tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33410450292730130852024-03-12T17:28:02.966-07:00Untitled: a work in progressColin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-36058451579468439112016-10-30T08:10:00.001-07:002016-10-30T08:10:26.289-07:00Test<p dir="ltr"><u>Test</u></p>
Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-73298965210005324272009-09-05T14:19:00.001-07:002009-09-06T07:20:11.807-07:00State Championships report.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-w3P0OxPxAQXka_0xGl1qYLsOKpsOuqg9Y1mcln0fb7fn0IJWXPOsNKRT2iAg3o-bLgdhyphenhyphengXWRbCVGOCTknJPpr96xRnTRxvmQVLzZznwJWB5XHug__ra7XkO3eqLHjOU3rH11WcHduI/s1600-h/IMG_9940.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-w3P0OxPxAQXka_0xGl1qYLsOKpsOuqg9Y1mcln0fb7fn0IJWXPOsNKRT2iAg3o-bLgdhyphenhyphengXWRbCVGOCTknJPpr96xRnTRxvmQVLzZznwJWB5XHug__ra7XkO3eqLHjOU3rH11WcHduI/s320/IMG_9940.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378101842885431330" border="0" /></a><br />The weekend of August 28, 2009, a weekend around which much of my racing season revolved around, was quickly dematerializing in front of my eyes. The radar picture on Friday morning was grim. Just a week after suffering a storm which wiped out more than 200 of Central Park’s old hardwood trees, the New York State Track Cycling Championship and Elite National Qualifier was being threatened by the last remaining tantrums of Hurricane Danny. By Friday afternoon, Alan Atwood announced that the opening event, the Team Sprints, would be postponed. We were told that, if the schedule could accommodate it, we could run the event Sunday morning, first thing. But already the collective mind of New York’s track cycling community questioned how much worse this could get. As one might imagine, rain and racing on an outdoor velodrome simply do not mix. Many wondered aloud about what would happen if the rain did force further delays on Saturday.<br /><br />Then next morning, I was greeted by the sound of steady rainfall that tapped a Morse code signal of discouragement on my window pane. Phone calls and emails quickly circulated, as everyone wondered how Alan was going to pull this weekend off. Ken Harris, Tony Slokar and I, half-heartedly decided to venture out to Flushing despite the dark skies and steady rainfall around 11:30 am. Racing was due to start at 12:00, but it was clear that the original plan would be modified. At the very least, we could get our numbers and be ready for a much abbreviated Sunday-only program.<br /><br />When we pulled into the Velodrome parking lot, shoulder shrugging track racers huddled under a tent at the registration table. The reluctant smiles proved that we were not the only people taking a chance. Some riders traveled from out of town, out of state, and in the case of Alex Farioletti, a trip back from training full time in LA. We stood around and helplessly waited for the sky to clear and the track to dry off. Alan decided on a deadline of 2:00pm for race worthy conditions, or else the schedule would be further postponed. And then, the rain stopped.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDZd8m97lpQY70VEsoJV5RbvCORPHh_48DHGO7pd_aGO_Eq7zyu2-WDaTZFjvCk28gSYBOkYjw4Seq7wRR5amJofk_q6v1n_8UtOR5o747ClvxDJ0m3nrFqElL0ZKydCjW7oklNOhzGp0/s1600-h/IMG_9950.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDZd8m97lpQY70VEsoJV5RbvCORPHh_48DHGO7pd_aGO_Eq7zyu2-WDaTZFjvCk28gSYBOkYjw4Seq7wRR5amJofk_q6v1n_8UtOR5o747ClvxDJ0m3nrFqElL0ZKydCjW7oklNOhzGp0/s320/IMG_9950.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378100273372936498" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivCjwdNJc1HK4yRz-6LgtJwmUOUx_aBOg0DF-mSVA0ESGXtMWbOXzmwmseBKuyEj0U1UMAl1X2VOI2GcbXDFmBXKnTAupLB2C4VGmnFqD8GuU0sMwsurwDz76IqU90GUzvXBBtLuxs8fU/s1600-h/IMG_9956.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivCjwdNJc1HK4yRz-6LgtJwmUOUx_aBOg0DF-mSVA0ESGXtMWbOXzmwmseBKuyEj0U1UMAl1X2VOI2GcbXDFmBXKnTAupLB2C4VGmnFqD8GuU0sMwsurwDz76IqU90GUzvXBBtLuxs8fU/s320/IMG_9956.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378099641157904930" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Z277MbkrS_rtsJm-59yyAJlD0Mf-CGWmEzoFhcFZx5FuCnMIDvQHbH8wpKyvlAWgmxxu_u4V_PpBg-Wu0vKe7FKWG4SGoN3I1H6U0gy3Yx4Bv_aHezA2d6Zq0KOHxb3cBXvfhTvdvGw/s1600-h/IMG_9964.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Z277MbkrS_rtsJm-59yyAJlD0Mf-CGWmEzoFhcFZx5FuCnMIDvQHbH8wpKyvlAWgmxxu_u4V_PpBg-Wu0vKe7FKWG4SGoN3I1H6U0gy3Yx4Bv_aHezA2d6Zq0KOHxb3cBXvfhTvdvGw/s320/IMG_9964.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378097996379851554" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz53gzfWYBv2O8gBC5DheRit1YnH_44b1aK4MQSVUavV30o5qbcTxQgJyamu5rhIir6AVZclmgIUG6N7ujBGjSVIaMetecMqOzonRyI-j6YX0I_Duq-Qi2vUFFx-H-qPG2HLDTxm5SaBk/s1600-h/IMG_9983.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz53gzfWYBv2O8gBC5DheRit1YnH_44b1aK4MQSVUavV30o5qbcTxQgJyamu5rhIir6AVZclmgIUG6N7ujBGjSVIaMetecMqOzonRyI-j6YX0I_Duq-Qi2vUFFx-H-qPG2HLDTxm5SaBk/s320/IMG_9983.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378098003426547314" border="0" /></a><br />By about 1:15, The track became dry enough that racing didn’t seem completely crazy. We would run the Kilometer TT first, and if time and conditions allowed, the Points race. Unfortunately, the 50 lap Madison, had to be cut. However, seeing as the Kilo was one of my primary objectives for the season, I couldn’t complain. I scrambled to warm up, got my head as focused as possible, given the situation, and hopped on the track. Ultimately, my lack of training this year has hurt me, but I still wanted to put down a solid time and figured it would not be too hard to beat my Opening day time of 1:12. I had a decent start, though probably too fast. As is always the case, my legs completely shut down with about 250 meters to go and I rolled in as best as I could. 1:12.23 read the time. My computer displayed a top speed of 38.7 mph. I started too fast. I was bummed to miss my target. Mike Garret, was the next fastest rider with a time of 1:14 (out of state), and Alex Farioletti rode a phenomenal 1:14.26 (NYS silver) without aero bars. Jon Linchitz rounded out the medals with a 1:15.10. Also qualifying for the sprint events at nationals was Tony Slokar, with his 5th place finish. Notably absent, Andrew Lacorte elected not to race due to conditions as well as to focus on the sprint-oriented racing on Sunday.<br /><br />The weather continued to trend well, and Alan gave the thumbs up for the Points race. The Cat123 men would race 25 laps, with 5 sprints. Legs still heavy with Kilo-level lactic acid, I set my sights on trying to stick with Ken Harris. All attempts at marking the current Hour-record holder proved futile, as he slipped away to take a convincing win with a solo move in the second half of the race. In total he took 21 points and the gold medal for the fourth year in a row. Mike Garret once again grabbed 2nd place with a punchy move towards the end. He was not able to reel back Ken, but he did manage 2nd place points on the final lap to claim a total of 12 points. I managed to win the final sprint from the field, giving me a total of 12 points as well, but as Mike finished in front on the final lap, the tie-breaker went to him. Once again, Mike was not racing for a medal. Mike did score valuable points, however, towards the overall omnium (therby preventing me from limiting the losses to Ken on the event.) With four points, Tadeusz Marszalek won the bronze.<br /><br />In stark contrast to Saturday, Sunday blossomed into an intensely sunny day after threatening with fog early in the morning. Many more riders showed up for the fair weather racing, though Andrew Lacorte did not suit up. Feeling under the weather, and having already won a Master’s National title, he decided to manage his health first. However, he graciously spent the entire day at the track helping Alan and the officials with the logistics of the event. He also qualified for Elite Nationals earlier in the year.<br /><br />First on the program, rescheduled from Friday, was the Team Sprint. The team sprint is a three lap race contested by squads of three riders. Where a modern Olympic track would create a 750m event, Kissena’s large 400m oval makes the race a bit longer. The lead rider starts at the front and pulls off after one lap. The middle rider pulls for the 2nd lap and then retires, while the third rider anchors the race with the final lap sprint after sitting in the accelerating draft for the first two laps. The time is taken by that final rider. I like to think of it as a three stage rocket, and when properly executed, it's a pretty cool race to watch. Ken, Tony and I had planned on racing this event all year. Although we hadn’t practiced at all, we were excited to give it a go. I even embraced the composite-team professionalism by wearing a very nice Jonathan Adler Racing skinsuit, though I am not sure that it now entitles me to discounts on funky designer house wares. Without much warning, we were called to the start line. I believe at least one of us was still bolting something or finishing a gear change or swapping wheels, so we clearly didn’t get much of a chance to talk. All we knew was that Ken would start, Tony would take the middle, and I would anchor. We lined up, waited for the gun and went. Ken started very strongly, and provided a large draft, smoothly accelerating us up to speed. Tony “crushed” the 2nd lap (his own words), and I, burst out into the wind with one lap to go. I actually felt as if I had been in a recliner for two laps, thus was the quality of my team mates’ pulls. I finished as strongly as I could manage, and then we waited. Our time of 1:25.98 was enough for gold. In silver, the Affinity team of Alex Farioletti, Jon Linchitz and Chris Barbaria finished with a time of 1:28.17. The Kissena squad of Eric Ragot, J.P. Partland and Mike VanDerWerker rounded out the medals with a 1:33.73. After the fact, Tony did some research. The Kissena website lists results back to 2000, and as far as he could find, 1:25.98 is the fastest time recorded on that track in the team sprint.<br /><br />Next up, were the flying 200TT’s to seed the match sprint heats. I am not sure of times, as they are not listed online as of now, but I do remember Jon Linchitz posting the fastest time, breaking 12 sec fairly handily—which is extremely impressive on Kissena’s slow, shallow and bumpy banking. This is made all the more impressive when you understand that Jon, essentially new to racing this season, was sidelined for medical/injury reasons (can’t bring myself to violate HIPPA) during a large part of the season. I managed to come in 2nd with a 12.09 sec to shave about 2 tenths off my previous best. Unfortunately, I can’t remember anything more specific than that.<br /><br />The scratch race was another event where Ken Harris was sure to show his strength. Very quickly, He attacked the group, and instantly built a lead of nearly a half-lap. I was not prepared to go with him so early in the 8 Km race, but I was wary, as he was riding as my biggest threat for the omnium. The shrewd attack was enough to ensure a victory, as no other rider was willing to work to bring him back. A bit later on, Mike Garret, once again gained a gap on the field. He failed to reach Ken, though managed to stay out for a well earned 2nd place. After a tough race that reduced the field significantly, I responded to an attack by Dan Lim with a few laps to go and was able to take third place, once again earning the silver medal. Barry Miller took the bronze and Dan Lim rounded out the qualifiers with his fifth-place finish.<br /><br />The match sprint turned out to be the biggest surprise for me during the weekend’s events. Eric Ragot’s attack from the rail during our 3-up preliminary heat with Ken sent me to the repechage round. I was not happy to get “kilo’d” as they say, especially because it would make my route to the finals all the more difficult. I was hoping to earn a top-3 in order to secure valuable points in the omnium. I managed to get by a very dangerous Chris Barbaria in our repechage round match-up. Chris knocked me out of the running during last year’s Cat4 match sprint at states, and can never be discounted as he is one of the hardest working and quickest sprinters at Kissena.