shot.

Goofing off while we waited for the race to end.

When high noon struck, we were declared the winners. Another team also completed 26 laps, but it was after our 23:09 finishing time.

We successfully defended our title.

I assumed we would do this again. However, in January of the next year I broke my wrist and that, along with other individual circumstances, ended our championship run. There would be no three-peat for the Noble Riders.

Over the years I was lucky enough to notch a few wins here and there, but the two 24-hour wins with a team were very special.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 PCRS #5

This one hurt. It's getting very serious out there, and I am surprised how competitive everyone is. I assumed the Wednesday night series would be more laid back than a weekend race, but it's quite the opposite—we all want to win.

Realistically, there is only one guy who can win the overall, and that is Doug. He is on another level than the rest of us. If not for missing the first two races, the series lead would be his. This bodes well for our 24-hour team race in three days, but not for my hopes of an overall win in this series.

Today Doug simply rode away right from the start. I didn't even attempt to go with him. Up front he battled it out with another guy for the win:



Farther back I was in a group of three battling for third.



On the last lap, on a long climb into a strong headwind, Jerry and another guy got a gap on me. Again, Jerry's power is freakish.

I gave it everything I had to close the gap, but no dice. Even channeling Johnny Cash with my all-black outfit didn't seem to help.



I ended up fifth right behind Jerry in fourth. We are now tied for first with 96 points.

I completely turned myself inside out in the race. We were all hitting it pretty hard. In previous races there was some coasting down the hills, or sitting up to drink, but not yesterday. It was redline from start to finish. It hurt the worst of the five races so far. By far.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 PCRS #4

Today's race was a definite improvement over last week's fiasco on the single speed. With the geared bike I was able to keep my main rival within sight, but he still beat me.

Right from the start Doug (Saturn jersey, behind 258) rode away from the field:



I (502) was in the next group trying to keep former Rio Strada teammate Jerry (517) in sight:



The pace was high and it hurt a bit. Jerry's power on this week's flat course was too much for me:



I worked hard and took chances throughout the race, weaving through slower traffic:



In the end I had just enough. Doug easily won the race, with Jerry taking third. Greg missed the race, taking him out of overall points contention for now.

I managed a sixth out of 28 finish to retain first overall. I now led Jerry by only one point, 80 to 79.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 PCRS #3

Entering race three, my goal for the series changed considerably. The races weren't just for training anymore. I had the series points lead, and I wanted to keep it.

After easily winning the first race I ever entered on a single speed, I thought there was some sort of magic in using that single gear. I guess as a bike racer I'm just as superstitious as a Dominican shortstop. So even though conditions were once again dry, I opted to race the single speed in race number three.

My friend Doug, who would be a teammate for the upcoming Coolest 24-hour race, came out to race with me. He too was looking for some extra training. As it turned out, I don't think he really needed any training.

We took off from the start and I once again spun like crazy to get out front. We blasted down a gradual, rolling hill and I managed to stay near the leaders.



Doug (546) was behind me a bit, but wouldn't be there for long.



Then we hit a long, gradual climb and everything quickly unraveled. I did the best I could to spin and keep up, but I was losing places at a frightening rate. All the guys with gears just rode away. One damn hill.

The rest of the race was simply an exercise in damage control. I turned myself inside-out and rode harder in that race than I had in many, many years.

Every few years in the Tour de France some lowly domestique finds himself in the yellow jersey in the early stages. If not for some fortuitous breakaway, or simply a complete lack of respect by the peloton that let him gain time, he would not be in the yellow jersey. This man is merely a place holder for the real contenders when they decide to show their cards. I felt like that guy. No way I would wear the jersey into Paris.

I managed to pass a few guys by the finish line to salvage 9th out of 33. Doug took third and made it look quite easy.

Riding the single speed was a big mistake. Still, I stayed close enough to my two main rivals, Jerry and Greg, to maintain a tie for first place.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 PCRS #2

It was a dark and stormy day . . .

I kept an eye on the Doppler radar all day hoping for a break for the Wednesday night race, but the rain came in steady waves. At about 2:00 I decided not to race. Who wants to go race in the mud for what amounts to a training session? Not me.

Jenn arrived home from work around 4:10 and something told me to go race. However, I wasn't ready. I rationalized that the very dry, dusty conditions of the previous week might mean less mud. Besides, the sky was clearing a bit and my driveway was actually drying out.

If there was a little mud, I didn't want to ride my geared hardtail and deal with the maintenance after the race. My Karate Monkey single speed was the logical choice—cheap, simple and bombproof. Although the gearing was a bit low for the flat course of Prairie City, and the tires fat and heavy, I didn't have time to make any changes.

After quickly throwing together my gear, I headed to the race, gulping down a granola bar and a Gatorade on the way. Ill-prepared as always.

As soon as I hit the highway, it began pouring. My last check of the radar revealed only spotty activity in northern California. I guess I was just in one of those "spots."

When I arrived at the race, the parking lot was a quagmire. I sat there for a minute with the engine running, and nearly went home. Letting out a heavy sigh, I turned off the ignition. Something made me stay.

I registered, dressed, and went out for a warmup ride. Immediately mud began flying up all over me and my bike. Horrible conditions already, and hundreds of racers pounding the trails would only make it worse. The week before I rode three warmup laps, but this time I did one. It just wasn't worth it to warm up at the cost of coating the bike in 20 pounds of mud. On the positive side, my legs felt outstanding.

I rolled to the start and hoped the rain would stay away.

As we lined up for the start, the rain started coming down again. The racers groaned in unison. The race organizer announced that because of the rainy start, double-points would be awarded per series rules. Racers cheered and clapped.

