A few of the lads went up to Hood River last week to mix it up with some new faces. Brian Cadman originally sent this out to the team email list but I felt like it was worth sharing here. A lot of people even long time racers just don’t get the concept that road racing is a team sport. Even if you don’t ride for a team this is an important concept because you will be competing against teams so understanding how they work is crucial if you want to compete with them. A lot of MTB guys come over and get super frustrated because they just don’t get it. If you want to race to win you need to understand what you are up against, if you want to grind on the front all day that is fine too. Just don’t be pissed when you get smoked at the end.

Team riding is great when it works out. Yesterday at the Queen Stage of the Mt. Hood Cycling Classic, it worked out almost perfectly.
Nic Sells and I started the day 10th and 5th on the GC respectively. We did not talk about a race plan at the start, but we both knew we had to take opportunities when possible. Nic created an great opportunity by drilling it up the first big climb of the day to create a select group of 5. Included in this group was the 1st on GC, the third on GC, 8th on GC, Nic, and myself.

Because we all were improving our virtual position on GC, we had strong incentives to work together to gain a big advantage on the field. It was really great having such an excellent Big Ring representation in the break while also putting our stamp on the race. (As a quick aside, Nic and I both made it into the 8-man break on the the first stage of the race on Friday).

Finally, as we approached the last climb of the day, the 5 of us had gained a 3 minutes advantage on the field. When the leader of the race attacked at the bottom of a 10k hill and took with him the 8th place on the GC, neither Nic nor myself panicked. We rode tempo up the hill. with about 5k to go, we found that we had dropped the third on the GC. Nic selflessly worked his hardest to ride with me up the hill to help secure what we had hoped was a podium finish on the GC, while also securing a podium finish for Nic on the day. Nic, took third on the day. Unfortunately, the guy from 8th took enough time on us to secure 2nd on the GC, while the guy we dropped squeaked in just in time to hold onto third.

I think individually, and as a team, we did the best we could on the day. It was an experience I will remember, made even better by sharing it with my teammate, playing team tactics, and representing the Church of the Big Ring on one of the bigger stages in the US.

One other side note, I was fortunate enough to get a call-up at the criterium race in downtown Hood River and the announcer gave a lot of love to the Church of the Big Ring. Many remarked that racing in UT must be tough.

I am writing this to remind us all that we are part of something bigger than ourselves. Racing with Nic this weekend made me better. Training and racing with the team has made me better. Pulling on the black fleece makes me better. I hope you all feel the same way.

Big Ring Gets Dirty from Rev Big Ring on Vimeo.

Speeding through sport bike heaven on Mullholland

Looking back, I know I enjoyed most of those rides. Maybe all of them – even in the rain and snow. But the undercurrent of seriousness I carried into each spin on the open road kept me from feeling all of the sensations that were available. Every pedal stroke was preparation to race or recovery from having raced. And sometimes it felt a lot like work.

This season I’ve been living and working in California, and my schedule hasn’t allowed me to plan for racing. Truthfully, my brain is getting what it needs from coaching so I haven’t needed to race. I’m not psyched to compete. However, that doesn’t mean I quit riding. Far from it.

Most days I get out. The terrain around Los Angeles is good, so good in fact that Utah roads won’t ever feel the same. I checked out the Mount Baldy, Glendora and East Fork roads of the 2011 Tour of California’s stage 7. I’ve ridden most of the canyons between Malibu and Agoura. I’ve been up and down Little and Big Tujunga Canyons and out past Acton almost to Palmdale. Even my “local” roads around Pasadena are shockingly good: one hill course above the Rose Bowl nets 3000′ of climbing in 20 miles of steep neighborhood riding.

Looking across Glendora road toward Mt. Baldy

When I am riding I often see guys wearing pro team or local club kit. The way many of them handle their bikes it is clear they’ve never been anywhere near a race. But they are out there, enthusiastic. Almost everyone of them is smiling – or gasping through an O-shaped hole and even then the enjoyment shows through their eyes.

