Still SO much to learn

Photo: Rena Schild
http://www.renaschild.com

Despite losing a ton of fitness this summer due to our interstate move, I'd been feeling pretty good about my recent cx results and was starting to even consider putting Nationals back on the table. Heck, maybe the break was even good for me, giving me a rest when I'd otherwise have been pushing hard, possibly leaving me still fresh late in the season when others were starting to decline in motivation and fitness after a long combined road/mtb and cx campaign. I'd be going up when others were going down. However, after much consideration, in the end, I decided my USAC points - still a few decades above those of the contender - were simply too high to justify the trip.  Still, I'm working to finish the season strong and build toward a trip to Charlotte next year. As such, I traveled to Reston, VA on Sunday to test my meddle in the Capital 'Cross Classic. For several reasons, I entered the 1/2/3:

• long drive, so longer race makes it more worth the drive
• harder race, better training
• wife's work holiday party the night before, last race of the day more reasonable after late night
• no imbibing at party, was actually up early and able to make early church service before driving to Reston.

Photo: velogirl22
http://velogirl22.smugmug.com/

Given that it's the end of the season and I've decided not to go to Nats, and having recently read about new studies suggesting shorter warm-ups may be better, I was a little more lax with my pre-race prep. I pre-rode the course both an hour and two hours before my race as I usually do, but I did not do my usual trainer routine which I have been using from Carmichael's Time-Crunched Cyclist book. I did some hard efforts on the course and on the road during the race previous to mine. What I did NOT do, was spend enough time thinking about and/or playing with tire pressure. Big mistake. HUGE mistake. I pumped to about 27 psi front and rear. In pre-ride, I could steer well so never really thought about adjusting the pressure. I should have though. I should have recognized that I was spinning my rear tire while trying to power through the sticky mud which was so thick it seemed like it would give good purchase but just stuck to everything like Mastik One. I didn't think to lower my pressure until about halfway through the race after going backward relative to my competitors in every mud section. Literally, we would hit the mud together and I would practically stop. They seemed to go through it with relative easy. Now, it could simply be that I just didn't have the power. It could be that I didn't have the right tires -- though I can't handle the thought of buying yet another tubular wheelset. But I would like to think that this loss of time was because my tire would just spin in the mud. I tried adjusting cadence; faster vs. slower pedaling. I tried shifting my weight to favor the front or the rear. None of it worked. A couple of times I ran the longer sections, but the damage was done. I couldn't bridge up. At about the 40 minute mark, I started debating the merits of stopping to let some air out. In the end, I didn't because I was too afraid to give up any more time and I've had occasions in workouts where I've let out too much pressure and regretted it. I figured it'd be best to stay with where I was and just suffer through. When I got home I Googled "tire pressure sticky mud" and basically the consensus was to go as low as you can to enhance traction. Seems consistent with my experience. Now I just wish I could have another sticky mud race in which to test this out before shutting it down for the season.

So, as the title implies, I still have SO much to learn. I'd love to hear other people's thoughts on tire pressure in thick, sticky mud. How long can you go? How low do you go?

Sly Fox: the day all the tires died and the day my son saved my race

Winding around Sly Fox Brewery
Photo: Yehudah Perlowitz

Sly Fox was great, but it could have been awesome. Arriving early as I always do, I bumped into one of my new teammates. He said, "I hope you like mountain biking." Having never ridden mountain bikes with him but knowing that he prefers "grass crits" to more euro-style cross courses, I thought, "Yeah, yeah, I got this." Irony would soon reward my hubris with a bit of a karmic smackdown.

The Sly Fox CX race was held at the Sly Fox brewery in Pottstown, PA and, for the most part, the designers did a great job making use of the extremely limited footprint of land with which they had to work. A fast road start into some slow twisty sections in the grass behind the brewery, then some power sections on the macadam before ducking into the woods. The woods were legit mountain biking type terrain strewn with roots and rocks. The first 100 yards or so were flat, maybe slightly downhill, and fast before diving seemingly straight down into a valley and then quickly turning seemingly straight up. The trail here was about 15 feet wide with a set of log steps constructed across for most of their width. A mandatory run-up, though there was a small sneak line on the right but you still couldn't make the entire rise on the bike.

