ACL Reconstruction: Allograft vs Autograft?

I saw the surgeon yesterday.

Surgery is the path forward, especially given my goals of staying active and continuing to compete at a high level in cyclocross. My unique goals and age put me in a unique box that, frankly, my surgeon has not seen before in terms of deciding between autograft or allograft. If I were a 25 year old national level soccer player, there'd be no question about it, and we'd choose the Gold Standard; patellar autograft, a procedure in which a segment of my own patellar tendon is harvested for the reconstruction.

 However, given my love of cycling and goal to one day win a national title, he is hesitant to do anything to upset the knee any more than necessary. In particular, he feels the repetitive motion of pedaling could irritate the resultant scar tissue of the patellar tendon, if we were to take that route. The hamstring tendon is another option, but given its involvement in knee flexion, the surgeon feels it carries the same issues relative to irritation over the millions of cycles (pun not intended) in pedaling.

The allograft, or utilisation of cadaver tissue for the reconstruction, apparently fares about the same statistically as the autograft in older patients. While I agree with the surgeon on not wanting to cause insult to any more of the knee that has already been done, I wonder how much of the data for older patients is skewed by the fact that most patients over 40 suffer this kind of injury and then naturally slow down and/or cease to participate in physical activity. If this is true for a majority of those undergoing ACL reconstruction, then the material used really doesn't matter since it's not really being stressed. I know one such patient who, while never as avid a skier as I, has sworn off skiing in the wake of her surgery. I wonder for how many in the data set used to tout the efficacy of using cadaver tissue this is true. Even without my lofty cycling goals, I hope to remain active in many sports, such as skiing and kiteboarding, that while not necessarily heavy on the cutting and pivoting, remain very high energy.

On the other hand, cycling is a relatively straightforward pursuit as far as the knee is concerned. There is not a lot of cutting, pivoting and sudden change of direction. These are the things that really beg for -- and tend to stress -- a functioning ACL. That said, cyclocross is a unique beast, with frequent dismounts from and remounts on the bike, jumping over barriers, running through sand and/or muddy, slippery terrain. Changes in direction may be small and infrequent, but when they occur they can be sudden, unexpected and forceful. I'd meant for this to be an unbiased, un-opinionated explanation of how my surgeon and I saw the various options, but I may have just made my decision.

What are your thoughts?
What was your experience when having ACL reconstruction?
Would love to hear from everyone, but especially from cyclists.

wondering

in a previous post, i alluded to the fact that i wasn't quite sure where my recent success had come from. and, to some degree, that's entirely true. i mean, i know i've worked super hard and have been trying to do everything right -- and within reason, no, i haven't purchased Normatech recovery boots or rented a hypoxic sleeping tent. my diet is not perfect, but pretty darn good. i'll try to post on that another time. but training-wise i'm not entirely sure what might be different and what might be creating these positive results.

here are some thoughts from a conversation I had with a high school friend who has been racing at an elite level for way longer than me, is way more knowledgable than me about training, is also self-coached, and -- oh, by the way -- has a Stars and Stripes jersey from a couple of years ago. a super guy, he never balks when i ask him for training advice. what follows is some explanation about my plan going into the Sly Fox/Victory weekend and some questions around some unexpected changes and how they may or may not have played a role:

training question: my plan this past weekend was to only race Sunday. so i designed my week as follows:

• M: off/recovery (turned out to be off)
• T: HARD (descending intervals, followed by a 2x20)
• W: moderate (sweetspot intervals, 4x8)
• R: HARD ( tabata style intervals, 2x20 mins, :30 on, :20off)
• F: off
• S: openers
• Su: RACE!

that was the plan. then my wife switched her schedule around so i could race  both -- yes, i am a lucky man! -- though, with the late change i registered for the wrong race and lost my first row call-up. so, i raced Saturday with no openers the day before, basically with NO workout the day before -- and won! nothing else in the schedule above changed. also, because i was helping another racer in the parking lot with a dead battery, i didn't get to do my usual warm-up . got in a much shorter warm-up. on a very cold day. and, i won. similarly, on Sunday, i didn't take my truck because my wife needed it. as a result, i didn't have all the gear i usually take, and for reasons that I can explain another time, this led to me again getting a much shorter than usual warm-up on a really cold day. 

