Monsters of the Midway

On Saturday, May 16, I raced in the Monsters of the Midway criterium hosted by the University of Chicago Velo Club. I met Wild Card Cycling teammate Tom at his house in Champaign just after 8 am and we headed north. We picked up our race packets on arrival and headed several blocks east to warm-up on the Lakefront Trail. The weather was near perfect, with sunshine and temps in the low 60s.

The course was a long, flat 1.1 mile rectangle on the Midway Plaisance

Tom and another teammate, Nick, joined me in the category 4 race. I race the beginners' category 5 in USA Cycling races, but this race was sanctioned by American Bicycle Racing (ABR), which seems to have a regional presence mostly in parts of the upper Midwest and California. Nick recently joined ABR as a cat 4 and I preferred to enter this race with teammates, so I did the same.

Not that I really benefited from having teammates in the race, nor that I was able to lend any assistance to them. I had trouble from the very start. I finished my final warm-up lap a couple minutes after Nick and Tom lined up at the start. I tried to line up behind them, but a rider from Turin Bicycle Society slipped in front of me. He had trouble clipping in after we rolled out. My concentration lapsed and I fumbled my own clip-in. Our race was shortened to 30 minutes plus 1 lap due to delays from rain and crashes earlier in the day, so the pace was high from the start. By the time we entered the second turn, I was at the back of the race. The slowing and subsequent accelerations in the corners were terrible on the back. I moved up a few positions in each straight, but then dropped back at each corner.

I stayed connected to the back for about 1.5 laps, but then a guy in the row ahead of me let a gap open and I wasn't strong enough to jump around him quickly enough. I soon found myself in a group of about 10 or so, as the cord snapped. I made a last-ditch attempt to bridge back when it seemed the pack slowed in the headwind, but no one grabbed my wheel. If I could have worked with at least two or three riders, it may have turned out better. I wasn't strong enough to bridge alone. My small group off the back grew and shrunk throughout the race as we picked up remnants from the two crashes and as others dropped off. It seemed like I was one of only about three or four guys that were willing and able to work. Every time I tried to lift the pace from the front, no one followed, so I sat up and rejoined.

Scott on the front of Groupe Lanterne Rouge. "Work with me people!"
(Most photos by Anona, with Tom's camera)

During the last couple laps, I tried to encourage the other riders to pick it up. I told them we did not want to be lapped. I'm not sure if I'll get an official place, since technically I was lapped just as the main field sprinted through the final meters. I was surprised that the guy who allowed the critical gap to open on the second lap stayed with my group until the end. I didn't want him to beat me to the finish, so I sat on his wheel through the final corner and sprinted around him at about 100m. He did very little work through most of the race. Plenty of blame for the outcome lies with me, of course. I have a pretty short, lousy record with crits, and not all misfortune is due to factors beyond my control. At least I seem to be improving with each race. (I didn't finish the first two.) I'll figure it out before too long.

Scott, Nick, and Tom after the race

It wasn't all about me, of course. There was some good news on the day. Tom was about 9th in our race and Nick also finished with the bunch sprint. A few riders went off the front early in the race, but were caught on the last lap. Wild Card Fast Grrrl Anona cleaned up and put the team on the podium, taking second place in the women's category 3/4 race. Sorry we missed your race, Anona! It started too darn early.

Peace out, Anona!
(Photo by Tom, with Tom's camera)

Tri the Illini

On May 2, I competed in the first running of the Tri the Illini sprint triathlon, organized by the Fighting Illini Triathlon club at the University of Illinois. The event took place on the University campus, with the swim and transition area at the Activities and Recreation Center (ARC). The ARC is the main intramural gym facility.

Since this was an inaugural event, I was a bit anxious about its level of organization and support from the community. The bike course crossed a few major intersections on the way in and out of campus, and support from Champaign and Urbana governments and police would be essential. The cities had recently hosted the much larger inaugural Illinois Marathon, which was a very well-executed event, but road closures stirred the ire of many local residents and motorists. My concerns proved unwarranted, as the event was well-executed by the student organizers and the course was well staffed with volunteers and law enforcement. That this was a relatively small event with a short duration early on a Saturday morning meant that traffic control issues were minimal.

The weather was also nearly perfect for the race, despite the fact that heavy rains fell for much of the weeks preceding and following the race. It was sunny, with light winds (for spring) from the west and about 60 degrees.

Also joining the race were two of my Wild Card Cycling teammates, Rob and Martin. All of us ride the bike pretty well, though Martin is usually a bit faster, especially in time trial and triathlon events. He also has a new full carbon time trial machine that he had built in China for $400. Rob is a pretty strong swimmer and runner, and Martin runs respectably as well, so keeping up with them is usually pretty challenging.

The Swim

The swim took place indoors on 6 lengths of the 50-meter pool. Racers started on 10 second intervals in the order of their estimated swim time. I started 86th in the field of approximately 300. In theory, if everyone swam his estimated time (with even splits), there would be no passing and congestion in the pool. In practice, there was some passing and congestion. Rob performed a pretty rigorous breakdown of the outcome. I passed two or three people and was passed by two or three people. One guy I passed was walking through the shallow sections at either end of the pool. He obviously had no business starting in the first half of the field, but this incident notwithstanding, the swim seemed to run fairly smoothly for most of the 20 or so swimmers that started on either side of me.

I executed a flip turn after the first length, but the remaining four turns were congested enough that I though I risked colliding with someone if I didn't perform an open turn after crossing under the lane divider.

The exit from the swim into the cool morning air injected a bit of discomfort, but race day adrenaline masked it fairly well.