Mark Featherman on the Belgian steps
Photo: Yehudah Perlowitz

After this rise you found yourself back out on the grass. A hard right and then a 180 degree left took you past the first entrance to the double sided pit -- less than a tenth of a mile from the rocky downhill. Remember this, it becomes a factor. Curving past the pit in a sweeping right hand turn, racers come to another tight 180 degree left turn which leads back to the same gully. Again, super steep and rocky down and then steep and rocky back up. While there was no barrier on this up in pre-ride, the course designers decided to up the ante at some point and added a tall barrier about 2/3 of the way up the rise. After this, a tricky off-camber section led to some uneven double track and back out to the grass for some fun twists and turns which tested a driver's ability to power and to steer, and finally 3/10ths of a mile after encountering the second mtb-like section, you get to the second entrance to the pit. More foreshadowing. After the pit, a double barrier precedes a few more grass twists before depositing racers back out on the road. A tight grass dog leg pretty much dead smack middle in the road section kept things from getting very fast on the road. And that's a lap.

The Friday night immediately before the race I had the distinct pleasure of gluing up a new set of Challenge Chicanes that I had been sitting on for some time. I really do enjoy gluing them, it just takes so freaking long. Not really sure if I'd use them at the race, i.e. "Nothing new on race day!", I still brought them along thinking maybe I'd use them in the Elite race for which I'd also registered. With the Elite race being after the 45+ race, I had little riding on it and figured it'd be OK to try something new on race day there.

Pre-riding the course before the 45+ race, I puncture my front tire on the second sketchy section. I grab my pit bike from the pit and try to figure out a Plan B. The gash in the sidewall is easily 7mm and too long to even think about asking sealant to fix. My race bike is discs, my pit bike has canti's, so I couldn't just swap wheels -- something to think about when building your quiver. After trying to not panic and after weighing the pros and cons, I decided to put the new Chicane on the "race" bike and use that bike as the pit bike. Hurrying over to the start, I'm still second guessing my decision. As I go to put my race bike in the pit I notice the Chicane is ridiculously low on pressure. Having just glued them and then removing air to test the glue job, the tire is far too low to ride, much less race -- especially on this course. Luckily, I bump into my wife and kids who came out to their first race so far this season. Since I have no time to address the pressure issue without risking missing my call-up -- and there's no way I'm missing my hard-earned front row call-up -- I ask my son if he'll run to the car to get the pump and add some air to my pit/race bike. I head to the start not sure if he'll find the pump, find the bike, and/or be successful in adding an appropriate amount of air.

Squandering Front Row Call-up
Photo: Yehudah Perlowitz

Race time. I waste my front row start. Worst start all season (see pic) and I'm probably sitting tenth or so at the holeshot. No matter, though. I'm feeling strong and I've got 45 minutes to pick some people off. Not so fast. Second lap, I flat again on the second sketchy section. I'm forced to soft pedal the 3/10ths of mile from the puncture site to the pit. Just like at Crossasaurus, I giving away places like it's Christmas. I ghost ride my canti Crux to an imagined mechanic in the pit and grab my disc Crux from the rack. [I really should name these bikes.] Success! Shane did it! Maybe a little too much pressure, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. Getting back on the disc Crux, I'm struck by how much better I feel on this bicycle than the canti Crux. Later, my wife and kids will tell me they, too, noticed how awkward I looked on the canti Crux. They say to strike while the iron is hot; maybe now would be a good time to petition the Mrs. for a pit bike that is a duplicate of my race bike...

Back on Track -- Thanks Shane!
Photo: Yehudah Perlowitz

Luckily, I did not flat again, and I was able to gradually pick people off. I found that I made up huge amounts of time on the run ups. Eventually finishing in fourth place, just pipping Kelly Cline at the end as he, too, flatted on the second of the descents -- the one further from the pit -- and had to nurse his bike through the last section on  the last lap. Chatting with all the guys on the 5-man deep podium, everyone of us flatted during the race. Some were luckier than others in terms of timing and placement, i.e. closer to or further from the pit. Texting with Reuther today, I learned that he flatted on the section closer to the pit. Good for him. Bad for the rest of us. Obviously, Kelly's timing was probably the worst. Further spot from pit with NO time to make up for it.

I'd later learn that MANY, MANY others had flatted on this course. Mike Festa would go on to call it "the day all the tires died" and create the hashtag "#hundreddollarflats". Now, again, the promoters did a FANTASTIC job with this race in so many ways. I'm sure they spent significant time creating the "Belgian steps". I just wonder if they could have been a little more proactive in raking some of the sharp rocks out of the sketchy MTB sections. After all, we're (mostly) racing on tires that are 33mm wide and not as burly as a MTB tire, our courses should reflect and respect that. If the goal is to grow the sport and bring in more participants, there should not be such a significant percentage of racers paying a $100 tire "tax" on top of a $30 entry fee. Again, this is a very fixable issue, and otherwise the race was a fun course and a great vibe.