As my 40-49 Sport class staged, I decided on my strategy: go hard until I detonate. I had never raced a single speed before, and I really had no idea how I would fair against geared riders. Because of my 8th out of 36 finish in the first week's race, I didn't see myself as a contender for the overall title. I decided to experiment with these races—trying different bikes, gearing, warmup techniques and nutrition products.

We took off and I spun my brains out on the slight downhill. I wanted to be towards the front for the first climb, as I knew from the preride that someone would fumble on it. We flew down the fireroad and I killed myself to keep up with the geared riders. As we settled in I counted four guys in front of me. A quick look behind revealed . . . nobody. We had a big gap and had essentially made a selection in the first half-mile. The hairpin turn came and two guys took it too wide. I went up the inside, took a few hard pedal strokes and crested the steep hill. The fat Exiwolf tires passed their first traction test on the smooth, slick river rock. I heard a tire slip behind me, followed by someone saying "shit" as they hit the ground.

I sat in third place for a while, happy to ride behind two guys who I knew I would eventually pass. The trails were wet and very slippery, with exposed river rock everywhere. Already we were encountering a lot of traffic from younger Sport racers who started minutes ahead of us. Many riders were struggling mightily in the bad conditions.

The rain continued to pour over us and the conditions kept deteriorating. I stayed on my guy's wheel, and we steadily plugged away, weaving through traffic. Already bikes were strewn about as mechanical issues and crashes took their toll.

We passed through the start-finish area where people tend to slow down, so I hit the accelerator and passed some riders, including the guy I was following. I could tell that the mud was working on people's psyche; they were going into survival mode. With each person I passed, I grew stronger. Now in second place, I continued to pursue the leader.

Lap two saw conditions getting even worse. The mud was deep and sticky in some places, yet very slick in others. My gearing couldn't have been more perfect. I spun along comfortably, yet ate people up.

In the middle of lap two, I closed in on very large woman clad from head to toe in tight black Lycra. Her tights couldn't quite contain her ample body, and I got a good view of her mud covered ass spilling out the top. Sometimes ninjas should just admit they were born sumo wrestlers.

She heard me approaching behind her and attempted to pull to the side so I could pass. As she did, she lost traction and fell heavily to her left. Immediately she began to wail. "My shoulder's dislocated!" she screamed. To me this expert diagnosis seemed a bit quick. I stopped and asked what I could do, and she asked me to untangle her from the bike. I tried to remove her foot from the pedal, but the mud was everywhere, and I couldn't break it loose. She screamed again in my face, "Just take the fucking shoe off!" I grabbed hold of her meaty ankle and wrenched the shoe off.

Meanwhile, racers were flying past.

She then asked me to roll her upright. When I tried, she screamed at me once again. "Not like that, dammit! Didn't I just say my shoulder is dislocated?" At this point, my sympathy ran thin. She showed me where to place my hand, and I rolled the big, doughy woman upright. As she righted herself, another woman pulled up and asked if everything was OK. I said, "Yeah, stay with her until help comes." I grabbed my bike and took off. Cold-hearted I suppose, but she was blaming me for falling over and I wasn't anywhere near her. Anyway, it's RACING.

About 60 seconds and 25 people passed by, which was going to make achieving a good result more difficult. But I took off and simply tried to keep it straight and apply even, steady power to the pedals. Most of the carnage I saw was from people panicking, pedaling in squares, and jerking the bike around. Smooth and steady was my mantra. Smooth and steady.

I began picking people off one by one, and by the climb leading to the start/finish, I had my guy back in my sights. I rolled up to him, rested a bit, and accelerated hard past him. As I crossed over the line, a woman said "first 500" to the guy in front of me (meaning 40+ Sport) and "second 500" to me. I caught up to the guy and said, "Are you winning?" He said, "I think so." So I dropped him. Easily.

The third lap saw me passing many, many people, and not a single racer passed me. It was great. I made my way through much of the Expert class and single speed class. There was one mud bog, about 100 yards long, where everyone was walking. I made it through on the first two laps, but by the third lap it was unrideable for me also. Mud packed up the tires and piled around the frame. After scraping it out with my hands, I kept going. Towards the end of the third lap I finally made a mistake and went down hard in some river rocks. I banged my right knee, but it wasn't too bad.

At the finish, I was pretty sure I had won. However, it wasn't until the results were posted the next day that I knew for sure—first out of 27.

Now I just had to go home and freshen up a bit.

With the double points awarded for a rain day, I took the lead in the series by two points.

It turned out to be a race people would talk about for years, and one I will always remember.

Later.

Race Report: 2007 PCRS #1

The Prairie City Race Series has existed for about 15 years now. For years I always meant to enter the fray, but never did for one reason or another. With the 2007 Coolest 24 race looming in early May, and my fitness level not quite where I wanted it to be, I thought getting a few mid-week training races in my legs would be just what I needed.

I signed up online for the 40-49 Sport Class. I considered racing Expert because they raced an extra lap, but thought better of it. As much as I needed the training, I didn't need the humiliation of being crushed by much faster racers.

Warm weather greeted us for the first race of the series. I took a few warm-up laps to familiarize myself with the course. Conditions were dry and dusty. I lined up at the start knowing that getting to the front would be important due to the dust.

We took off and I managed to enter the first corner in third position. I held that spot down the long straightaway downhill:



I kept third place for the whole lap. I had a solid gap on the line of people behind me, but the two in front of me were pulling away. Unfortunately, I started fading midway through the second lap. Someone passed me. Then another. And another. I didn't have the aerobic fitness to maintain the early pace I set, and I paid for it.

By the end of the race I slipped to 8th place out of 36. Not bad, but not the top five I had hoped for.

The only other thing worth mentioning was this guy who fell and nicked his chin a bit:



Yeah, that's blood splattered all over his legs and bike. Yes, he toughed it out for the whole race. Respect!

Later.