<br />Relieved to be back in the running, my heart sank when I found that my draw for the semifinals put me up against the most dangerous competition available. Jon Linchitz’s sub-12 sec. qualifier says enough. He’s a big guy with tremendous power. Alex Farioletti is a former bike messenger who has spent this season out in LA honing his craft with some of the best in the West. He’s focused on sprint disciplines while featuring in Gatorade’s reality show, “Mission G.” Most recently, he earned a silver medal in the 30-34 age-group of the Master’s National Match Sprint Championship. After a slow first lap, watching one another, I made sure that I stayed in 2nd position behind Alex. Between turn one and 2 he began making some false accelerations. He was baiting a move. At the moment he slowed slightly and angled back up track, I decided to get out of there. I jumped with about 300 meters to go and dove into the sprinter’s lane at turn 3. Never letting off the gas, I came around and down the finishing straight clearly ahead. I had managed to win myself into the final with none other than Mike Garret. The ride had also clinched the New York match sprint gold medal.<br />I was shocked to make the final. I had all but secured the omnium win, I had the gold, but now it was a matter of local pride. With Lacorte offering encouragement and guiding advise, I rolled up to the line to defend the home field. My strategy was to dictate the pace. I stayed high, while Mike was obligated to take the lead. He came up track as well, and I waited for the right moment before I swung under him and pinned his front wheel between my bottom bracket and the fence. From that position, it would be impossible for him to attack first. As we came around the second time, bell ringing, I slowly picked up the pace. By at turn two, I jumped and dove sharply for the sprinter’s lane, claiming the inside line. I could feel Mike on my tail, and gave it everything I had to keep him from drawing even. By the exit of turn four I had held off the charge, but kept on the gas through the straight in case of any last-moment surges. In the second final, Alex Farioletti secured the silver medal over Jon Linchitz in bronze.<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lvwNMM_WQog&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lvwNMM_WQog&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />Finally, thanks to the beautiful Sunday weather, the last race of the men’s 1/2/3 program was held. The last weary racers—tired, hungry, and sunburned—would line up for the always exciting keirin. Andrew Lacorte, once again the team player, drove the moto to pace the field up to speed over the first 5 of 6 laps. Still in the hunt for a gold medal, Alex Farioletti was defending his title from last year. Josh Chambers, a Trexlertown regular was also a fast guy to watch out for. I believe Jon Linchitz drew the first position, giving him the obligation to ride in front, right behind the moto when the gun went off and Lacorte swung by. In a hectic final lap, I lost my position, lost my rear wheel's contact with the ground, but managed to find a hole to squeeze through in the last 100m to grab 2nd place behind a well deserving Alex Farioletti. While I was having my troubles, he came flying past, and I knew I was watching the winner ride away.<br /><br />To sum up my experience, this year’s NYS track championships provided a similar emotional ride to the rest of the season. Anxious anticipation, frustrating weather, agonizing near misses and disappointments as well as satisfaction and reward. I have never once been a state champion before, and clearly I owe some of my results this weekend to good fortune. At the same time, the task of remaining a full-time medical student has taken much of my training time away from me. My road season was cut short and limited to a very sparse schedule of frustrating results. A season that started with high hopes and unrealistic expectations was brought crashing to earth by the reality of working 12 and 13 hour days on the Labor Floor of Mount Sinai. Still, the Kissena Velodrome has provided a unique outlet for my competitive drive. I spent this entire summer, scheduling much of my free time from the hospital around getting out to the track. I am very proud to have been able to complete one of my season’s main goals in spite of the challenges and while I missed my goal of a 1:11 kilo, there’s always next year. As for now, I will try my luck at Elite Nationals in Carson, CA at the end of the month. There are many questions that need to be answered, and heading out there seems to be the best way.<br /><br />Full Results:<br />http://www.bikereg.com/Results/2009/08/28-NY-Velodrome-Championships.aspColin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-17028884052909387442009-09-05T09:25:00.000-07:002009-09-05T14:52:19.076-07:00State Champ.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo9K0_Q_Z_U5YK0HjaAuA8gXalQQBVlzaRBfhH8xJIQSI25kjz2EGKPLGrIZ55kk6nRpMwZhfaDFQtn8PiahUEoUKxaZBGWb05rxo-7Yo5ALeQWKllRBlHqhhwxKLjEZMw0vPDSSfa_8k/s1600-h/-10.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo9K0_Q_Z_U5YK0HjaAuA8gXalQQBVlzaRBfhH8xJIQSI25kjz2EGKPLGrIZ55kk6nRpMwZhfaDFQtn8PiahUEoUKxaZBGWb05rxo-7Yo5ALeQWKllRBlHqhhwxKLjEZMw0vPDSSfa_8k/s320/-10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378104248895809810" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigYUk-T4D_M2TEs0CU7201FUo2Wa_hEYj4xxctrCgZoPa33zglu5KJVcaxck33qQfq3ZIyjVx_2NMRBMZYitrozNi8A1G8PBA4YiDj2zg8AuJBwdem9BhZ4uJYnf5EUdUPglAniInce-8/s1600-h/-9.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFqaKA_qjnrNOgAIrNRbdOvPzZnjmx3iqQyBzJf_PssYvazFtnu19gUSl8LYniWmb4dtlC3qbJPxH4ZAJpOuBhUbi-OBxuZTpUgky5u5sQQi_TpuCUA8GL9RbGl_qDue285GraOe-HrHk/s320/-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378021176160572994" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtN1qtjp3s5vjDyHRFEeZO5wLfKVvZGGw88sVDOQlQKdyj-WY63xvc3DfOIrTDAVotsUiZ6EHUi8W8h99UYv45BnETjStoXlJyJWXYIeuyaVO-8YBC42XLzmplMWfvgmj5Go5GtgpkzwU/s1600-h/-5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtN1qtjp3s5vjDyHRFEeZO5wLfKVvZGGw88sVDOQlQKdyj-WY63xvc3DfOIrTDAVotsUiZ6EHUi8W8h99UYv45BnETjStoXlJyJWXYIeuyaVO-8YBC42XLzmplMWfvgmj5Go5GtgpkzwU/s320/-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378021168887607858" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHfP2RT4xfzZvRSpN1janzHPVSo3eexP_qvL6wHI6L6ck7wcoyGFfVKp1R_By71jvm0SI5dTFePbYKH28dE6SyXA0VaWsb_3leAn65ba0mNhyduoGtKXRpyrUo2DD_ivJPm2aA396bs4/s1600-h/-6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHfP2RT4xfzZvRSpN1janzHPVSo3eexP_qvL6wHI6L6ck7wcoyGFfVKp1R_By71jvm0SI5dTFePbYKH28dE6SyXA0VaWsb_3leAn65ba0mNhyduoGtKXRpyrUo2DD_ivJPm2aA396bs4/s320/-6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378021167042187330" border="0" /></a>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-52680488855420031002009-04-27T06:01:00.000-07:002009-04-29T05:02:35.665-07:00Track to the Future<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLHiKLzzny5vVvaFTPu_Za8dopWIocu4XzcqRba-xz9AOoNlpAC4_utChbhcXWQVvxs6UkvLa8AW_Ke9E8EZfATYNPAYnW8BCeSpEs3gcBdpcqv04zshcmlk4FKgENTdUKK5jfOcFR1vo/s1600-h/prensky_0.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLHiKLzzny5vVvaFTPu_Za8dopWIocu4XzcqRba-xz9AOoNlpAC4_utChbhcXWQVvxs6UkvLa8AW_Ke9E8EZfATYNPAYnW8BCeSpEs3gcBdpcqv04zshcmlk4FKgENTdUKK5jfOcFR1vo/s320/prensky_0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329470728898544130" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Team Sprint; photo by Eloy Anzola</span><br /><br />Scorching summer heat welcomed the return of racing to the Velodrome in Kissena Park, Queens this past weekend. I finally made my way out to the track for the first time towards the very end of the season last year. Racing at the track on Wednesday nights became one of my favorite activities of the entire cycling season. By the time the state championships had rolled around, I was completely hooked and immediately set my sights on opening weekend 2009 to resume racing on the velodrome.<br /><br />Opening weekend, which I missed out on last year, is great. It is a perfect bookend to the states that will take place at the end of the season. It is a two-day-long event with plenty of racing, bigger-than-normal fields and some race formats that are less likely to be included in the Twilight series programs. For me, the Kilo is an event that I would like to really nail down this year, and the Opening Weekend is one of the few opportunities to practice in a race environment out in Queens. Similarly, match sprinting is a rare treat to be enjoyed only on special occasions.<br /><br />This year, over 100 racers greeted the scorching sun and melting tar with eager smiles and sunscreen. It was a great chance to catch up with NYC's "other" bike racing scene, and the guys who often don't race on the road as much. Saturday, I also had the pleasure of introducing my team mate, Chad Marion, to the world of fixed gears, no brakes and left turns. I had been talking up the track for a while to him, so I was eager to see him hit the banking in the Cat5s. I lined up in the Cat4 field, as road and track categories are wholly separate and I have yet to earn my Cat3 on the track.<br /><br />The first event of the day, the Kilo, is a major target for me this year. I have always loved the simple and brutal honesty that this race has. It calls for the rider to go as hard as possible for just over a minute. At Kissena, a very slow track, Andrew Lacorte posted the fastest kilo since the resurfacing of the velodrome at last year's state championships. That time was a 1:11.86. At the same race last year, I posted the third fastest time of the day, a 1:15.67, on my chrome Bianchi Pista with 36 spoke wheels and drop bars. This year, armed with a new bike, aero equipment and a little bit of experience under my belt, I wanted to go faster. Of course, its hard to know what to expect. Winds change the race remarkably, as do temperature of the track and probably forces that I'm not even aware of. The goal for this early attempt was to set a benchmark for the year. Something to use as a starting point when training towards States. A frantic last-second gear change left me with a less than relaxing warm up and I was off to the staging area for my ride. Kissena Velodrome is 400 meters and the Kilo is thus 2 1/2 laps. I took my position, clipped in and tried my best to project the mental image I have of Chris Hoy's famous start. Hearing the gun, I accelerated the bike as fast as possible. Between 120 and 150 meters in, I dropped into the aero bars and tried to hang on. The first lap and a half flew by, and I did my best to maintain control. Meanwhile the bumpy track did its best to knock me out of the sprinter's lane a few times. The last lap, riders really suffer. I tried to keep the pedals moving with the bell sounding like a distant echo. The last 200 meters came and went, and I crossed the line with no idea of how my ride went. I had to wait a while until guys started congratulating me on my ride. I still didn't know my time. When Ken Harris and Tony Slokar speculated that it may have been a 1:12, I didn't believe them. The official time came out to a 1:12.09. Now, I will look ahead to States, and see what I can do there. To be in such close company with a rider as accomplished as Andrew Lacorte, so early in the year, is truly something I'm proud of.<br /><br />For our next event, the Cat4's lined up for the team sprint. This is a three lap race, similar to team pursuit, with the exception that the teams have three riders, and only one rider finishes the three laps. With each lap, a rider pulls off, basically setting up a 2 lap lead out for the final rider to rip off their fastest lap. Deverell "RSun" Smith of Luzzo's, Luke Stiles and I formed our composite team before the race, and coincidentally had the three fastest kilo times in the Cat4s. Luke, as a fast sprinter, led first. RSun took the second lap while I anchored. We rode smoothly and were able to keep a tight pace line through the ride. RSun gave me a great draft for the final lap and we came in with the top time of somewhere in the vicinity of 1:28.XX.<br /><br />In the final event of the day, the 12 lap points race, we had 3 sprints on the table. Lining up, I had my eye on Giancarlo Bianchi, who won the points race in the Cat4s at the State Championships last year. He took off early, and I stayed at the front, making sure he didn't get too far away. I began reeling him back in with two laps until the sprint. With the bell for the first sprint, I began to make my move. By turn 3, I had enough of a gap to ease off the throttle, and after taking the points for first, I waited for a few guys to catch on and form a break. From this smaller group, we were able to contest the sprints without the chaos that would ensue with the full field of 22 riders in one bunch. I was able to take the top points in the final two sprints and win the points race. Heading home for the evening, I had accumulated 21 out of 21 possible points in the omnium by winning all three of my events.