Short story; Jake and I were to race at Singlespeed-a-palooza, Jake broke the end of his collarbone, Lee says, "I'll be 'Jake'." Lee rides Jake's bike at Singlespeed-a-palooza, Jake drinks beer and chats people up at the event venue.
Considering my torturous ride the week before, I planned on simply hanging out for a ride in the trails at Stuart State Forest just West of Newburgh, NY. It was cold, it was wet, and 25 miles of trails on top that was going to equal a long ride.
Amidst a light rain, the race started and yet again I was somewhere near the back of the field. It didn't take long to get up to speed and wind out my one gear on the dirt road. Soon we were in the trails though, and my gear was just right for these trails. I felt fluid and fast. A brief feeling of 'whooped' in the legs passed and I was passing people. The only problem was the watery dirt kept flying into my eyes and with my contacts, it was a painfully lethal impact on my ability to see. Every time I finally worked the dirt out of my eye, another piece flew in. At one point, I had just passed Lee in the first lap and a piece of dirt was so bad I had to stop and take my contact out. I lost 20 seconds on him that took 20 minutes to make up.
When I finally caught Lee ('Jake'), we spent some time riding together along with one other guy. Then we got into the second lap. The rain had stopped, but the mud had gotten thick, especially after 200 riders in the other classes behind us went through the trails. I learned very quickly that thick mud and the Surly singleator don't mix. My chain kept 'popping' every time I tried to put pressure on the pedals. I was stuck with one basic cadence of the pedals and that was it. Every time I tried to build momentum for a little up pitch in the trails, the pressure made my chain skip. My second lap was one of extreme frustration. Frustration that I had the physical ability to go a lot faster, but my mechanical devices would not cooperate.
In the dry, the singleator works wonders. My formerly geared hardtail mountain bike works well as an alternative riding style with one gear. The mud just does not agree with it though. Perhaps a true singlespeed bike is in my future because I would certainly like to race the trails of Singlespeed-a-palooza and Stuart State Forest again. They were so much fun that the race hardly seemed like a two and a half hour ride in the cold, wet mud with one gear.
Photos here.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Racing Single Speed is Dumb
After only two weeks of what I will loosely call training, I entered the first race of the season. I waffled about which bike I was going to ride, but finally settled on riding single speed. I figured getting a taste of racing single speed would help prepare me for the following week's Singlespeed-a-palooza race. The extremely important knowledge I could gain from this first attempt could show me how to rest at the appropriate times and push at others. (Insert hearty laugh, followed by a slight scoff [pfff])
The race took off, and I was somewhere near the back of the very, very large Cat 1 Singlespeed class. Then it was me and a few other fellas. We traded positions for the better part of the first lap our gearing was better in different places. By the end of the first lap my legs hurt. A lot.
Then the guy I'd been racing closely with got ahead as I eased a little to let a faster (geared) guy through on a narrow piece of trail only to realize four other guys were right behind him and taking advantage of the trail I'd left open. My singlespeed racing companion was now a bit ahead of me and I didn't have the legs to catch him. I settled in for a long ride in the woods with one gear.
As the race went on for three more laps my legs grew very, very tired. Too much gear on the uphills, too little on the flats. Guys just kept passing me. I even got lapped by the lead singlespeed racer. At the end I was cooked, my conclusion; racing singlespeed is dumb.
The following week's race was going to be dreadfully entertaining.
The race took off, and I was somewhere near the back of the very, very large Cat 1 Singlespeed class. Then it was me and a few other fellas. We traded positions for the better part of the first lap our gearing was better in different places. By the end of the first lap my legs hurt. A lot.
Then the guy I'd been racing closely with got ahead as I eased a little to let a faster (geared) guy through on a narrow piece of trail only to realize four other guys were right behind him and taking advantage of the trail I'd left open. My singlespeed racing companion was now a bit ahead of me and I didn't have the legs to catch him. I settled in for a long ride in the woods with one gear.
As the race went on for three more laps my legs grew very, very tired. Too much gear on the uphills, too little on the flats. Guys just kept passing me. I even got lapped by the lead singlespeed racer. At the end I was cooked, my conclusion; racing singlespeed is dumb.
The following week's race was going to be dreadfully entertaining.
Playing Director Sportif
"Don't worry about any early breaks, especially solo riders, they won't last. Be patient and stay with the group." Complete strategical error on my part, though, I wasn't the only one.
It was Saturday, 10 April, and I was sharing my advice as a pseudo director sportif with Lee before the start of the 2010 Tour of Battenkill. The wind was nearly constant and strong enough that I would have expected any early break aways to fail miserably by the end of the 63 mile race. I told Lee and Taylor to make sure they had another rider to work with and share the draft, staying with a group would be the best bet. Common sense and conservative strategy says, sticking it out as a group and working together is going to make it easier for everyone, anyone trying to go it alone would likely be too tired at the end of the race to hold on for victory.
It was exactly the kind of day to play the odds and try something a little wild.
