I just read this article which I found via the venerable BSNYC web log, and was for some reason moved to pen a letter to its author. I decided to copy the letter here because I think this is the most neatly composed explanation I've been able to write concerning my growing irritation with this whole chic-cycling movement (if it can be called such).
Though I point to several direct references from the article, I like to think of it as an open letter to all those pretty young ladies you'll frequently see egregiously breaking the law or too preoccupied with being/looking stylish to care that they're a danger to themselves and all other road-users (except for cars, of course; after all, it is their road that they graciously allow us to use the shittiest parts of)
Ms. La Ferla,
Having just read your article "Bicycle Chic Gains Speed," and myself being an avid cyclist, I thought you might be interested to know how your article is being received by people of my ilk, though I'm fully aware that we likely aren't your target audience, so to speak.
Firstly, in the interest of clarity, I think articles such as yours should take care when stereotyping cyclists with sweeping generalizations of language. For instance, where you write "...Mr. Bliss said, referring mostly to the athletes and messengers who whiz by in that all-too-familiar forward-thrust posture that has, he said, 'alienated every pedestrian.'" While you are correct in implying that people who flaunt the law and appear reckless are often riding racing-style bicycles (typified by handlebars with drops), it is certainly not a truism, and I think it's an exaggeration that lumps many well-meaning cyclists in with the malfeasant. This "forward-thrust posture" you refer to, while perhaps not the most comfortable for EVERY cyclist, is in fact the most mechanically efficient way to power a bicycle, resulting in a greater capacity for speed and maneuverability than an upright position.
Further to this point, you later go on to describe Ms. Page-Green who apparently "...likes to speed around on the sidewalk, has encountered hostility. 'When you’re going too fast, people get mad at you,' she said. 'I’ve had canes waved at me in the distance.'" It strikes me as odd that in the very same article where recreational-, utility-, and professional-cyclists (messengers) are roundly vilified, blatantly illegal cycling (NYC Traffic Code says nobody over the age of 12 may operate any wheeled vehicle on a sidewalk) and a pedestrian's appropriate reaction thereto is blithely excused as mere happenstance. In my thinking, actions like this are more to blame for any alienation cyclists may feel from pedestrians.
Considering the article was written not for experienced cyclists, but presumably for fashionable ladies, I think it would be best to at least make mention of the fact that doing something like that, while perhaps stylish in some way, is the principal obstacle to cyclists as a whole gaining respect from pedestrians who, contrary to what you state in the very next sentence, are quite vocal about cyclists not respecting pedestrian space (consider too, that elderly pedestrians, the cane-shakers, are our most outspoken and active detractors).
I'm sure you don't care, but in the interest of accuracy, you should also note that no cyclist wears latex. Racing cyclists and touring cyclists wear a fabric called Lycra, which is composed of a spandex-like material (and is much thicker as well) that offers free movement and greater comfort when in the saddle for a long time... Also, you mention aerodynamic helmets. These are worn by almost no one aside from professional road racing cyclists doing a variety of race called a Time Trial, where they will don the archetypal "pterodactyl" helmet to lessen drag and thus move faster with greater ease. I have seen in my ten years living and riding in this city, exactly one (1) person wearing an aero helmet... and it was done as a joke.
I thank you for taking the time to read this through, and I can assure you, knowing the NYTimes is at least mentioning cycling in a somewhat positive light makes me hopeful for a day when a majority of New Yorkers get on two wheels. Cycling is not only my favorite sport, but also my favorite mode of conveyance, leisure activity, hobby, and way to keep fit. Verily, this growth in popularity is not bad thing, but we must remember the most wonderful and irritating part of bicycles is that anyone of any age, of any social strata, of any level of experience, can swing their leg over a bike and go merrily about their day in speed and comfort; but many potential cyclists have ZERO knowledge of how to cycle legally and courteously, perhaps you could make mention of the prevalence of well dressed ladies riding the wrong direction (against traffic), as they are the worst offenders aside from food delivery guys (who almost unanimously refuse to ride with traffic).
Kindest Regards,
Erik Pedersen
9.07.2010
universally recognizeable
I wanted to write this down for myself because I don't want to forget the ridiculousness of this brief exchange with the police:
I was on a date with a very pretty young lady this past Saturday night and both being fairly competent cyclists, we were meandering from place to place, chatting and getting to know one another as people typically do on first dates. We had a lovely dinner at Marlow & Son on Broadway; went to a neat rooftop in the Navy Yard; and then decided to hit up some bars and continue the cavorting over beer.
Of course we'd already shared a bottle of wine with dinner and had a couple beers on the roof, but we were by no means drunk; or even tipsy for that matter. Since Saturday night traffic in Clinton Hill Brooklyn is relatively tepid, it's not at all unsafe to ride two abreast, assuming you courteously return to single-file riding when cars need to overtake you. So we're lolling along next to each other, enjoying the weather and company, and I hear cars coming up on us from behind so I rode ahead of my lady friend.
A fair amount of time passes (proof to me that I made my move appropriately ahead of time) and then a police cruiser pulls up behind and to the left of us, matches our speed, and gets on the loudspeaker, "DO NOT RIDE TWO ABREAST! YOU MUST RIDE SINGLE FILE!"
The cop repeats this three more times so I give him a salute with my left arm to non-verbally indicate to him that I heard him, understood him, and there's no need to continue berating us very loudly and very publicly. pulls up alongside me and (I'm a little hazy on exactly what he said and in what order, so I'm gonna give this the one-draft approach) says, "Hey mister sarcasm, you should ride over to [indistigushable street names] and look at this biker who got hit over there, you don't even know what you're doing, etc, etc, etc...."
Anyways, so at the exact moment I saluted them (which, admittedly, I did do with sarcastic intent) the girl I was riding with was kind of pleading with them to just shut up. That sealed it. I like this girl.
I tried valiantly to explain that I was just singalling to him that a. we heard him the first time and b. he was berating us for something we weren't even doing (when the cars were present). But he was doing that thing cab drivers do when you try to reason with them where they just start yelling incoherently so you can't get a word in edgewise and you have no idea if they've even heard, or understood what it is you were trying to tell them. I've always assumed this is something they do because they know the person they're doing it to will just give up to have them stop yelling. Anyways, I finally got him to leave us alone by saying, "Hey man, if we've done something illegal, you need to write us a ticket or summons and leave us be." that shut him up pretty quick.
So in retrospect I realized that as cyclists, we try to be as frank and understandable as possible when signalling to other road-users, but motorists and pedestrians are less adroit at pseudo-sign-language and take some things as sarcastic or too blunt. I also came to understand that perhaps this cop thought he was really helping to keep us safe and we likewise didn't immediately understand his incredibly rude approach to warning us of dangers.
Luckily though, this sort of thing happens to me on nearly a daily basis so I'm pretty good at letting encounters like this roll off my back and not holding too much of a grudge. My lady and I made it safely to our bar of choice and continued our awesome evening largely uninterrupted.
Post Script: I decided to write this down here because as I was just walking to get lunch, I thought of something really awesome I could've done that totally would've taken those cops off their high-horse. I should've pointed at him and said flat-out, "you. pull over now. I want names and badge numbers."
Then again, I don't think that would have been too conducive to having this girl want to hang out with me again.