The Bike

Next up was my strongest event, the part which I dub, "out of my way, all ye swimmers on mountain bikes." Pushing my bike out of transition barefoot, with shoes clipped into the pedals, I had a little trouble getting settled into my shoes after the first couple turns on the bike course. This being the first triathlon of the season, I should have rehearsed the maneuver at home a little more. About half of the opening 4.5 miles of the 11 mile bike course headed east into the tailwind. It was fairly easy to hold about 25-27 miles per hour, but I knew that the westward stretch along Curtis Road would be tough, with no trees to break the headwind. I had pre-ridden part of the course that passes near my office at PowerWorld, and I knew that the sections on St. Marys and Wright Streets would be tough. The roads are in pretty rough condition, with potholes, gravel, and a few tight turns. Fortunately, the organizers covered a nasty patch of gravel at the last turn in this section, but it was still very tight, as riders had to turn left onto the bike lane of Windsor Road. The car traffic on Windsor was oncoming to the riders, so it wasn't possible to swing wide through the turn. It was the slowest part of the course, but I survived. At least I could come back up to speed in a tailwind.

The turn into the headwind came just before the half way point. It was not as bad as I had feared, as the winds were not terribly strong, but it required concentration and a steady dose of effort. It helped that there were lots of slow riders on this stretch to pass. That kept my motivation high when it was vulnerable to being dampened by the wind. I even overtook a guy on a tiny BMX bike.

The last major change of direction on the bike took us north for most of the last two miles. The stretch included some gentle uphill grades and the first mile was unprotected from the crosswind. This was the hardest part of the ride for me, and my speed slowed to about 19 mph as I ascended the gentle slope past my office on First Street.

The Run

The run is typically my greatest liability in triathlon. I am not a particularly strong swimmer either, but the swim is usually only about 8-20% of the total race. As the first leg, a key to the swim is usually to conserve energy without losing too much time to the fastest swimmers. The run is usually the part where I give up huge chunks of time to the people who beat me in the overall race.

I felt pretty good at the start of the run and though I did not take splits, it felt like I kept an even pace throughout. Still, it felt pretty slow as quite a few people passed me. A loop around the University quad came at roughly the halfway point of the run. The quad was crowded with pedestrians and high school students attending a math contest. Fortunately I didn't run into anyone.

The guy with bib number 83 came around me shortly after the entrance to the quad. I tried to keep pace with him, knowing that at the point he passed me, I was still 30 seconds ahead of him. As he pulled away, I started picking out landmarks and counting the time between his passing and my passing. The first check was about 10 seconds. Good, still ahead. But before we reached the far end of the quad and turned back home, it had grown to 32 seconds. I had dropped another spot, but tried to focus on running my own race.

I spotted Rob about 100 meters from the finishing line. He had already finished his race and encouraged me to finish strong. I stepped up the kick a bit, but there wasn't a lot left. It wasn't a bad finish, as I'm usually more disappointed if there is too much in the tank. It wasn't a bad run altogether and the pace was actually 17 seconds per mile faster than my first multisport race last year.

Results

I finished in 22nd place, in the field of about 300.

Swim- 5:55 (106th place, included some running to transition)
T1- 1:10 (38th place)
Bike- 29:24 (22.5 mph, 10th place)
T2- 1:40 (215th place - I put socks on, apparently rather slowly)
Run- 21:14 (7:04/mile, 59th place)
Overall- 59:22 (22nd place)

There were many racers from Big 10 triathlon clubs, and I was surprised that more of them did not beat me. For one, I am about twice the age of the average freshmen student. As collegiate athletes, one would expect that they would also train pretty regularly as well. My theory is that college triathlon, as a non-varsity sport, probably draws a lot of athletes that are pretty good swimmers or runners, but not good enough to make the varsity swim or track teams. An athlete with exceptional self-discipline can really excel in collegiate club sports, but most never experience the level of motivation (and constructive pressure) from coaches, teammates, and fans as their counterparts in varsity sports. I competed in crew (rowing) at Washington University, but quit after one year as it became too easy to miss practices due to other commitments or just being tired.

In addition to Rob (10th place overall) and Martin (15th), I recognized several of the 21 racers who beat me as strong runners. Bib 83 is a respectable local runner from the Second Wind Running Club. Most of the racers that beat me in the other Champaign-Urbana triathlon are also strong runners. In fact, all but one athlete that finished ahead of me overall had a faster run split.

Here are the complete results overall and by age-group.

What Next?

I have since tried to increase my run training to compensate for my weakness, but unfortunately, a pain in my right knee pain that dogged me several years ago has reignited. Last time I experienced this problem, I visited an orthopedic surgeon, had an MRI, and visited a physical therapist. I never received a confident diagnosis. The MRI revealed no trauma or injury and the surgeon hypothesized that my knee has some faulty alignment and does not track on an ideal path through the running stride. Most of my pain seems to center around the point of connection between the quadricep and patellar tendon, with some tightness in the tendons connected to the hamstring. The physical therapist prescribed stretching hip flexors, hamstrings, and calves during my prior treatment. Fortunately, I can still swim and ride with minimal discomfort. I am going to take a break from running, at least until our family's final ski vacation of the season, and focus on stretching and strengthening my right leg.

My goal for the season is to improve on last year's performance in the Olympic-distance Evergreen Lake Triathlon by at least 13 minutes. A stronger run than last year will be essential. Hopefully this setback does not derail the goal.

This event was a great experience and I hope next year's leadership of the Fighting Illini Triathlon club elects to host the race again.

North of the Border Skiing

Immediately after Jennifer, the kids, and I spent the final weekend of the midwestern skiing season at Ski Brule, I had to travel to the Seattle area to provide software training to one of our customers, Puget Sound Energy (PSE). I booked an extra day onto my trip and optimistically packed my powder skis, hoping to visit one of the nearby ski resorts on Wednesday, April 22, after my work was complete. I needed to be at PSE on Monday morning, and thus had to travel on Sunday evening. My trip began in Madison, Wisconsin, which offered the most convenient flights I could access on our way home from the weekend trip to Ski Brule.

