Settle Down

Solstice Cross. Wunderground almanac claims it was about 32 degF at start time. That wondrous temperature where things that were previously frozen become less so when just a little heat is added. That wondrous temperature where the cold hard ground below is still frozen. As the sun began to heat the ground after our 11:00 start, the portions of the course in full sun became a slippery mess.

I got a decent start, and was second behind perennial great starter, Kelly C. We navigated our way through the slippery, windy course. It was a fun course, with a section of rollers, several challenging off-camber sections, and LOTS of twisting and turning. At some point during that first lap, I took the lead from Kelly and led much of that lap. Bob R. passed just as we completed the first lap, but the three of us stayed together. I felt great, we'd just finished the first lap and I was feeling strong. As we started the longest descent of the course and just after the roughest part of the course through some sort of dumping grounds, I noticed my rear tire was seriously soft. I fell off the pace a bit as I nursed the bike to the pits. Getting back on course, I didn't know how many spots I'd lost and I got a little panicky. Mike Y and Gunnar S. were here. I could possibly get some good USAC points with a strong finish. And that's, again, where things started to fall apart.

I became far too intimate with terra (far too) firma, and have a few raspberries and bruises to show for it. I went down 4 times trying to make up for the time I'd lost with my flat. I would pass guys and then as I was working to catch the next guy, I'd go down again and lose a spot or two. Two steps forward, one step back. I eventually finished 6th.

After the race, a friend came up to me and said, "The only person you beat today was yourself." I think he meant it in the kindest possible way, especially since he went on to say very flattering things about my fitness. He advised me to "settle down" (sound familiar?) and be more judicious about where to put down that power that I've got. To ride smarter and more in control. Twice in two weeks, I have somebody tell me this. And, if I'm really honest, Mark G. from Massachusetts, gave me similar advice three years ago after we battled in Northampton. Maybe three times is a charm. Maybe now, the advice will start to sink into my thick skull.

[update: Riding home from this morning's workout, the events of the last few days and this post kept swirling through my head. I was reminded how my coach recently told me that I was likely stronger on a watts/kg basis than one of the guys that I really look up to in my age group, but that, given his years and years of competing at a very high level, he is simply more efficient than me. I didn't get this at the time, and maybe I'm still barking up the wrong tree, but in what seems a not so subtle way the universe has perhaps given me a part of the explanation.]

Oh, yeah, and Kelly C. was giving free hugs. So, there's that. And I actually got two!

My family and I are doing a reading and lighting the Advent Candle at church today, so I'll miss the State Championships. Good Luck to all!

Everything Counts

[editor's note: I thought I'd already published this, but when I when to write about yesterday's race, there it sat as a draftI.]

"everything counts in large amounts..."

"the grabbing hands grab all they can" -- except, of course, when they can't

I did it, again.
I took the fight to the home team. Still looking to improve my call-up for Nationals, I drove up to RI for the second day of Warwick. As with Suffern, I hoped for a good result against some of the boys I'll be racing at Nationals and who are currently staged ahead of me. As with Suffern, things didn't pan out at all the way i thought they would.

I felt good. No, I felt great. I had new confidence. I'd recently hired a coach*. He's awesome; smart, funny, gets me and my idiosyncrasies -- which are many. I was crushing my workouts. I'd just won a race.

but...

I'd forgotten about New England's damp cold. I'd forgotten how, when I lived in New England, I liked to tell anyone who'd listen that New England is probably the strongest area for cyclocross in the country.

Hitting the fence. Rebecca Lewandowski captures
moment just before fence and I go down.
Photo: Rebecca Joy Lewandowski

I usually start well, but against this field, I quickly found myself outside the top 10. I worked my way up and thought I was about 6th or so and then the wheels started to fall. Not literally, but I'm not sure it would have been much worse if they had actually fallen off. Wearing my favorite race gloves that look oh-so-much-cooler than my heavier winter gloves in 39 degF weather, it wasn't long before I couldn't feel my fingers. this started to impact my shifting, braking, and even steering. Because i couldn't -- and didn't -- shift as naturally as I normally do, basically without thinking, I often found myself in the wrong gear and struggling to push too big gear. First or second lap, I ran into one of the metal fencing units that defined a sharp 180 degree turn after a fast downhill where you gained a fair amount of speed just before a quick up to this turn. I knocked the fence over and lost spots.