I was on a date with a very pretty young lady this past Saturday night and both being fairly competent cyclists, we were meandering from place to place, chatting and getting to know one another as people typically do on first dates. We had a lovely dinner at Marlow & Son on Broadway; went to a neat rooftop in the Navy Yard; and then decided to hit up some bars and continue the cavorting over beer.
Of course we'd already shared a bottle of wine with dinner and had a couple beers on the roof, but we were by no means drunk; or even tipsy for that matter. Since Saturday night traffic in Clinton Hill Brooklyn is relatively tepid, it's not at all unsafe to ride two abreast, assuming you courteously return to single-file riding when cars need to overtake you. So we're lolling along next to each other, enjoying the weather and company, and I hear cars coming up on us from behind so I rode ahead of my lady friend.
A fair amount of time passes (proof to me that I made my move appropriately ahead of time) and then a police cruiser pulls up behind and to the left of us, matches our speed, and gets on the loudspeaker, "DO NOT RIDE TWO ABREAST! YOU MUST RIDE SINGLE FILE!"
The cop repeats this three more times so I give him a salute with my left arm to non-verbally indicate to him that I heard him, understood him, and there's no need to continue berating us very loudly and very publicly. pulls up alongside me and (I'm a little hazy on exactly what he said and in what order, so I'm gonna give this the one-draft approach) says, "Hey mister sarcasm, you should ride over to [indistigushable street names] and look at this biker who got hit over there, you don't even know what you're doing, etc, etc, etc...."
Anyways, so at the exact moment I saluted them (which, admittedly, I did do with sarcastic intent) the girl I was riding with was kind of pleading with them to just shut up. That sealed it. I like this girl.
I tried valiantly to explain that I was just singalling to him that a. we heard him the first time and b. he was berating us for something we weren't even doing (when the cars were present). But he was doing that thing cab drivers do when you try to reason with them where they just start yelling incoherently so you can't get a word in edgewise and you have no idea if they've even heard, or understood what it is you were trying to tell them. I've always assumed this is something they do because they know the person they're doing it to will just give up to have them stop yelling. Anyways, I finally got him to leave us alone by saying, "Hey man, if we've done something illegal, you need to write us a ticket or summons and leave us be." that shut him up pretty quick.
So in retrospect I realized that as cyclists, we try to be as frank and understandable as possible when signalling to other road-users, but motorists and pedestrians are less adroit at pseudo-sign-language and take some things as sarcastic or too blunt. I also came to understand that perhaps this cop thought he was really helping to keep us safe and we likewise didn't immediately understand his incredibly rude approach to warning us of dangers.
Luckily though, this sort of thing happens to me on nearly a daily basis so I'm pretty good at letting encounters like this roll off my back and not holding too much of a grudge. My lady and I made it safely to our bar of choice and continued our awesome evening largely uninterrupted.
Post Script: I decided to write this down here because as I was just walking to get lunch, I thought of something really awesome I could've done that totally would've taken those cops off their high-horse. I should've pointed at him and said flat-out, "you. pull over now. I want names and badge numbers."
Then again, I don't think that would have been too conducive to having this girl want to hang out with me again.
7.30.2010
Jens Voigt Facts...
apochryphal and often hilarious 'facts' about everyone's favorite hardman:
my favorite so far has got to be, "Some people wear superman pajamas. Superman wears Chuck Norris pajamas. Chuck Norris wears Jens Voigt pajamas."
7.26.2010
7.09.2010
Empire of the Sun
Empire of the Sun. from Elle Carcamo on Vimeo.
...just found out about these kids, I like their sound a lot...
7.06.2010
tear it down!
G20 Protests in Toronto from Big Picture at Boston.com
While I don't typically condone the use of violence unless all other modes for civil redress of grievances fail, I admit I'm a big fan of black-bloc protest tactics... Not only do they make for stunning photo ops, but it's just about the only way to instill in the administration the same fear of faceless/mindless brutality normal people feel on a day-to-day basis when confronted by the police.
We will realize only too late the terrible fate MNC's will bring down on us. These franchises and chains are like acne, the more you mess with it trying to get it to leave, the more show up. Just stop supporting stores like Home Depot and Wal-Mart... instead spend an extra $0.40 and buy that box of screws from a local mom-n-pop place.
But please, for the love of all that is good and right in the world, stop burning gasoline! seriously, I know the trite excuse is, "...but I don't have a choice, I live too far!" But the truth of the matter is you did have a choice, you know, like when you decided to move to the 'burbs instead of living in an apartment in the city like all non agrarian people honestly should.
I will never understand this paradox where the population generally agrees that some aspect of their society is really fucked up and needs to be righted - pronto - and yet everyone just keeps on doing the same shit, perpetuating a terrible problem. Is there a name for that? Someone help me out here.
STOP DRIVING YOUR FUCKING CAR
7.05.2010
7.02.2010
check out what you missed
Le Tour!
©A.S.O. from www.letour.fr
Don't miss it. Prologue is tomorrow in Rotterdam, an ITT... While I certainly hope Fab-man Cancellara does well, though it is a rare thing for the one wearing the maillot jaune on stage 1 to keep it until the Champs Elysees in three weeks.
So check it out, I'm a nice guy so I'll save you a "spot by the finish" so to speak, by directing you to places that show it for free or otherwise. While I'm usually chagrined to pay for anything, really, it's way more entertaining to watch the grand tours with Phil Liggett (2 ligget 2 quit) and Paul Sherwen commentating than watching it in silence, another wacky language, or, as I've become fond of doing, playing a smattering of Slayer, Anthrax, Metallica, Cannibal Corpse, and Megadeth really really loud. I reccommend the last approch the most.
Anywho, I can't find links to live sites yet because today is only the teams presentation and I think that's over with by now... Of course you can go check out Universal Sports (with "non-ligget" commentary) or Versus (with "ligget" commentary), though it's entirely possible that you'll have to fork over like $20, which considering the quality of coverage and the fact that you can log in on the site from anywhere, including your telephone is a negligible cost.
Oh, and have a yoke-casting-off-y independence day if I don't get back to y'all before then...
7.01.2010
6.30.2010
MIssed Connections: A Tale of Brooklyn...
Ecuador Earrings - w4w
Date: 2010-06-29, 10:02PMThis is going out into the netherworld so I can let go of it. I can't get the thought out of my head that I should have gotten a name, made more convo, not ran away with my water. But how do you talk to someone who is with someone without them feeling protective? Honestly, I just want to know more people like the both of you. It's like I felt this crazy energy from you, so much so that I went upstairs and had what felt like an anxiety attack! Then I attracted a person to me who told me to send my overwhelming vibes to the sun. I felt like a chain of events happened the minute you appeared at the bar next to me, like you were meant to be there, and even weirder that you used to live very close to where I live now in a different state. It would be one thing if it was in NY. Of all the people in that club...how did I run into you? Maybe we were fated to be friends and I totally bungled that by getting shy and running away. This is totally gay I know. Wish I hadn't acted so weird.- Location: City Saturday
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
(the underlining is my "poche" as they say in so called "intellectual circles"...as are parenthetical citations, apparently...)
sorry, that's a lame ass post... here, press command and click this...
and now look at this:
6.28.2010
hey hey hey!