<br /><br />Day two at Kissena provided even more sunshine and heat, if slightly smaller numbers of racers than Saturday. On the program for the Cat4s was a 9 lap scratch race, match sprints and a miss and out. The scratch race is a simple affair, where the first rider to cross the line wins--no additional explanation is necessary. I honestly don't remember much about this race, but I was able to go with an initial attack, and eventually pull away for the win on the last lap.<br /><br />The match sprints, though fun, take a very long time. All the fields must be bracketed and even with 3-up match sprints (not what one thinks of in match sprints) we still had to go through several rounds in each field. In my first round match up, I benefited from my top-placed omnium standing as it determined the seeding. At Kissena, match sprints take two laps. got through my first two rounds without any complications. In the final, I decided to let the other riders set the early pace. I patiently sat high on the banking in third position until the first attack came with a lap to go. I sat in the draft until just about 200 meters to go and opened up the sprint, coming across in first.<br /><br />After a very long weekend on the infield, we only had one event left. The miss and out. This race format is pretty fun, but can be dicey. It works by eliminating the last placed rider from the field each lap until 5 riders are left. Once the field is down to 5, there is a neutral lap and then the bell. Often, since most of the race happens at the back, riders get trapped on the inside. When this happens, and riders have nowhere to go but desperately want to stay in the race, crashes happen. Unfortunately, it only took a lap or two before our race was neutralized with the sound of the starter's gun due to a crash on the inside. When we came back around the track slowly, the sight of Jody, one of the friendliest regulars at the track (with one of the most beautiful steel bikes), lying face down on the apron was enough to make all of us sick. Fortunately, he was able to get up and make his way to the infield to await transport to the hospital. They lined us up to restart the race, but naturally, the wind was really taken out of our collective sails. I did my best to stay safe. I rode above the stayer's line the whole race and towards the front. I would rather suffer in the wind than get trapped down at the bottom of the track. When we had 5 guys, I upped the tempo and then upped it again with the bell lap. I gaped the field and was able to come in safely at the front for the last race of the day.<br /><br />In the end, I won all the events in the Cat4. Hopefully, I will be able to advance to the 1/2/3 races as soon as Alan gives me the nod. I know that I am ready fitness-wise, but tactics will be a whole new ballgame. Most of the riders in the A-fields on Wednesday nights have a lot of experience under their belts. I can't wait to learn from them. In addition, I want to wish a speedy recovery to the few victims of crashes late on Sunday's program. Heat, dehydration, and large fields likely made for slightly sketchier than normal racing towards the end. Its always unfortunate to see that happen. I also want to shout out to my team mate, Chad, who won his first omnium, racing in the Cat5s. I have no doubts that he will have no trouble continuing his transition to the track this year.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMv4uCjZpS6VBHyNm3m8DI51ITnmTtav74ZATPC23jbaCOcYaQzC9peg_S-vGxMO-DD-rlJH7vhMtGTHB1LGDOC7zrYc5OYpV7B6eMIzwluRP8HuCtOKYAUA2y7eQXYN0xb-wJjm0cmE/s1600-h/results1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMv4uCjZpS6VBHyNm3m8DI51ITnmTtav74ZATPC23jbaCOcYaQzC9peg_S-vGxMO-DD-rlJH7vhMtGTHB1LGDOC7zrYc5OYpV7B6eMIzwluRP8HuCtOKYAUA2y7eQXYN0xb-wJjm0cmE/s320/results1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329551765652220690" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzoce3k8rsTceDiJRuTC2XWXydi3qv7uSDbl539NJhUM8Kbhe860jqmD2fvRmYmNzxXbzN3RXTqYR2D4qjvnlGDWF7a_XV2tPStSK2J-I0OF0KTkWHfrKCcGuWkkEHgh-LNniL5fR2tyQ/s1600-h/results2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzoce3k8rsTceDiJRuTC2XWXydi3qv7uSDbl539NJhUM8Kbhe860jqmD2fvRmYmNzxXbzN3RXTqYR2D4qjvnlGDWF7a_XV2tPStSK2J-I0OF0KTkWHfrKCcGuWkkEHgh-LNniL5fR2tyQ/s320/results2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329552325507468418" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHAn43UAbD-1ySF42D6QNDR5201LgwSkirGjc0AnzbA-325P_XmIyjdwK8aF3UBQZVRhyNrpKCryYbERmwoChMGuHim8l-Y8ksMdH3aTeGrc6RI3bG_sYhLBZybpn9gRjycV6JeOuKuI/s1600-h/results3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHAn43UAbD-1ySF42D6QNDR5201LgwSkirGjc0AnzbA-325P_XmIyjdwK8aF3UBQZVRhyNrpKCryYbERmwoChMGuHim8l-Y8ksMdH3aTeGrc6RI3bG_sYhLBZybpn9gRjycV6JeOuKuI/s320/results3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329553407992367970" border="0" /></a>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-77254072130216729102008-12-10T14:59:00.000-08:002008-12-11T11:48:45.607-08:00Late Homework, Part II: Debriefing<br />Well, its finally here, I’ve reached the end of foreseeable racing in 2008. It has been a long season filled with great new experiences and valuable lessons. A year ago at this time, I was an ex-collegiate rower clinging to the hope of a continued competitive outlet in the form of sculling. I trained every day before class, riding my bike up to the Peter Jay Sharp Boathouse to meet my training partner, Alyosha at 6am for our morning row.<br /><br />A year ago, bike racing was still just a far-off fantasy to me. I have always enjoyed bikes obsessively, but never turned a pedal in anger during a race. I was content to watch from the outside, riding my bike alone and hiding my secret shame that I was not a “real” racer. I was too big, too clueless and too busy to figure out racing, so I thought. As we enter this time of year when we are encouraged to reflect and give thanks, I have a lot to be appreciative for. After all, In less than a year, many unexpected opportunities have been given to me, and I am truly grateful. Before I go all mushy, though, let me get back to the final weekend. The real reason I write, after all, is to try sum up the experience of racing from the perspective of a wide-eyed newbie.<br /><br />Traditionally, the Prensky family converges on the ancestral homeland of Chevy Chase, MD for the eating of Turkey and the giving of thanks. I boarded a Vamoose bus, along with the several hundred other DC-bound New Yorkers and headed out from Penn Station. Amazingly, despite getting stuck in NJTP traffic for what seemed like an eternity, we still made it to Bethesda in a reasonable five hours. Most shockingly, the bus traversed the Beltway from Baltimore to Connecticut Avenue in Chevy Chase in about 30 minutes (it normally takes at least 45). Let me just say that perhaps bike racers could learn a thing or two about speed from these drivers.<br /><br />Once at my Grandparents’ house, before we began the feast, there was another age-old ritual to be completed. Just as in every year since I’ve been Bar Mitzvah’d into adulthood, I was given a ladder, a broom and a screwdriver to clean the gutters and replace the squirrel-damaged gutter guards. Once that was completed, we could move on to the newer tradition of making me carve the turkey and incanting predictable jokes about how well I was doing because I am in medical school and thus will be a surgeon and thus know (somehow) how to carve a bird. I must say, though, that I did a pretty decent job this year. I think it has more to do with my habit of eating Peruvian chicken on a regular basis, however. Its like practicing on a scale model of a turkey after all. Dinner was fantastic…Thanks, Grandma, Mom, Aunt Gail, you’ve done it again!<br /><br />Ok, I promised racing and I’m still talking about the extracurriculars, I’m sorry. After Thanksgiving dinner, I returned to Camp Hill, PA with my parents. This meant that when we headed back to New York on Saturday, we would be driving within a mile or two from the PA state cyclocross championships. The urge for spontaneous, unplanned racing proved too strong and my dad and I took the minor detour off the highway in Allentown to check it out.<br /><br />Borrowing my dad’s bike and shoes, I lined up with the Cat2,3,4 field. After a strong start, I had a large gap for the first lap. I wanted to create a selection right away, and as expected a couple of the fast guys quickly formed a chase and dropped the rest of the field. Zach Adams, who has been on fire recently, made a great move to bridge up with Matt Spohn. Towards the end of the second lap, they were closing, so I sat up and let Zach take the lead. He seemed content to set the pace for the majority of the race. He was clearly strong and motivated. Matt, Zach and I rode steady and gradually distanced ourselves to a comfortable lead where we settled in. The course was fairly straightforward. It was dry, so no mud complicated the grassy course’s off-cambers and there was only one forced dismount. With two laps to go, Matt bobbled a bit and was gapped. Clearly, he was in difficulty from his earlier efforts to join the front and he could never catch back on. Zach and I tactically rolled around the final lap. He peppered the last lap with little bursts of accelerations that I ached to match. Ultimately, he managed to put a little distance on me after the barriers, with about 50 yards before a right turn onto the uphill finishing stretch of pavement. I couldn’t quite get myself up to him in time to win in a sprint. Did I wuss out? Probably, but I was happy to finish well in a spur of the moment race. Besides, Zach has been racing very well these past few weeks, and deserved the win. After waiting around to pick up my prize, it was back on the road to New York City, Staten Island awaited.<br /><br />Sunday morning, my father and I awoke to frigid temperatures and sleet. It only seemed to get worse as we hit the road and made our way to final borough that I had yet to visit since moving here. I called CJ from the car, and he informed me that conditions were even winterier where he was standing (putting the final touches to the course-set). I began prepping myself for the mental anguish of slip-sliding in half-frozen mud. I also had to psych my dad up. His bike was in the car, he had clothing, shoes, a helmet and the cash for day-of registration. The only thing he needed was a son who wouldn’t let him back down.<br /><br />We showed up to the parking lot as things were already getting underway. Fittingly, the race course shared the park with a monument to the Battle of the Bulge. It was cold, it was wet and people didn’t seem particularly excited. I was able, however, to talk my dad into suiting up and taking his bike out of the car for a little ride. Eventually, he even capitulated to signing up to race in the B-masters field. He raced, he finished and he smiled a bunch. Much later, he would call me from the car ride back to PA. He was stuck in traffic and still full of penetrating damp coldness. He wouldn’t get a shower until seven hours after his race! That’s ‘core!<br /><br />The weather made the pre race routine downright painful. It was uncomfortable to even begin to think about changing into proper clothing. I layered myself under some raingear and took a look at the course. I was happy to see Matt Spohn, my fellow Central Pennsylvanian and race companion from the previous day. We went about “warming up” by spinning around Jed and CJ’s course set. It was nice. The course utilized much of the available terrain, with a mix of grass, mud and sand. There was one exception to the otherwise free flowing rhythm of the course. A failed attempt at the famed “spiral of death” invented some years ago for the Wissahickon race, left a muddled birdsnest of tape following the barriers. Sorry Tony, I still won’t buy it, that wasn’t a real spiral! My favorite sections of the course included a fun little rollercoaster around the park’s Monument and a grass stretch that overlooked the Atlantic surf.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TSgLrD9bBnqrAwTMBzMmTr2XPh0PVvkDdQJc9XNnaFDfy49u22X85hvOhDwkNF7p8oa3_3vWblk7TrOayU5c5Jx5ZRKQ1NiV_Nn8-M6tNSYHxvmms6LxMZnSdJz9TvYt7Op87NYSu2s/s1600-h/3075292615_8466689672_o.