Later, I went down on turn before that same road downhill and lost spots. At one point during the race, Sam M., my old friend from Cohasset, tried to help calm me, saying, "Settle down, Kevin" as I weaved wildly all over the course. But, most infuriatingly, on the last lap, I tripped on the planks. I had clipped them several times during the race, which is a total first. But, on the last lap, as I battled with Eric S. for spots and points, my shoe caught the first barrier and I went down hard. My bike landed on top of me and I lost still more spots.

Talking with my new coach after the race, we didn't even talk about the frozen fingers. He pointed out that the openers I'd done the day before were far too taxing, that i probably didn't replace enough calories in the meals between the openers and the race, and that, in addition to impacting the engine, those factors would like have starved the brain of much needed carbs. This would also explain the horrible driving skills i exhibited this day.

I'm disappointed with the result. But I continue to learn. Everything counts; preparation, diet, training, even -- or perhaps, especially -- mental state. I'm still learning.


------------------------------------
*Kyle Wolfe at Finish Fast Cycling. If you're looking for coaching services, check him out. He's pretty awesome.

i like the roller coaster

"You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it."
-- Grandma, from Parenthood (fun clip below)

After yesterday's challenges, my goal today at WCCX II (West Chester Cyclocross -- part II) was to have a clean race and to support a trio of great friends who put on a great race. As so frequently happens at those races closer to home, I got lulled into a little bit of complacency and got to the race later than usual. I did not get to do my usual warm-up, but still felt great and seemed to have great legs. In warmup and in course inspection, the work came easy. I seemed to cherish the effort. Despite the windy conditions, I felt little resistance. I got a great start and quickly found myself at the front of the race. With Barry on my wheel and Bob in close pursuit, I wanted to set a quick and hard pace while remaining smooth and clean. Before long, I realized that Bob and I were alone and growing a gap to the others chasing. While physiologically shorter turns would have probably been more ideal, Bob and I took turns leading laps. Each time I got back on at the front, I reminded myself to ride clean and to be smooth, while also wanting to put a bit of stamp on this race. 

And it was amazing. Up and down. Turning and churning. My bike and I seemed to be one. Willing each other to go faster and faster. I railed the corners with a confidence that I don't often feel. My breathing slowed, the race slowed, and yet we were flying. Bob and I stayed together all six laps, but in the end, I was fortunate enough to get the "W". 

I've had my ups and downs this season, and while I don't care much for some of the downs, I'm learning to take from them what I can. I'm learning to use those experiences to become better, both on the bike and off. And, I love the ups.

I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it.

changing a mindset is a process

Drove last night to Suffern, NY to race in Day 1 of the Supercross Cup today. My hope was to race against some of the region's fastest, both to get a glimpse of many of the guys I might be racing against at CX Nationals and, if I did well, to improve my USAC points and move up my position in the starting grid for Nationals.

Rebecca Lewandowski captures my third attempt to get the
wheel to stay in place.
Photo: Rebecca Lewandowski

First lap, as I'm in 4th or 5th place, my pedal strikes a root as we do a 180-degree turn around a decent sized tree. I go down. No big, I thought, I'll just jump back on and get back in the race. Wrong! Wheel is loose. Tried to get it back in and tighten. Lose more time. Guys flying by. Finally get it in. Making up spots. Wheel comes out again running over barriers. Working to get it back in. Guys I just passed are passing me -- again. I resume trying to make up spots. A little while later it comes out again just climbing hard out of the saddle. Tightened it down. Rode it to pit. After being admonished at HPCX for not racking my bike, I asked (frantically? -- it seemed a bit frantically) if someone could rack my bike for me. Turned out Don S. was in the pits and took care of the bike for me. Next time around, he asked what the bike needed. I told him as best I could in about 5 oxygen-starved syllables what had happened. While I finished on the pit bike, he and I chatted after the race. Especially with the skewers I am running, he recommending running the QR level so that it points backward. This allows you to get more leverage on it (i.e. tighter) and keeps it as far as possible from the disc rotor should anything odd happen. One more Velominati rule to ignore!

