fast brad

Once again, The Rapha Gentlemen’s Race tops my list of hardest, most brutal rides I’ve ever done. That’s saying a lot I think, considering the list includes the ‘09 RGR, the 24 Hours of Canaan, 24 Hours of FSX and several editions of Hillier Than Thou. The anticipation and dread are gone now, replaced by physical aches and pains that will remind me of yesterday’s effort for days to come–the gift that keeps on giving.

To my teammates Andrew, Selene, Sean, Aaron and Kate:

The average speed we recorded doesn’t tell half the story–thanks for the support, friendship and patience waiting at the top of the climbs. I’m happy to have shared the hours with each of you.

To the folks at Rapha, I have this to say:

Damn you. I enjoy a good hard ride and tend to suffer a couple of times a week on the bike.  Left to my own devices, employing a finely tuned sense of self preservation, I’m able to get through the week feeling pretty good about myself, my life and my bicycle. And then you come along with your aura of coolness, style and panache, tempting me with tales of epic rides that promise to be the experiential pinnacle of my cycling life, making it impossible for me to pass up. So much for self preservation.

The roughly nine hours you subjected me to in saddle sent me on an unrelenting  journey of self doubt and loathing, turning me against myself, my bike, and then my teammates. I was humbled by the hills, made to feel insignificant by their scale and abundance. On and off for fifty miles I experienced the most excruciating muscle cramps I have ever had. And following the last descent from Blue Mountain I came to crushing realization that the climbing was in fact, not quite over and the hills became mountains in my mind.

Then as the remaining miles ticked into the single digits, and it became apparent that I was in fact actually going to finish, the pedals began to spin a little more easily and the pain a little more bearable. And finally the sight of the velodrome, an uplifting releif signaling the end of my journey, both in mind and body.  

So, thank you for that–see you next year?

“It is nothing to do with glory: it’s more a matter of fulfillment. Cycling allows us to mine the deepest recesses of our souls.” -Laurent Fignon

So, here I find myself at 45, somewhere between anticipation and dread, facing what will be the longest and hardest ride (or race) I’ve ever done. It was just two years ago I that I rode the last, longest, hardest ride I had ever done. I’m talking about The Rapha Gentlemen’s Race, and yes this year looks longer and harder–134 miles, 8k+ feet of climbing and much of it gravel.

Just as they had for my previous Rapha Race, Bicycling magazine invited me to join their team. As their roster took shape, it became apparent I was being thrown in the deep end of the pool. The team is stacked. We’ve got a mountain bike pro in his early 20s; a cat 1 that qualified for RAAM; an IronMan triathlete who also races international mountain bike stage races; a girl who just won the Tour of Ephrata stage race; a cat 2 who has been ripping it up with our local pros; and me–old enough to have fathered half the team.

While I’m certain I can finish the race, I can’t help but wonder how deep I will have to dig–how deep I’ll be able to dig–to keep pace with the fast, young ones, with cycling careers ahead of them. This will be hard for me, very hard. I’m not kidding myself, I know who I am, what I am.

I am fast enough to make the split on the local training throw down, but smart enough to know that the young pros at the front are only going about 75%, and if they tire of me hanging on, I’ll be tossed off like a candy wrapper in the wind. I can get close enough to see those truly fast and know they’re out of reach. I’m old enough to recognize the times to go fast and times to go slow, yet I still resist slowing down completely.

Often I wonder what I’m doing, and seek to justify the time and effort I expend cycling. I take it too seriously, what am I chasing?  I read Laurent Fignon’s book recently and his quote struck a chord with me. It isn’t about the glory, the winning, or even achievement. It is about fulfillment, it’s about drinking in the experience and savoring every beautiful, wonderful, painful aspect of it. For me it’s about walking away, leaving nothing behind.

I know who I am, here and now: I’m a cyclist, and tomorrow, still a cyclist, a road paved with experiences not yet had before me, hours to burn and a cadre of capable teammates to share them with.

Several years ago, with friends visiting from Canada and Belgium, we attended a bike race. The start was preceded with the singing of the Star Spangled Banner, as is our custom. When it finished, one of my friends remarked “Wow–that’s pretty violent.” One by one my foriegn friends expressed their agreement with this observation.

I had never really thought about it in that way, although I have certainly felt a range of emotions when our national anthem is played. I tried to explain these to my friends, about how an army made up of ordinary citizens stood up for their freedom. How they laid down their lives for their beliefs and this idea of freedom. They seemed to understand, but I don’t think they really “got it”.

Over the years people have proposed changing our national anthem to America, the Beautiful or perhaps something that speaks more to the beauty of our country. The thing is though, that freedom comes at a price and I think the Star Spangled Banner reminds us of that.