so, that's a lot to decipher, but you're a smart reader and if you've stuck with me this far, my questions are these:

  -- could it be that i either don't need "openers" or even possibly do better without "openers" before a race? a previous coach once told me that my openers were a bit too much stress, although what he prescribed ended up being almost exactly the same TSS both in real life and when modeled in trainingpeaks and trainerroad.

  -- could it be that my previous warm-up routine was also too much and I was leaving too much on the trainer before the race? my "go to" trainer warm-up is 35 minutes long and is about 33 TSS points. seems reasonable, but when combined with three laps of course recon, maybe it's too much.

-- could it be that my fitness is finally coming in and i am way overthinking all of this? i'm starting to wonder if this is the case. what's really interesting to me, is that on paper -- or on the LCD screen -- , my fitness (CTL) this season has been about the same or higher than it was on a day-to-day comparison against last season. that said, i came into this season with no MTB racing compared to a ton of MTB races in the summer of 2016. i also had essentially no training in June. i had some results early this fall that were not on par with my expectations, and i wonder if even though the software thought i had similar fitness earlier in the season, it wasn't quite right.

i know that everyone is different and what works for me might not work for you and vice-versa, but i just thought i'd share my experience and see if anyone has any feedback or insights that they'd like to give to me and our community.

another thing, that i didn't really touch on here, but do touch on a little in my previous post is the mental stress. maybe by not focusing so much on the result and the process and the desire to win, maybe by focusing more on the fun and the relationships and the people, i've found a proper balance.

next season

next season starts now

dreams of stars and stripes fuel me

grateful confidence

blessed

lately, i've been blessed with some great results. here's the thing -- i don't know why. or, at least i'm not sure why. not a lot has changed. i'm self-coached -- again. i've had a few coaches in recent years. they've all been great, but with each one something has led to me to cancel the service. one time a move, one time a break from competitive cycling to spend more time with family, and, ok, one just wasn't that great and i quit him before my free trial ended. so, i'm thinking i may start to use this blog as a venue to share my experiences, thoughts and questions on training. with complete transparency. sometimes, i worry about revealing my training secrets with potential competitors, but within our community, we're really all friends, so what the heck? knowledge is only one piece of the puzzle, right? the bigger piece is putting in the work.

after reading the "treatise" as i shall henceforth refer to the blog post of another master's athlete who recently stopped competing, i've actually had to step back and evaluate why i love this sport so much. was i, too, competing for the wrong reasons? was i missing opportunities to bond with my tribe? was i too focused on my process and my preparation at each race that i was missing those chances for connection? as result of this soul searching, i've made a conscious effort to be more present each week and at each event. in some cases, this has had the effect of shortening my warm-up or making me forget some "essential" part of my rigid pre-race regimen. but, interestingly, it has not negatively impacted my race performance -- in fact, it may have even improved it (and i want to dig into this relative to the conversation above) -- and it has made me feel better and more connected to this group.

 this weekend brought two new courses for the PACX series.

Troegenator Cross:

playing in the rain, mud and cold

saturday was the Tröegs Independent Brewing-sponsored Troegenator Cross at Allenberry resort in Boiling Springs, PA. The was a mix of grass, macadam, gravel and wooded trail surfaces. the day started dry but overcast. when i arrived at 8:00 am, the temperature was 37 degF. i meandered over to where kelly and dlowe were parked and chatted for a bit and sipped my coffee, procrastinating against kitting up in the cold. when i finally got on course, i was treated to a pretty interesting course that traversed grass, macadam, gravel, a harvested corn field and wooded trails. in pre-ride it was dry, resulting in a fairly fast and flowey course -- well, except for the steep gravel road climb. in pre-ride, i bumped in  judah and we both tried to see if we could ride it. on the third attempt, i finally made it. my heart rate was almost maxed, but i revelled in the fact that i'd done it. at some point around 9:00 am, it started to rain. looking through weather history, at 10:49 am -- eleven minutes before the start of my race -- weather underground has recorded "heavy rain". the rain took an interesting course and made it super fun. for me. the corn field seemed to mostly a clay-based soil, and so, while it stayed relatively firm, it developed a layer of slick greasy mud on top. you could power through here while sliding around. fun. the gravel climb become completely unrideable. the wooded trail became a sloppy mess. more fun.