Typical view from the cockpit getting to and from the great rides, i.e. The Downside

My friend Yanto Barker once said, “I think style should be one of the priorities in cycling … that you look good actually contributes to your motivation, it’s an important part of your whole facade and psyche in line with being motivated.” If the right kit helps keep motivated on a day when one might otherwise slump then wear it. Use the tools at your disposal to trick yourself into harder effort.

Sometimes when I am rolling in Big Ring club kit I realize I am that guy. I’m not racing or training for racing. I’m just some dude on a bike with a smile on my face. Sure, I’ll go hard, and some days far, but I’m only in it for the moment, to find the place I can only reach when I dig deep and long on my bike.

Malibu ... why people want to live here

Those moments have taught me that, while competition creates a level of tension I can’t manifest on my own, I don’t need it every week. And even though I feel like a poser when I wear team kit and I’m not racing or training for it, it makes me go a little harder. Wearing it, I go further, and climb a little bit more. The club philosophy cuts through laziness, and when I represent it I take pride in each pedal stroke, I don’t slack off or coast. The Big Ring keeps me honest.

Publicly I said that I wanted to win. I talked about how I fought against my intense sweet tooth with the hopes that my craving would spur me on to victory. I may have even convinced myself that I was making real sacrifices. In the run up, I missed some important training days, going with what I was good at (putting in long slow miles), rather than face the pain of intense intervals. That’s not to say I avoided the work. I just didn’t engage the hurt locker as much as I needed too. In the three months I went without sweets I broke my cravings and was no longer motivated by the scent of baked goods, or the taste of expensive chocolates. By the time the race came what I was motivated by was the need to suffer. To hurt for no other reason than because I wanted too. I was motivated to learn how to actually race my bike, not just go fast and hope for the best.

My teammates told me horror stories about last year’s race. How it poured the whole time, how the wind blew across the open fields making the racing that much harder. It does take place during a PNW spring after all. I knew the course was pancake flat and that it would probably come down to a bunch sprint. I know that sprints are not my strong suit. Though I had dreams of braking away from the pack, pulling a Spartacus and soloing to victory, deep down I knew things wouldn’t be that easy. That I was going to have to earn what ever place I eventually got.

The split happened as soon as we hit the gravel section. The two riders in front of me either didn’t know any better, or were to afraid to punch it on the gravel. I made the decision to leave the comfort of the car tracks move around them and connect with the group in front of me. By the time we left the three mile section of gravel that group had splintered to me and one other. The group in front of us had also cracked and soon had a decent chase group going. Five of us, working to catch a three man break.

Hitting back stretch of the loop brought us into a cross wind. The guy with the cross bike quickly whipped the five of us into shape and we formed a pretty decent echelon, each taking about short pulls at the front. This is the best you can hope for in a Cat 5 race, and I was grateful that someone had the balls to speak up and get us organized. The three man break became two, and we added one to our band of chasers. Then the wind came at us from a other side, and that organization quickly fell apart. We did get it back together, by that point it was too late. They were gone for good. It became a race for third.

We crossed the line and the cowbell rang designating the last lap of the circuit. The weather had been kind to us up until this point and I was starting to question my decision to wear my long sleeve jersey under my team one. Then the rain started just as we hit the gravel for the second time. I had the misfortune of being second wheel. Mud flew up from the wheel in front of me. My glasses were soon covered, I tried to peer over them, but that just resulted in getting mud and dirt directly into my eyes. Rather than try to pass, I let the wheel slip and put myself into the wind. It seemed like a loose loose situation, and now from the comfort of my desk I still don’t know what the right thing to do was.

The group reassembled when we reached the pavement. After taking a blind pull I tried to shove my glasses into my helmet. No luck. My water logged gloves prevented me from getting them into a jersey pocket. I was loosing contact and starting to feel desperate. I looked at the now useless object in my hand, said good bye to the glasses that protected my eyes as I slid head first down snow slope in the Cascades almost two years ago, and tossed them. I stood up, burned a match and got back into the rotation.

We continued to get battered by the rain and wind. Rain turned to hail, my legs burned with a slight uphill pull. This isn’t Belgium, and we are no where near PRO caliber, but my thoughts drifted there for a moment and it brought a smile to my lips. This is what I really wanted. This is what I’d come here for. The pain of giving myself fully to the activity I was engaged in. Because I think it will eventually make me a better person. To me this is what doing for the love of the sport is about. There is beauty in this suffering.

