fast brad

…CROSS SEASON!

Yes, it’s finally here. And for what it’s worth, I look forward to cross season more than any other. With the first official race come and gone, preparations are underway for own own little, underground, backyard, extreme, three month, night-time cross series: Fifth Street Cross. Our little race has finally grown up. This year it is an official USAC Non-Competitive Event, which means we’re insured—but doesn’t mean it’s ok to sue us now.

I say, “we, us, our” as if I have some ownership in it. In fact I don’t, the race is the brainchild of Bill and Beth Strickland who have been running it for the past four years. Fifth Street (FSX) has exploded in this time, outgrowing their bucolic backyard. With the possibility of losing our little race Bowman, Yozell, Ignosh and I have jumped in to help bear some of the burden of promoting a race series.

There is a lot to do to gear up for one event, but FSX has 11 days of racing. The biggest issue we faced was finding a new venue. I don’t know how he did it, but Bowman got the town’s blessing to hold it on municipal property. So FSX needs to be insured and the easiest way to go is to become a USAC permitted event—I handled the paperwork for that. Ignosh is getting the race numbers and providing some expertise in “real” race promotion, while Yozell, our local cross guru, will help design the course.

There is something about cross… it brings out the fun in cycling, it brings out the beer, the racers, the spectators and everyone in between. I think it is a unique combination of things, added up, that contribute to its ever-growing popularity. The races are short and hard, the courses are short and tight and require combined skills from nearly every other cycling discipline. The most interesting thing to me though is that cross seems to unify the cycling community.

Here at our own little cross series, the various segments of the cycling community have joined, blurring the lines between messenger/hipster/racer/weekend warrior/family guy/whatever. It has been a nice thing to see and makes the community stronger as a whole. I think you’ll see this at “real” cross races as well, with fellow racers and spectators shouting encouragement, hanging out to watch, sharing beer and food. Perhaps it’s just the right time of year to blow off steam and have a good time. But for three months we’ll ride in little loops together, doctors, lawyers, teachers, authors, editors, mechanics, firemen, photographers, and so on, with some of the best people we’ll ever meet—having some of the best times we’ll ever have.

Training/riding buddies have always been some of my best friends—some known only by a nickname. Many of my friends and I would never cross paths with were it not for riding together. Maybe that’s part of it, the thing about cross. Maybe it’s cross in more ways than one, maybe cyclo-cross draws a more diverse “cross” section of the populace. Maybe it’s more interesting and fun because the people are more different from one another? FSX has become a cornerstone of our cycling community drawing it all together under one roof. I think that’s why Bill and Beth looked for a way to keep it going. I think that’s why Bowman, Yozell, Ignosh and I stepped up to help keep it going, whether we realized it or not (well, maybe Bowman wanted another shot at winning it). It’s the right thing to do, for our cycling community.

Long live Fifth Street Cross!

The 2009 Van Dessel Gin and Trombones, in Belgian colors

So, race one is under my belt. I doubled up in the Masters A and UCI Elite and got a pretty good ass kicking all around. I was as prepared as I could be equipment-wise, but not up to speed yet in the legs department. Including this weekend’s race, I’ve only been on the cross bike three times so far this season. All in all though, things went ok, the course was great, I cleaned the barriers, made 7 of the 9 laps in UCI Elite before being pulled and the new bike was fantastic.

I had been waiting for the Van Dessel Gin and Trombones for a week, and just got it three days before the race. After collecting the parts for weeks in anticipation of its arrival I was eager to get it built for the first race. I stayed up late Thursday night to put the new bike together and it was beautiful, painted the colors of the Belgian flag with The Lion of Flanders on the seat tube.

This is G&T number two for me, having raced one the past two years. There are a few changes to the bike this year that make a great bike even better. Often I look at “improvements” with skepticism, thinking “now there’s something no one asked for and no one needs.” The new G&T has a couple and proves me wrong:

Tapered steerer tube: I never thought much of these 1 1/8″-1 1/2″ steerers, but the difference is notable. The larger bottom bearing allows for a beefier fork crown and the whole front end seems to feel more solid as a result. Planting your front wheel on a line is something you can do confidently, even under hard braking. On the subject of braking, there’s another thing: reduced lower fork stuttering—as in none. And while the whole front end looks huge, it feels light and lively. I might not have asked for it, but it’s a huge improvement.