Reuther being Reuther
Photo: Yehudah Perlowitz

Since I'd already flatted two tires and couldn't bear the thought of puncturing yet another tubular, I decided to skip the Elite race and instead enjoy a beer and some pizza with the family. They had great stories and perspectives of the race that I can't see while racing, and it was fun to sit and relax and enjoy their company and the day. It also gave me the chance to thank Shane profusely for saving my race. It was the right choice.

PA State Cyclocross Championships

UPDATE: [11/4/14] Spoiler alert: Start reading at paragraph below if this is your first reading of this post. Go. Now. Seriously. Since the PA State Championships are awarded in 5 year increments and the winner of our 45+ race has a racing age of 51, apparently I am the 2014 PA State Cyclocross Champion in the 45-49 age group. Woot!

Photo credit: denS @ dennisbike.com

Yesterday, the PA State Cyclocross Championships were held in Adamstown, PA at the Stoudt's Brewery. It was one of my favorite courses thus far this season. While there were no Euro-style white-knuckle sand descents and no serious mud bogs, this was certainly not one of those "grass crits" that everyone lamenting 'cross going mainstream is complaining about. There were some seriously steep short ups, fast descents and fun twisty sections.

After a stressful interstate move that saw me logging a paltry 11 training hours in July and an even more disappointing 3 hours in August, my cyclocross season got off to a very slow start. Combining the lost fitness because of the reduced volume with the "interesting" call-up procedures in the Mid-Atlantic I was literally and figuratively not where I wanted to be. After working my way up the PACX standings and finally earning a front row call-up for Crossasuarus Awesome!, my performance at that race -- marked by getting a little too intimate with terra firma FOUR times -- relegated me back to a second row start at Stoudt's. No worries, though. I got a good start and was solidly top 10 going into the holeshot, probably sitting 7th wheel or so. I was feeling good, legs were strong, head was right. For the first time in a long time, things seemed to slow down -- in a good way. I didn't feel panicked. I felt ready.

The first time down the first descent, Charles Kline overcooked the turn a bit, sliding out and, I believe, taking another rider with him. I move up two spots. Then, going up Goat Hill on the second of the three sadistic ascents each lap someone stalled. Not sure if it was a gearing issue or what, but that bobble allowed me to pass that racer and Kelly Cline. Over the next half lap or so, I close the gap to Reuther and ride his wheel for another quarter lap at which point his bike starts to mis-shift and he needs to pit. As Reuther pits, I move into second and hold on for the rest of the race, which is another 4-5 laps. Craig Cozza, the race leader, just kept opening the gap between himself and me. At lap 3, the gap was 00:20, by the end of the race, it was over a minute. That guy is crazy FAST! On the plus side, during those last laps, I could see Blair Saunders trying to close the gap and was psyched to be able to hold him off.

photo credit: denS

As I go over the race in my head, it's hard to not feel like I got second place as a default or at the expense of some others' misfortune. Would I have not placed so well if Charles had not slid out, if Kelly had not been held up, if Reuther hadn't needed to pit? We'll never know. As a good friend said, "'Cross is a coulda, woulda, shoulda sport."  Paying homage to that thought is last week's performance at Crossasaurus. I had been flying, feeling really good and sitting second wheel behind Reuther for over a lap and a half until the "s" hit the fan and I started to give away places each of the four times I hit the floor. I found myself wondering there, where I would have ended up had I not been so hyper-focused on making up spots so quickly after being put into the tape on a questionable pass. In many ways, we make our own luck by being prepared, by being aware during a race, and by making good choices. At the end of the day, I'm really happy with the result -- a Silver (now) Gold Medal at the State Championships!

Call-up Inequities

After spending the 2012 and 2013 seasons racing cyclocross in New England, I've moved back to the Mid-Atlantic and was surprised at how differently things happen here as opposed to our northern neighbors. My biggest beef has to do with the way call-ups are handled in the Mid-Atlantic. Living in Southeastern PA, there are three race series that have races close enough to reasonably get to: PACX (Pennsylvania Cyclocross), NJCX (New Jersey Cyclocross), and MAC (Mid Atlantic Cyclocross). Each of these series uses an individual's standing in the previous year's final series standings to determine call-ups for the first race of the series, and then current year standings for subsequent races that season. For someone like me who's worked their tail off for the past two seasons to get first or second row call-ups in their category, and then moving to the area with no local credentials, that individual is relegated to the back of the pack for starts. Since in 'cross, by and large, "where you start is where you finish" or at the very least plays a significant role, this practice seems both exceedingly punitive and, frankly, bad business for promoters. By contrast, using current Crossresults (as is the practice in New England) or USAC points would allow both recent transplants as well as vacationing racers to be more equitably placed in the starting grid. I say bad business for the promoters because as a recent example, despite having the time and desire to enter two NJCX races, Caffeinated 'Cross and Cooper River Cyclocross, I opted not to because I didn't feel like starting at the back once again. Two lost entry fees for the NJCX series. I wonder how many other racers end up not racing on any particular weekend because of this practice. As alluded to previously, it seems feasible that racers from other regions who might be in town for business or visiting family would also be dissuaded from racing because of this practice. I see no downside of using either Crossresults or USAC points to order call-ups. The fact that many racers do race in multiple regions helps to normalize the results. Even if a non-local racer wins a race, they're not likely going to steal the show from the local riders over the length of the series. I really see no reason to continue this localism. Am I missing something?