We might not notice, but we pay the price every day for our freedom, and the freedom of others. Day-to-day, somewhere a father, mother, son, daughter, brother or sister is dealing with the cost of that freedom. Today, I would like to thank the Veterans and their families for footing the bill for my freedom

School of Cross: class of 2010

Presented by: Classic Cycling Essentials

Mike Yozell, CX Phd
photo CyclingCaptured.com

I started up my own USAC club this year which means I have to promote one USAC event, so here it is Cross fans, mark your calendars!

What: 1-day, 4 hour Cyclo-cross skills clinic, instructed by Mike Yozell, CX PhD.  Skills covered: dismount, lift, carry, re-mount, barriers and cornering. Short lectures followed by step-by-step instruction and practical application. Mike is adept at breaking complex techniques down into basic elements—and through observation identifying problems with form and efficiency.  You’ll learn more about cross in four hours, than in a season of racing.

Bring your bike, helmet and shoes—delicious refreshments will be provided.

When: 1-Day only, August 21, 2010, from 8am til noon.

Where: On Kline’s Lane in Emmaus, PA. Turn off of Main Street and head up Kline’s lane, turn left just before the second railroad crossing, into the recycling center and park.

Fee: Yes, there is a fee this year—$10. We’re keeping it to a minimum, just to cover insurance and expenses. Since this an official USAC 1-Day Clinic, you must have a USAC license to participate. If you don’t have one, a one-day license can be purchased at the event, which is good for—you guessed it, one day.

Sign-up is “day-of” at the clinic.

More Info: Any questions? Contact Brad Ford at: brad@classiccyclingessentials.com

This is a permitted USCF Clinic promoted by Classic Cycling Essentials (CCE) club.
www.classiccyclingessentials.com

Event flyer >

Training at the Valley Preferred Cycling Center, photo: Anthony Skorochod at CyclingCaptured.com

A few weeks ago I dusted off the track bike and headed over to the velodrome for the first track session of the season. Actually, it was the first time on the fixed gear since the final race of last season.

I was feeling pretty good rolling around warming up with the group—I’m training with a group now—for 30 laps, pace-lining in the center of the track. As the laps ticked off the tempo gradually increased. With 10 laps to go, the paceline dropped to the bottom of the rack and the laps pass by quicker—pulls at the front shorten to half a lap. On the last lap it becomes a dash to the line as the group splinters and spreads across the track.

This group training is new to me, or training is new to me—at least since I got back on the bike a few years ago. I’ve just been kind of rolling into the season on a good winter base and racing myself into shape. This has been an enjoyable process, it allows me to do the rides I want when I want. The problem with the process is that the results can be hit or miss. And when they hit, or miss, it’s difficult to know what to attribute them too. Basically it’s not effective when you have goals you want to meet—I do, I’ve consitantly missed them, and I know it’s my own damn fault.

This year I’m actually training—not just riding—in pursuit of my goals. Gibby Hatton and Bobby Livingston train some of the fastst kids (should I say young adults?) around, the ones who routinely kick my ass, and they train together as a group. So, now I’ve joined the group to see what they’ve been doing, and to make the “training” easier.

There was a time, years ago now, that I was on “the plan”. Every day was mapped out more or less. If it was an easy day, you had to go easy. On hard days you had to go hard, and that usually meant a specific workout of intervals, repeats, TTs or whatever. Most of this time was spent alone, unless you were lucky enough to have a similarly minded—and skilled—training partner.

This, to me, is actually the hardest part about racing. Doing the right things on the right days, day in, day out, making the tough decisions; not to ride with your friends for 4 hours of fun in the sun on the easy day; to go despite the cold rain instead of staying warm and dry in front of the tv; not to have (another) doughnut from the local bakery; and on and on…

Winning is easy—or at least a possibility—once you’ve made all the right decisions and the hardest part is behind you. Yes, you still have to deliver the goods on race day. Yes, the effort will be hard, but you’ll be prepared for it. It is just another hour or two, right? Yes, there is the tactical aspect of racing as well as luck, but make too many wrong decisions and you won’t be able to take advantage of either.

Sometimes I feel like I enjoy cycling is too much to make the right decisions. I’m like a kid in a candy shop and I want to do it all, I don’t want to miss one great ride. This past weekend I trianed with the group on the track for two and a half hours—friends spent 10 hours riding 103 miles, stopping for beer, ice cream, doughnuts and more beer. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy the training, or that I didn’t want to do it… it’s just that this is the hard part.

It’s been raining for two days now, so I’m off to intervals on the trainer, alone, hoping enough of the “right” decisions will pay off this season.