at some point, though, the race ceased to fun. the cold and wet turned my fingers numb. i could not feel where the shifters were, could not brake well, and had my hands bounced off the bars a couple of times. after the race, i found the unlocked boiler room in the heated bathroom and tried to regain some warmth. despite finding this much need heat source, i continued to shiver uncontrollably for at least 30 minutes. i was still shivering at my car and in my dry clothes when i noticed a vehicle having trouble escaping from the grassy, sloped field that served as the parking lot on this day. i ran over to help push the car out of the mud and up the hill. then, there was another. and another. after the fourth vehicle was freed, i noticed i was no longer shivering. not only had the effort helped me warm up by using my body again, it warmed my heart. dare i say, that might have felt better than winning my race.

with my only dry clothes now soaked, i went down to the huge beer tent to do podiums and to hang out a bit. i grabbed a pretty tasty veggie burger and spent some time talking with folks. thanked dave borden for his role in putting on a great race. thanked bob joos for his infectious enthusiasm.

it was a good day. despite the cold and the rain, i wouldn't have changed a thing.

WCCX #2:

PA State CX Champion M45-49

sunday was the second race of the year put on by the trio of bob reuther, scott gamble and shawn carey. the race was designated as the Pennsylvania State Cyclocross Championships and held at The Phelps School, a venue that had been used for area CX races in years past. The course was fast and flowy, as are most Reuther designed courses, but not without a significant amount of elevation change. on the back half of the course, there was a section of dirt that was the result of some recent excavation. the previous day's rain had turned the freshly laid dirt into a soft, spongy surface. not quite mud. but your tires would sink into it. first, we'd encounter this section in a downhill direction. then, after traversing several twists and turns, the course headed back uphill, and it was at the top of the climb where riders needed to cross this spongy dirt again for about 20 yards. in pre-ride, i noticed others having a hard time pedaling through this. i like to churn big gears. i thought this could be the place to make a move. the other notable feature on this day was the wind. windspeeds were in the 20's with gusts into the 30's.

with some of these close to home races, i tend to let my guard down in terms of preparation. i end up arriving later than i want, i forget stuff, i lose focus. this race, 10.9 miles from home, was no different. i forgot my drinks at home and had to turn around to get them when i was already about halfway there. i showed up to staging far too close for comfort. as the official gave the 1-minute warning, i was still frantically wrestling with my clothes. i didn't reset the Garmin, so once the race did get started, the device was barking at me to start intervals that are setup for my pre-race warm-up. i forgot to press the record button on the GoPro mounted to my handlebars. i forgot to eat my Gu.

reuther makes an early move.

our race began fast. by the time we reached the first downhill section, which was super fast, fun, flowy, i was second wheel behind barry wahner. while i was tempted to pass him, i kept telling myself to be patient, stay calm. before we reached the double barriers, reuther went to pass us both. i slotted in behind his wheel and stayed there, trying to be as patient as possible. on the up
hill leading to the spongy stuff, i made my move. i got to that section first and built a gap there that continued to grow through the race. although i felt like my lead was growing, i was nervous every time that i'd hit a gusty headwind that maybe i was getting hit with more headwind than my competitors and dumb luck would end up conspiring to steal my victory. about 1-1/2 to 2 laps into the race, my legs started to bark at me and i wondered if i'd gone out to hard. i pushed through and eventually they began to feel like the usual suffering. i really wanted to win this race badly. i had won a state championship back in 2014. oddly, i came in second in that race. since the winner of the race was over fifty, he won the 50-54 age group and i won the 45-49. i was psyched to have won the championship, but it never really quite sat right with me. by winning this race outright, it erases all doubt. i like this path much better.