The Cat[egory] 5 race pulled away from the start with little fanfare. I jumped in the car with Kristy and Jim, and we made our way for feed zone 1, about 17 miles into the race. Kristy drove while I poured over the sheets of race information to find the best way to the feed zone.
We arrived at feed zone one and waited for the Cat 5 guys to come through. The large group of guys I expected didn't come. One guy by himself came trucking through and maybe a minute later came another guy looking a little more fatigued. A few minutes later a group of 10 or 12 riders came through, it was all that was left of the Cat 5 peleton. Over the first two major hills, the peleton had shattered apart, not even 17 miles in.
Lee came through, a bit upset that he'd missed a turn, but only a few minutes behind what was left of the peleton. Taylor was maybe two minutes later, he looked content to hang with his pace and enjoy a day on the bike. We walked back to the car and headed for another spot on course to watch the riders go by. The lead rider had increased his lead to nearly 7 minutes at this point, the solo chaser had been swallowed by the peleton, which seemed unconcerned with chasing very hard. After seeing Lee and Taylor come through we headed for feed zone 2. We parked and were headed towards the race route and the feed zone when I saw Lee coming, I ran towards the course screaming, "Lee, do you need water?"
We weren't technically at the feed zone, but I figured, what the heck, if he really needs it then he should take it, he was by himself anyhow. He passed on the fluid hand up. I then ran up the hill to get to the feed zone for Taylor, who did take a hand up after taking nothing at the first feed zone.
Back to the car, and we boogied to another spot on course to watch. This time at one of the dirt road sections of the course. The riders were coming down one hill and into a short, but quite steep uphill. Many were struggling up the hill.
I saw 4 guys together that had been part of the Cat 5 'peleton,' It had apparently shattered even further. Lee and Taylor came through, and at this point all we could do was cheer and provide encouragement, our feed zone work was complete, and any strategy had been completely scrapped. There were only 15 miles left to go.
While I was wishing that I'd been out there riding, I still had a lot of fun running around playing director sportif and feed zone guru. It's a job that I could actually get into, I enjoyed it nearly as much as riding. It was far less painful too, though I imagine far worse for the waste line over time.
I took numerous photos throughout the day, you can see them here.
It was Saturday, 10 April, and I was sharing my advice as a pseudo director sportif with Lee before the start of the 2010 Tour of Battenkill. The wind was nearly constant and strong enough that I would have expected any early break aways to fail miserably by the end of the 63 mile race. I told Lee and Taylor to make sure they had another rider to work with and share the draft, staying with a group would be the best bet. Common sense and conservative strategy says, sticking it out as a group and working together is going to make it easier for everyone, anyone trying to go it alone would likely be too tired at the end of the race to hold on for victory.
It was exactly the kind of day to play the odds and try something a little wild.
The Cat[egory] 5 race pulled away from the start with little fanfare. I jumped in the car with Kristy and Jim, and we made our way for feed zone 1, about 17 miles into the race. Kristy drove while I poured over the sheets of race information to find the best way to the feed zone.
We arrived at feed zone one and waited for the Cat 5 guys to come through. The large group of guys I expected didn't come. One guy by himself came trucking through and maybe a minute later came another guy looking a little more fatigued. A few minutes later a group of 10 or 12 riders came through, it was all that was left of the Cat 5 peleton. Over the first two major hills, the peleton had shattered apart, not even 17 miles in.
Lee came through, a bit upset that he'd missed a turn, but only a few minutes behind what was left of the peleton. Taylor was maybe two minutes later, he looked content to hang with his pace and enjoy a day on the bike. We walked back to the car and headed for another spot on course to watch the riders go by. The lead rider had increased his lead to nearly 7 minutes at this point, the solo chaser had been swallowed by the peleton, which seemed unconcerned with chasing very hard. After seeing Lee and Taylor come through we headed for feed zone 2. We parked and were headed towards the race route and the feed zone when I saw Lee coming, I ran towards the course screaming, "Lee, do you need water?"
We weren't technically at the feed zone, but I figured, what the heck, if he really needs it then he should take it, he was by himself anyhow. He passed on the fluid hand up. I then ran up the hill to get to the feed zone for Taylor, who did take a hand up after taking nothing at the first feed zone.
Back to the car, and we boogied to another spot on course to watch. This time at one of the dirt road sections of the course. The riders were coming down one hill and into a short, but quite steep uphill. Many were struggling up the hill.
I saw 4 guys together that had been part of the Cat 5 'peleton,' It had apparently shattered even further. Lee and Taylor came through, and at this point all we could do was cheer and provide encouragement, our feed zone work was complete, and any strategy had been completely scrapped. There were only 15 miles left to go.
While I was wishing that I'd been out there riding, I still had a lot of fun running around playing director sportif and feed zone guru. It's a job that I could actually get into, I enjoyed it nearly as much as riding. It was far less painful too, though I imagine far worse for the waste line over time.
I took numerous photos throughout the day, you can see them here.
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