So check it out,
I feel real bad about the tattered and decrepit state with which I leave this blog, but alas, the weather is nice (read: sweltering) and the riding has been good of late, so too fucking bad... I raced in that harlem race with the far-too-long-title eight days ago and then a local race at prospect park at the crack of dawn yesterday, after which I rode down to Red Hook with some peeps (no, not the mallow-y kind) on the new track bike, then ran errands until the night time.
I promise to post photos of the new bike just as soon as my photographer comrade gets around to letting me crash his place of work, though I won't let that stop me from enumerating several things I've noticed about riding a true track bike in the city:
And then there's this one which neatly explains why the Netherlands has such wonderful cycling infrastructure:
Well, enjoy, and try to make the most of the rest of this muggy monday...
I feel real bad about the tattered and decrepit state with which I leave this blog, but alas, the weather is nice (read: sweltering) and the riding has been good of late, so too fucking bad... I raced in that harlem race with the far-too-long-title eight days ago and then a local race at prospect park at the crack of dawn yesterday, after which I rode down to Red Hook with some peeps (no, not the mallow-y kind) on the new track bike, then ran errands until the night time.
I promise to post photos of the new bike just as soon as my photographer comrade gets around to letting me crash his place of work, though I won't let that stop me from enumerating several things I've noticed about riding a true track bike in the city:
- It's extremely dangerous not having brakes.
- It's extremely uncomfortable geometry for rides lasting longer than an hour or so, and considering there's really no way to attach or mount anything to the frame, vital accouterments must be carried on the back.
- Carrying shit on your back is annoying and hot.
- My being hot and annoyed is extremely dangerous to other users of the road.
Of course this is not to say I don't thoroughly enjoy my new ride, it just so happens to now occupy the coveted "most impractical" position in my "stable". Then again, if for you practicality is gleaning compliments from passers-by and attention from "fixie girls" (you're welcome), then that machine is a fucking swiss army knife.
Not to sound like a dick, but its aggravating to have random people stroll up to you and go, "hey man, nice bike" every thirty fucking seconds or have grungy hipsters fondle it while it's locked up somewhere. A buddy of mine rides a real beautiful black and red Bridgestone and has to deal with the same shit constantly.
So I was at this dance-party thingy down in Red Hook Saturday (yeah, it's been a real Red Hook weekend) and I brought the bike in and leaned it in a conspicuous spot so I could keep an eye on it. This guy walks over, grabs the bars and spins the bike up onto the rear wheel like he's about to roll it into an elevator so naturally I fly across the loft and demand he put it down at once.
I'll never understand the need people feel to touch shiny or smooth things... It reminds me of the inane behavior of those antsy people who have to look down the tunnel for the train every ten seconds; it'll come when it comes, just chill out...
Furthermore, aside from being motor-powered, I fail to see how my (expensive, sexy, shiny, babe-scooping, etc...) ride differs from, say, a custom Harley or sports car. Is it that they're afraid of getting the shit kicked out of them by this guy:
who is obviously in tip-top shape from all the ballantine-drinking and harley-riding he does; or getting publicly embarassed by this douche:
screen-capped from that Vin Diesel Movie
who masks his weak character in fineries...?
I don't get it. Especially when you consider people who ride bicycles are likely in far better cardiovascular and muscular shape that either of the above two stereotypes combined. If I had any sense, I would be far more hesitant to go fucking with shit belonging to these legs:
Am I right or am I right?
Anyways, since I rode around yesterday literally from sun-up to sun-down (and then some) I opted to take the 'ol iron horse in today.
I know I have to give myself days off the bike, but I rue my decision within fifteen minutes of being confined in a steel box with hundreds of sweaty and crabby new yorkers. It makes me daydream about peacefully lolling along in the park or the quaint residential streets of my beloved Brooklyn...
Last night I typed "cycling is fun" into the search bar of a popular video hosting website and found these rather interesting videos of what our cycling environment could be like! enjoy!
And then there's this one which neatly explains why the Netherlands has such wonderful cycling infrastructure:
Well, enjoy, and try to make the most of the rest of this muggy monday...
4.07.2010
Race Report: Central Park 4/4
After the mediocre race Saturday, I was amped when I woke up at 3:45am Sunday morning. In a previous race report, I mentioned a certain breakaway I barely hung onto, and the fellow who initiated it contacted me after finding this blog. So after a barrage of e-mails, we resolved to work together in breaking from the field Sunday, giving me lots to ponder and prepare for leading up to the race.
I made my way over the williamsburg bridge (which, incidentally they've just today begun to resurface and re-stripe in a hopefully safer manner) into the eerily desolate streets of Manhattan, and took 1st ave pretty much all the way to the park. Funny thing about 1st on a Sunday at that hour is most people you see on the sidewalk are wasted and most of the cars you see are cops keeping them in check.
Kind of odd to be the only leaving home instead of struggling toward it...
I got to the start a little too early, I guess, because the organizers were just starting to place the cones out on the course when I made it to the park... I sat around eating apples and bananas waiting for them to finish setting up the check-in table...
I putzed around for a while, did a real fast warm-up lap, took a whiz, and ate another banana before it was starting to get crowded with racers.
We all lined up for the start, same as at Prospect Park, though this time behind the masters (35+). I guess the commissaire thought our fields were too small so he announced that we (the 5's) would be "racing with" the masters though scored separately. This of course elicited groans of irritation from the masters and clacking of kneecaps from the 5's.
I guess it would've possibly been more accurate for the commissaire to say "a few of the 5's will be racing with the masters, the rest of you are fucked."
At the whistle, the pace was almost 30mph. I'm not certain, but I think a LOT of the 5 field got dropped right then and there. I settled in behind my new acquaintance as we were still planning on trying our attack sometime around the second lap. we sat in the peloton and I was surprised at how much effort was required to stay in contact with these old farts - they were truckin!
I definitely didn't completely cast off any intention of attacking but by the end of the first lap, I knew it wouldn't stick; I was already feeling a little tired from the maniacal pace being set and there was no way we'd stay away with the peloton moving so fast.
On the hill at the second lap I followed my wheel up through the field a bit and saw the orange jersey of the Champion System guy from the day before driving the pace on the front again. No wonder we were going so fast. His m.o. is to ride away solo, but the masters weren't having any of that nonsense, keeping him reeled in the whole time.
At this point I began to notice that I couldn't see that many category 5 numbers (they give each category a different color, the masters are all different colors); I knew of the Champ-Sys guy, my Kissena friend, myself and I kept seeing one other guy, but that was about it. I immediately recognized why it was I was feeling so good about this race: I was riding with sane, skilled racers who hold their lines and stay out of trouble.
By the time the third lap came around I was simultaneously deep in concentration trying to place myself well for the final lap (oh yeah, I forgot to mention, we never attacked; I knew it was a pipe-dream from the moment the pace settled in) and also having the time of my life zipping around, not worrying so much that some noob was going to slide out in front of me.
We crossed the line and the pace jumped again, as we passed the reservoir I looked down at the speedometer and I was registering at 33.5mph on a flat (whoa). I tried to follow my wheel up through the field but he passed someone right before a turn and another rider compressed in front of me so I lost contact with my only ally.