UPDATE: More thoughts:

1. What about riders moving up or changing categories? The athlete who wins the Overall in the Cat 4/5 or the Cat 3 is likely going to be faster than most of the pack fodder in the Cat 3 or Elite races, respectively. So, the athlete's reward for winning the series -- besides a likely mandatory (and appropriate) upgrade -- is to start in the back of the pack in the next year's series because they won't have any points in their new category? This just doesn't seem right.
2. What about racers entering multiple categories? Especially with promoters encouraging racers to double up on race day, it makes little sense to make a rider start in the back twice. 

Like MTB Nats, I've lost 2015 CX Nats before they've even begun

Here I sit in a gorgeous little hamlet in the foothills of the Dolomites, surrounded by family who love and support me, and gorgeous views in every direction. I should be the happiest man on the face of the earth. And by and large I am, but I'd be lying if I tried to say I was not just a little bit bitter. I just conceded to the fact that I likely won't be competing at Cyclocross Nationals in January. Nothing seems to be going in the right direction right now. In the midst of an interstate move, we have had so many challenges in both selling our current home and in buying a new home. It was discovered that the home we are trying to sell had some issues of which we were not aware and it has required making the 6+ hour drive between Pennsylvania and Massachusetts several times with little to no notice. The construction to repair the problems will require several more over the next month or so. On the buy side, very little was available in the school district we were targeting and after looking at many homes in that district, we finally opened up our search to include another district. Finally finding a home in that district, a home inspection revealed that home has some stucco issues which could be significant. The decision to move forward or not has been stressful and if we do decide to move forward on it, it will require more visits, inspections and, ultimately, construction.

Here in Italy, I had hope to rent a bicycle and at least try to maintain some level of fitness during the 5 day portion of the trip in which we are in the Friuli region. US Airways thwarted that plan by allowing our baggage to miss the flight on which we were on. My luggage contained my cycling kit, helmet, pedals and shoes, and was an essential part of my plan to ride over here. Apparently, our bags were part of a larger group of bags that were sitting on a cart that was overlooked when loading the plane. Landing Friday morning in Venice, the woman at the lost luggage claim desk assured us that our bags would make the Saturday non-stop from PHL to VCE and our bags would be delivered to the house where we are staying on Saturday. They were not. Calling US Airways lost/delayed baggage department on Sunday morning, I was assured that the bags would be delivered by the end of the day on Sunday. They were not. Even as it was, the company through whom I've rented bicycles in the past was not able to get a bicycle to me until today, Monday. Still missing my checked bag -- and with little confidence that US Airways will actually deliver it today or any time soon -- I decided to cancel the rental. By the time I get home I will have not ridden for 17 days. Even before this stretch that will likely extend beyond the seventeen day, the training was spotty due to the aforementioned issues. My return to the States will require at least one more trip to MA, likely two. I will be required to over construction in two states. With kids in tow and my wife in another state and/or county, training will become extremely challenging. With Cyclocross season right around the corner, I have already fallen so far in terms of fitness and will likely fall even further before things start looking up again, that I have, with no small degree of bitterness, adjusted my 2014-15 cyclocross goals downward.

I lost Nationals before the Race Began

So, MTB Nationals have fallen off my calendar. And I've gone into a little bit of a funk. The culprit? Our interstate move. Once my wife had accepted her new role back with her former employer, I knew things would get tough in terms of training while trying to pack up our Massachusetts home, sell our Massachusetts home, find a new home in Pennslvania, move into our Pennsylvania home, etc. Throw in taking care of three kids and a dog, no more school to help with the kids, and I seriously considered taking Nats off the calendar myself. But my wife -- saint that she is -- pushed me, encouraged me to do whatever it took to continue training for this event for which I've been training so hard. The final blow came, though, when the movers -- thanks in part to our vacation schedule -- could only get us packed and moved in the days leading up to and including my race. Of course, a responsible adult has to be there during these days -- not sure I qualify, though. We looked into all kinds of scenarios including asking friends and neighbors to oversee the pack and move, Monica flying up for the weekend, me flying down for the race. But in the end, there were far too many logistics and too many favors to call in for a bicycle race. Especially since I don't get paid for this. Especially since I'm not doing as well even in my local and regional races, to justify even dreaming about a podium finish at Nats.