Unfortunately, the few nearby ski areas still open for the season had shifted to weekend-only operation. My best choices would be Whistler-Blackcomb in British Columbia, Canada or Mount Hood, east of Portland, Oregon. Each area was about 4 hours by car from Bellevue, assuming light traffic. Each area operates deep into the spring, with Timberline at Mount Hood offering nearly year-round skiing on their snowfield. I took a shared limo to my hotel in suburban Bellevue, sharing the ride with a local and a couple other visitors. My skis stretched across the center of the passenger area of the limo and the local guy asked where I was headed. I described my limited choices and he suggested Whistler, since the traffic through Portland can become quite congested. Armed with that knowledge, my decision was made.

As it turned out, the traffic to Whistler was rather heavy in both directions - especially rush hour around Vancouver, BC and to a lesser extent on the Sea to Sky Highway, which is getting upgrades for the 2010 Olympics. After spending most of fall and winter on my rock skis or race skis, I was excited about the chance to pull the fat skis out of storage. However, the top 2/3 of both mountains was total ice, which would have been OK on giant slalom racing skis, but it was not so pleasant standing over a 95 mm waist. The area experienced low temps and very high winds the night before, so anything that wasn't groomed was jagged and chunky where old tracks had frozen solid. I went to the top of Blackcomb in the morning and was pretty much the only moron that tried the bumps. It was a waste of time and energy. The conditions were more Loveland in January than West Coast in April. I never thought I'd be seeking out the groomed on my powder skis. The lower mountain had good spring conditions, but there just isn't much terrain down there. The runs on both mountains funnel tightly to a common base area at Whistler Village.

I skied a few cruisers on the middle of the mountain until midday, then headed up Whistler Mountain to check out the 2010 Olympic Super G and Downhill course. I was surprised by how easy it seemed, but I'm sure it will be a different animal injected and at 70 mph. Still, it ain't no Birds of Prey. The bottom half of the course was roped off as the smaller Creekside base area had closed for the season. The sun was hitting that side of the mountain and it seemed like there was nothing better to ski, so I ducked under, hit the nicest spring bumps on both mountains, and caught a bus back to the main village. It was too bad Creekside was closed, because it looked like it had nice intermediate and advanced terrain all the way to the bottom.

With the sun still out, I figured I'd try the top again and hit Whistler Bowl - a big mistake and another big waste of time. It was still jagged ice and the clouds rolled back in. One guy passed me on the way down, but I was really fighting it. I was parked on the Blackcomb side and slightly above the base area, so I needed to get back before the lifts closed. It was a perfect opportunity to ride the brand new Peak 2 Peak Gondola which crosses 1427' over the valley floor - pretty neat - a lot better than the skiing on that day anyway. By this time it was even snowing at the base, which is only about 2200' above sea level. In late April!

It was A LOT of driving for some very marginal skiing, but it still beat a good day at work! The drive was gorgeous as well, especially along the coast just north of Vancouver. The mountains rise straight up out of the ocean, with the road cut right into the edge.

"The Chief" as seen from the bay at Squamish, BC (from a user of Panoramio.com)
Other neat pictures from the area

Spring Weekend at Ski Brule

We traveled to Ski Brule near Iron River, Michigan the weekend of April 17-19 to close out the Midwestern ski season. I have taken Faith for a weekend in April four of the last five years. We only missed 2007 when she was recovering from a successful heart cathederization. Our first trip was in 2005 (article on page 14). This year, Jennifer and Zach joined us for the first time.

We picked Faith up from school around noon on Friday and headed north, stopping in Madison for dinner. We arrived after the lodging office had closed and retrieved our condo keys in an envelop they left for us. I was disappointed to find that they had given us a unit on the 3rd floor of the Pioneer Lodge, instead of the one I had reserved on the 2nd floor (which is on the same level as the two outdoor hot tubs). However, we were pleased to find they had upgraded us to a larger unit, so all was forgiven.

Saturday morning brought sunny skies and warm weather. The whole family skied in the morning. Zach was able to ski on his own across some of the flatter terrain on the top of the hill, but needed support from the leash on the pitch. His favorite run was Sunrise, which passed the horse pen and included only a short section that was too steep for him. We tried taking him "off lead" once on the steeper Log Jam, but after a fall-away turn sucked him into the exposed dirt on the left side of the slope, he insisted on the leash thereafter. Ideally we would have made the trip a week earlier when snow cover was more substantial and the easier Homestead side of the hill was still open, but Easter fell on that weekend this year, so we made the best of the 5 open runs and 1 chairlift and 1 rope tow that were still turning.

Faith takes a break with the horses

Zach makes a turn without help from the leash

Jennifer and Zach enjoy the sunshine

Zach took a one-hour lesson with Arlen after lunch, while Faith and I skied on our own. Arlen didn't really provide much instruction to Zach, opting mostly to walk alongside him and hold his hand on the bunny slope. However, Zach was starting to get a little crabby with us towards the end of the morning and the presence of the unfamiliar authority figure at least forced him to pay attention and try. At least that's what I tell myself as reassurance that $45 plus tip wasn't just as well flushed down the commode. In fairness, Arlen was a gentle teacher who quickly established a good raport with Zach.

Zach with Arlen

Nap time was soon calling, so Jennifer and the kids called it a day after Zach's lesson concluded while I ripped several runs at full speed in the afternoon sun. It was the best skiing of the weekend. I found that it is much easier to stay dry when crossing the small ponds at the bottom of the hill at high speed, as you can get out of the way by the time the water sprays up behind you. One of these days, I will have to try a pond skimming exhibition. I have been saving an old, beat-up pair of boots in my office closet for just that purpose.

Faith and Zach in the bear chair inside the Brule Saloon

We hit the base of Whitewater for snow tubing after the lifts had closed. We walked up the slope for our first of 5 runs, but the guys came to our rescue with the snowmobile shortly thereafter. The kids thought that was really cool. Then we went into town for Italian at Alice's. It may not sound Italian, but it's pretty darn good.