I did a mid-field attack of sorts to try and move up into the leadout, where I was supposed to be. This was a mistake because immediately following that we entered the snaking downhill which doesn't last long enough to recuperate before the Harlem Hill. The Kissena guy moved up at the bottom of the hill and I followed as long as I could.
I felt my thighs pumping acid again (is that what VO2 max feels like?) but gritted my teeth and powered on as far and as fast as I could. About twenty meters from the crest of the hill I completely blew up.
There was nothing I could do... I had to sit, drop into the small chainring, bigger cogs, and keep the pedals spinning to keep my previous position (I climb fast, so I usually gain 10-15 places on these small hills). I think one of the masters could tell I suddenly started pedaling squares because as he passed, he patted me on the back and offered a quick word of encouragement.
I managed to stay in contact with the middle of the peloton and was heartened that I felt almost immediately recuperated in less than a few minutes. I again made my way toward the front and the masters kindly let me through since they still had a lap to go and we were lining up for the sprint.
Actually, lining up is a bit of a misnomer, a few guys at the front were in contention for a sprint finish but I certainly wasn't. On the shallow climb to the finish line I was sitting in around 20th place and tried to make up a few places using my only real talent on the bike: climbing. About halfway up I realized I wasn't passing anyone in my own field so I stopped hurting myself and held my position for the last 20 meters or so.
We rolled over the line and judging by the number of 5's I saw who pulled off to let the masters continue, I think I got eighth place, or near thereto.
None of our planning was put to use and neither of us won (not even the Champ-Sys dude!) but all in all it was a spectacular race. I think that before I started racing, this is what I imagined all races to be like, not the lolling, 15mph starts of the usual cat 5 races. Considering I held onto the front of a field that was going MUCH faster than I was used to, and that was above my skill level, I felt pretty good about my effort.
-
I've often noted that racing a bicycle is a lot like playing a car-racing video game (sorry, I'm of the "Gran Turismo generation"). Since Gran Turismo was, when I was growing up, the A-1 racing game, I tend to draw a lot of parallels between racing my bike and my virtual sports cars. One thing in particular is how the first time you play the game, it seems easy, though you definitely won't come in first... After getting the hang of things, you become better and better at "driving" and even with an unmodified car, you can school noobs on almost any track.
So naturally I wonder if my experience racing with the masters this Sunday will affect my performance this coming weekend. If we're not grouped with a lower category again, I wonder if I'll feel more able to play with the field, make effective moves, and possibly ride away on an attack...
Saturday I'll be in Newark for the Cherry Blossom Challenge, and Sunday I'll be back at Central Park...
Until next time
I made my way over the williamsburg bridge (which, incidentally they've just today begun to resurface and re-stripe in a hopefully safer manner) into the eerily desolate streets of Manhattan, and took 1st ave pretty much all the way to the park. Funny thing about 1st on a Sunday at that hour is most people you see on the sidewalk are wasted and most of the cars you see are cops keeping them in check.
Kind of odd to be the only leaving home instead of struggling toward it...
I got to the start a little too early, I guess, because the organizers were just starting to place the cones out on the course when I made it to the park... I sat around eating apples and bananas waiting for them to finish setting up the check-in table...
I putzed around for a while, did a real fast warm-up lap, took a whiz, and ate another banana before it was starting to get crowded with racers.
We all lined up for the start, same as at Prospect Park, though this time behind the masters (35+). I guess the commissaire thought our fields were too small so he announced that we (the 5's) would be "racing with" the masters though scored separately. This of course elicited groans of irritation from the masters and clacking of kneecaps from the 5's.
I guess it would've possibly been more accurate for the commissaire to say "a few of the 5's will be racing with the masters, the rest of you are fucked."
At the whistle, the pace was almost 30mph. I'm not certain, but I think a LOT of the 5 field got dropped right then and there. I settled in behind my new acquaintance as we were still planning on trying our attack sometime around the second lap. we sat in the peloton and I was surprised at how much effort was required to stay in contact with these old farts - they were truckin!
I definitely didn't completely cast off any intention of attacking but by the end of the first lap, I knew it wouldn't stick; I was already feeling a little tired from the maniacal pace being set and there was no way we'd stay away with the peloton moving so fast.
On the hill at the second lap I followed my wheel up through the field a bit and saw the orange jersey of the Champion System guy from the day before driving the pace on the front again. No wonder we were going so fast. His m.o. is to ride away solo, but the masters weren't having any of that nonsense, keeping him reeled in the whole time.
At this point I began to notice that I couldn't see that many category 5 numbers (they give each category a different color, the masters are all different colors); I knew of the Champ-Sys guy, my Kissena friend, myself and I kept seeing one other guy, but that was about it. I immediately recognized why it was I was feeling so good about this race: I was riding with sane, skilled racers who hold their lines and stay out of trouble.
By the time the third lap came around I was simultaneously deep in concentration trying to place myself well for the final lap (oh yeah, I forgot to mention, we never attacked; I knew it was a pipe-dream from the moment the pace settled in) and also having the time of my life zipping around, not worrying so much that some noob was going to slide out in front of me.
We crossed the line and the pace jumped again, as we passed the reservoir I looked down at the speedometer and I was registering at 33.5mph on a flat (whoa). I tried to follow my wheel up through the field but he passed someone right before a turn and another rider compressed in front of me so I lost contact with my only ally.
I did a mid-field attack of sorts to try and move up into the leadout, where I was supposed to be. This was a mistake because immediately following that we entered the snaking downhill which doesn't last long enough to recuperate before the Harlem Hill. The Kissena guy moved up at the bottom of the hill and I followed as long as I could.
I felt my thighs pumping acid again (is that what VO2 max feels like?) but gritted my teeth and powered on as far and as fast as I could. About twenty meters from the crest of the hill I completely blew up.
There was nothing I could do... I had to sit, drop into the small chainring, bigger cogs, and keep the pedals spinning to keep my previous position (I climb fast, so I usually gain 10-15 places on these small hills). I think one of the masters could tell I suddenly started pedaling squares because as he passed, he patted me on the back and offered a quick word of encouragement.
I managed to stay in contact with the middle of the peloton and was heartened that I felt almost immediately recuperated in less than a few minutes. I again made my way toward the front and the masters kindly let me through since they still had a lap to go and we were lining up for the sprint.
Actually, lining up is a bit of a misnomer, a few guys at the front were in contention for a sprint finish but I certainly wasn't. On the shallow climb to the finish line I was sitting in around 20th place and tried to make up a few places using my only real talent on the bike: climbing. About halfway up I realized I wasn't passing anyone in my own field so I stopped hurting myself and held my position for the last 20 meters or so.
We rolled over the line and judging by the number of 5's I saw who pulled off to let the masters continue, I think I got eighth place, or near thereto.
None of our planning was put to use and neither of us won (not even the Champ-Sys dude!) but all in all it was a spectacular race. I think that before I started racing, this is what I imagined all races to be like, not the lolling, 15mph starts of the usual cat 5 races. Considering I held onto the front of a field that was going MUCH faster than I was used to, and that was above my skill level, I felt pretty good about my effort.