Additionally, I ran it by my coach, thinking perhaps I was just taking the easy way out and should I look at this from a different angle. He said one needs to be at 110% to really compete at Nationals. Given all the stress of the move and worrying about all the logistics necessary just to get me to Bear Creek on race day, he said there'd be no way I'd be anywhere near 100%. He agreed that it wouldn't be positive experience under the circumstances. Sadly, I'm out.

As a result and partly because of the travel and house hunting, I've fallen into a bit of a funk. I've missed more training days than I care to admit, and am wondering just how far I've fallen. Hopefully, once this move is all settled, things will come back quickly. Is it 'cross season yet?

Bear Creek Challenge Proves, Well, Challenging

This weekend was easily my worst weekend of racing ever. And it has me questioning everything.


After going to bed on Friday evening at 10:37 pm , I woke up at 5:21 am on Saturday to drive the 344 miles from Cohasset, MA to Bear Creek in Macungie, PA. The Sleep Cycle app on my phone tells me I slept 6 hours and 44 minutes and that my sleep quality was 65%.

I arrived at Bear Creek at approximately 12:30 pm. After some phone calls, a failed attempt to get my number plate, getting changed, my Garmin claims I was pre-riding the course by 1:21 pm. During my second lap, on the main climb, I began to hear a noise that sounded like dry leaves being crushed or crinkled. In addition, and even prior to the noise emanating, my drivetrain was acting funny and would feel "stuck"  every once in a while. Looking down, I saw no leaves and stopped to have a closer look. And there it was, a crack had developed in my frame. Just above the bottom bracket shell. The "crinkling" noise was the carbon/resin flexing and deforming on every pedal stroke. The drivetrain issues were the bottom bracket flexing enough that the chain would be picked up by a tooth on the big ring even though the derailleur was not moving.

Having heard too many horror stories of carbon frames failing catastrophically once damaged and impaling their users, I deemed very quickly that I could not -- would not -- race this frame and especially not on this very technical, rocky course. Needless to say I was flustered and frustrated. Coming to this race was already a stretch. We just recently learned that we will be relocating back to the Philadelphia area for my wife's job. We have a home to pack up and get ready for sale. There are so many things to do that I almost didn't come to this race. But, it was being run on the same course as Nationals and I wanted another chance to familiarize myself with the course and to see where I stand relative to some of the other Nationals contenders. Though conflicted, and with my wife's support -- or should I say coaxing -- I decided to stick to the original plan of driving down to do the race. I'd come too far to not race.

Given this, I went into full crisis mode -- facebooking, texting, emailing Philly area friends to see if I couldn't find a bike to borrow. Within a few stressful hours I had several offers -- huge thanks to all who stepped up! -- and took up an old high school on his offer as he lived only 20 minutes from my parents house where I would be spending the night. Picking up his bike, it was not setup tubeless, but it was tubeless ready and he had everything to make the conversion and very generously gave me those items. Finally arriving at my parents' house at 6:33 pm, I unloaded several totes and boxes that I packed to help minimize the burden of our impending move. Exhausted, I decided to shower and eat, and made the choice that I would make the tubeless conversion in the morning.

Lying in bed around 10:00 pm, I remembered that I hadn't locked up my bike or my truck. When I went out to lock up the bike, I started thinking about how I'd do the tire swap. Would I mount my friend's S-Works Ground Control tires? Or would I transfer the brand new Maxxis Ikons with EXO sidewall protection which I'd specifically purchased for this race. The S-Works casing if FAR from ideal for the Bear Creek course. It's designed to be light and supple -- great for "gription", but not so great for durability. This course demands durability. So, while it would require more work, I decided I'd switch both tires from my broken bike onto my friend's bike and then switch them back when I was done. As I comtemplated this double switch and went to secure my front wheel, I realized I no longer had my front wheel. In my hectic, frantic, distracted quest to find a bike for the race, I had absent-mindedly left my front wheel in the parking lot. While it was a wheel that came stock on the bike, it would be fairly expensive to replace. My mind raced as I thought about where it could be, who might have found it, and whether I'd be able to get it back. I have no sleep data for this night of sleep -- I fell aspleep with my phone in my hand -- but I can assure you it was not a good night's sleep as I tossed and turned most of the night and was completely stressed. I estimate 5.5 hours of sleep at about 65%. I woke at 5:30 and began the tubeless conversion. Without my front wheel, I mounted my Maxxis Ikon on the rear and the S-Works Ground control on the front. Not ideal, but the best I could do under the circumstances.