Zach hangs on as Jennifer screams down the tubing run

Faith shows her approval of snow tubing

The clouds rolled in on Sunday, bringing rain and colder temperatures. We had come a long way and still had the morning, so we made the most of it. I took the kids, one at a time, for about an hour each on what would be Ski Brule's last day of operation for the 2008-09 season. As Zach and I walked over, we met another father and son from Lake Geneva, Wisconsin in the same boat. It was about 9:15 and the lifts were still not turning. The lift employees were biding their time in one of the buildings at the base. When they saw us walk over, they came out and started the Big Bear lift. The rope tow had already been dismantled for the season. Zach and I made about 4 runs and then I took him back to Jennifer at the condo and headed out with Faith. We did about 7 runs before the rain penetrated our gloves, at which point it was about time to start packing for home.

As soon as we started taking off our skis, the lifts stopped and the crew started cleaning up. I think Faith and I officially made the last chair of the season! One other snowboarder joined us briefly during the morning, making 6 patrons in total for the day. My kids and I made up exactly half. It was a great time nonetheless.

I drove the crew back to Madison, where I caught a plane for Seattle for a couple days of work and another day of skiing. Jennifer was a good sport to bring the kids back the rest of the way home to St. Joseph. Though our Midwestern season is done, we will head to Colorado for Memorial Day weekend and Arapahoe Basin's Festival of the Brewpubs as we did last year. This time, Zach will join us and we will also make some time for horseback riding. It should be another great adventure.

More photos from the day

The Commuter

Today I joined the diverse fellowship of those who commute by bicycle to work. I plan to do it at least once or twice a week when the days are long enough to do so safely. I had a couple of pretty good rides today in winds pushing up to 20 miles per hour from the east northeast. The morning commute was mostly tailwind and cross tailwind. I mostly held 22-24 mph while barely breaking a sweat. The evening commute was another story, but it provided a solid workout.

Morning commute profile
Evening commute profile

Triathlon and time trial training are the primary motivation. Before I joined Wild Card Cycling and started training and racing with the team toward the end of last summer, almost all of my training miles consisted of solo rides. Since then, I've logged most of my miles with the team. We usually do a long Saturday ride (60-100 miles) and, during daylight savings time, a high-tempo Wednesday evening ride (30-50 miles). I normally do a solo recovery ride and run on Sunday mornings before church, and sometimes several shorter morning low to middle intensity solo rides during the week, but my solo miles have really dropped. High-intensity solo riding is important for building the powerful muscles used in triathlon and time trialing, where there is nowhere to hide from that persistent antagonist, the wind.

So I'm filling the void by commuting on my bike. I can't realistically ride every day, since some days find me shopping, swimming, or tending to kids' activities and other errands after work. My home and office are separated by just over 14 miles, with slightly more than half on quiet, dark, oil-and-chip county roads. I use a rear flasher in twilight and low light conditions, but it doesn't seem very safe after sundown, even with a headlight or helmet light.

It takes about 45 minutes to ride each way, give or take depending on the wind, versus 25 minutes to drive. So I can get 90 minutes of training at a cost of about 40 minutes from my day. As a multisport athlete with work, family, and other obligations, the bicycle commuting math is definitely favorable - not a bad way to squeeze in a few solid 20 km plus time trials every week.

The Research Park where my office is located has an incubator building for start-ups. Tucked away in a corner of the second floor is a shower room. It was built ostensibly to serve workaholic entrepreneurs who don't get out of the office much, but it also suits my needs quite well.

So the big question is "what type of commuter am I?" The Aussie cycling blog Cycling Tips profiled the universe of commuters quite cleverly. I probably fit somewhere on the spectrum between the "Weekday World Champ" and the "PRO".

The Weekday World Champ (quoted from the Cycling Tips Blog):

"Every roadie loves the Weekday World Champ. This keenly competitive species of commuter is doing his own race for the rainbow jersey every morning. Usually wearing a free jersey from last years charity ride, solid black shorts, $6 sunglasses, fenders, rear mirror, and any other optional safety features. He will follow your wheel while you’re slowly rolling along the road or bike path and then attack you at the opportune time of his liking. Then his head will blow off and soon after you’ll come rolling past at the same speed you were doing for the past 20 mins. The World Champ botches a trackstand at red lights then punches it off the gun when it turns green. Again, you’ll catch up to him shortly and pass him once again."

This describes perhaps 25% of my commuting persona. When not wearing my own racing kit, I can usually be spotted in solid black shorts (some fairly plush Nike threads, mind you) and either the Tour of Missouri GC leader's jersey, or a splashy but unadorned Giordana jersey from the late 80s. Though I lack a free jersey from a charity ride, I will never ride in the Tour of Missouri and I won't likely ever lead the GC standings in a cat 4/5 stage race. I can't yet trackstand, but I know better than to attempt it in public, thus avoiding the botch. I don't sport $400 Oakleys, but my $40 sunglasses were purchased from a hardcore running and swimming boutique and my only optional safety feature is the aforementioned flasher. I also know how to ride a time trial (even if I'm not especially fast), and though I may get passed, my head will not blow off until the very end of a truly violent racing effort (or at least not until after T2). Which brings me to the other 75% of my commuting persona...

The PRO:

"That’s right - YOU. You didn’t think you were gonna get out of it so easily, did you? You’re the only one who thinks you’re the coolest kat in town. You’re the guy who gets all kitted up, pins a number on, rides the Zipps, and has an espresso flavored powergel on your way to work. But I’m sure you have good reason to ride in like this... It could be because you have a race after work, you need to take your bike to the shop at lunch, or it could be because you like to show to all your coworkers how PRO you are. Sorry, but we’re the only people on the planet that think spandex, shaved legs, and tiny arms look cool."

As stated above, I actually do race and do wear a full kit (when not sporting all black shorts) - my own kit, thank you. And I do think spandex, shaved legs, and tiny arms look cool - probably because I have no hope of having arms that are anything but tiny. I don't have $2000 Zipps and my bike lacks the full complement of PRO grade components, but it's still way too cool for 95% of the commuting public.