after the race, i was able to help with the juniors race and cheer on many other races. i got to hang with lots of great folks. i got a great recommendation for a gift to thank my wife for her support in this awesome craziness that is cyclocross racing. after the last race of the day, we began tearing down the course. it's awesome to see how the community comes together to pitch in. the whole time we worked, one of my mom's favorite phrases ran through my head, "many hands make light work."

another great day with this community.

many thanks to Howard Brown at Trek Bicycle Shop in Newark, DE and Bill Bradley at Trek Bicycle Shop in West Chester, PA for the continued support of the team!

too many words

i love to write.

i hate to write.

too many words, experiences, feelings flow through my mind.
conspiring to erase an order or sense of logic that i try to coerce them into.
(and yes, i just ended a sentence with a preposition and that will bother me, but i don't want to craft it differently for fear of losing the rest of this thought.)

i am blessed beyond measure. i have had some amazing experiences and results lately.
in working to connect more, i feared losing an edge.
paradoxically,

 -- or perhaps not! --

i have made more of the connection i seek
and
my
edge
has
gotten
sharper.

Opportunities missed

I wrote the post below on October 16th in response to another blogger's post about his departure from competitive cycling, and have been back and forth about publishing it. I published it that day, but quickly pulled it down. I'm still bothered by it. It churns through my head at every race that I've been to since reading this other person's words. And sometimes, that's good. It has helped me to re-evaluate why I'm there. Why I'm stealing time away from my family to ride bikes around in circles. Why I'm suffering through heat and humidity, cold and rain, frostbite and uncontrollable shivering. I'm still figuring it out, but I think it comes down to the people. This cycling community -- and more specifically, this cyclocross community -- is my tribe. We share something that can't be explained. We might not always agree, or even always get along, but we understand each other and we share a love of the effort, the journey, and, yes, perhaps a bit too much, the bikes. And with that, here's the old post:

Someone I've raced bicycles against the past couple years just posted his treatise on why he's "retiring" from competitive cycling. After assuring his readers that he doesn't judge them for not making the same decision as he, he writes about how competitive cycling is self-serving and self-aggrandizing and that he longs for a more "sustainable" lifestyle. Actually, he choses to use the phrases "self-promotion", "embellishment of the ego" and "selfish". This, after I've just read D.Lowe's thoughtful and touching piece and the resulting facebook comments about the cyclocross community and how it's really more like a family than anything else:

my goals in cross, some are not about the racing,
I got to the course early, and had a bit of nice extra time.
Pedaling around the parking lots, I got a chance to stop and chat
and listen, shake hands,
talk racing,
with,
whomever I came across.

And while these people cherish the effort and the time spent together "on and off the bike", this retiring athlete has the gall to project his motivations on the community. You can never know exactly how another feels, but from his address, and I quote, "racing and trying to win races is nothing more than self-promotion and embellishment of the ego", it seems that for 38 years he may have been doing it for the wrong reasons. Others race for lots of other reasons that have very little to do with ego and winning. Many people line up every weekend with no thought of winning, but with every intention of putting forth their best self "on and off the bike". Some people race to have a measuring stick for their own personal improvement.  Some people race to have the motivation to stay fit. I, myself, fall into this category. I know when I am not racing, it is easier to let my diet slip, easier to have a few more beers or glasses of wine than I should, easier to shrug off a day of exercise if the weather sucks or if I just simply don't feel like it. Some people race to meet others who also love bikes and/or bicyclists and/or mud and/or beer and/or heckling and/or hand-ups and/or community and/or whatever. There are a whole host of reasons that people race, and I would argue that most of them are NOT "embellishment of the ego".

The whole thing rubs me the wrong way.

Please, tell me in the comments below, why do you race bicycles?