-
I've often noted that racing a bicycle is a lot like playing a car-racing video game (sorry, I'm of the "Gran Turismo generation"). Since Gran Turismo was, when I was growing up, the A-1 racing game, I tend to draw a lot of parallels between racing my bike and my virtual sports cars. One thing in particular is how the first time you play the game, it seems easy, though you definitely won't come in first... After getting the hang of things, you become better and better at "driving" and even with an unmodified car, you can school noobs on almost any track.
So naturally I wonder if my experience racing with the masters this Sunday will affect my performance this coming weekend. If we're not grouped with a lower category again, I wonder if I'll feel more able to play with the field, make effective moves, and possibly ride away on an attack...
Saturday I'll be in Newark for the Cherry Blossom Challenge, and Sunday I'll be back at Central Park...
Until next time
4.06.2010
...paparazzi
Real fast, I thought I'd share a couple images from the races with y'all.
All of these photosets were found via cyclingreporter.com, which I recently found to be an awesome repository of NYC's local races. let the narcissism commence:
All of these photosets were found via cyclingreporter.com, which I recently found to be an awesome repository of NYC's local races. let the narcissism commence:
FBF 3/27 via Eddie Mazaev's Flickr
FBF 3/27 via Eddie Mazaev's Flickr
FBF 3/20 via Eddie Mazaev's Flickr
FBF 3/27 via Gina Green @ Organic Athlete
...a quick lesson in race tactics/ettiquete
As a fast follow-up to saturday's race report, I wanted to explore an interesting phenomena that I believe only happens in the 5's.
When recreationally riding or competitively racing, one quickly realizes the benefits of drafting behind others, letting them do the work for you. In time, you get more comfortable riding extremely (onlookers might use the term suicidally) close to others at high rates of speed, building trust amongst the group. There are a multitude of ways to draft, but categorically, they can be divided into two distinct types:
cooperative pacelining and uncooperative drafting (aka wheelsucking)
Study for a moment, if you will, the above diagram showing four of the more common formations. Note that in each, the arrows imply group effort; when the lead rider is tired or has pulled his fair share, he slides to the back, while a fresh rider "pulls through", all the while maintaining the pace.
Obviously this is a grossly idealized representation of cycling in formation as any number issues can and will disrupt the smoothness of the group. Professional teams ride in this way while on training rides; and though things certainly appear more disorganized in a professional-level race, that is simply due to the simple fact that its a race and jockeying for position, blocking, etc.. are obvious tactics to be employed. Nonetheless, talented racers still concede that without the combined efforts of different riders from different teams, the race will suffer.
Now in category 5, my current hovel, racing tactics are either unknown or disregarded by nearly everyone. Even those who, like myself, have familiarized themselves with good racing skills, don't make use of these rudimentary maneuvers.
This is exemplified at pretty much every cat 5 race in the following way:
1. There is a peloton (if it could be called such) and at the front of that group there certainly is a leadout train comprised of 5-10 of the stronger riders in the field. They will do the majority of the work for the entire race.
2. Everyone is worried about getting dropped so nobody risks hard efforts on the front trying to do things like chase breakaways or drive the pace higher.
3. Nearly everyone is gunning for first (who doesn't want to win?), and coupled with the above point, riders huddle en masse, trying to conserve as much energy as possible for the sprint.
4. The pace fluctuates dramatically. Since most are concerned about their ability to just hang on, when one rider who's been pulling for far longer than he really should have tires, nobody pulls through. His pace drops significantly, which in turn slows the whole field.
To this last point, Every time I've pulled on the front to help out of just to try and blow the field apart, those that hang onto my wheel simply stay there. Swerve to the left and the leadout swerves left, swerve right, they go right... At Floyd Bennett Field on the previous weekend, I had to physically turn around, look the next rider in the eye and yell, "PULL! I'M OFF!" only then did someone share in the responsibility of keeping the pace up.
I think that if I can establish a breakaway with some other riders this weekend, we'll likely get an opportunity to make use of some serious progressive pacelining. Then again, when you try to break from the field in the 5's, everyone sees their chances at first disappearing and they all suddenly find their legs, making successful breaks rare.
As an aside, my favorite formation to see or be a part of is what I call progressive pacelining. It's the same as the single paceline illustrated above, but the direction of the arrows is reversed so the last rider rides up and takes the front position from the now-second-in-line rider. This very fast formation is used when you sense the peloton breathing down your neck but you think you've still got a chance to stay away. good stuff.
Hopefully once in the 4's or on a team, I'll have more support from other riders and we can make lemonade of lemons.
that is all.
When recreationally riding or competitively racing, one quickly realizes the benefits of drafting behind others, letting them do the work for you. In time, you get more comfortable riding extremely (onlookers might use the term suicidally) close to others at high rates of speed, building trust amongst the group. There are a multitude of ways to draft, but categorically, they can be divided into two distinct types:
cooperative pacelining and uncooperative drafting (aka wheelsucking)
Study for a moment, if you will, the above diagram showing four of the more common formations. Note that in each, the arrows imply group effort; when the lead rider is tired or has pulled his fair share, he slides to the back, while a fresh rider "pulls through", all the while maintaining the pace.
Obviously this is a grossly idealized representation of cycling in formation as any number issues can and will disrupt the smoothness of the group. Professional teams ride in this way while on training rides; and though things certainly appear more disorganized in a professional-level race, that is simply due to the simple fact that its a race and jockeying for position, blocking, etc.. are obvious tactics to be employed. Nonetheless, talented racers still concede that without the combined efforts of different riders from different teams, the race will suffer.
Now in category 5, my current hovel, racing tactics are either unknown or disregarded by nearly everyone. Even those who, like myself, have familiarized themselves with good racing skills, don't make use of these rudimentary maneuvers.
This is exemplified at pretty much every cat 5 race in the following way:
1. There is a peloton (if it could be called such) and at the front of that group there certainly is a leadout train comprised of 5-10 of the stronger riders in the field. They will do the majority of the work for the entire race.
2. Everyone is worried about getting dropped so nobody risks hard efforts on the front trying to do things like chase breakaways or drive the pace higher.
3. Nearly everyone is gunning for first (who doesn't want to win?), and coupled with the above point, riders huddle en masse, trying to conserve as much energy as possible for the sprint.
4. The pace fluctuates dramatically. Since most are concerned about their ability to just hang on, when one rider who's been pulling for far longer than he really should have tires, nobody pulls through. His pace drops significantly, which in turn slows the whole field.
To this last point, Every time I've pulled on the front to help out of just to try and blow the field apart, those that hang onto my wheel simply stay there. Swerve to the left and the leadout swerves left, swerve right, they go right... At Floyd Bennett Field on the previous weekend, I had to physically turn around, look the next rider in the eye and yell, "PULL! I'M OFF!" only then did someone share in the responsibility of keeping the pace up.
I think that if I can establish a breakaway with some other riders this weekend, we'll likely get an opportunity to make use of some serious progressive pacelining. Then again, when you try to break from the field in the 5's, everyone sees their chances at first disappearing and they all suddenly find their legs, making successful breaks rare.
As an aside, my favorite formation to see or be a part of is what I call progressive pacelining. It's the same as the single paceline illustrated above, but the direction of the arrows is reversed so the last rider rides up and takes the front position from the now-second-in-line rider. This very fast formation is used when you sense the peloton breathing down your neck but you think you've still got a chance to stay away. good stuff.