Ambition and procrastination 

One of the first products available from CCE: Pista Mustache Wax

The new CCE Team kit, photographed by Anthony Skorochod at CyclingCaptured.com

It’s amazing how long you can go, putting something off until tomorrow. It seems the more you have to do, the easier it is. Counting back, it has been 95 days since my last post, and a lot has happened since then. I’ll try to cover the highlights…

• I have become an entrepreneur, launching Classic Cycling Essentials, LLC (CCE) offering Embrocation and Mustache Wax

 

• CCE became one of the event sponsors at the North American Handmade Bicycle Show

 

• I actually started “training” for the upcoming track season with Gibby Hatton and Bobby Livingston

 

• Training necessitated a haircut—trimming down to the summer version of myself

 

• CCE products were sent out to cycling magazines, bloggers and industry big-wigs

 

• Team CCE was created, kits were designed and have arrived

 

• The 2010 racing season started

 

• CCE product numbers 3 and 4 have been formulated

 

• A trip to Belgium for the last of the Classics has been planned

 

• The new Van Dessel carbon Rivet road frame has arrived and is ready to race

 

• I recieved word that CCE products will be featured in 2 national publications

So, there has been a lot going on… and a lot to blog about, although little time to do it. Hopefully this will get me up to date. More details to follow.

…Or not to ride, inside

From Maine to Florida, we’re stuck in a cold snap that has passed “snap” and hung around for two weeks now. For cyclists, it couldn’t be a worse two weeks—most of us are just getting started on our annual, winter training plan. I’m not complaining, I’m just saying… In eastern PA, I don’t think we’ve had more than one day above freezing these past two weeks.

Me? I have about three months until my first big race, so it’s time to start logging the hours. And when the temperature drops so do training partners, waffling about the cold, and resigning themselves to the trainer. The trouble is, I really don’t like riding inside. I didn’t do it once last year and I don’t plan on doing it this year. The only exception being for specific interval workouts.

When it comes to logging hours, outside/inside is not a one to one swap, although I constantly hear accounts of guys riding three or four hours on the trainer. A good coach once told me, take the hours you plan to ride outside and cut them in half if you’re stuck inside. The trouble is, on a trainer you don’t coast downhill, or up to an intersection. On a trainer you don’t soft pedal while the new guy catches up, or while discussing the best route that will get you back in time (to remain in your significant other’s good graces).

The mental stamina it takes is different too. The option of stopping is always right there, and sure there are strategies to keep you going. Read a book, watch a movie, watch the Tour, or the Giro, the Vuelta or the spring classics, or even (and this is admittedly pretty cool) taking a ride through Google’s Street View. But you’re still surrounded by reasons to stop, other things to do, other things you should be doing.

To me, that’s a lot harder than braving the cold. I think the trouble people have with the cold, is leaving room for doubt to creep in—”Well, let’s see how cold it is in the morning…” or “Let’s see how warm it is by eleven.” or “I don’t think I’m riding if [insert weather excuse here].” You’ve left yourself an out, basically saying “I’m probably not going to ride.” I prefer to be more decisive, along the lines of “Suck it up.”

So, on Friday evening I stopped by South Mountain Cycles for “happy hour” hoping to find others to suck it up with on Saturday. Cush mentioned there was a decent group gathering about 9:30 and heading out for around four hours—perfect, count me in. So, Saturday morning I head to the shop to find everyone has bailed, except Cush and Selene. It wasn’t even that cold, just around 24° F.

With pleasntries exchanged and insults traded, we decided to head out towards Hawk Mountain with no particular route in mind. Other than the cold it was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the traffic seemed unusually light. We chatted about this and that, and quite a lot about those who bailed, but even more about how glad we were to get out on the road. We only stopped twice breifly, for a nature break and to decide which route to take back. When we got back to the shop we had just a shade over four hours under our belts—and it didn’t even feel like it.

On Sundays I almost always head out to the derby, so Selene already knew the answer when she asked what I was doing the next day. I knew she was fishing for something other than the derby, especially since two weeks ago there were half a dozen minor incidents on ice as well as a crash that saw three people off to the hospital. But I wasn’t going to try to talk her into it, if you’re on the derby you have to want to be there because, well anything can happen.

I was surprised when she decided to join me—not that I thought she couldn’t handle it, in fact far from it—but because I think she’s actually smarter than that! Selene knows enough to do what’s best for her, to follow her training plan. And the derby, quite honestly is something she doesn’t need to do. Regardless, I’m happy that she and Cush choose to join me on Sunday. It’s good to have company when the mercury is topping out at 17° F and you have to put a shot of vodka in your bottle so it won’t freeze.

It seems that just about everyone bailed on the derby. We got to the velodrome at the same time as Paul and Bobby, but the parking lot was empty. Paul called it time to go, we left and promptly ran into Kuklis and Ryan—who decided two days on the trainer was just too much. The derby loop is normally tempo out and hammer back, but it looked like a mellow derby today with our little band of brothers, and sister. Eventually we picked up two more guys wich brought our number to nine, small for the derby but a decent sized group for a cold ride.