My teammate Rob places himself between the Hardman and the PRO. Like me, he is definitely all PRO on the Wednesday and Saturday team rides, but his usual commuter bike and threads are 100% Hardman. I ride and train in all kinds of temperatures and rain, but I usually avoid icy or slushy roads. I will probably never commute in snow, mostly because of the shortened daylight that usually accompanies it. I will never be worthy of the Hardman.

The First Road Race of the Season

On April 4, I competed in the Hillsboro-Roubaix road cycling race, organized by the International Christan Cycling Club. The "Hillsboro" refers to the location of the race in Hillsboro, Illinois. Despite being surrounded by flat plains characteristic of central Illinois, Hillsboro is aptly named, with several small hills and valleys.

Course Elevation Profile (click image for larger picture)
The hills near the end of the course at mile 20 would prove to be the hardest.

The "Roubaix" is a reference to the famous spring classic pro cycling race, Paris-Roubaix, also known as the "hell of the north" for its typically brutal, windy weather and miles upon miles of rough cobblestone roads. Hillsboro-Roubaix also includes a section of cobblestones in the finishing circuit around the town, but they are not nearly as rough as those of its namesake. Also, we were blessed with a window of beautiful weather for the 2009 Hillsboro-Roubaix, sandwiched between two days of typically seasonal wind and rain.

My team, Wild Card Cycling, brought 15 riders to this race, though we were spread across several categories defined by experience, age, ability, and gender. Last year, in the team's inaugural season, the men's category 5 riders were tremendously successful, capturing first and second place and four of the top 10 spots. We also won the women's category 4 race. I joined the team later in the 2008 season and hoped to do my part to continue the team's success. I had started criterium races in St. Louis and Jefferson City last September, but failed to finish each. This was my first ever road race.

Wild Card Command Central
Photos by teammate Rob and his wicked Canon EOS 50D

We originally registered six riders in the cat 5 field of 50. Only one team, the gi-normous Chicago-based XXX Racing-AthletiCo, registered more. This is a very popular race that filled up the same morning that registration opened. Karl, our team leader, manager, directeur sportif, and beer taster did a fantastic job at the computer to get us all in. With more than 10% of the field, we figured we could do some damage and dictate the outcome of the race. We talked about race tactics a lot in our team meetings and on our team message board.

One of our team's youngest riders, Alexei, was showing a lot of strength in the early season and seemed to have the best shot of winning the race. Nick was also riding well and we thought he should try to get to the finish with Alexei and lead him out, if the race were to end in a sprint. Art and I, as support riders, would lift the pace early to try to split the field if other teams could not or did not want to drive. Alexei and Nick would be protected until one or both felt stong enough to attack off the front of the group.

Several teammates on last year's cat 5 team advised that the field would split up on every climb. Riders in the more advanced categories have pretty homogeneous abilities, especially at category 3 and above, and most of the riders stay together in a peloton or pack for most of the race. Cat 5 is comprised entirely of relatively new racers, as riders get promoted to cat 4 after 10 starts. As a result, a cat 5 field can contain some very strong riders who are just getting started with racing, but who will probably move up to higher categories very rapidly. It also usually contains several riders in their first race who are just giving it a try and may never enter another race again. With such varied ability levels, the field typically splits up early and often, especially on hills and in crosswinds and headwinds.

We planned to take advantage of this tendency by attacking early and often, starting on the opening climb. Our race was also just a single 22 mile circuit, which meant that the pace at the front of the race would be high throughout the race (or at least high considering that the field would quickly disintegrate into many small groups of riders). Immediately after leaving town, the route descended about 90 vertical feet to a creek and then climbed about 80 feet up the other side of the valley. A turn northward into a crosswind followed shortly, though the road was protected from the wind by woodlands.

The riders rolled out by category separated by 2-4 minute intervals. The cat 5 race started near the end. We were late getting to the start line and could not find Alexei, who was to be our leader for the race. He eventually showed, but we had to squeeze onto the left side of the field, which was not a very favorable position. The first 400 meters or so to the first right turn were neutralized, meaning that we had to hold our positions. We would enter the first turn and the start of the race on outside. The roads outside of town, where most of the race would take place, were open to traffic and a centerline rule was in effect. It was not legal to pass another rider from the left of the center of the road and a violation would lead to disqualification. However, none of the roads had actual lines, so there was some subjectivity the officials would apply to determine whether a violation had occurred. As we rounded the corner, I was the worst positioned on our team, near the back and on the left side, dangerously close to the "centerline". Art managed to work his way toward the right and Nick and Alexei were up ahead on the left. I did not want to get caught behind a slower rider on the way up the first hill, so I took a big risk in moving up on the left side. The biggest problem was that other riders started to elbow in on my right, which forced me further left. I backed off a little each time I felt I was too far left, but inched my way up whenever I could.

At the bottom of the descent, the group suddenly slowed and riders were braking. I am not sure exactly what happened, but I suspect the riders in front were not tucking as low as they should have. This is typical of the rookie blunders that occur often in a cat 5 race. I am certainly not above making a few myself. Because the riders on the front of a descent face much greater wind resistance and drag, the back of the pack tends to accelerate into them. The riders in the front should pedal hard down the descent and tuck onto the handlebars to avoid causing a pile up behind. The result was nearly catastrophic. A rider in front of Art must have squeezed his back brake hard, as his bike turned seemingly perpendicular to the road. From the corner of my eye, I saw Art swerve into the ditch to avoid a crash. I had to touch my brakes as well, but tried to do so as little as possible to avoid magnifying the problem further back in the pack. Art fortunately recovered from the ditch without injury or damage to his bike, but he had lost several places and could not rejoin the back of the group on the climb.