Hopefully once in the 4's or on a team, I'll have more support from other riders and we can make lemonade of lemons.
that is all.
...Race Report: Prospect Park 4/3
Last week I borrowed a friend's fixed gear bike to putz around on at my leisure... Thursday I met someone for a screening of some rare films set to jazz at the Anthology Film Archives and decided it would be a good opportunity to ride the fixie to work since there is far less to quickly and easily steal off a single gear bicycle than a road bike.
All went according to plan and I had an awesome time. Only after getting home that evening did I realize that April had started.
April fools, legs....
I woke Friday and had the worst ache in both legs; both right above my patella and just below my iliac crest, so I decided to ride the train to work in anticipation of the next day's race. Though I managed to get off a little early that day to go home and soak in the tub, I wasn't feeling 100% Saturday morning.
I arrived at the start line with too little time to do a warm-up lap and barely had my number pinned before they had everyone line up for the start. However, I did manage to wake up on time and eat a decent breakfast, digest it for the most part, and torque test the bike, so all was not lost...
On the first lap the field made it's way up the hill and as I got to about the halfway point where the road snakes a bit, my thighs were pumping not blood and lymph, but pure battery acid. I gritted my teeth and fought through it, staying in contact with the race.
While there weren't any crashes (update: come to think of it there was one crash, but it was some guy who made himself fall on the sprint... we all got a good chuckle out of that), there were a couple squirrely, ego-driven riders (namely a guy in a yellow kit with purple cotton[?] arm and leg warmers) who made the whole damn race a nerve fest once again. I've decided that the only place to be in a prospect race is on the front. Granted, it takes a lot more energy to be on the front for the whole race, but not having to worry about the crappy bike-handlers all around you, makes it that much more pleasant.
On the second lap a guy in an orange champion system kit, who happened to be pulling on the front the first lap, rode away. I saw him go and wanted to give chase but I was boxed in in the middle right of the field, so first chance I got I broke away and tried valiantly to bridge to the solo rider up the road. In retrospect, I launched at a pretty good spot, on the slightly uphill section about half a K from the finish line, just after the pace slowed for that one-lane business after the downhill.
Apparently I yanked the peloton behind me for a while before they let me go, though I realized on the hill that no matter how hard I tried, I wasn't going to catch the Champion System guy, I'd likely blow my cork trying, and would probably be better off settling back in with the pack to vie for second place, so that's what I did.
As I crested the hill, the peloton caught me. When I climb I sorta go at my own pace and get irritated when I have to ride uncomfortably slow to not be that dick weaving through everyone, so I rode next to two Hudson riders who had been pulling on the front most of the time.
The first one says to me with a Slavic accent, "let him go."
Not realizing he was advising me to do what I'd just decided to, I said, "huh?"
he says, "that guy has won every race he's been in.... He's a former pro or something."
This kinda threw me for a loop because my legs were finally waking up after that hard effort and I was chomping at the bit to reel him in somehow. I asked those two If they were interested in organizing a break to try and catch him and they both silently shook their heads no.
Oh well, I slid back to about tenth place and stayed there for most of the rest of the race.
Somehow I moved back about 5-10 places where the road narrows and wasn't in a very good spot for the sprint so I just sat up, let the crazies battle it out and rolled over the line toward the front-ish of the pack. 20th maybe?
After the race I was riding home, mulling over the mornings events and started to feel a little annoyed at myself. This was my fourth race ever, but I felt as though I wasn't putting down the power I should, and wasn't racing as intelligently as I normally do. My minorly bummed 'tude became morphed into majorly bummed/pissed after I got completely cut off by a cop making a right turn into me (against the light, of course).
I went to the diner and resolved to do better in the future (what else can you do aside from making shallow promises to yourself) over a big plate of complex carbohydrates.
All went according to plan and I had an awesome time. Only after getting home that evening did I realize that April had started.
April fools, legs....
I woke Friday and had the worst ache in both legs; both right above my patella and just below my iliac crest, so I decided to ride the train to work in anticipation of the next day's race. Though I managed to get off a little early that day to go home and soak in the tub, I wasn't feeling 100% Saturday morning.
I arrived at the start line with too little time to do a warm-up lap and barely had my number pinned before they had everyone line up for the start. However, I did manage to wake up on time and eat a decent breakfast, digest it for the most part, and torque test the bike, so all was not lost...
On the first lap the field made it's way up the hill and as I got to about the halfway point where the road snakes a bit, my thighs were pumping not blood and lymph, but pure battery acid. I gritted my teeth and fought through it, staying in contact with the race.
While there weren't any crashes (update: come to think of it there was one crash, but it was some guy who made himself fall on the sprint... we all got a good chuckle out of that), there were a couple squirrely, ego-driven riders (namely a guy in a yellow kit with purple cotton[?] arm and leg warmers) who made the whole damn race a nerve fest once again. I've decided that the only place to be in a prospect race is on the front. Granted, it takes a lot more energy to be on the front for the whole race, but not having to worry about the crappy bike-handlers all around you, makes it that much more pleasant.
On the second lap a guy in an orange champion system kit, who happened to be pulling on the front the first lap, rode away. I saw him go and wanted to give chase but I was boxed in in the middle right of the field, so first chance I got I broke away and tried valiantly to bridge to the solo rider up the road. In retrospect, I launched at a pretty good spot, on the slightly uphill section about half a K from the finish line, just after the pace slowed for that one-lane business after the downhill.
Apparently I yanked the peloton behind me for a while before they let me go, though I realized on the hill that no matter how hard I tried, I wasn't going to catch the Champion System guy, I'd likely blow my cork trying, and would probably be better off settling back in with the pack to vie for second place, so that's what I did.
As I crested the hill, the peloton caught me. When I climb I sorta go at my own pace and get irritated when I have to ride uncomfortably slow to not be that dick weaving through everyone, so I rode next to two Hudson riders who had been pulling on the front most of the time.
The first one says to me with a Slavic accent, "let him go."
Not realizing he was advising me to do what I'd just decided to, I said, "huh?"
he says, "that guy has won every race he's been in.... He's a former pro or something."
This kinda threw me for a loop because my legs were finally waking up after that hard effort and I was chomping at the bit to reel him in somehow. I asked those two If they were interested in organizing a break to try and catch him and they both silently shook their heads no.
Oh well, I slid back to about tenth place and stayed there for most of the rest of the race.
Somehow I moved back about 5-10 places where the road narrows and wasn't in a very good spot for the sprint so I just sat up, let the crazies battle it out and rolled over the line toward the front-ish of the pack. 20th maybe?
After the race I was riding home, mulling over the mornings events and started to feel a little annoyed at myself. This was my fourth race ever, but I felt as though I wasn't putting down the power I should, and wasn't racing as intelligently as I normally do. My minorly bummed 'tude became morphed into majorly bummed/pissed after I got completely cut off by a cop making a right turn into me (against the light, of course).
I went to the diner and resolved to do better in the future (what else can you do aside from making shallow promises to yourself) over a big plate of complex carbohydrates.