First lap data capture:
breaks in lines show stoppages

Chasing back
Photo: Rebecca Lewandowski

In the end, I picked up enough spots to get into 12th place. When I looked at my Garmin data, between the three stops to fiddle with the wheel (:30, :20, and :26) and the one stoppage in the pit (:05), I was stopped for 1:21 during the race. This is pure stoppage time and not slowed or slowing time to deal with this problem. I suspect with those times factored in the real time cost of this issue would be even greater. Nobody seemed to have an answer for Roger today -- which is true most days --  but I was really hoping to see how long I could keep him in my sights. Without that 1:21 of stoppage time, I might have climbed much higher in the final standings. I'm not saying I could have hung with him, but I would love to have given myself a better shot at it. While it'd be easy to say the mechanical issues were something I had no control over, they were undoubtedly a result of my sloppy line through that 180. While it's also true that I've probably fallen a hundred times the same way I did in this fall and there's never been an issue with the wheel or the skewer, if I hadn't fallen in the first place, I might be writing a very different story right now.

Normally, I'd be pissed at a 12th place finish, even in a field this strong. But, today, I was happy that I was able to work through the challenges. I fought through every one of those stoppages. I never gave up. If that's what it takes to build grit and perseverance, I'll take it. Still begrudgingly, but I'll take it. One day, it will pay off. Today's effort earns a "Da Bom" from Wafel & Dinges. I'm getting there. Slowly, but surely.

"Da Bom"
Photo: Kevin Justice

I won!

Photo: Don Madson

HPCX (Day 1): I won. I still can't believe it. My first CX win at this level. My first CX win since a win in my third ever CX race in the Cat4/5 40+ race at Providence in 2012. Even though it was 5 days ago at this point, I'm having trouble finding the words to describe it. For now, let me just thank my teammate Bob Reuther and my amazing sponsor/shop, Bike Line. First, Bob should be recognized for all the amazing work he does in helping to train so many area athletes whether they're on our Bike Line team or not, and for not chasing during this race and pulling some of the contenders back up to the head of the race. And, secondly, Bike Line has been a great sponsor, providing expert advice and service to me and to our local cycling community.

I got another good start, and traded places early with Reuther, Schlauch, Frank and Pflug. Not necessarily an organized paceline effort, but I think everyone got a turn at pace making. Noting where I was riding well, I took a turn at the front on the long sweeping right at what I considered the bottom of the course. This was just before a section with two greasy off-camber sections that were a little sketchy at speed. Noticing that I needed to brake behind others here more than in other sections of the course, I started here to put down a little more power. From what I remember, this is where I gained a little gap that just grew and grew. Apparently, at one point, there was a crash that put Eric and Monte on the ground. Monte would later say that this was what allowed me to get the gap. I suppose I would argue that as the gap began well before this section of the course and continued for another 2-3 laps. As the gap remained and/or continued to grow, I would notice the group of four chasers lined up neatly behind Bob. Being the great teammate that Bob is, it became clear to me that he was not chasing as he did not want to bring the others back up to me. I just couldn't understand why the others didn't mount a chase of their own. After the race, I talked to Bob about it. As the series points leader -- by a LOT -- he didn't see me winning as a threat, but didn't want to pull some of the other guys up to the front just to possibly have them beat either of us in a sprint. He said he rode at 90% and let things unfold as they did. Clear and rational thinking even when on the rivet, or at least close to the rivet. Regardless of the hows and whys, it was a great win and great validation of the work I've been putting in.

Whirlybird: Why, oh why, did I not run?

Great start @ Whirlybird
Photo: Tom Burrows

Cyclocross continues to teach me things every time out. Last week's lesson seems to multi-faceted, but rooted primarily in humility and reigning in expectations. I've been riding well lately, finding my way onto a few podiums here and there. But for some strange reason, maybe because I'm human, I always want more. I wrote a few weeks ago about how it took a change in mindset for me to allow myself to ride with the fastest guys in my age group. After that switch was flipped, I went from almost deliberately hanging back from the fastest guys to confidently riding with the leaders. Next logical step is deigning to think you can win. I'd ridden with Reuther and Pflug the Saturday before. I'd ridden with Reuther and Elliston the Sunday before. Surely, snatching a "W" from these guys was not impossible. In retrospect, I suppose I put a little too much pressure on myself to do so. Even checking in to registration before the race, a well-meaning friend on the Guy's team encouraged me by saying, "You've gotta win today. You've been flying." And the pressure mounts.

Tete de la course (r to l): Schlauch, Reuther, Justice
Photo: Tom Burrows

I had a great start this race. I felt things slow down a bit in my head as these things become second nature. Heeding the advice of still another friend, I allowed Reuther and Schlauch to find their way up to the front of the race and set the pace. Despite some early driving mistakes, especially at the end of the wooded singletrack and the log-over, I was able to close gaps as they opened.