BB30: I didn’t really have any opinions about these, except that cranks for this new standard are not cheap—in fact, quite the opposite. Aside from that, as I searched for the parts I found there seems to be a national shortage on BB30 bearings unless you’re forking over the cash for a crankset that includes them. The assembly was really simple and I didn’t need any special tools. Performance wise, I think the bottom end does seem stiffer, but not remarkably so. I should mention that I didn’t use a BB30 crank, I used an FSA K Force crank with Wheels Manufacturing BB30 adapters and BB30 bearings.

Larger diameter top-tube: The new top-tube feels more substantial when you grab it to run through the barriers, but ultimately it helps strengthen the front end. How much of the improved handling in the front end is attributable the top-tube and how much to the new fork is just a wild ass guess to me, but result of the two paired together is all that really matters.

Van Dessels sells complete bikes spec’d any way you like as well as frame sets. I got the frame set and built it up myself. If you are interested, check them out at www.vandesselsports.com
Here is my build:

Shifters: Campagnolo Chorus Carbon 10spd
Derailleurs: Campagnolo Veloce 10spd
Cranks: FSA K Force Carbon 34-46, w/ 24mm spindle
Bottom bracket: SRAM standard bearings with Wheels Manufacturing adapters
Brakes: TRP EuroX aluminum with Inplace Adjust pads
Handlebars: Ritchey Classic OS, 44cm
Handlebar tape: Cinelli cork
Cables: Gore Ride-On fully sealed brake and derailleur cables
Stem: FSA OS 190
Saddle: Ritchey WCS Streem V2
Seat post: FSA FR 230
Tires: Challenge Griffo 700×32 tubular
Wheels: Easton EA70 X tubular
Cassette: Campagnolo Chorus 11-25 10sp
Chain: Campagnolo Chorus 10sp

Overall, I couldn’t be more happy with the bike. It performed flawlessly in both races, now if I could just pedal it faster. I ended up 40th out of 70 in the Masters A, exactly 3 minutes out of first. Due to rider call-ups I ended up starting somewhere in the middle and that was pretty much where I stayed—I need to work on my starts. In the UCI Elite I started in the back row, but had a better start. I think I managed to get by 15 guys or so in the first kilometer… and in the course of the next 6 laps most of them passed me back. I think a few DNFd, and I was probably the last finisher. Which is ok for my first elite race—I’ll have to wait for results to be posted online to see where I ended up for sure, but DFL is better than DNF.

I know what I did. I just don’t know how stupid it is yet.

With track season still fresh in my mind, I put in for a Cyclo-Cross upgrade on my racing license this week. I just checked and it was approved, I’m a cat 2 in cross now. Not that I had such a great season last year, but I was coming around by the end of the season. I didn’t get the points but I still carry a cat 1 on my license from mountain biking, so that automatically qualifies me as a cat 2 for cross.

My thinking was something like this… If I want to get faster, I should race with guys who are faster, right? I’m putting way too much time and money and emphasis on this, I know. I have a new bike coming in any day so I’ll have a spare for the pits, I have enough money tied up in tubular tires and wheels to buy groceries for a few months—sounds pretty ridiculous when I put it that way—and I’ve written every race date on the calendar so Tracy knows not plan anything else.

So, I checked the pre-reg list for the first race, Nittany Lion Cross. It has a UCI elite field which means basically “international standard for really fast guys”—my class now if I race the cat 2 straight up. There are only 13 guys registered so far, the other classes have near 50. What the hell was I thinking? There will be no hiding in the field there… when I get dropped 2 laps in—if that—it’ll be pretty obvious how much I suck. No anonymity… “there goes Brad, right out the back.” The only saving grace is the wonderful, built in excuse I’ve got lined up already. I’m racing the master A class an hour earlier.