Making the hour long drive from my parents' house to Bear Creek, I must've been more distraught/distracted than I even realized. I rear-ended a pick-up truck on the way. I thought the light changed, looked away quickly and accelerated from a stop. Looking back just before impact, I was able to get back on the brakes somewhat but not enough. There was no damage to her bumper, and only my license plate was damaged on my truck. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but this event didn't help me find my calm. Adding to my stress, I realized that while I'd remembered the bladder for my hydration pack, I'd forgotten the actual pack. I call my parents, who are planning to come to the race to ask them to bring the pack. Another stressor (not my parents, forgetting the pack).

Finally arriving at the venue, I drove to where I'd parked the day before and began to look for my front wheel. I talked to few guys and started handing out the fliers that I'd made with details about the lost wheel and my contact info. I made my way to the registration tables and simultaneously began to collect my number and convey my tale of woe. A guy registering right next to me hears the story about the lost wheel and chimes in that he's just seen the post on facebook that someone found it and was looking to get it back to it's owner. The individual who'd found the wheel wrote that he'd left it with the timing company crew. I got my number and RAN to the timing truck. There it was! My faith in humanity restored!

I get changed and get my borrowed bike ready. I can't find my Garmin. More stress. I try to figure out how to warm up as I wait for my parents to arrive with the pack. I'm worried that the timing will be too tight and I'll get a crappy start position again. They arrive and the exchange goes fine. Still more stress. All this cumulative stress.

I sharpen my assertiveness skills (and my elbows) and jockey for a front row position. The race begins. I'm third wheel going into the woods. I'm excited. Despite all the crap, all the stress, the lack of sleep, I'm doing OK. Until I'm not. And it happens sooner than I think. One guys passes me. And another. And another. And, soon, by my count, I'm in 8th and feeling beat. And this is only the first lap. After the double track climb we're back in the woods, I'm feeling some recovery, but trains are forming. Strings of guys riding wheel to wheel with no place to pass. It sucks. Guys crash in front of me or can't ride through a section; I get stopped and guys ride by. I lose more spots. Lose more time. The race is getting away from me. I work to stay optimistic. I remind myself that I've done the work. I have a ton of base miles this year, and it will pay off as the race progresses. Except that it doesn't. The losses continue. Guys continue to pass me. I still work to stay optimistic.

Near the end of the second lap, I'm stuck behind another rider from a younger group -- I take this as a good sign that I've actually caught someone who started ahead of me -- I ask for the pass. He gives it to me. I accelerate. Too much. Wrong spot. I slide out on the turn and burp my tire. I have to stop and add air with the CO2 inflator. After the start/finish area and climb back into the woods for the start of lap 3, my tire washes out again. Apparently, when I thought I'd burped the tire, I actually punctured the sidewall. I pray that the sealant will fill the puncture and try to inflate the tire using my second and final CO2 cartridge. The sealant won't repair it. I finally concede that I've lost any chance at being at all competitive this day. I take my time installing a tube and inflating the tire with a hand pump. Halfway through the final lap, the tube suffers a pinch flat. Determined to not DNF, I run the remaining half lap.

Anaysis/Questions:

For my category, race winner Mike Yozell had lap times of 34:34, 35:04, and 34:05. My first lap was 40:09, second was 43:57. This is not where I want to be. My goal this year has been to go to Nationals and to be competitive. Not to be pack-fodder. But these times put me squarely in the pack-fodder category.

Now, it's been documented that stress and lack of sleep have a negative impact on athletic performance, and yes, I lost a ton of sleep and faced significant stress leading up to this race, but can that account for five minutes per lap over 35 minute laps? That's almost a 20% degradation in performance. Is it possible that those factors alone were responsible for my less than stellar lap times on the first two laps? Interestingly, the quote below was from an article was in my facebook feed this morning:

COUNTING SHEEP: “There’s nothing—no supplement you can take, nothing you can eat or do—better than getting enough sleep. Eight to nine hours each night, and I take an afternoon nap when I can.”

 I'm also reading The New Toughness Training for Sports, in which the author discusses how the body goes as the mind goes. Stress definitely degrades performance, but nowhere do they quantify it for endurance sport.

So, this race which I was hoping would provide some answers only raised more questions:

• Is my fitness not where it needs to be?
• Are my skills not where they need to be?
• Am I getting the proper guidance?
• Am I getting enough guidance?
• Should I be more closely evaluating:
• what I eat
• the quantity and quality of my sleep
• the specificity of my workouts
• the volume and intensity of my workouts

I'd welcome thoughts, advice, suggestions.