As we snaked through the last lap of the circuit we came upon the one and only roller on the course. I felt good and had managed to relax my nerves and bring my heart rate down below the red line. I started thinking of attacking. We crested the hill as my turn in the rotation came up. I hit the drops, jumped up a few gears and went for it. Then some of the spokes on the non-drive side lost their tension and I started to slow. My wheel came so out of true that it almost became square. The group caught me. I should have gone sooner, but now with this problem I would’ve been screwed either way. One of my companions was nice enough to open my rear brake all the way. The rub persisted, but it was manageable now.

Our group worked well through out the race, but now in the final miles the pace slowed and we started sizing each other up. For the last ninety minutes these guys have been my companions in my suffering. Now all of that is over and I want to destroy them.

Just before the 1K marker two guys from the same team jump, followed by a third then a forth. I manage to bump the fifth guy off his wheel and get myself in the draft. Five back. I’m just where I want to be.

With 400 meters left I get greedy and go for it. At three hundred sprinting into the wind my legs scream for me to stop and I try to scream back. I’m passed by a bigger guy throwing out more watts than I can muster then another one passes. With 200 left the guy who opened up my rear caliper comes along side me. He’s so low on the bike his chin is practically resting on the stem. Our bars are bumping, our elbows out, both fighting for that line.

In the end I failed. I didn’t do what I set out to do. No cake, no top step of the podium. Since we’re being honest here. Sixth place is no where near the podium. Not by a long shot. I didn’t get what I wanted, but I got what I needed. A hard effort, an ass kicking, and race full of lessons that I hope to apply on a later trip to the top step of the podium. One that I’ve earned.

As I read the Alexi Grewal interview in Velonews it reminded me of my eavesdropping all those years ago.

I found myself at the tail end of the group and thought, “This is bullshit.” So, after about 10 miles, what I did was move to the front, found the race leader (Carlos Alzate) and said, “This is my wheel.

Lesson: It is easier at the front. This may be counter intuitive and there are times when tailgunning is effective (certain crits for example). At the front the pace is generally more steady, it may be hard but you usually have to deal less with riders letting gaps open which makes your effort more metered.

the morning of the crit I rode 70 miles and by the time I’d finished the crit I had another four-and-a-half hours in my legs. So I was better than the results, and I came along pretty quick, felt fine, and did a stack of miles in those four days.

Lesson: You have to do the work and some races are for training. It is a long season, use the early season races as training. Unless you live in Arizona or So Cal you should not even be close to peak form right now. If you have the opportunity to race then by all means do it but keep it in perspective. Don’t let your ego get in the way. Expect to suffer, test yourself and get in the miles you will need later in the season.

Lots of good stuff to be learned from the elder statesman. Does not matter if it Alexi Grewal or the local 45 year old that still kills it (every state has THAT guy/gal). When they talk you should listen.

BTW, whatever the outcome of Grewal’s comeback I am rooting for the guy. To do what he is trying to do at the age he is trying to do it at as pretty friggin’ awesome. Keep it up Alexi!

As a result of my trip I missed a lot of racing and am playing catch up on that front as well. I must say though it is nice to see Cadel Evans trying to shake his reputation as a follower that never attacks. Well done Brother.

Check the story at cyclingnews.com

Today as I was worshipping at the altar of The Big Ring riding my Mt. Bike on the road as my road steed was not functional due to an ongoing Excorcism in the free hub.  As I passed my bretheren I greeted them with a wave only to be rebuffed like Mary and Joseph at the Inn.  My heart is heavy still.  Brothers and Sisters we must have unity out there on the road.  Judge not the fat tires lest ye be judged yourself.  The Big Ring embraces all.  The time has come to unite.  Fixies, ‘crosses, Mt. Bikes, tourists, road bikes, townies and yes even the triathlete.  Wave to all you encounter, spread the gospel.  You never know who the guy with panniers could be.  Before he became a full time Big Ring bad ass Brother Svein Tuft was a cyclo tourist.

Ride On