On this windy day, someone must have ripped a section of tape on the second lap. By the time the leaders came around on the third lap that tape was fully laying across the course. As Joe Johnston and I battled to get back into contact with the Schlauch and Reuther, we came across this tape. Riding side-by-side, I wondered if the tape would mess Johnston up. I never thought that it would end *MY* race. A few pedal strokes later, it was clear that something was wrong. I looked down to see what the issue was. The course tape had gotten sucked into my cassette and derailleur. Angrily, I jumped off the bike to try to unravel the tape. Almost immediately, I noticed that the derailleur was snapped off, and this bike wasn't being ridden again anytime soon.

Course tape ruins the day
Photo: Kevin Justice

With my shot at a podium finish likely dashed and the LONG run at Nittany still fresh in my mind, I wrestled with whether or not to run to the pit. In the end, I let my anger get the better of me. I decided to pack it in. As I made my way back to the car, I started to notice the gaps that had opened up in the race. Could I have still been top 10 in this race? Top 5? We'll never know. And when you've got a bike in the pit, and could have taken a shot it, that, to me, is a bad decision. At the very least, with the size of this race and the way the MAC points are set up, even if I was DFL I would have been given a decent number of points to help hold my position in the overall standings. With MAC counting every race, i.e. no throw away races, this was, again, a very bad decision.

Walking back to the car and driving home, I was so pissed off at cyclocross. This was the second time this year that I've had major mechanicals just as I'm about to have a breakthrough race. With some time to move on from the emotionality of it, I can chalk these up to learning experiences. The rolled tubular, a reminder to more carefully and more frequently inspect my gear. The course tape, a reminder to be more aware what is going on around me. Perhaps I could have averted the broken derailleur hanger if I'd noticed the tape wrapping around the cassette sooner.

Etiquette and CX Racing

A busy race weekend. Since I came into the season with the mindset that I'd be chasing the MAC series and this was a double PACX weekend with Town Hall on Saturday and Quaker City on Sunday, I went from not being sure if I'd race at all to doing three races in two days. Coming off a rolled tubular, a long run, and horrible points on the second day of Nittany, I was eager to exorcise some demons, clear the mind, and test the legs.

Saturday: Town Hall Cross

Photo: Tom Burrows

Town Hall Cross, which I'd only done once before in 2014, is almost infamous for its seemingly unending switchbacks up the large hill which makes up the most challenging part of the course. This year, though, the switchbacks were, for the most part, gone, only to be replaced by a section that seemed to be pretty darn close to straight up.  After this biggest climb of the course there was a brief downhill which was really just a tease, because it was followed by a steep grassy pitch up across which two rows of small landscape timbers had been placed. The timbers were mostly rideable; just a bit of an energy suck.

As I found myself in 2014, I had no PACX points from last year and so started third row. I got off to a good start and quickly found myself in the top ten. From there, I went to work gradually make the cut into a group of 4 or 5 that included Bob Reuther, Kelly Cline, and Glenn Turner. At one point, lap 3, I believe, Kelly made a vicious acceleration and I thought, "This is going to suck!" We matched his tempo and hung on his wheel. Then, I believe it was the same lap -- tough to remember when you're on the rivet -- eventual race winner Kevin Malloy took off on that longest climb of the course. I like to think that it was because he was a bit of an unknown and we all assumed that his acceleration would fade and we would quickly reabsorb him into the group that we let him go, but it is perhaps more likely that we just didn't have the legs. As things started to settle into a rhythm, Bob and I rode away from the others in the pack. Even though we were racing hard, several times I thought we could pick up the pace even a bit more and chase the leader a bit harder. However, I still see myself as relatively new to the sport and often defer to Mr. Reuther's experience, strength and wiley racing skills. I didn't know -- and still don't know -- what the etiquette is on passing a teammate, pushing the pace, etc. In fact, at one point, Bob took a wide line just before the drop into the woods and I passed him thinking he wanted me to take the lead for a while. This was not his intention and he (relatively) kindly let me know. After that, I sat on his wheel thinking he'd let me know if and when he wanted me to take a turn at the front. Given it wasn't that windy and there were few long sections of steady pedaling, I didn't think this an unfair burden on him. However, after much deliberation and soul-searching -- as a racer, I probably need to work on this, at least during the race -- I attacked the final time up the hill, passed Bob and held on for second place.