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 232px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TSgLrD9bBnqrAwTMBzMmTr2XPh0PVvkDdQJc9XNnaFDfy49u22X85hvOhDwkNF7p8oa3_3vWblk7TrOayU5c5Jx5ZRKQ1NiV_Nn8-M6tNSYHxvmms6LxMZnSdJz9TvYt7Op87NYSu2s/s320/3075292615_8466689672_o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278300551526197922" border="0"></a><br /><br />So, we lined up for the race. I guess I didn’t get the promised CRCA call-up since I was flying the TOGA colors. I sat on the second row. The start was too short to really get a good run at taking the holeshot, so I started as fast as I could and waited until the first grass straightaway to move up. While sprinting up the side, a rut in the mud knocked me several feet to the right and I gave the guy (winner of the holeshot) a nice hip check with all my 185 pounds. Fortunately, it was fellow big dude, and creator of the “Glomerulus of Confusion,” Tony Slokar. He gave me a sarcastic scolding, and we rolled on. Soon, I moved away from the group. A little later I was joined by Matt Spohn. We worked together to build a lead, as was our tactic going into the race. I was a bit faster running through the sand, which put me in the lead going into the woods. I preferred the front there, because it gave me the ability to chose my line and ride the run-up. The ability to stay on the bike up the steep, rooty, pitch gave us a major advantage coming back onto the grass sections of the course. Matt took the lead for a few stretches, but the mud off of his back tire made the draft less pleasant than if it were dry, so I spent as much time as possible on the front. On the last lap, Matt took the lead after the beach. We headed into the woods and hit lapped traffic on the run-up. This congestion forced us to dismount for the first time in the race. I was able to squeeze by him while on foot, scrambling up the incline. We hit the final few turns and I hit the gas. He wasn’t able to match my acceleration and I cruised in with my final win. Luckily, I barely avoided the embarrassment of crashing into a hole on the finish line while celebrating with raised arms and let out a goofy “WHOAAHOAH!” and laughed as I grabbed my bars and finished with a more restrained posture.<br /><br />StatenCX, round one was a success and the photos say it all. It was especially nice to see so many familiar faces from the road season trying out cyclocross for the first time and supporting CJ and Jed’s vision for the future of cycling in NYC. Hopefully the city and CRCA, Kissena and the rest of New York’s cycling community will continue to support such a welcome development. Thanks for everybody who came out. I will leave it to CJ to finally write his wrap-up blog (which appears to be even more overdue than mine) and give the full perspective on what those guys accomplished. As for me, I am very pleased with my season. I met my goals of having fun, learning a new sport and gaining some skills. I also accomplished some things that I had not expected, namely to earn a Cat2 in something my first year out, and in ‘Cross, no less. This inevitably brings me back to my gushy, emotional stream I was hinting at earlier. When originally conceiving this piece in the context of Thanksgiving, I had the incredibly clichéd desire to express my deep appreciation for everybody who has made this season so great. So here goes…and I mean this stuff sincerely, so tread lightly when making sarcastic comments about this little epilogue<br /><br />Thanks to the Sanches-Metro (stay tuned for the name change next year) guys for getting me started way back in January. I can’t say enough about how much the generosity and benevolence of the team, especially from Bob Guatelli and Vinny Vicari, means to me. I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to the TOGA guys for showing me the ropes and introducing me to the quirky world of Cyclocross. Without Paul’s pit bike, I would not have had a sled. Also, thanks to CJ, Jed, Jon Cuttler, for making the fantasy of a Staten Island race a reality. I also need to shout out to Tony Slokar, who makes a mean roast (so I’ve heard). Thanks for reading, and watch out for those little metal thingies on the GW bridge—flat city!<br /><br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw75XPMmLjUjQ3jBJsPRrnpLvkKtBP1j5ZFT-nW28uKTVc1dA74_Ui1NdmqbOekhF0_Z5c8SUmCgzCYqL5Y_g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-55703790053663487612008-12-02T14:54:00.000-08:002008-12-02T14:58:17.729-08:00Thanksgiving at Camp Prenskyit can mean only one thing:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJe-pjj0B8Wdf1sNY-Ptm_mRS15Kp8JwRFXCPJ1DMV5G947PWekFZm83jNZ9AiPZr8NKcUPXe_pxYmTbYPeP_4yT6XzQ7KyayeLulmUsf5xmTO7z0bjL-6BDN5-5OqIyLBGDW_xmeh7A/s1600-h/IMG_0185.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJe-pjj0B8Wdf1sNY-Ptm_mRS15Kp8JwRFXCPJ1DMV5G947PWekFZm83jNZ9AiPZr8NKcUPXe_pxYmTbYPeP_4yT6XzQ7KyayeLulmUsf5xmTO7z0bjL-6BDN5-5OqIyLBGDW_xmeh7A/s320/IMG_0185.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275330718962643698" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Up on the roof to clean the gutters and ponder the age-old question of whether my grandfather's gutter guards actually do anything.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbTblUJib-JITCfMe_19u2WqxC58wXkK_Pr_Ur8te_69Q7vJqEUO-fiC5wFscgqVSl_bh8xDfQ7wbJUWD0JKErIce98QjikvCD7DJclkHf8LA_5WcQgctEaoqItYOomtqoN1IQlvpMfk8/s1600-h/IMG_0183.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbTblUJib-JITCfMe_19u2WqxC58wXkK_Pr_Ur8te_69Q7vJqEUO-fiC5wFscgqVSl_bh8xDfQ7wbJUWD0JKErIce98QjikvCD7DJclkHf8LA_5WcQgctEaoqItYOomtqoN1IQlvpMfk8/s320/IMG_0183.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275330335827794706" border="0" /></a>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-46903033507660675092008-12-02T13:13:00.000-08:002008-12-02T14:31:18.229-08:00Late Homework, season end wrapup, Part IWhew! Its been a crazy couple of weeks. I’ve got a pretty substantial back log of race reports to write. I’m going to attempt to survey my final three weeks of Cyclocross racing, Season 1. If it is too long, I’m sorry. Maybe I’ll just ‘twitter’ the next on.<br /><br />I didn’t include a race report from the USGP at Mercer for a couple of reasons. For one, by the time I recovered from the physical and mental shock that that race unleashed, a number of people had already adequately summed up the experience. My experience was in no way unique. It was muddy, I ran a lot, and I hated myself for the full three laps that I raced on Sunday. I had sacrificed the Saturday race in order to study, and one look at the C race in progress on the following day made me wish I had bagged the whole weekend. Secondly, nothing very interesting happened to me, aside from getting the chance to finally see how masochistic and illogical cyclocross racing can be. Sunday was not only a great chance for me to participate in an “EPIC” cross race, but also hone my snark with team mate Eben as we prepared. My only regret from Mercer was that they didn’t run the course into the lake to make the damn thing into a triathlon. One other highlight was when Eben and I were passed on the highway by a Lamborghini and Porshe turbo-something. They were traveling at nearly double our velocity and squeezing through smaller holes than one of those sketchy racers in Central Park that nobody knows exactly how he got a cat2 upgrade all those years ago. Supper “aggro.”<br /><br />Anyhow, I took my exam on Monday. Nobody has instructed me to clean out my locker and turn in my ID badge, so I guess I succeeded in passing. On with the show…<br /><br />Whitmore’s Landscaping Supercross of Southampton (or something like that):<br /><br />I had intended to title this post, “A Touch of Gold” as we were racing in none other than New York City’s own classy country cousin—The Hamptons.<br /><br />This location had always filled my head with wonderous visions of solid gold plumbing, foreign luxury automobiles and those fancy striped beach tent things that you see in old grainy photos from the 1920’s of wealthy Manhattanites summering at the shore in black wool bathing coveralls. I was excited to see if the Great Gatsby was still out there somewhere (I know, it wasn't the Hamptons, but I apply my Literal references liberally, OK?). I know sub-freezing temperatures are not the ideal way to experience a glamorous beach destination, but heck, I’d only ever been to Long Island once, and that was for a college lacrosse game at Pace. I tagged along with a rag tag group of young up and comers to our weekend rental home in Easthampton. It came equipped with a garage, knock-off Viking stove, huge chandelier and authentic faux gold-plated silverware in the kitchen drawers. The non-racing activities of the weekend generally included one comical folly/ near disaster after another. I will just say this to the young people out there—fire safety is important. To protect others' identities from potential future embarrassment/litigation I will only say that our group included 2 members of a local team famous for their orange jumpsuits and gas-station-like team branding, a well known promoter of NYC cross racing and bacon chic, a fur-toting DJ and a very fast female racer once profiled on this site. Oh, and I won’t say who, but one of us (not me) knowingly loaded up the car with a PARTIALLY assembled bike to race on.<br /><br />As for the racing, it was cold and windy. The course was very cool. Both Saturday and Sunday’s races utilized the variety of terrain available to the site. There was pavement, grass power sections, very steep off-cambers, punchy climbs and sandy single track. One of the nicer parts of the course was that it was rather spectator friendly for the few brave souls who ventured out in to the cold (or were forced by guilt-tripping friends/family/spouses). Sunday ran a “traditional” course for the site, from what I was told, where Saturday had us racing the course in reverse. It didn’t make a lick of difference to me, as I had never seen the original, so I just tried to make the most of my warm up laps, which were hastily done to avoid getting too cold. The race organizers were kind enough to provide a “warming room” for us in the large rec center in the center of the course.<br /><br />The first day went well for me. I got off to a strong start. I decided to hold back and sit in the top five instead of my usual impatient surge to the holeshot. I rode with the leaders who included Brian Lawney, Rob Collins and Andrew Crooks. I was happy to pace myself off of those guys until I made my usual brainless bobble on the first lap and crashed in a 180 degree turn. Brian rode right into my back and also went down. We got back together, though I was a little shaky. The other three guys have been riding consistently fast this season, and I knew Brian would power away if given the chance. Unfortunately, I felt the normal bad lap coming on number two. I noticed Andrew was also having difficulty. As I followed his wheel, Rob and Brian began to gap us. At some point, Andrew yelled to me that he was having mechanical problems and that I had to go for it. I tried to pass him, but even when I did it was too late for me. I was already in no man’s land. I don’t yet have the mental or physical conditioning to fight back a lead group when I’m suffering in a cross race, its enough to try and keep from crashing. I’ve noticed recently that when riding at the front, the fast guys are really fast, and once I’m dropped, its about damage control. That was pretty much my race, right there. I rode alone for a while until I was caught by another rider. I let him around and hung on his wheel for the last two or three laps. As I geared up to unleash a mighty sprint as we turned onto the pavement, my companion just sat up. Whitmore’s day 1, first MAC podium, I’ll take it. As I had expected, Brian Lawney powered away for a convincing win.