Charm City

I raced Charm City CX this weekend. Last year was my first time racing this staple of Mid-Atlantic cyclocross racing. I did the double last year and again this year. They changed the age ranges this year for the masters categories. Not sure why. Seems to be a trend up and down the East Coast.

Lots of people are gaga over Charm City CX. I think it's fine. This year, the flyover was a impressive; three-legged affair where one of the legs was made up of (apparently -- I never bothered to count) 22 very steep steps, while the other two legs were ramps to ride back down. Saturday we went straight upon reaching the top of the steps. Sunday we made a right turn and went down the other ramp.

Saturday was crazy hot for October -- and a totally sufferfest. In the 40+ race, Roger threw down a furious pace and led start to finish. On Sunday, the temps were cooler, but the humidity was oppressive. Roger let others lead first lap, but soon grew tired of this and took off. Both days I finished 12th and almost exactly 3 minutes behind him. At least, I'm consistent(ly slow).

A couple of interesting things happened this weekend:

1. On Saturday, during one of the sand sections, I was trying to pass someone. I hear this women, who I am not sure is part of his posse or not, start yelling, "Elbows out! Put him into the tape!" And sure enough, this a-hole starts coming my way and trying to push me into the tape. Now, I love me so good heckling, but how about we not encourage dirty racing? Can we all agree on that?
2. Also Saturday, during one of the descents on this fun steep up and down section, one of the hecklers calls out, "Nice arms, Popeye!" I've never thought my forearms were very big, i.e. like Popeye, but as my biceps get smaller and smaller as I spend more and more time on the bike. I could see how it might look like they are. Anyway, it was funny and just kinda stuck with me, even while I was struggling with race, I was kinda laughing on the inside.
3. Sunday (today), I was in the top 5 or 6 on the prologue climb. As we neared the mansion and forced pinch point that the organizers put into the course, I went pass a guy. He starts yelling, "Don't do it! Don't do it!" Then, he elbows me and steers into me, forcing me into the tape. I almost took out one of the stupid wooden stakes that they seem so hell bent on using at Charm. I didn't go down, I didn't hit the stake, but I did lose places. I'm not saying that was the whole explanation for my not-so-strong finish, but it sure didn't help. But more than anything, it angers me that people are so willing to crash people out of a race to maintain a spot. 

I didn't have ideal preparation for these races. Hell, a week before I didn't even know I was going. Then I did sign up, and a few days later, I learned that the father of a good friend had passed away, my friend would be flying in to town, and that the memorial service was Friday night. He's also a racer and told me that I probably spent too much time on my feet that night and that the late night didn't help either. 

Also, from the not ideal prep department, I was awakened at 3:30 am this morning (Sunday) to a chirping smoke detector that refused to stop chirping even with two different brand new batteries installed. 

It was a good weekend. I raced the best I could given my weak spring and summer training schedules. I saw some good friends and learned some more about racing -- and people. I'll take it.

The Power of the Bike...

The power of the bike:
Didn't feel like riding.
Didn't feel like much of anything.
Did it anyway.
10 minutes in, I was a new man.

Back in the Saddle Again

I had a rough race at CX Nationals back in January (I'll write about that one of these days) and found my motivation waning afterward. Throw in a re-invigorated love of skiing,  as well as my wife's torn ACL, subsequent recovery, and need for chauffeuring, nursing and support, this year's training has been a bit off. In fact, I just looked at Strava for June and I did ZERO training, May was only 19 hours, and July was back up to a somewhat respectable 32 hours.
Needless to say, I was a little nervous about how I'd fare in my first race of any kind since that horrible day back in January. At the start line of the Big Elk race at Fair Hill, my teammate, Mike S., and I chatted about many things as I tried to take my mind off my unease about my current level of fitness and the pain I was about to endure. The one conversation that stuck with me throughout the race though was about tire selection. We were both sporting tires with relatively small knobs. I was on the Maxxis Ikon 2.2 pumped to 25 PSI. It had rained hard the night before the race and the course had a thin layer of greasy mud over relatively firm soil. I felt like I was on ice around many of the corners. I kept thinking, "Stay upright. Especially early. Things will tighten up as the race progresses." This did not happen. Or, at least, not as much as I'd assumed or hoped.