After we got moving again, I took advantage of the holes that opened up in the pack to move up and position myself well for the climb. I hit the climb hard and managed to lead the race into the first turn, with Nick and Alexei on my wheel. I continued to ride hard for a few hundred meters after the turn to try to drop as many riders as possible. Nick warned that I should ease up, but I figured I did not have much of a chance of making it to the line with them anyway and this was the best way I could contribute. At the first turn, my heart rate was up to 172, which was extremely close to my max at this point in the season.

I soon backed off and let Nick, Alexei, and a few riders from other teams come around. Shortly thereafter, and just after we turned west into a tailwind, a rider from Chicago's Half Acre team launched a solo attack. No one followed him, and since we were all pretty new to racing, we didn't know if his was a dangerous attack or not. We hit two more significant hills in the first 6 miles and then turned into a crosswind. Even only a day after the race, my recollection of specifics is a bit hazy, but I believe it was about a half mile or so into the crosswind that a group of several riders made another attack, which Alexei joined. I did not see Nick go with him, and I briefly considered jumping on so that I could help Alexei later in the race. However, it was still relatively early and I was not feeling particularly strong. I decided that it would be best to let them go and not risk pulling other riders on my wheel and into Alexei's break. I rode at the front of the remaining group for a while, but allowed the gap in front to steadily grow. After a short while, I realized that I was all alone. The last couple of hills and the crosswind had shattered the group again. Unfortunately, Nick had also dropped back.

I backed off and just rode a steady tempo, waiting for other riders. Eventually a rider from the Cycle Smithy team caught up to me and we worked together for a few miles. Later, we caught two riders, who I suspect had dropped off Alexei's break and were joined by three more that bridged up from behind. I was now part of a comfortable group of seven to work back into the headwind and into the finish in town. Two of the riders were not doing any work on the front, but the other five of us did about equal share. It was nice to be able to conserve a little energy for the final hills in town, especially since I had driven hard earlier in the race.

It wasn't long before we hit the descent to the creek. The 90' climb on the other side (which was the opening descent) was followed immediately by another climb on the finishing circuit in town. I managed to drop a few riders from our group of seven on this climb, which was the hardest of the race. At the top of the climb, we turned left. At the bottom of the ensuing descent were the cobblestones. I was really happy to have a shock absorbing carbon fork and frame. The cobblestones continued through the next left turn and most of the straight until the final turn before the finish. I was really fighting my machine at this point, as were most other riders around me.

As I came around the last turn, I saw two riders from separate teams holding a modest tempo about 100 meters ahead. I couldn't tell if they were marking each other for a sprint or if they had just agreed to roll to the line without a fight. Even thought the front of the race had already finished, I was determined to get the best place that I could, which meant passing them if possible. I tried to gradually close the gap without alerting them of my approach. At about 250 meters from the line, I started to accelerate a little more, at which point they did the same.

200 Meters to Go

Not an experienced sprinter, I probably hit the gas too early, but I thought it was my best chance. I pushed as hard as I could to the line, coming around the left side and passing both of them for 9th place. The 10th place rider was just 0.113 seconds back. It seemed like he was less than a wheel length behind on my right. Four riders had crossed the line in the 1.413 seconds after me. Though it wasn't for the race victory, I had won my first cycling sprint. My bike computer said I only hit 28 miles per hour at the line, but it sure felt like I was going much harder. I was obviously quite exhausted at that point (and fortunately, the others were as well).

My heart rate was high throughout the race, but I maxed out at a modest 176 beats per minute. When I am on peak form, I can push well into the 180s. My average heart rate was a rather high 164 bpm, reflecting the work I did on or near the front of the group, on my own, and in a relatively small group of riders. (Here is my complete ride profile.)

Alexei finished 5th, which was awesome. Though our strategy did not play out exactly according to plan, two riders in the top 10 was a pretty good showing. Nick finished 19th, as he rode strong but struggled a bit on some of the hills. Art finished 31st, but likely would have done much better if not for the incident on the first descent.

After our race finished, I was able to watch many of the other Wild Card riders in their races, most of which consisted of multiple laps around the 22-mile course. Art and I went to the feed zone at the hill just outside town to provide fresh bottles of fluids to our masters riders as they approached the start of their 3rd and final lap. I failed my first assignment as soigneur, arriving about 15 seconds too late to deliver a fresh bottle to Martin. Fortunately, he had enough on board to finish his race. Art successfully refueled Gene, although the exchange took place at a much lower speed and with less grace than exhibited on the Pro Tour.

Gene approaching the finish of the Masters 40-49 race after 66 miles in the saddle

The second pack of Cat 3 finishers winds up the sprint.

Despite not matching the success of last year's team, it was a solid showing by Wild Card Cycling. We had some very strong riders in the cat 4 and masters races and most finished in the middle of the pack, evidence that their races were marked with very high paces and strong fields. Teammate Rob blogged his perspective of the cat 4 race. Here is a summary of the Wild Card results:

Men's cat 5:
5 Alexei Perelet
9 Scott Dahman
19 Nick Hand
31 Art Hess

Women's cat 4:
11 Becky Chan
15 Anona Whitley

Men's cat 4:
9 Tom Carlson
17 Luke Taggart
19 Rob Raguet-Schofield
38 Mark French
DNF Dan Sochacki
DNF Karl Crapse

Men's Masters 40-49:
38 Martin Gruebele
44 Gene McDowell

Men's Masters 50+:
17 Greg Youngen

Central Masters Championships

Last weekend I competed in the Central Masters Championships at Marquette Mountain. Like the race two weeks prior at Mt. La Crosse, the level of competition was generally high and I was one of the slower skiers. This is one of only two races I regularly attend which includes a super G (SG), or super giant slalom. The other occurs next weekend, also at Marquette Mountain.

Masters racers at the break near the top of the GS and slalom hill, Cliffs Ridge. The city of Marquette, Michigan and Lake Superior loom behind and below.