<br /><br />Day two was a similar race. The competition was a little more stacked, though and a few fast guys showed up who weren’t there on day one. Among them was Will Duggan, a rider on the Richard Sachs team who’s had a heck of a season in the UCI races. Apparently he needed to race with us under the banner of UVM in order to qualify for Collegiate Nationals. In any case, he was not going to be easy to follow. Again, I went out with the fast group. As usual, I was gapped at some point on the second or third lap and went into my miserable existence-questioning spiral and began getting passed while trying to hold on. Eventually, like one always does, I put myself back together. It was not before dropping well out of a podium position, however. Eventually I engaged in a private dog fight with another rider for 6th or 7th place. Over the loud speaker, I heard that Will Duggan had mechanical’d. As we rode up the steepest climb, I saw a broken chain in the grass—bam. Moments later, Duggan was on the side of the trail in the woods passing on words of encouragement to me and sparring partner. For the last three laps of the race, I began to notice something. I had a lot of unfamiliar faces cheering my name. I shrugged it off, though it intrigued me the whole race. This rider was definitely faster than me through the technical stuff. I gauged his speed for a couple of laps. For a while, he pulled away and had some decent ground between us. However, as we closed in on the last lap, I fought hard to regain his wheel. As we neared the killer climb for the seventh and final time I though about passing him. Instead, I just stuck his wheel. I took as many risks as I had to maintain contact through the single track in the woods. I felt surprisingly fresh and knew that the finishing stretch, with two long pavement sections separated by a 90 degree turn on grass about 75-100 meters from the line, would be my friend. I was exactly where I needed to be when we hit the pavement. It had been a good couple of months since I got a chance to really sprint, and I couldn't help but let a little grin sneak onto my face. With the 6th placed rider right in my sights, he began playing games. He slowed down, brought us to the barriers and then put on a little surge just to test me. I waited. With about 200 meters to go, I downshifted and stomped it. I came around and took the front and sat back down, still mashing. The little gap was all I needed as we turned onto the grass. Once back on the pavement I dropped another cog and put in my second burst. I had my tiny win for sixth and it felt great.<br /><br />It turns out that my duel for the minor placing was with Colin Reuter, the architect of the amazing <a href="http://www.crossresults.com/">Crossresults.com</a> website. So, he was just as confused as I was at the number of people cheering for “Colin” during the ride. He has a great write up of his race on his blog. He has also gained some notoriety for strapping a camera to his bike during races, he’s also a nice guy with a great sense of humor. <a href="http://untilthesnowends.blogspot.com/2008/11/whitmores-cross-cup-day-2-race-report.html"> In his report</a>, he mentions that he hadn’t lost a sprint in a while. I don't like to end streaks, but I like knowing that I was able to finish strong against a fast finisher. However, I was pretty hungry to let one finally unwind like that.<br /><br /><object width="400" height="302"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=2342812&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" /><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=2342812&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="302"></embed></object><br /><a href="http://vimeo.com/2342812">Whitmore's Cross Cup Handlebar Cam Day 2 Part 2</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user662800">colin reuter</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.<br /><br />In the above video, I appear about 6:05 in. Thanks again to Colin R.<br /><br /><br /><br />We stayed to watch the elite race where Ryan Trebon impressed all who witnessed his ride from back of the pack with a flat to the podium. Read about it, or find a video if you can, those guys can really move.<br /><br />Before heading home, I stayed with the gang to help collect "step ins" for the Staten Island race course.<br /><br /><br />Stay tuned for Thanksgiving, PA state championships and SICX...Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-18411588627156810902008-12-01T16:29:00.000-08:002008-12-01T16:56:12.513-08:00<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dytGeemuQ35QoDaNYqnpzEFiwu6nGRkUZAZ1MB_4mV6UaYx02a2IBTcj9JYLQJyjtJf1gJ2BuwSDapSBd3oZQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-35896975507265050852008-11-19T12:45:00.000-08:002008-11-19T12:49:13.005-08:00<p>Another weekend has passed. Two more cyclocross races have been taken down into my mental inventory of MAC experiences. Saturday and Sunday could not have been more different, despite both races residing in New Jersey, with one exception: both races were filled with the deep searing pain that causes a person to question nearly all determination to continue. While racing, I felt like I would have rather been anywhere else on Earth. Even still, recounting the two days now makes me anticipate the next race even more. I have always been amazed at the way in which endurance athletes can become so mixed up in their pursuits of reward; where agonizing experiences can elicit intense euphoria and lead to crippling addiction. The hardest, most miserable races become the most cherished. </p> <p>Anyway, I digress. What made these races so hard, you surely ask? Each race was special in its own way. In two days, racers were treated to the highs and lows of racing in distinctly different regions of New Jersey. Saturday’s story was one of sand, steps and blinding rain. Sunday provided the convergence of peanut butter mud and leg-stealing elevation change.</p> <p>Saturday at Beacon provided the best of Southern Jersey ‘cross. The course was set throughout a beautiful lakeside park. Much of the racing was done on double track through the woods. The surface was mostly a tacky-enough compacted soil with a high sand content. There was little in the way of technical turning and on first inspection it looked like it would be a fast race that favored fit, powerful roadie types. The two major obstacles were a very long sand section along the lakefront beach and a run-up through an amphitheater. The sand was also freshly tilled between races for good measure. It was slow, it was deep, and it ended in a trio of large concrete steps. The run-up in the amphitheater disposed of the normal, human sized steps in favor of the large seating terraces. Each step up was probably 2 ½ feet high. That might not sound like much, but after 30 minutes of racing, its mighty high. Also, for those of limited vertical stature or leap, it seemed downright cruel.</p> <p> </p> <p><img src="http://nyvelocity.com/files/u3124/IMG_7735.jpg" alt="Beach Runners shoulder their bikes" title="Beach" height="400" width="600" /></p> <p><img src="http://nyvelocity.com/files/u3124/IMG_7605.jpg" alt="blurry remount picture" title="Blur" height="400" width="600" /></p> <p>In any event, the course was super fun on warm up and I was pretty excited to tackle it. Just in time for our race, the sky opened up. When we lined up for the start, I had little idea what was in store. I used my second row call up to tuck easily into the top two or three riders heading into the first turn. When we dove into the woods, the rain was beginning to pool on the course. We hit the opening stretches of sandy double-track at very high speed. In little time, a lead group had formed. I ended up working with another rider in UVM kit for the first two laps. He took the preme at the amphitheater run-up on the first lap, and I got it on the second time through. By the third lap, we were all together in a group of six. The course allowed drafting to become effective, though the rooster tails of wet, sandy mud made it nearly impossible to gain the aerodynamic advantage without being blinded. On one of the middle laps, a rider went down in front of me, just before the giant steps. I slipped while avoiding him, and in the short time that it took for me to gather myself and claw my way up the amphitheater. I was gapped. The five guys quickly disappeared and I was alone in my head like last week. My race sort of went south from there. Just about every time through the black hole of beach sand, I had trouble. I crashed a few times dismounting and all the running sapped my legs. The sandy eye-irrigation began to make even blinking painful. I trudged on, though (trudged is used figuratively since the total elapsed time only seemed like an eternity). Ultimately, I finished out as strongly as I could. Chad Culbertson caught me with two to go, but I was able to hang on and wait until the finishing stretch to uncoil my sprint. It felt nice to do that again. In the end, I was seventh. That’s my first top 10 in a real MAC race. While that accomplishment should satisfy me, I felt that I had more in me, but got caught up in a fall at the wrong place. So it goes. I just thought that starting in the 2nd row would make things easier. It turns out that it just takes less time to get up to the guys who are faster than you. In the end, my finish line face says it all:</p> <p><img src="http://nyvelocity.com/files/u3124/IMG_7676.jpg" alt="Pain Face" title="Pain Face" height="600" width="400" /></p> <p>Overall, the race was awesome. The course was super fun and the conditions made it really challenging. The Toga! van was in full force. We even had a tent. Paul D. even made his return to racing after his frustrating back injury. Even after a dropped chain and flat tire, he was smiling like (in his own words) “a pig in shit!” It was also cool to watch Roger Aspholm race, as it always is. He patiently rode second wheel to Mike Yozell, only to pull a magical sprint out at the end to remain undefeated in MAC Elite Masters. CJ also made his presence known with a somewhat belated Halloween race. His Mario costume must have weighed about 45 pounds in wet, sandy denim by the end of the race.</p> <p> </p> <p><img src="http://nyvelocity.com/files/u3124/IMG_7698.jpg" alt="Posse" title="Posse" height="600" width="400" /></p> <p><img src="http://nyvelocity.com/files/u3124/IMG_7714.jpg" alt="lake dunk" title="lake dunk" height="400" width="600" /></p> <p><i>Who needs to wait for the hose? </i></p> <p> </p> <p>Sunday at Highland Park was my chance for redemption, so I thought. The weather brought us sun instead of showers, and with it came an effervescent optimism. However, after a quarter of a lap on the course during warm-ups, my enthusiasm was less buoyant. The rain had created a quagmire of heavy mud throughout the course. The sun dried it out just enough to turn it into adhesive clay with the consistency of the hot tar that bubbles out of cracks in the road on a summer day. To compound this, racers were asked to pilot their bikes through this kinetic siphon at a moderately steep incline for the first half of the course. In fact, the middle of the course sat high on a hill and the start/finish was at the bottom. In addition, most of the corners were just slick enough to make me doubt my speed and trajectory when navigating them. Ok, enough of the excuses, on with the race.</p> <p>The starting stretch was very short, but with a second row call-up again, I was able to easily find a favorable position at the holeshot despite having trouble clipping into my pedal. I tried desperately to hang on to the fast guys, who welcomed Jeff Bahnson (the 15 year old king of the “killer B’s”) back to the field after his 10th place in the elites at Beacon. “Why was this guy sandbagging the B’s after a top 10 the day before?” you may ask. Well, seeing as this race was a UCI race, and they don’t allow 15 year olds into the senior UCI races, I’m pretty sure we can all forgive him. In any case, before the suffering blurred my vision too far, I was able to marvel at the ease with which he drifted away from all of us. Back at the front of the rest of us, it was a spectacular mashing of gears. It was a blur of motion and sound and grimaced faces. Meanwhile, up the hill floats Jeff, as if propelled by some magical Willy Wonka levitating soda. </p> <p>I, on the other hand, quickly found that my 185-pound carcass could not provide the necessary power to overcome the combination of gravity and mud-stuck friction. A familiar face who recently introduced himself to me as Fat Mark or Fatmarc (?) informed me that I was the new “king of the holeshot.” Unfortunately, being king of the holeshot doesn’t prevent me from imploding after about 5 minutes hammering. This implosion took on a spectacular form on Sunday. The mud made every inch of the course like riding a stationary trainer with the mag unit maxed out. There was no place to hide and recover. Every lap I watched people pass me. Every lap I wished to hold onto a slightly more diminished ambition. Every lap brought me the cheers of friends with chants of slightly higher placing. “Go on Colin! You’re in 5th!”… “Go on Colin You’re in 7th!”… “Don’t Quit, that’s 11th right in front of you!”</p> <p><img src="http://nyvelocity.com/files/u3124/IMG_7835.jpg" alt="HPPX holeshot" title="HOLESHOT KING!" height="400" width="600" /></p> <p><i>If cross races were only 30 seconds long, the holeshot king would reign supreme.</i></p> <p><img src="http://nyvelocity.com/files/u3124/barrier_crop.jpg" alt="barriers ho!" title="Barriers HO!" height="386" width="271" /></p> <p> </p> <p><img src="http://nyvelocity.com/files/u3124/IMG_8215.jpg" alt="finish" title="finish" height="400" width="600" /></p> <p><i>Sadly, the Holeshot King must be forever tormented in a world of 45+ minute races.