Out of the gate, I was with the top group of 5 or 6. About halfway through the first lap/prologue, my rusty skills and slippery tires caused me to lose contact with the group. I kept fighting to get spots back and hold off other challengers. Wherever the course was moderately technical, I could feel others gaining on me. Wherever it seemed to be a pure fitness section, I was pleasantly surprised that I could pull away. I hit the ground twice; once on a slick wooden bridge after a hard right turn, and once on a fast log over with a muddy "landing" on the other side that I tried to hit with too much speed.

At the end of the day, I was pleased to have finished in 5th place despite my relative lack of training this year. More importantly, I was psyched to re-united with my tribe. It felt good to be back.

Looking forward to #crossseason!

Cyclocross Nationals Non-Championship Race

Where to begin? First time competing at a Nationals level event. I had some audacious goals. Perhaps goals that I didn't really deserve to have, especially since I'd never been before. Knowing how important my family is to me and reasoning that it would do more negative to be away from them in the time between my non-championship race on Tuesday (1/3/17) and the championship race on Friday (1/6/17)  than the good it might do to be there to evaluate the course and minimize travel, he suggested day trips for each race. At four hours without any traffic snags, the drive to Hartford was just at the upper limit of what I'd consider for a day trip.

I left later than planned Tuesday morning and hit bad traffic on the drive to Hartford. My four hour drive turned into more than five hours. This put me at the venue MUCH later than planned, and I really only had about 45 minutes to get my packet, get kitted up, and get myself to the staging area. It was cold. It was raining. I really didn't even want to race. Truth be told, I didn't even want to get out of my warm and dry street clothes. But, I did. Getting to the staging area with no time for any significant warm-up, I started to do some sprints on the paved sections around the start. That's when I realized that the only bike I'd brought (my "B" bike -- another story for another time) was skipping. With two bikes and three sets of tubulars and one set of clinchers, wheels get moved from bike to bike A LOT. I'd forgotten that the wheels currently on this bike had actually spent most of their time recently on the "A" bike that was still in the shop. The "A" bike was getting a new chain and cassette due to excessive wear. In reality, it was the cassette on this wheel that probably most seriously needed to be replaced and while it wasn't skipping on the "A" bike with its chain that had worn together with it, on this "B" bike with a practically new chain, the chain and gears didn't mesh well, and thus the skipping. Since the problem was worst in the small gears, I was able to minimize the skipping by being a bit selective about which gears I was using, but when anaerobic and dealing with slippery conditions remembering which gears to not use is often the last thing on your mind.

I had a second row call-up and was just trying to stay upright the entire race, protecting myself and my equipment. With the crazy descent that later became know as the "slip and slide" -- and was removed from all subsequent races the rest of the week -- this was a tall order. Somehow I managed it, though, for the entire race. I ran around the pile up on the "slip and slide" on the first lap. On the remaining laps things had thinned out a bit and I was able to ride it each time. Riding about 85%, I finished in 9th place. Besides Dave Hildebrand and recently retired pro Adam Myerson, the only guys ahead of me would be in Friday's younger 40-44 Championship race. I knew a lot of the other 45-49 year olds had skipped this non-champ race, but I was still feeling good about my odds for Friday. I'd seen the course at speed, hadn't crashed in some crazy wet conditions, and besides need a new cassette, my equipment had survived unscathed. Beside having mud in places I didn't even know I had, it was a relative success.

That said, the late arrival underscored the need to get into town the night before. Having recognized the potential for this decision, I'd previously made a refundable hotel reservation for Thursday night and actually extended it through Saturday morning so that I could stay to attend a dinner being planned for our Mid-Atlantic Cyclocross group, which is an awesome group. More on that in next post.

Thanks for reading! Thanks to Bike Line for sponsoring and supporting our cyclocross team! Please consider them for all your cycling needs.

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. 

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.