A super G course is generally somewhere between a giant slalom (GS), which consists of turns similar in shape and rhythm to natural free-skiing, and a downhill (DH), which generally follows the contour of the hill with mostly subtle turns at very high speed. Most people who don't ski (or at least do alpine racing) usually associate competitive ski racing with the last Olympic downhill race they saw. Professional racers often attain speeds over 80 mph and jumps over 100 meters on downhill courses. Slalom (SL) and giant slalom are considered technical events. They feature shorter turns and success requires mastery of precise and quick movements, balance, and a high level of technical execution. Super G and downhill are considered "speed" events, where technical skills are still important, but strength, brute force, and sheer nerve factor more prominently. The courses in speed events may include some technical turns and features, but generally to a lesser degree than in technical events. I have been told more than once that I have a lot of nerve, and it follows naturally that I tend to place better in the field in speed events.

But to keep some perspective, the super G at Marquette Mountain is considerably more tame than a World Cup or Olympic speed event, or even an amateur event on a big mountain. In the Midwest, almost all ski racing is of the technical variety since we lack the big-mountain vertical drops necessary for authentic speed courses. Still, the diminuitive Marquette super G may be the closest I ever get to cheating death on skis. It usually involves speeds in the 50-55 mph range and one to three very small jumps. However, on the day of this super G, high winds blew straight up the hill with gusts up to 40 mph and lots of new snow. The first race was contested in near blizzard conditions. To say that the track was slow was an understatement. The course consisted of a steep drop at the top, followed by a long flat section, followed by a steep knoll, and then a modest pitch with some terrain to the finish. In good conditions, it is relatively easy to generate a lot of speed on the opening pitch, carry most of that speed through the flat, then jump over the knoll into the final stretch. Each time I approached the knoll, my speed would slow to a crawl due to winds and piles of blowing snow on the course, and then a big white tornado would form in my path right at the break. I would not catch any air going over the jump. There was some terrain around the third gate from the bottom and I believe my skis may have briefly lost contact with snow there, but it was nowhere near the typical super G experience. My friend Atilla asked why I bothered with the new skis since it appeared that I stopped for coffee on the way down. Though he is a better technical skier than I, I beat him in the super G. His excuse was that he grabbed two cups of coffee.

The wind subsided a little for the second race, but it was not possible to keep the track clear of blowing slow, especially on the flat section. Most racers were faster in the second race and I shaved 3.5 seconds - an eternity in super G. The sun even teased us for a brief moment and several of us were convinced that we should do a 3rd timed run, just for fun. It wasn't worth it. By the time we returned to the start, Murphy's Law exerted its cosmic influence and high winds and blowing snow resumed.

Even though I like to go fast, I welcomed the slow conditions for getting acclimated to the super G skis I had acquired just the night before the race. They are used and several years old, but in good condition for their age. At 204 cm, they are much longer than anything I had ever skied before (and 21 cm longer than my GS skis). I was a little nervous and made my first warm-up run on a very gentle green circle slope. I wanted just to get used to how they felt under foot before pushing the envelope. However, it was hard to make these skis do much of anything until they get up to speed. My feet felt like they were attached to two slabs of concrete.

Still, despite the slow conditions and my unfamiliarity with my new skis, I was able to finish near the middle of the pack in both super G races. I usually finish at or near the bottom in the technical events, as would be the case this weekend. I even avoided being chicked (beaten by a girl) in the first race, which may be a first-ever accomplishment for me on the masters circuit.

The wind would subside somewhat for the rest of the weekend, but the temperatures dropped. Saturday and Sunday mornings greeted us with subzero readings and the afternoon highs were in the teens. Both days did bring full sunshine, however, which is a rarity in the U.P. Saturday included two slalom races, in which I generally performed poorly. Slalom is the most technical event, consisting of many short, quick turns. It requires lots of training, which I have not been able to get this year. I think I will try to do more training next year and cut back a bit on the racing.

On Saturday evening, we enjoyed a lasagna dinner banquet at the US National Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame and Museum in nearby Ishpeming, Michigan. The location was the birthplace of skiing in North America, introduced by Scandinavian immigrants. As in years past, I picked up one raffle prize. As in years past, it was an article of clothing two sizes two big. I tried to trade it with Hall of Fame volunteer Dick Wagner for a "history of skiing" DVD, but he was incensed that the windbreaker was adorned with a logo of a bankrupt financial institution. So I still have a nice XL pullover windbreaker. It would be perfect for golf or other casual outdoor activities in spring for fall. Let me know if you are interested!

The giant slalom was on tap for Sunday. I made a fundamental mistake on both runs of the first race. I generally failed to look ahead, where I wanted to go. Instead, my eyes were mostly fixated on the soft snow below each turn that I wanted to avoid. The problem is that the skis (like bicycles, cars, and other modes of transport) tend to follow the eyes. I skidded most turns instead of carving through on the hard snow. "Look ahead" is to skiing what "keep your head down" is to golf - a basic fundamental tip that is overlooked at one's peril. I placed dead last in the first race. I corrected the fault for the second race and my times improved by an average of 1.4 seconds per run. The course was different, but most racers recorded similar times in both races. My placing in the second race moved up four positions from the bottom. My handicap and points also dropped.

I return to Marquette this coming weekend with the Chicago Metro Ski Council series. I plan to add masking tape marked with the words "look ahead" to my ski tips so I will be reminded of this basic advice when I step into the starting gate. Hopefully the conditions will be faster for the super G.

Race Results:

• Super G 1: 18 of 30 finishers - and unchicked!
• Super G 2: 17 of 29
• Slalom 1: 25 of 28
• Slalom 2: 24 of 26
• Giant Slalom 1: 25 of 25 - ugh!
• Giant Slalom 2: 21 of 25

Midwest Masters at Mt. LaCrosse

On January 10-11, I competed in my first USSA Masters ski race of the season with the Midwest Masters at Mt. LaCrosse, near La Crosse, Wisconsin. As usual, it was a humbling experience. The Midwest Masters series brings out some of the best adult competitors in the midwest. Many are ex-collegiate racers and most have more racing experience than me.