</i></p> <p> </p> <p>The race ultimately boiled down to a grudge match between Chad and me again. This time, however, I didn’t have the sprint in me and he pulled away from me to take 11th. I ended up in 12th. Not bad, but one would hope that the soul crushing that I sustained would at least yield a modest payout of a prize bag of socks or energy gels or even a ribbon. Sadly, prizes were only 10 deep, and I couldn’t quite reach the top 10 on Sunday. Again, I can’t really complain. My race was not defined by some stroke of fortune. I had no mechanicals and no costly crashes. I rode hard and my finish was an honest reflection of my abilities on that course on that day. No excuses, the fast guys were just faster. </p> <p>It does bring me back to my rambling prologue. I have never wanted a race to be over as badly as I did at Highland Park on Sunday. I filled my head with thoughts of sleeping cozily in the van while everybody else toiled in the mud. I pushed on, however, and thinking back to the race now, it conjures up only pleasurable feelings. Why does that happen? Well, if you really want to know, I did just take an exam on Monday. Among other things, this test required studying the circuitry of the Dopamine reward system of the human brain and the changes in key structures that lead to addictive behavior. Suffice it to say, the differences between compulsive endurance athletes and most normal, well-adjusted folk is more than spandex-deep.</p>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-26651086949392917502008-11-05T15:44:00.001-08:002008-11-05T15:44:43.216-08:00OH YEAH!OBAMAHHHHHHHHHH!Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-1097164914091328762008-11-04T14:00:00.000-08:002008-11-04T14:02:10.820-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROp6HBhRZaE3D0kw_LMNAOvbgzC8CX2TcIDLjsIcwKz7QYoJeH6G61xYVe0heclzUFUwZ7E99865ImbhqlrvWPCKpBnrayv37EWDrJYpL1-NtQt9unwkYtUNUhuV6pg7ORU10_bqXhL0/s1600-h/IMG_7290_2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROp6HBhRZaE3D0kw_LMNAOvbgzC8CX2TcIDLjsIcwKz7QYoJeH6G61xYVe0heclzUFUwZ7E99865ImbhqlrvWPCKpBnrayv37EWDrJYpL1-NtQt9unwkYtUNUhuV6pg7ORU10_bqXhL0/s320/IMG_7290_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264926062138108498" border="0" /></a>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-5019580380363401862008-11-04T13:59:00.000-08:002008-11-05T11:42:53.112-08:00Wayne Scott Cross: Pit HappensThis past week's stop on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">cyclocross</span></span> magical mystery tour was in Fair Hill, Maryland for the Wayne Scott Cross. I headed down this week with John Cutler and Kyle <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Peppo</span></span> and we left "The City" at an ungodly 5:15 am so we could get to the county fairgrounds in time for the first races of the day.<br /><br />The course was a nice mix of terrain and mostly flat. There was a large sand pit that was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">rideable</span></span> but had several hairpin turns. The course also took the riders through a barn and under a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">pavilion</span> housing the beer keg and BBQ station. The loop was very long and the C field only completed 4 laps in their race.<br /><br />I was looking forward to the start. There was a long opening sprint and a wide open "prologue loop" that would allow me to move out on the field. Also working in my favor, was a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">second</span> row start <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">position</span> earned by placing 11<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">th</span></span> at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Granogue</span></span>. I lined up with the 57 other riders and waited for the whistle. When we got the signal, I quickly moved out and up the left side of the field. I easily won the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">holeshot</span></span> and made a move early in the first lap. I gained a small gap and held it, hoping to spread the field out. I figured that I would ride the first lap hard, force a chase and then settle into a lead group that would have some breathing room. I enjoyed riding at the front. I was able to pick my own lines and ride relaxed. After the long sand pit, two barrier sections, barns and all the hairpin turns, I was still well out in front at the end of the first lap. I began to relax.<br /><br />On the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">second</span> lap, I continued to lead, but slowed just enough to allow the two chasers up to me. I figured that together we could work to move out from the rest of the field. Unfortunately, I lost my focus for a split second entering a tight corner. I let my weight get too far over the front wheel and it washed out. I went down and the chain dropped, allowing the two chasing riders to catch up and pass me. While in pursuit, yet still in contact, with a lead group of three or four (including myself), I managed to pinch flat. In an attempt to bunny hop a small log barrier, my wheel made hard contact and the 35 psi was not enough to ward off the damage.<br /><br />Demoralized, I rolled around, slowly, for the rest of the lap until I reached the pit. One problem existed: I had no spare wheels or bike stashed away. I figured that by some stroke of luck I would be able to recognize a team mate's wheels, but I could not. Not only did I get passed by a whole heap of riders while getting to the pit, the racers kept flooding past me as I stood there just waiting to step under the tape and pull the plug.<br /><br />Just as I was about to head out and grab a beer in consolation of my fate, my team mate Eben came sliding into the pit. Without hesitating, he handed off his bike and sent me on my way. In a matter of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">second</span> I was back on course grappling with the conflicting voices in my head. I didn't want to continue, but a team mate had completely sacrificed his own race for me to continue, so I settled on pulling back as much of the 3 or 4 minutes that I had lost standing around. As I began gaining steam, I started passing the riders who I hadn't seen since the starting whistle. Some had gone out hard and blown fuses, others were clawing back time they may have lost by a slow first two laps. In the midst of the race we were all just proving something to ourselves.<br /><br />I gained momentum as I desperately tried to salvage my race. I was passing guys faster and faster as I worked my way back up the the major <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">bolus</span> of riders that comprised what was left of the "main field." I eventually caught back up to Adam Duncan, who was so lost in his own <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">delirious</span> exhaustion, that he cheered me on. He was fully convinced that I had managed to lap him late in the race.<br /><br />Finally, the end came, and I sprinted past one more rider on the line. After waiting for the final tally, I found the results sheet. I had slotted into 18<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">th</span> place. Not bad, but not what I had hoped for. The two riders who had chased and then passed me when I crashed ended up going first and second. Bryon <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Kremer</span>, who had finished in second place at the Whirlybird (in his first cross race) was third. I have no doubt that I was capable with a podium finish in that race, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Cyclocross</span> is about accepting the turns in fate and learning from the less than ideal circumstances. It also good to be reflective enough to avoid making the same silly mistakes over and over. I promised myself that the cross season would be a welcome break from the serious and self-critical machinations of the road and track season. I promised that I wouldn't take myself too seriously. Unfortunately, I am a victim of my own ambition. I always take myself too seriously. However, in honor of my promise, I will chose to laugh about the way things went.<br /><br />I will also take some valuable lessons away from this. First, I am lucky to have found team mates who are willing to help me take myself too seriously. Eben went beyond what I would have expected from anybody. He handed me his bike so that I could keep riding. Sure it was a little small, but it got me to the finish. When he rolled across the line on my bike, with a 10 speed wheel jammed into its 9 speed <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">drive train</span>, I realized that I could only smile. The nonchalance with which Eben dismissed my thanks was evidence to the spirit of the venture.<br /><br />The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">second</span> lesson is about why most of the people ride cross. It doesn't matter where you finish. Every rider earns the respect of their peers just by toeing the line and staring down the racecourse. There is little to prove, except what one needs to prove to ones self. Every cross race eventually <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">dissolves</span> into a contest of internal wills. At that point in the race, we are all fighting our own demons- the ultimate beauty of cross is the private, internal race that unfolds and allows every rider to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">achieve</span> their absolute limits.Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-47140538913892699032008-10-28T18:25:00.000-07:002008-10-28T18:29:50.650-07:00whirlybird<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTuMcPFxAsNMaIlwljm64nnMrBzCoT0YhcYaC8WCMck5TpD_v4OghKxjTTTMVZcY96_Z84QzIlf8hlLkxCz-Z4Y5PEINam4atU328VuhBVZFepQ_UjgnEHZY2XTrN0ZuMLehjbxaGalKg/s1600-h/402676595_Gg5nb-L.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTuMcPFxAsNMaIlwljm64nnMrBzCoT0YhcYaC8WCMck5TpD_v4OghKxjTTTMVZcY96_Z84QzIlf8hlLkxCz-Z4Y5PEINam4atU328VuhBVZFepQ_UjgnEHZY2XTrN0ZuMLehjbxaGalKg/s320/402676595_Gg5nb-L.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262381600513624402" border="0" /></a><br />Photo copyright Anthony SkorochodColin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-78603210352318886962008-10-28T18:13:00.000-07:002008-10-28T18:24:38.578-07:00After three weeks of jaunting around to race cross bikes in beautiful sunny weather and warm temperatures, this past weekend finally provided the weather that most people associate with the sport. I had originally planned on taking the weekend off and catch back up with the weekend tasks that have been put off to make room for my out of state travels. However, as the weekend approached and word of other New Yorkers heading down to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Whirly</span> Bird Cross in Bryn <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Athyn</span> caught my attention. The near pathological need for me to race at least once per week proved insurmountable and sure enough, I left the concrete canyons of Manhattan for the green pastures of Suburban Philadelphia on Saturday morning. <br /> As <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">CJ</span>, Jason and I headed out of the Upper East Side, the sky loomed with the threat of rain. Finally we were confronted with the probability of racing in conditions more stereotypical of ‘cross than we had faced over the previous few weekends. Ultimately, the weather was mildly chilly and raining. After hearing that the course was slick, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">CJ</span>, Jason, Jed and I made sure to check our tire pressure. I’m still not used to the squirmy feeling, and am paranoid about pinch flats and as a result usually err on the side of too much air. I ended up running between 35 and 40 lbs. <br /> We were getting ready in the overflow parking lot as the C race was beginning. Our car was parked right in front of the “circle of death.” A feature of the course where riders spiral in towards the center and then reverse direction to spiral back out. Imagine it as a sort of slippery green “<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Cinabon</span>.” The thing about the circle of death is, that riders end up inside of it for, like, 30 seconds. That’s great for a seasoned trash-talker, but my heckling skills are not so finely tuned. I ran out of things to yell at Sam <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Fiorino</span> after about 10 seconds. As he was still right in front of me, it got a little awkward. You know your bad at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">talkin</span>’ smack, when your victim can heckle you back while still racing. Anyway, Sam had a great ride to finish on the podium for the second straight week, so at least my poor heckling <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">didn</span>’t slow him down.