MTB Flats and Tire Pressure

I've been thinking a lot lately about flats. My last two MTB races have ended in flats and DNF's. I hate DNF's -- at least mine, I'm not as upset about yours. I've riding mountain bikes for almost 30 years, but one thing I never really got into was the geeky/nerdy (I use these words in the nicest possible way) aspects of bikes, gear, and equipment. But as I've transitioned into cyclocross and realized the importance of tire pressure there, now that I'm getting back into mountain bike racing I'm starting to see the importance of tire pressure there as well. I was talking to my coach the other day after our race -- which, BTW, he won and I DNF'ed -- and he revealed that he was running 18 psi in his tires, while I had pumped my up to my 1990's influenced pressure of 42 psi. I'd always assumed that higher pressure allowed the tires roll faster AND helped reduce the risk of punctures. So while this higher pressure line of thinking is valid for pinch flats, the more I think about research this, I probably couldn't have been more wrong.


First, the rolling resistance issue. I found an interesting article on the African website mtbonline (article here: http://bit.ly/1hFDnLe) that cited a study done at the German College of Physical Education, Cologne. Researchers there found that when riding off-road, specifically in a grassy meadow, a power savings of 18 watts could be realized by reducing pressure from 57 psi to 21 psi. The finding is explained well here:

"A tyre with less inflation can adapt to unevenness more easily. The total system needs to be lifted to a lesser degree and less frequently. Resistance is reduced, less power is required. Off-road a reduction of tyre pressure reduces rolling resistance."

Regarding the puncture issue, it's interesting because in my recent Google searches I've stumbled across several sites that encourage you to increase your pressure if you ride on jagged rocks and other menacingly sharp terrain (see: http://bit.ly/Q9ZHlw or elsewhere). Again, as I think about this it seems out of balance with reality. I've started thinking about this as analogous to popping a balloon. A balloon that is highly inflated and who's surface is under greater tension can be popped relatively easily even with an object that isn't necessarily that sharp, while an underinflated balloon is very difficult to pop as its surface conforms much better around the object that is trying to puncture it.

All this to say that I am FINALLY coming around to the idea of low tire pressures for tubeless mountain bike tires. If I was able to keep up pretty well before despite a 20W handicap, look out once I get my pressures dialed!

The other issue is being able to fix the tire on the go. Even with lowering my pressures, I imagine I'll still get the occasional flat. We all will. For me, during a race the key is to stay calm and go through a process of evaluating what caused the flat and what it will take to fix. In this last race, I'd drank so much of the tubeless Kool-Aid that I assumed with fresh sealant I should be able to just put more air in the tire and I'd be back in business. Unfortunately, no amount of added air was likely to fix the 1/4" gash in the casing just behind one of the side knobs. After using up my one and only CO2 (mistake #1: bringing just one CO2 and no pump) with half of the air escaping as tried to fit the unfamiliar CO2 adapter (mistake #2: nothing new on raceday), I was done. Race over. In the days since, I found this article which should be good to review a process for evaluating and repairing flats: http://bit.ly/Q9ZHlw Even though I worked in a shop as a wrench for years and having been building up and fixing my own bikes for many more years, in the heat of a race, all that experience tends to go out the window. I figure reviewing the page above can't hurt.

Wishing I had a FAT bike!

For a few weeks I've been stuck in that space of alternately wanting and not  wanting a FAT bike. Actually, I almost always want one, it's just a question of justifying the purchase on a cost per ride basis. I am certain that if I purchase one, winter will immediately and permanently come to a halt. One the other hand, it seeems likely that we New Englanders are assured the longest, snowiest winter ever if I don't purchase one.

Needing to get in a 3-hour ride today, I tried to dodge the issue by using fatter tires. At the suggestion of one of the LBS guys who leads a TON of group rides, I purchased a pair of CST Rock Hawks in a meaty 29 x 2.4. Set up tubeless and rolling well south of 20 PSI, here are my impressions, stolen from a friend's facebook thread -- but since I wrote the piece, it's not really stealing:

So. The wider tire *may* have helped some. I'd argue it was was negligible. Strava ride titled "Wishing I had a FAT bike". Coming back on my out and back I could still see my tracks in many places. They were comical temporary evidence of the efforts required to keep rolling and upright. Short straight sections overwhelmed in volume and length by sliding "S"-turns of corrections and over-corrections. And there, right next to them, nearly perfectly straight, nearly twice as wide remnants of another rider mocking my futility.

Also, riding a FAT bike, I likely would not have slammed my knee into the stem and/or handlebars as I did when going up hill and my front tire shot left and my rear wheel lost traction and started to spin. Looks like New England is in for a warm up. Sorry skiers!