I'm not sure the time difference to the winner, but I wonder what might have been had I pushed harder in those spaces where I was riding Reuther's wheel. I may have blown up and been passed by Reuther, Kelly, Glenn and more. I may have caught Malloy. Who knows? Also fresh in my mind is a conversation I had with a racer after a race the previous weekend. Despite the fact that I race hard and fairly aggressively, I usually err on the side of caution when making passes or taking corners, so I was a bit taken aback by this rider's accusations of over-aggressive riding. I think this also played a role in my relatively relaxed tactics.

All this to say, (again) I'm relatively new to this, especially at this level. I will continue to race hard and fast, but if you see me doing something that is less than sportsmanlike, or worse, dangerous, please do not hesitate to let me know. Feedback when given generously and kindly is a gift. Also, if you have advice on racing with/against teammates, I'll gladly hear that as well.

Sunday: Quaker City Cross

Photo: Tom Burrows

I had never done this race before and had no idea what to expect. This race was so close to home, I almost didn't know what to do. In fact, I actually arrived later than I wanted because I wasted so much time thinking I had so much time. Seeing Gamble upon arrival, we went for a pre-ride, he warned me well before hitting the course that it was crazy bumpy. He was spot on. Except for a very short section of somewhat manicured grass before hitting the woods, the entirety of the race was either in the woods (~10%) or in a rolling meadow (~89%). The meadow section was cut in very short with a mower, but not tracked in at all, and was, therefore, very clumpy. On pre-ride, the bumps just seemed to suck the momentum from your wheels.

Jumping on the trainer for warm-up, my legs reminded me of the effort they'd endured the day before. I almost stopped the warm-up short for fear of zapping what little energy remained. I also reasoned that perhaps the short power spikes that I knew were coming in the protocol would wake the sleeping muscles. In the end, I decided to persevere and finish the scheduled warm-up. Starting second row, I was still relatively nervous about how the legs would react once the whistle blew.

I had another good start. (Thanks Kelly Cline and CrossSports.net) for suggesting an alternative to what I had been doing!) After a decent stretch of straight prologue section, the course took a 90 degree turn onto the course proper and the first decent uphill pitch of the race. The course twists and turns in that meadow for a bit before dumping us back out onto the prologue section in the opposite direction. After passing back through the start/finish area, the course made a left turn into the decent grass and then the woods. After a muddy 180 degree turn, we were greeted by super steep hill that, I believe, everyone except Mike Festa ran up. The run up was followed by a climb through the low back wrenching meadow. A fast, but bone-jarring descent took us back into another section of rooted woods where there were a set of barriers. Exiting the woods, a set of uphill switchbacks led to a power line descent and back to the point where we first hit the course proper. There was a double-sided pit here on the uphill section, and another entrance on the downhill just before the course turned back to the prologue section.

As early as the prologue and ensuing first climbs and twisting turns, my rear tire would make a "BRAAAP" sound around every corner. I believe by the end of the first lap, Reuther and I had opened a decent gap on the rest of the field. After we'd passed the pit that first time and were working our way through the turns, Bob asked what the noise was. I explained that I thought my rear tire pressure was low. He suggested I switch bikes the next time we go past the pit in the uphill direction. The consummate rider/coach/sportsman, he was even reminding me to recover (i.e. relax) in the downhill sections. As suggested, I took a bike the next time through. Bob soft pedaled until I got back on his wheel. We rode together, keeping the pack at bay until two laps to go. I would not forget Reuther's kindness, but still wanted to race him. I had in my mind that no matter where we were at the finishing straight, this was his race to win. We swapped spots a few times over the remaining laps, but there was never any question in my mind who would win that race. Reuther's sportsmanship earned my loyalty -- for a day anyway ;).