3.29.2010
...Race Report: Prospect Park 3/28
I just spent an hour scouring the web for photos of yesterday's race at Prospect Park but have come up empty-handed... I guess it takes the photographers a while to post. Considering there were at least a dozen scattered around the course, I have no doubt I'll soon come across stunning images of myself sitting, scared shitless, in the middle of the peloton.
I think that's the best summary of the race: scary as fuck. the field was limited to 50 and it was either totally full or exceeded by ten to twenty; save the 5boro bike tour, I've never ridden with so many people at once...
I awoke at 4:30am sharp and proceeded to do a very abbreviated version of what I guess is becoming my pre-race ritual: I showered, ran a razor over the knees (stubbly knees are terrible for riding), ate a couple bowls of cereal and some bananas while air-drying the "crotchal region", dressed, ran a baby-wipe or two over the bike, oiled the chain a little, and double checked that all my supplies were in order.
I got to the start about half an hour before we got under way and was stoked that being of the internet generation, I had the foresight to preregister. The line for registration was really, really long.
The start was fairly different from how it's done at FBF, instead of intermittent start times, all the racers were instructed to line up in packs according to field, with us lowly cat5's at the very back. We rolled up to the line and with a peep of the whistle, we were off.
I felt really pensive about this race for several reasons. First, to me this is home-court, I ride here damn near every day and know the route like the back of my hand, giving me somewhat of an edge over the bridge and tunnel racers. Secondly, and as I said before, there were a LOT of people... seeing the park literally packed from edge to edge with bicycles was beguiling to say the least.
We rolled around at a not-too-tiring pace for the entire "race".
On the back stretch, the course rapidly narrows to one lane from two and there's a line of fixed white plastic bollards that divide the road there. in front of those the organizers had placed a line of six miniature orange cones to compress the field for that turn.On the first lap I was following a wheel on the extreme right of the road when the field tightened up for that turn, he veered scarily to the left and I was presented with a line of cones to roll over and there was nothing I could do about it.
I totally expected to crash but didn't (whew!) but I sent all six cones bouncing around in the peloton.
On the very next lap, after passing the Grand Army Plaza entrance, a BSR rider crashed somehow. Fortunately I was all the way to the right of the field and it happened all the way to the left, so I don't know the exact circumstances of how it transpired. All I saw was a lone bicycle fly up over the peloton, followed by three riders and their bikes, and then a tangle of 5-8 laying on the ground.
The pace quickened after that as though everyone not involved saw an opportunity to make a move... you should never look behind you (unless you're definitely in the lead), so I'm not certain, but I think that crash cut the field in two; those who jumped after the crash (of which I was a part) and those caught in the fray who had to slow down and go around.
Nothing interesting happened in the next four laps, except that I made damn sure to stay in the middle on that dang turn where I nearly ate it.
In a slightly bullshitty turn of events, the Pro1/2/3 breakaway caught the 5's on the downhill right before our finish, so the commisare was forced to neutralize our field (meaning pace gets regulated by the commisare's car, not supported by it, and attacks are not allowed) until about 50-100m from the line. This, of course, meant the peloton expanded like a slinky going in for the finish and not wanting to muscle my way up through ten to twenty egomaniacal riders, I sat in for about 15th place.
In retrospect, this race suffered from a few things that it doesn't take a seasoned pro to notice.
First, the leadout was completely disorganized, resulting as I said, in a pretty slow race. we finished seven laps (25mi) in 1:04:36 (at least that was my time, and I finished with the front). When I train at Prospect Park, I do seven laps in exactly one hour. I don't know how to get people to share an effort on the front, especially when it could very well cost them valuable energy required for the sprint, but someone's gotta take charge. maybe next week that'll be me.
Secondly, the only attacks came on the downhill section. I'm not sure what advice they've been listening to but that's a seriously futile effort. the peloton rapidly gobbled them back up and they finished with nothing to show for it.
Lastly (though not least-ly), because of the general lack of skill in the 5's, tactics (aside from attacking and riding fast), are pretty much useless. This is kind of a bummer, but makes me want to get to the 4's that much quicker, since I'll be both more familiar with the other riders, and all the non-hackers will be in the 5's still.
Not to give away my master plan, but considering the lazy speed with which this race went off, I think this coming Saturday I'm going to do the following: start at the middle of the peloton and hold my position for two to three laps. on the fourth or fifth lap I'm going to make my way, slowly and quietly, into the leadout train. I'll take a pull or two, and then attack on the main hill at the bell lap. I think this'll work 'cause the peloton was only doing 17-19mph up that hill and if I'm feeling rested, I can shoot up that fucker at 25 easy. considering uphill sections negate the positive effects of drafting, I don't expect too many people to follow closely. I'll put my head down and hammer that shit to the finish. Unless the leadout train can pull it's head out of it's ass and get organized, I should have a pretty good chance of staying away and coming out with 1st. If I don't, at least it'll have been a good effort and I won't finish feeling just-warmed-up.
Criticism aside, bicycle racing is still probably the most fun I've had doing a "sport" ever, and you can rest assured that even the most negative experiences I (have had/will have) are at least educational and therefore positive to some degree.
Lookin' forward to this weekend... come out if you can pull yourself out of bed before 6:30am and watch me either win or hurt myself trying.
I think that's the best summary of the race: scary as fuck. the field was limited to 50 and it was either totally full or exceeded by ten to twenty; save the 5boro bike tour, I've never ridden with so many people at once...
I awoke at 4:30am sharp and proceeded to do a very abbreviated version of what I guess is becoming my pre-race ritual: I showered, ran a razor over the knees (stubbly knees are terrible for riding), ate a couple bowls of cereal and some bananas while air-drying the "crotchal region", dressed, ran a baby-wipe or two over the bike, oiled the chain a little, and double checked that all my supplies were in order.
I got to the start about half an hour before we got under way and was stoked that being of the internet generation, I had the foresight to preregister. The line for registration was really, really long.
The start was fairly different from how it's done at FBF, instead of intermittent start times, all the racers were instructed to line up in packs according to field, with us lowly cat5's at the very back. We rolled up to the line and with a peep of the whistle, we were off.
I felt really pensive about this race for several reasons. First, to me this is home-court, I ride here damn near every day and know the route like the back of my hand, giving me somewhat of an edge over the bridge and tunnel racers. Secondly, and as I said before, there were a LOT of people... seeing the park literally packed from edge to edge with bicycles was beguiling to say the least.
We rolled around at a not-too-tiring pace for the entire "race".
On the back stretch, the course rapidly narrows to one lane from two and there's a line of fixed white plastic bollards that divide the road there. in front of those the organizers had placed a line of six miniature orange cones to compress the field for that turn.On the first lap I was following a wheel on the extreme right of the road when the field tightened up for that turn, he veered scarily to the left and I was presented with a line of cones to roll over and there was nothing I could do about it.
I totally expected to crash but didn't (whew!) but I sent all six cones bouncing around in the peloton.
On the very next lap, after passing the Grand Army Plaza entrance, a BSR rider crashed somehow. Fortunately I was all the way to the right of the field and it happened all the way to the left, so I don't know the exact circumstances of how it transpired. All I saw was a lone bicycle fly up over the peloton, followed by three riders and their bikes, and then a tangle of 5-8 laying on the ground.