Did I mention...

...one of my old high school buddies just won a National Championship? Way to go Tim! Interviews here and here, too! Reading about Tim's win took me back to high school, when he and I would ride early before school doing our very best Alexi Grewal impersonations and chanting "OTC! OTC!" as we rode. Good times and great memories!

Interesting to me that CX mag and dirtwire both use terms like "surprises" and "huge upset" when describing Faia's win. The crossresults.com Nats Predictor predicted a fourth place finish for him. In my simple-minded way of looking at things, after the proper preparation, little more than a dig deep effort and a smooth ride separate fourth and first on any given day. Regardless, a great effort and a great result! Congrats again!

End of Season De-Brief: Question 3 through 7

As promised in my previous post, here I tackle the remaining questions from the excellent podcast at semiprocycling.com where the creator recommends evaluation your previous season's results and training:

3. What else worked this year?
   Things that I found to be especially helpful were:
   
   1. WTF Wednesdays, a very "spirited" ride where the gloves came off early and it really simulated a race effort.
   2. Dedicated training sessions with 'cross racers more experienced that I. In my previous season, and even WAY back when when I was racing MTB's exclusively, it was often hard to focus exclusively on skills sessions. They often got blown off because it seemed they weren't targeted enough and there were other things, like fitness, that needed to be improved. Having someone with more experience lead and encourage these sessions -- as well as understanding the true value of not always going hard -- helped make sure these sessions happened and were valuable.
4. Did you meet your training goals?
   By and large, yes, but there were some weeks were I fell short of my time goals, and a block in the summer where I got a little bit off-track. Having a coach this year should help rectify this.
5. Did you meet your fitness goals?
   Tough to say, having not trained with a power meter last year, I didn't really make any really measurable goals. Will work with coach to improve on the goal-making this year.
6. Did you miss any large chunks from your original program?
   Yes, family vacation in early July and again in early August contributed to some down weeks that may have hampered early season results and performance.
7. How quickly did you recover from hard workouts or heavy periods of training?
   Pretty quickly -- especially for an old man Masters 45+ racer. I hope to keep this up.

There you have it. A pretty honest assessment of some of the things that worked and some that didn't. Feel free to share what worked for you, as well as pose any questions that you may have about improving your performance. I'm no pro, but together -- and with other commenters on here -- we may find some worthwhile solutions. Cheers!

End of Season De-Brief: Question 1, 2

Over the next few posts, I will work to answer the questions posed in the End of Season De-Brief post. Below I start with Questions 1 and 2:

Did you meet your racing goals? 
In a word, no. But with that said, I think my goals may have been a bit over-ambitious. With no real knowledge or experience of the strength of the Masters category in New England cyclocross, I probably had no business thinking I could consistently break into the top 3, and as a result, onto the podium. I am still happy with my season and pleased with the constant improvement I saw throughout the season. Given the way my finishes improved through the season, I am confident that next season (2014-15) the goal of finishing the Verge Series in the top three of the overall standings is a reasonable and reachable goal. For 2013, I was completely self-coached and used heart rate only to gauge and guide my training. For 2014-15, I am looking to incorporate power as well as the service of a coach.

Do your training efforts truly replicate what is needed during competition?
 I noticed in the early part of the season, I would start strong in races but then start to fade about halfway through the competition. I was perplexed at first because I'd done so much base in the early part of 2013 that I was confident I had banked many matches that I could burn. In looking back through my training journal and thinking on it some more, I realized that coming into the early part of the season, I'd not done enough high-intensity work. I think I was afraid to "burn too many matches" in early training, and thus, my body was not prepared for the intensity of a 'cross race. I will definitely visit this as I research and build my plan for 2014-15, especially if and when I hire a coach, this will be a topic to discuss.

Other than that, though, and once I got into the meat of the season, I feel my training did do a good job replicating the needs of the races. I worked with another local rider (I'll get his permission before putting his name up here publicly) who showed me a great local spot to simulate a course and race efforts. Thanks to this guy, I also learned this past season to integrate adequate rest into my routine. With that said, things can always be better and I'd still like to fine tune my pre-season work as well as my in-season routine. I will likely add a weekly time trial effort into the pre-season mix and more organized group workouts to the in-season.

Additionally, I would like to integrate more skill work into my training this next season. Coming from a mountain bike background, I like to think I have a strong bike handling skills, but I am always impressed by how much smoother and more fluid the fastest guys are.


I will write more on the other questions over the next few days. As always, I'm curious to hear your thoughts about your past season. Visit the EoS De-brief question list, and let us know what you did well and what you'd like to improve? What are your plans for improvement?

Cheers,

~kj