Photo: Tom Burrows

Despite the legs feeling heavy before the race, I felt really good after the race and was itching for more. Feeling a little conflicted about entering the 3/4 race -- I am technically a Cat 3 and don't have enough points for an upgrade to a Cat 2, but have been racing at a level slightly above my current category -- I consulted with Gamble and Reuther about whether or not it'd be sandbagging. They assured me it wasn't. I hurriedly checked to see if I could still register. A quick scribble on any entry form and I had another number. Since I'd already loaded the bikes on the car, I rushed to get them and get over to the pit and start. Upon reaching the start grid, everyone was already lined up. The official gave the one minute warning. I stumbled as I hurried with my bikes. The 30 second warning came. I joked with another official, "I guess I don't have time to get my pit bike to the pit, huh?" With that, the whistle blew. A woman standing near the grib said, "We'll get your bike to the pit." I was very appreciative and handed her the bike. I threw my water bottle toward the base of a tree and sprinted off to catch the disappearing pack. It took about two laps to work my way through the pack and get into second place. I gradually reeled in the first place rider and passed him. Lap after lap, I could not shake him. He would match every acceleration up the hills. Finally, I let him lead the second to last lap. I passed him on the final long straight uphill and given the tight turning nature of the remainder of the course, I assumed victory was mine as long as I didn't let off the gas too much. Wrong. On the final turns, an off-camber s-turn section, this whippersnapper pulled off a pass that I felt was a bit too dangerous, especially given the recent conversation I'd had at Nittany with another rider. After that, the race was his. I'd lost so much momentum avoiding him in the turn, I didn't even contest the sprint.

Again, still learning how much is too much. How little is too little. And, again, as always, open to advice/criticism/guidance kindly given.

Coming Unglued

Party of Five
photo: Rebecca Joy Lewandowski

"Rolling a tubular". A phrase I'd heard many times before -- though not quite as often as "burping a [tubeless] tire"--, but always thought was something that wouldn't happen to me. Still relatively new to racing cyclocross at a relatively high level, tubulars are still pretty new to me. Respecting this newness, I've been very meticulous about gluing up my own or pretty particular in whom I'll have glue them up for me. Today, I rolled a tubular. It was second lap. I was rolling with the top 5 racers in the 45+ race and feeling good. A couple times on some of the faster corners I could hear that now familiar sound of the tire not quite folding, but rather complying and conforming to the shape of the earth, tearing the grass, digging in. Just last night, I had been telling a non-CX friend about tubulars and why many CX'ers prefer them, and was enjoying living out those reasons. And then I came unglued. Literally. And not literally the way every millennial and younger likes to misuse the word. I mean literally. The tire literally came unglued from the wheel. The resulting loss of traction and the fact that the displaced tire jammed between the fork and the tire caused me to hit floor pretty quick. Apparently, the rider behind me went down as well. Not sure if anyone else was taken out. This could have been a much worse safety issue. According to Strava, I was about 0.6 miles from the pit. I knew I was far, but wasn't sure how far. Knowing any shot at a podium was gone, I was at a crossroads; cut my loses and DNF, or use the experience as a great training exercise and see how many places I could fight back for. Fresh in my mind was the story I'd relayed to my son from yesterday's race about hearing the announcer mention that someone was running only 200-300 yards into that race. I'd said I wouldn't have blamed that guy for choosing to DNF. It was almost like deja vu. But, despite my frustration, I couldn't quit. I still don't know where I finished. I was so angry that I didn't stick around for the results to be posted on site. They still are not posted online. I only know I wasn't quite DFL.

Running with rolled front tubular
Photo: Tom Burrows

One of the things that makes the situation sting all the more is that I felt like I was making not only a physical breakthrough, but a mental one. Yesterday, I put in a good race. Not a great race, but a good one. And, I ended up sixth. It was a race in which there was a lead group of five, and I was a solo chaser in sixth. I would almost get to their wheels and then something would happen to create a gap. As I deconstructed the race on the drive home, I began to question why the gaps kept opening up. I started to wonder if I was sabotaging myself because I didn't really think I was strong enough to ride with these guys who've dominated this age group in this area for so long. Today was going to be the day that I was going to prove that I could ride with these guys. Maybe next time.

Note the smoothness of the
center strip of the rim bed

Back to rolling, or, more importantly, not rolling tires. In an effort to be even more educated, prepared and diligent, today's mechanical failure has led me to many questions. I invite you to share your thoughts and solutions in the comments section or by sending me an email or facebook message. Here they are:

• Do you glue your own tubulars, or have someone do it for you?
• If using someone else, whom do you use, i.e. a shop, friend, etc.?
• Do you use glue only, tape only, glue and tape?
• Why are tubular rim beds not more circular/arc shaped in cross-section? In the pics included in this post, you can see that the glue in the center well of the rim bed is essentially untouched and was never in contact with or adhered to the tire which is essentially round in cross-section.

Thanks in advance! Keep the rubber side down.