I know. I’m not just stupid, I’m really stupid. But I like a challenge, and I like races that are hard, and I like events that make you suffer. Somehow, in my warped world there is honor in that, it’s what makes you a better rider, a better person. Some people love winning, and they win a lot. I don’t think it makes them a better rider, I think it makes them more upset when they don’t win. And what’s the point winning when there is a whole class or two or three better than you anyway?

I’m forty three years old, that’s not old but it’s the wrong side of young—and on the rare occasion I win or do well it is because I manage to tough it out, not because I am better of faster. That’s what I take pride in. Stupid maybe, but I’m signing up for my lumps next week. One of these days it’ll pay off.

…or too little too late?

I haven’t blogged in a while, it’s been a busy summer. In between racing the track, logging miles and foreign visitors for a couple of weeks, I also gutted and remodeled the kitchen—but that’s another story. Those might all sound like valid excuses, but a big part of the truth is that I’ve been frustrated with my racing.

Last night was the last race of the track season and I expected it to be like the rest of the season. I would be able to get myself in the right position, but I would not have the kick to jump in the sprint… or, I would ride too cautiously and miss the split in the group… or hesitate a little and start the sprint too late… or maybe I just sucked.

At this point in the season it doesn’t matter, I’m more concerned about gearing up for cyclo-cross season than I am about scoring points on the track. All I really wanted to do was race hard. With two points races and a scratch race on the schedule it was likely to be just that. I really don’t like points races, I usually just like to make sure the pace stays up. If the field slows, I don’t, I keep rolling until they chase and overtake me. Which is fine, because I’ll be back near the front as soon as they let up—and that’s how the first race went.

Next up was the 2k scratch race, six laps. This is usually a pretty fast race, the laps tick off quickly and with three to go guys set up for the sprint. Last night, for some reason, everyone was fooling about high on the banking waiting for the laps to pass, waiting for someone else to go. One of the older guys, I don’t know his name, decided to get things going 2 laps in. He attacked and everyone went hard enough to keep him from getting away, and then drifted back up the track.

I was just trying to decide how annoyed I was with all this when another old guy, Dave G, rolled off the front. No one was going with him and I was maybe 20 feet behind on the bottom of the track. I decided I was pretty damn annoyed, so I rolled off after him. Rolled off, not attacked. The gap between us had opened to maybe 15 or 20 meters and I thought I would be getting everyone motivated to chase.

Dave went harder, I went even harder and started closing the gap at the end of lap three. I knew when I caught him there would be a jump, so I was leaving just a bit of space between us when I looked back to check on the field. We had a gap. A big gap. Maybe 60 or 70 meters. We might actually have a chance… I dug in and closed the gap with 2 laps to go and Dave flicked me by. I put my head down and tried to push the gear harder, a half a lap later I checked on Dave, thinking he could take a pull. But he was gone, drifting backwards to the group. Crap!

A lap and a half with the whole group finally looking motivated to chase. Chase me down… on my first chance at a decent result all season. I decided that I would make sure the lazy asses fooling around up on the banking had underestimated this old guy. It was probably only 30 seconds or so, but it was the salvation of my season right there spread out over 600 meters. I got the bell with one lap to go. They were coming, I could feel it, then I could hear it in the back straight. I didn’t dare look back, I learned that lesson years ago as a runner. In turn three I cut a line as low on the track as I dared, in turn four I drifted right up to the red line just to make the line around me a little longer… then somehow, I found just a little more juice to throw in the pedals as I drove to the line… a second after I relaxed, they passed me.

It was hard, but still somehow felt like a gift. But that’s the way it is, that’s the lesson you learn. If you sit around waiting, you give the control to everyone else. If you try take control of the situation, you might find yourself in control of the race. Well, it looks like I learned something this season, albeit on the last night, and I won a race doing it.

The one win was good enough to put me fourth overall for the night, and that earns me one upgrade point. One point down, 24 to go. More on that, next season.