The pace quickened after that as though everyone not involved saw an opportunity to make a move... you should never look behind you (unless you're definitely in the lead), so I'm not certain, but I think that crash cut the field in two; those who jumped after the crash (of which I was a part) and those caught in the fray who had to slow down and go around.
Nothing interesting happened in the next four laps, except that I made damn sure to stay in the middle on that dang turn where I nearly ate it.
In a slightly bullshitty turn of events, the Pro1/2/3 breakaway caught the 5's on the downhill right before our finish, so the commisare was forced to neutralize our field (meaning pace gets regulated by the commisare's car, not supported by it, and attacks are not allowed) until about 50-100m from the line. This, of course, meant the peloton expanded like a slinky going in for the finish and not wanting to muscle my way up through ten to twenty egomaniacal riders, I sat in for about 15th place.
In retrospect, this race suffered from a few things that it doesn't take a seasoned pro to notice.
First, the leadout was completely disorganized, resulting as I said, in a pretty slow race. we finished seven laps (25mi) in 1:04:36 (at least that was my time, and I finished with the front). When I train at Prospect Park, I do seven laps in exactly one hour. I don't know how to get people to share an effort on the front, especially when it could very well cost them valuable energy required for the sprint, but someone's gotta take charge. maybe next week that'll be me.
Secondly, the only attacks came on the downhill section. I'm not sure what advice they've been listening to but that's a seriously futile effort. the peloton rapidly gobbled them back up and they finished with nothing to show for it.
Lastly (though not least-ly), because of the general lack of skill in the 5's, tactics (aside from attacking and riding fast), are pretty much useless. This is kind of a bummer, but makes me want to get to the 4's that much quicker, since I'll be both more familiar with the other riders, and all the non-hackers will be in the 5's still.
Not to give away my master plan, but considering the lazy speed with which this race went off, I think this coming Saturday I'm going to do the following: start at the middle of the peloton and hold my position for two to three laps. on the fourth or fifth lap I'm going to make my way, slowly and quietly, into the leadout train. I'll take a pull or two, and then attack on the main hill at the bell lap. I think this'll work 'cause the peloton was only doing 17-19mph up that hill and if I'm feeling rested, I can shoot up that fucker at 25 easy. considering uphill sections negate the positive effects of drafting, I don't expect too many people to follow closely. I'll put my head down and hammer that shit to the finish. Unless the leadout train can pull it's head out of it's ass and get organized, I should have a pretty good chance of staying away and coming out with 1st. If I don't, at least it'll have been a good effort and I won't finish feeling just-warmed-up.
Criticism aside, bicycle racing is still probably the most fun I've had doing a "sport" ever, and you can rest assured that even the most negative experiences I (have had/will have) are at least educational and therefore positive to some degree.
Lookin' forward to this weekend... come out if you can pull yourself out of bed before 6:30am and watch me either win or hurt myself trying.
...Race Report: FBF 3/27
Since I laid out the nature of the Floyd Bennett course last week, I'll spare you its description suffice to say it is very flat and very windy.
Last weekend Kissena included several women's fields in the lineup, though not this week, so when I arrived at the staging area it felt strangely empty. Considering it was a mere 40 degrees out despite being sunny, I think most people were content to hang out in their cars prior to the start so as to keep their toes warm. Basically I was one of only a handful of people hanging out by the start/finish.
A guy I raced with last week had a car and offered I sit with him for a while and let my toes thaw a bit right before the race, which I was most grateful for since we all know, cold feet are slow feet.
Charlie (Kissena's magnanimous race director), called the Pro1/2/3 field to the line and had us 5's line up behind them as usual, and after a brief lecture about racing smart, we were off.
Not to spoil the story, but luckily there were no crashes or major mechanicals that morning. The field started off at a moderate pace of around 22mph and stayed there for pretty much the rest of the race.
Using what I learned from last week, I hung out a lot more in with the peloton trying to conserve energy for a hard effort on the last few laps. While sitting back there I was joking around with a few other racers that this seemed more like a tepid Sunday ride than a race-with-a-capital-r.
To be honest I got a little fed up just sitting in the pack so I moved up and started driving at the front with another guy I met last week (in yellow, above, I'm the one in black and white on his wheel). Apparently (and according to these photos I found), after the third lap or so we managed to drop over half the field... I only realized this when I floated toward what I thought was the middle of the peloton for some r&r before the final laps only to find that I was at the very back of the group!
We again joked around about the pace and that pretty much everyone left was going to get a top-ten spot.
I drove hard again on the front, hoping to either establish a break or obliterate the field some more (that's me above, punishing my competitors), which seemed to work at least a bit.
I was leading by a bike length or two on the bell lap which would've been fine had I really worn out everyone else. However, with about half a mile to go, a young polish guy launched an attack that I and only six others managed to hang onto.
Now we're racing! I dropped two or three cogs and stood, made it to about 35mph at the line but only managed to snag fifth or so (I've found that unless you're first or second with a big gap, it's pretty difficult to gauge where you finished). Considering I was last to grab onto the attack, and passed two or three people before the line, it wasn't a total loss.
I guess could look at it as though I was the fourth-best loser (how's that for optimism?), but I want better. I want to win.
Last weekend Kissena included several women's fields in the lineup, though not this week, so when I arrived at the staging area it felt strangely empty. Considering it was a mere 40 degrees out despite being sunny, I think most people were content to hang out in their cars prior to the start so as to keep their toes warm. Basically I was one of only a handful of people hanging out by the start/finish.
A guy I raced with last week had a car and offered I sit with him for a while and let my toes thaw a bit right before the race, which I was most grateful for since we all know, cold feet are slow feet.
Charlie (Kissena's magnanimous race director), called the Pro1/2/3 field to the line and had us 5's line up behind them as usual, and after a brief lecture about racing smart, we were off.
Not to spoil the story, but luckily there were no crashes or major mechanicals that morning. The field started off at a moderate pace of around 22mph and stayed there for pretty much the rest of the race.
Using what I learned from last week, I hung out a lot more in with the peloton trying to conserve energy for a hard effort on the last few laps. While sitting back there I was joking around with a few other racers that this seemed more like a tepid Sunday ride than a race-with-a-capital-r.
To be honest I got a little fed up just sitting in the pack so I moved up and started driving at the front with another guy I met last week (in yellow, above, I'm the one in black and white on his wheel). Apparently (and according to these photos I found), after the third lap or so we managed to drop over half the field... I only realized this when I floated toward what I thought was the middle of the peloton for some r&r before the final laps only to find that I was at the very back of the group!
We again joked around about the pace and that pretty much everyone left was going to get a top-ten spot.
I drove hard again on the front, hoping to either establish a break or obliterate the field some more (that's me above, punishing my competitors), which seemed to work at least a bit.
I was leading by a bike length or two on the bell lap which would've been fine had I really worn out everyone else. However, with about half a mile to go, a young polish guy launched an attack that I and only six others managed to hang onto.
Now we're racing! I dropped two or three cogs and stood, made it to about 35mph at the line but only managed to snag fifth or so (I've found that unless you're first or second with a big gap, it's pretty difficult to gauge where you finished). Considering I was last to grab onto the attack, and passed two or three people before the line, it wasn't a total loss.
I guess could look at it as though I was the fourth-best loser (how's that for optimism?), but I want better. I want to win.
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