Predictably, at the turnaround, Paul drove to the front ensuring a brisk pace back. So it wasn’t going to be too easy. We settled into a pace line with everyone taking their turn, although I sit out more than a few. My legs felt a little empty from the sudden increase in training volume. Once again the miles, and time roll by, and before we knew it another derby was in the books. I don’t know who “won” since I dropped off the pace on the last kick up.

Now we had roughly forty minutes back to the shop and after half of that I hit the wall and bonked hard. It was the kind of sudden exhaustion and emptiness in the legs that will make you wonder if you’ll make it back. But from experience, I knew that I just needed to dial it back a bit and keep pedaling. So I did as Cush and Selene disappeared over the next rise, and then slowed wondering where I was. We spun the last ten minutes easily, chatting our way back to the shop with three solid hours in. No big deal.

It’s experience. Experience you won’t get sitting on the traininer. It’s knowing you’ll survive the cold, knowing what to wear, knowing what to put in your bottle. Experience telling you you’ll make it back even though your legs are trying to tell you otherwise. I was riding three to four hours a week at the end of December. Last week it was twelve, this past weekend alone was seven. So here’s my point: Suck it up. Get out there, earn your experience—there is no substitute—you’ll be glad you did.

Here we are in 2010 already and everyone is getting their training plan in order. It’s been a while since I’ve posted, so this will cover what’s past, as well as what’s ahead. 2009 ended in a blur with FSX finishing up, the holidays looming, trying to get a business started and the busiest month of the year at work. And what’s at the end of the long, hard road? Trophies!

With two weeks to go in FSX I was reminded about the trophies, which I’ve crafted for the past three years now. With everything going on I had neglected to get them started—and the concept floating around in my head was a little more complicated than previous years. So, with three days to go I buckled down, lost some sleep and got them finished.

I actually really like making them, but finding the time was tough. This year there were three trophies: The Overall Champ, The Fastest Human and The Fan Favorite, won by: Josh, Matt and Robi, respectively. I think they came out pretty well, with a touch of Italian steel in the way of Campy cogs.

Of course, those weren’t the only trophies handed out at the end of 2009. The last derby of the year awarded several. This was due in part due to an overnight drop in temperature, selectively freezing wet roads. A handful of people showed up with road rash, caught off guard by the black ice—among them, me. And then Bruce went down hard on his elbow in the parking lot, breaking it.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it… when we hit Fleetwood and started to string out, some wheels must’ve touched somewhere behind me. I heard the tell-tale “zzzip” of tires, but it was too far back to really tell what was happening. When we got back over half the group had disappeared and as stragglers rolled up we learned of the crash. It wasn’t until later that day that I heard the news of a trip to the hospital for one pour, helmetless soul—and a full week later that I heard about the guy with a broken neck. The good news is he’s home now, up and about, but what a way to end the year.

Back to awards for performance, instead of poor luck or decisions… Local racer, Laura Van Gilder, was nominated to the US Cyclo-cross Worlds Team going to the Czech Republic, Jan. 30-31. She’ll be representing the US for the second time, having also earned a spot on the team last year—her first season racing cross—where she finished 19th. I can honestly say that I can’t think of a better person to represent the US. She is one of the nicest, most upbeat, professional cyclists I know, and clearly a fierce competitor as well.

The honor of representing your country comes at a price though. Figure, what it costs to get you and your bike(s) to the Czech Republic, add in fresh cables, tires, brake pads, handlebar tape, food, lodging, car rental, and then a couple hundred more—just in case—and you still might come up short. To help make sure Laura doesn’t come up short Bill Elliston and Ray Ignosh are organizing a couple of January cross races in Emmaus, to raise funds and to help keep Laura sharp. Keep an eye out for the announcement—if you just feel like helping Laura out now, they’ve also set up a place you can send donations.

I’m a writer! Really. Well, sort of…

A short story I wrote for Bicycling was just published in their Jan/Feb issue. Now, to be clear, I don’t really think I’m any kind of journalist, but it is a pretty good feeling to see your name on a byline for the first time.

For many of my friends it isn’t a big deal—they’re on the creative end of “the business”, journalists, writers, authors, and editors, publishing stories, magazines and writing books. My editor on this story is one of the most talented writers I know and I wouldn’t dare to suggest—or believe—that my name belongs among the pages with his, but it’s a start. Hopefully I’ll be able write another story some time.

If you happen to see a copy of the Jan/Feb issue, check it out—on page 54. My story accompanies six pages of fantastic race photos by Charlie Samuels.