<br /> Anyway, I got to the start line plenty early. I was not about to start in the back again and I traded good position for a real warm up. There was a small call up, but afterwards I was able to kind of nudge myself up into the second row. The start was nonetheless hectic, as I called to Jed to let him know I was right next to him and coming by. Some other rider leaned on me very hard for a good 40 or 50 yards before I was able to get free of him without crashing. I ended up in the top few guys at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">holeshot</span>. Very early on, a group of four formed. Chad Culbertson, Matt Harris, Bryon <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Kremer</span> and I managed to create a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">sizable</span> gap, working as smoothly as possible between crashes. Every one of us slipped and fell on at least one corner. At some point, I made a move and managed to win the first lap prime, but I was so slow in the technical stuff that the three other guys brought me back without a problem. <br /> I spent most of the race trying to stay up and conserve energy. We settled into a nice rhythm by the third lap, having gained a good 20 second advantage on the field. For most of the race I rode in third or fourth position, and occasionally took my turn setting the pace. A couple times I tested the legs of the others by trying to motor in the straights, but I could never get a big enough gap to hold them off in some of the twisty stuff. It was so slick that even putting power down on the flat fast sections sent my rear wheel fishtailing all over the place. All four of us ended up riding very conservatively where necessary, even running through some of the steeper off-camber 180’s.<br /> Ultimately, my patience and conservative race plan paid off. Towards the beginning of the last lap, Bryon went down really hard into one of the wooden stakes holding the course tape. A short distance later, Matt (who had come around me when I slowed to avoid riding over Bryon) lost his footing on a tricky corner. This opened up a window for me and I took it. I never got more than a 5-10 second gap, but it was all I needed. I drilled it on the fast, power sections and tip-toed through the tricky stuff. My glasses were so obscured with rain and mud that I tossed them for fear of crashing. With about a minute left in the lap, the sky really opened up and it went from a drizzle to a full-on downpour (I had some serious delusions of grandeur while leading the race on the last lap in heavy rain). With a few turns left in the course, I began to relax. One last off-camber descent and I was on the gravel road to the finish line.<br /> I slowed to a stop and slumped over my bars with my friends and family who had cheered me into the finish. I noted that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">CJ</span> was there already, and it meant only one thing: he would be replacing more bike parts this week (will somebody please tell him to use steel bars?). By far the coolest part of the race was that my sister was able to come out. She goes to college in the area and made the 45 minute drive so that she could stand in the rain to watch her first <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">cyclocross</span> race. My dad was also in town and came out to take it in. Hearing them on the last lap was really better than I could ever convey. In a sport like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">cyclocross</span>, with such exquisite suffering, the encouragement of friends can really make the difference.<br /><br /><br /> The Whirlybird 2008 will definitely not be forgotten soon. It was a fun, tough race. It may not have had the overwhelming numbers or prestige of a Gloucester or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Granogue</span> race, but it had the refreshing grassroots appeal that is so crucial to rabid following that this sport seems to foster. It was also fun to race in the rain for a change.<br /><br /><pre><br /><br /></pre><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwdYu7Fn58OUc-3OqZl21VfHjVj1nzsXlU1BpvY5GVFm9x7sCjOd06GzUpd54Wyamlb26_u5Cy2WVYRvvmzRA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-6535861679574759242008-10-20T07:26:00.000-07:002008-10-20T13:19:55.386-07:00Crossing the DelawareWeek three of my inaugural cyclocross season brought me to Delaware for an epic struggle on the lovely DuPont family estate of Granogue. In this pastoral setting a great convergence of the Mid Atlantic Cyclocross series (and UCI C1 race) was the setting for another fun weekend in uncrossly sunny and dry weather. Live music, free beer and ample fall foliage further assured all in attendence that the best that this fringe subculture has to offer would be on display. The weekend actually paired the Granogue race with another great venue on Sunday in Wissahickon, outside of Philadelphia. Unfortunately for me, however, two of my courses scheduled exams conflicting with this kind of time-devouring recreation. In fact, I am composing this report after having finished one of the exams not 25 minutes ago. One could compare the sensation to a cerebral equivalent of the euphoric relief and exhaustion one feels at the end of a 45 minute anaerobic bike race on mixed terrain. So, anyway, rather than having two races to report on, I limited my (on the bike) suffering to Saturday.<br /><br />Jason Parkin and I loaded up our rental car at 6:45am on Saturday, assuming that we would have no problem making the drive with plenty of time to warm up for our 11:00 start time. Little did we know that the outbound helix of the Lincoln tunnel was underconstruction and a series of detours and bottlenecks left us idling in Manhattan traffic for much longer that expected. As a result, we didn't arrive to the venue until the C race was already underway. As we pulled in to the grassy parking area, I glanced up at the course which snaked down an impressively steep hillside in a series of off-camber switchbacks on damp grass. The first thing I saw, without exagerating, was CJ tumbling off of his dayglow bike into the side of the hill and scrabling back to his feet. Within 20 seconds of arriving, I was already presented with the intimidating realization that this course would be much different than the "Crit on grass" of Gloucester.<br /><br />Where Gloucester had sizeable straight, flat, fast sections that favored my roadie skill set of putting the hammer down, Granogue favored twisty, technical sidehills and more elevation changes. We were funneled through a maze featuring grass, gravel, wooded single track as well as pavement. In fact, the course was technical enough that the promoter/course designer layed out a "prologue loop" to allow for some initial separation on the first lap before throwing a tangled mob into the convoluted barrier section and steep run-up. The rest of the route took a scenic tour in and around a small portion of the property, including rounding a stone tower up on the highest point around. This section had some of the trickiest technical turns and sidehills on the course. There also was a fun, fast, winding section that showed off the property's greenhouses.<br /><br />What Granogue did have in common with Gloucester (in addition to the "G" in the name) was large fields and sizeable spectator numbers. Also, like Gloucester, the start was seeded based on series points and bib number. Once again, I was slotted into the seccond to last row along with all the other guys who haddn't raced in the MAC yet this season and were unaware that camping out on Bikereg.com would drastically improve starting position. Unfortunately for me, I heard rumors that they were not seeding the start order beyond the top 15 call ups. For that reason, I sacrificed a warmup in order to stake out my position on the starting grid 30 minutes before race time. How silly I felt when I had to take step after step backwards as I watch the 70 or so guys in front of me line up.<br /><br />When the gun went off, I began the mad dash to move up before the holeshot. I got a pretty good start and was able to move up into the top 25 or 30 pretty quickly. The prologue loop really favored my intentions and offered a much longer opportunity to advance past slower guys in front of me. The fun began at the technical section up by the stone tower. some tight, off-camber turns with sizeable ruts provided a real obstacle for 50 guys on bikes trying to fit into a 3 meter-wide path. I actually dismounted and ran through these turns to get around the guys who fell while in a near trackstand. Due to the confusion and stress of this first lap, I noticed a lot more shoving and showting and use of elbows than last weekend. I decided to be patient and avoid getting wrapped up in a testosterone-off. By the time the field spread out, most of the hotheads were a long ways back.<br /><br />All the switchbacks on the steep, rutted side-hill offered up some great crashes. One guy went down, only to rolle head over heels down the hill out of the course and away from his bike. I saw more guys go through the tap in this race than any funny pun CJ could come up with in his blog.<br /><br />By the end of the first lap I was in good position and settling in for the 40 minutes left in the race. On a fast downhill, it happened...the dreaded Mavic freehub death squeal. I had no pit-bike or wheels, so I simply gutted out the race with my rear wheel going off like a fire alarm every time I stopped pedalling. It really wasn't a huge problem, except for the chain backing up on the cassette. I guess it was just more motivation to keep pedalling.<br /><br />After a couple time 'round the course I was able to take stock of the situation. I noted where all my friends were along the course cheering. This allowed me to break up the race into little tiny sections between encouragements and beverage tossings (thanks again, CJ). I also noticed that, due to the nature of the course, the field was much more spread out from front to back than Gloucester. At any given time, I could only see a few guys ahead or behind me. For this reason, I had very little idea of my position until, to my surprise, I heard "Keep going, Colin. Your in 13th!"<br /><br />At this point, with 2 laps to go, fatigue became my friend. I was so delusionally tired that I could no longer tense up in technical sections. As a result, the riding actually became much more smooth. As any experienced cross rider will tell you, smoother=faster. Also, fatigue was not affecting only me, but guys in front of me as well, and I made it my mission to pull back the cracked riders in front of me before the race ran out. That proved a little more difficult than it should have been due to my freehub problems. I dropped my chain a couple of times on the last lap while trying to coast. The race was so strung out by this point, however, that there were very few riders to put in my cross hairs (and few close behind me) and I just tried to keep my rhythm going. Mechanicals and all, I came into the finishing stretch pretty much alone, save for a few lapped riders.<br /><br />I got in line for the free beer as soon as my excersize cough subsided and settled into that post-race haze of endorphins mediated bliss. I had just enough time to relax and enjoy the live band, beautiful scenery and social scene that is cross before jumping back in the car for the island of Manhattan where my life as a student could be resumed.<br /><br />All in all I was totally happy with how the race went. 11th place exceded my expectations for the race by a significant margin. While contemplating the race I couldn't help but be thankful for the points I scored. Its nice to improve with each race. Its also nice to have a result that leaves you so tantilizingly close to a top-ten finish. My goals for the next MAC race are ever more clear, and this time I'll have some series points that just might get me a better starting position.Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-89027345771882092802008-10-19T08:03:00.000-07:002008-10-19T08:04:38.706-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-DnJ6RqFrCe10h4XHCP-qx90J8FEWWMLRF9OMwdvLXMUSq9CNAbYH5pUNNIyr44x7xNF2S_UWiZMF8YUhewLhKzv1ZdluUoa2NhxJbVlfMYKSigfPOou4W4LA6fPt15pr9r6qwjcP6gc/s1600-h/IMG_7026.