• The Good: I nailed the exit for I-39 South at Cherry Valley. It was the best turn I made all weekend.
• The Bad: Of the 6 runs that I finished, I'd rate 1 fair and the other 5 poor.
• The Ugly: The 2 runs I DNF'ed (did not finish) - the very first SL (slalom) on Saturday and the very last GS (giant slalom) on Sunday.

The courses and conditions were very tough. All races started on Thunderation, a narrow blue square run with very modest pitch. Then a hard left-booter, an almost 90 degree right turn, takes racers over the lip of the headwall, which is very steep and pronounced on the skier's right and becomes gradually gentler moving to skier's left. Most transitions were blind and difficult to line up coming off the right angle turn. Past Chicago Metro Ski Council (CMSC) races on this hill took a tamer line on the skier's left, where the NASTAR course is usually set. For this weekend, all but the morning GS race (2 runs) were set on steep technical lines on the skier's right.

The weather was cold, but not frigid - between 10 and 20 degrees for most of the weekend. Most of the hill either faces north or is shaded from the sun by trees and rocky outcrops. Conditions were mostly icy and really tough to set an edge on the pitch. There were numerous funky terrain rolls and fall away turns after the headwall, which were more pronounced on the SL and afternoon GS sets (on the skier's right). The features made it very difficult to look ahead. Rather than scanning the next gate or two as one should, I found my focus too often on the terrain immediately in front of me. The best racers made it look easy, of course.

My first SL run of the morning race was a DNF that ended at the 10th gate - I slid sideways into the gate in a total mental lapse. I'll blame the fact that I hit the road later than I had hoped the night before and was a little "out of it" that morning. My next SL run was in super slow-mo. I just wanted to find the finish to give myself some confidence to build on for the afternoon race. My afternoon race was better, but still rather lackluster. I have let my conditioning drop too much for such a long hill. I'll have to try to get it back before my next two races at Marquette Mountain, which is also a long hill, but it is usually a tad easier to race well and find the finish there. A lot will depend on race day conditions.

My first GS run of the morning race was pretty slow. There was some blue safety netting right behind a blue gate just before the right turn onto the headwall. I inspected the course before the netting and outside gate were up. During the race, I failed to pick up the outside gate and was not sure if the turning gate was in fact the turning gate or the outside gate. I wedged for a moment and scrubbed a ton of speed. I improved about 1.5 seconds in the second run but still struggled with the hard turn and transition between the top section and the headwall.

The afternoon race was set on the more technical headwall transition on the skier's right. I was cautious and clumsy in the first run, but it was still probably the best run of the weekend that I actually finished. I was more confident on the second run and carried more speed from the headwall into the rolling finishing section. At times I caught some air and was bounced in a compression. A through gate helped build a little more speed, but two gates later I hit a rut at a point when my balance was a little off. I came out of my right ski and hit my head on the snow and my right shin on my dislodged ski. My goggles were torn from my face but the helmet did its job in protecting my head. I also didn't seriously hurt anything else. I just had a bruise and 2-inch cut on my shin. I picked up a bag of ice from the concession at the hill and some large bandages at a grocery store. I drove most of the way between La Crosse and Madison holding the ice on my leg. It is still quite sore several days later, but has been getting better each day. My upper body also felt like I was hit by a linebacker for the next few days. The worst part of it all was that the crash, which occurred about 6 gates from the finish, interrupted what was otherwise my best run of the weekend. I would have really liked to get a time on that one.

Mt. LaCrosse is just a tough hill. I have had some of my best and worst days racing there. I had a breakout race weekend there at the end of 2007, where I was promoted to the A class in the CMSC series (second from the top), but I've also crashed there about 4-6 times. I probably have more DNFs per start at Mt. LaCrosse than any other hill.

Here is a screen shot from my GPS computer that shows my speed (blue), elevation (green), and heart rate (red) during the GS crash run.

Profile of GS crash run.

My speed was generally building throughout the run, except for a slow down at the transition from the opening to the top of the headwall. The crash occurred 39 seconds into run, where my speed dropped abruptly from 36 mph to 6 mph (minimum speed recorded) in about 4 seconds. My heart rate recovered nicely after I stopped moving. The marker on graph and map shows the moment of impact.

NB: My GPS computer is designed for cycling and tends to understate the speed for skiing because it can only record at a maximum rate of one sample per second. Thus it tends to show a straighter path down the fall line than is actually skied. I tried uploading the data tracks to my motionbased account, but it distorted almost all of the statistics, showing some very high (and very low) speeds and grossly distorted elevation profiles. When I ski, I usually set the GPS computer to record only when my speed is above a certain threshold, usually 5-10 mph (depending on the speed of the chairlifts). I think the data and time scale get distorted by the motionbased software engine when this feature is used. It also get confused if the GPS signal is lost or just weak, which happens frequently because I tuck the device inside my coat or suit when I ski. For some reason, the PC application seems to know how to more accurately process the available data.

Race Results:

• Slalom 1
• Slalom 2
• Giant Slalom 1
• Giant Slalom 2

Christmas Concert

Faith's school Christmas concert from December 2008 is online here! Faith is second from the right in the second row. (Run time is about 6.5 minutes.)

Notes:

1. Viewing requires Apple QuickTime.


2. Click on the link to view in its original size.


3. It is a large file (275 MB). If your connection is slow, it might be easier to download and view from your local machine (right-click link and choose "Save Target As...")

The Ski Racing Season is Underway!

My 2008-09 ski racing season kicked off the weekend of December 12-13 with the Chicago Metro Ski Council. It was a decent start, though I left plenty of room for improvement. I love alpine skiing and racing, but the most frustrating thing is that it is a seasonal sport and it usually takes me until the end of January just to reach the level at which I had finished the prior season.

I will probably post some personal accounts of races in this space, but as Race Coordinator for the Champaign Ski Club, I also write articles for the online club newsletter as well. Follow them here!