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-DnJ6RqFrCe10h4XHCP-qx90J8FEWWMLRF9OMwdvLXMUSq9CNAbYH5pUNNIyr44x7xNF2S_UWiZMF8YUhewLhKzv1ZdluUoa2NhxJbVlfMYKSigfPOou4W4LA6fPt15pr9r6qwjcP6gc/s320/IMG_7026.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258881084903838386" border="0" /></a>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-79439717444604299562008-10-16T06:36:00.000-07:002008-10-17T09:54:59.542-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcFQRhwL5dqxShpzOxG8Mm0RZr9U420qLohr4asFbpudG6SfDYFqN4Nxr9ucHLJmswD1ziaqjRJRry3s5iHkIdcjua_aqoQ1Xfi_s0OT-aSUVTRA2098MdpcTP0MCy2v8B3htM-4yI9U/s1600-h/IMG_0420.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcFQRhwL5dqxShpzOxG8Mm0RZr9U420qLohr4asFbpudG6SfDYFqN4Nxr9ucHLJmswD1ziaqjRJRry3s5iHkIdcjua_aqoQ1Xfi_s0OT-aSUVTRA2098MdpcTP0MCy2v8B3htM-4yI9U/s320/IMG_0420.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258162227720975890" border="0" /></a><br />Before adding my race report/blog/narcissistic diatribe to the cannon of cycling lore that is NYVC, let me start by saying that this year has been eye opening in many ways. Ever since watching the Tour duPont arc through my home town in a blur of colors when I was in kindergarten, I have been fascinated with cycling. I always wanted to race bikes, and the last place I expected to fulfill these fantasies was New York City. I moved here upon starting Medical School a little over a year ago with only nostalgic memories of competitive athletic endeavors past.<br /><br />In the eight or nine months since my first ride with the Sanchez-Metro guys to Nyack, I have been given the opportunity to dive into a sport that I never expected to truly experience. It has provided me with a much needed diversion from the stress and focused anxiety of medical school and allowed me to indulge my compulsive nature. So, what happens when an impulsive, obsessive and insatiable newbie finds himself at the end of his first season? What does he do when presented with the bleak prospect of a winter's worth of dark nights with no distraction from the demands of neuroanatomy, pathophysiology and pharmacokinetics? He finds a new way to race, of course, Cyclocross!<br /><br />Cyclocross always seemed like this far-off, exotic dance on the fine line between total badassness and just slipping clumsily in cold mud. I thought it was practiced by somber Belgians or<a href="http://flickr.com/photos/mansurnurullah/1369349445/in/set-72157601979693948/"> freaky Californian dudes in thrift store dresses</a>. it turns out, its a has just about enough of everything to make everybody who tries it smile (at least when out of the clutches of the famous "pain cave").<br /><br />After making my long awaited 'cross debut in Westwood, I headed up with the Toga! guys in the team van to Gloucester for the "New England Worlds." I would be racing in the Cat2/3 field after getting my upgrade after winning the C's the week before. Heading into two days of very competitive racing, my goals were to ride smooth and finish on the lead lap. I decided to learn as much as I could by watching the elite masters field tackle the course while I worked the pit with Paul DeBartolo in support of the Toga! riders. Since I had no ranking points in the New England series, I was given the highly coveted starting position 2 rows from the back of the grid. In a field of 113 guys, that put a lot of chaos between me and the front of the pack. I figured that I could do my best to stay up, and gradually pass guys, hoping to finish in the top half of the field. The start was absolutely nuts. Imagine the most hectic field sprint at the end of a central park race, but from a standstill. I managed to squeeze myself past the obligatory mid-pack pileup at the holeshot, and by the time my brain registered the severity of the cardiovascular load I had induced, I (and 113 of my newest friends) was hurtling down a fast twisty section of bumpy grass turns before hitting the seawall that runs along Gloucester harbor. There must have been another 2 or 3 pile ups in the rest of the first lap. After the second lap, however, the race settled in and I set out to start picking guys off one by one. Every time I passed the pit area, I was met with Paul directing me to "Get that wheel!" or "get to the front of that group!" Every time I passed the uphill double barrier runup, I was met by a socially lubricated CJ shouting Big Lebowski lines at me and flinging beer on my person. I never once attempted to ride the sandpit, which was rototilled before our race and contained a hairpin turn in it. The running actually gave me a place to 'recover,' which doesn't make much sense. After 7 laps I had managed to hang on, avoid crashing and finish 19th without vomiting in my second real cross race. I was elated and my back hurt really bad. I headed more or less straight to the beer garden for my post race recovery hydration.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9R_R6SZQ1sEKhwnQ38hHFB1bn4uL99vgNMzEXmsJVmOBP8-tCyyOpmC7I4e4eU5303vDPOODKHbgZWynz8sjPXbWqsJHH2u3mhEHVStcxNA8ji4XrSK1LNMiXJ6v1QKYuLO6RR37ekgg/s1600-h/2936673365_5b0c5255d0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9R_R6SZQ1sEKhwnQ38hHFB1bn4uL99vgNMzEXmsJVmOBP8-tCyyOpmC7I4e4eU5303vDPOODKHbgZWynz8sjPXbWqsJHH2u3mhEHVStcxNA8ji4XrSK1LNMiXJ6v1QKYuLO6RR37ekgg/s320/2936673365_5b0c5255d0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258162378125962226" border="0" /></a><br />By the time the Elite race started, I had topped off my glycogen stores with three Erdinger Dunkel Weisens and yelled loudly at the Elites as they flew past the beer tent.<br /><br />Day two began with the prospect of another rear-pack start. While I was pumped with a top-20, I had missed out on any of the Verge Series points, and would not get the coveted call-up. This time, however, I wasted no time getting as far up as possible. As soon as the whistle blew, I blasted up the left side of the field. I didn't wait for the mass of people to get going in front of me, but simply rode up with spectators diving out of their lawn chairs. By the holeshot, I was probably sitting somewhere around 25 or 30th place. The major difference in the course from the first day was a crazy-steep dirt run-up that was freshly cut out of the poison ivy and underbrush above the seawall. After dismounting, I simply put my hand on some guy's back and pushed my way through the crowd using him as a human cow-catcher. After remounting at the top of the run-up, a short gravel section provided some additional excitement when the rider in front of me simply exploded into a dust cloud. His bike slid to the left, and his sprawling body dragged to a halt across the right side of the lane. By the end of the second lap, I found myself near 20th place. By now, I could see the lead group and the gap between us. I continued to do battle with one rider in particular as we passed other fading racers over the next few laps. As the race wore on, I once again found myself drawing strength from the encouragement on rowdy drunken fans, encouraging team mates and CJ (cowbell firmly in hand). At the end of the second to last lap, Tony Slokar (who had pulled out with a simultaneous catastrophic saddle and helmet failure) urged me on with "THIS IS YOUR 2K!" The reference to<a href="http://www.row2k.com/gallery/pf_gal.cfm?dir=2007Spring/CRASHB1&start=108&label=CRASH-B%202007%209-11am%20racing&hi=yes"> the most painful physical assessment used by rowing coaches</a> provided a clear message--pull out all the stops. Unfortunately, most stops had already been pulled, and I could do little to control my implosion. Still, I managed to pass a few guys and knew I had the possibility of a top 15 if I could just hold on. As I rounded the corner for the uphill tarmac sprint to the finish, I thought that I had a clear gap on 16th place. By the time I saw his growing shadow, there was little I could do but let out a desperately pathetic sigh as he passed me on the line to steal the last Verge New England Series point. In spite of my dejection for allowing myself to get beat in a sprint I was excited about my finish. I was within 45 seconds of the winning time after starting from the back of the pack. I had held my own, and that was worth a celebratory trip to the beer tent.<br /><br />To sum up, I need to thank the guys from Toga!, especially Paul DeBartolo, for getting me up to the race and giving me an extension to the cycling season. It turns out that 'Cross really does live up to all its stereotypes. You'd be hard pressed to find more than the odd fish out of water who was grumpy the whole weekend. Also, what was so great is the sense of community that exists. All the NYC area guys cheered for each other, supported each other in the pit, and generally created a virtual team that made Gloucester that much more fun. Perhaps the racing wasn't quite as <a href="http://flickr.com/photos/jamfoto/1353926022/">freaky as the West-Coasters'</a>, but it wasn't too far off. There's more racing to come, and I really can't wait.Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-25320642242559912232008-09-16T08:53:00.000-07:002008-09-16T08:54:07.007-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XWE_lOwc2dwhU7c3rJS0YX-jYEd15swtvEqglTfmxOYXO-X3jvTJRBTjLRZswJ4y9DFsYH-E94SHHQexebghqa614o5kmdpyYvqYq_G6aaKDs4c26mD8g_7qoQ7jko6WPc7M6EEJGrw/s1600-h/08_16.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246647945795716194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XWE_lOwc2dwhU7c3rJS0YX-jYEd15swtvEqglTfmxOYXO-X3jvTJRBTjLRZswJ4y9DFsYH-E94SHHQexebghqa614o5kmdpyYvqYq_G6aaKDs4c26mD8g_7qoQ7jko6WPc7M6EEJGrw/s320/08_16.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-80896416692855315062008-09-05T15:33:00.000-07:002008-09-05T15:38:20.973-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsCoXGRyiy6Phe6z7oeFuh7XhX4i_TpGa-WUsnT4bwwwxD1vpEzAhY3-4Z0lbF4UcTHgbTTUPStkPSguWto9Bg4mRZTfQfbJ4mdE2pNCuYglPMHQ5Q8V5GNH7cLMl6Bqgycy_yrOWLgUY/s1600-h/IMG_5041_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsCoXGRyiy6Phe6z7oeFuh7XhX4i_TpGa-WUsnT4bwwwxD1vpEzAhY3-4Z0lbF4UcTHgbTTUPStkPSguWto9Bg4mRZTfQfbJ4mdE2pNCuYglPMHQ5Q8V5GNH7cLMl6Bqgycy_yrOWLgUY/s320/IMG_5041_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242670199981290850" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioorBpBG8CiGLTKznKzlYi3Jj_h23CKE9KGw5AvFTVzaUZR-8OCkJ1t5Qhoh34_2qjonEKmBPmiU6C7DNfSzMXRHRO0XRxZNkoDG2HaI-kz098zD5bz5kuiab36H982gYqg_JO5VVgvDo/s1600-h/who+won_.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioorBpBG8CiGLTKznKzlYi3Jj_h23CKE9KGw5AvFTVzaUZR-8OCkJ1t5Qhoh34_2qjonEKmBPmiU6C7DNfSzMXRHRO0XRxZNkoDG2HaI-kz098zD5bz5kuiab36H982gYqg_JO5VVgvDo/s320/who+won_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242670205086513522" border="0" /></a>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-39700291120122428442008-08-29T12:30:00.000-07:002008-08-29T12:31:18.770-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqfamSsvg464Uad6EJcCrR9KoEtUNrDcxcBw3xgACYHHts3e7JvVw84aFWJ2DPAJtdVVZpzKqPH2v5COUFTVnQgg8wNiLbpyh90isetdfPlghTLrg43tpueNMkqtBZ0OiPNAS7bZ38xc/s1600-h/IMG_5907.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqfamSsvg464Uad6EJcCrR9KoEtUNrDcxcBw3xgACYHHts3e7JvVw84aFWJ2DPAJtdVVZpzKqPH2v5COUFTVnQgg8wNiLbpyh90isetdfPlghTLrg43tpueNMkqtBZ0OiPNAS7bZ38xc/s320/IMG_5907.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240024476806918338" border="0" /></a>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-2974993761980872952008-08-29T12:26:00.000-07:002008-08-29T12:30:19.542-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4-GpXFXpgoGXO2Dks5pCsJglBCK6MiHQhpm0OYaPKsm7ujABPeqLMeeXSZElelGKUYN6uAycJ6k7Z6MUh1dlZ4B4QvEQKSd4T-2n9EgovELKKrZlWyIQHTiQQi_hSWuuKqcJjKC3lEc/s1600-h/IMG_1429.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4-GpXFXpgoGXO2Dks5pCsJglBCK6MiHQhpm0OYaPKsm7ujABPeqLMeeXSZElelGKUYN6uAycJ6k7Z6MUh1dlZ4B4QvEQKSd4T-2n9EgovELKKrZlWyIQHTiQQi_hSWuuKqcJjKC3lEc/s320/IMG_1429.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240023495961683250" border="0" /></a>Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3341045029273013085.post-80429694534424269522008-08-29T12:18:00.000-07:002008-08-29T12:31:57.219-07:00a new blog: what to write about?I've decided to try to create a place for me to save stories, pictures and whatever I find interesting. This is not meant to be a widely read or widely understood enterprise, I'm not sure why I am even venturing out into this void to post any personal messages whatsoever. In any case, this is a personal experiment in where a free form outlet of expression may take itself. It is a work in progress and nothing more...Colin P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16198888315974075822noreply@blogger.com0