Happy Holiday to my team mates!

Gents,

Happy Holidays and here is looking forward to a great 2010 season!

Shannon Smith!

Shannon,

I will truly miss you.

2010 Spring Series Schedule

Hey fella's, courtesy of BigDaveSports, here's a tentative Spring Series schedule.

March 28th Germantown Road Race
Apri 3rd,, Saturday Michell Memorial Forest- BigDaveSports
April 11th, Hueston Woods Team Hungry
April 18th, Vandervoorts Corner Team Dayton
April 25th, Spring Valley, Project Velo
May 2nd, Georgetown Road Race, BigDaveSports
May 8th, Saturday (Open)
May 16th, Bond Rd. BigDaveSports
May 23 St Leon Biowheels/BigDaveSports

Gun Club CX

Alternate title: Boom Boom, Out Go the Lights.

Sunday morning was cold, crisp, and sunny as I trundled two tired legs out to the Sycamore/Pheasant Hill Gun Club for round 9 of the OVCX series. For the past several weeks locals have had the chance to hold Wednesday practices on this course, so I knew it would be tough, muddy, and technical. I like the course, but am painfully aware that it doesn't suit my strengths, such as they are. (This, to me, is the paradox of cyclocross: CX racers relish exposing and testing their weaknesses in a masochistic adrenaline rush.) I also knew that in a couple places I might benefit from the home-court advantage -- especially on the wicked up-across-and-down hillside cut. Finally, I had this pie-in-the-sky hope that the suffering I had done the previous day had opened my legs up, and that I'd feel strong and ready to go for this race.

Ha.

But I get ahead of myself. I lined up with the rest of the 35+ and 45+ cat 4 men; my OVCX series position got me a nice front-row callup, right next to Butch, who was itching to race after a couple weeks off. I think I saw flecks of saliva on his lips, and he may have barked once or twice. A man fired a shotgun, and we were off. I tuck in behind Butch and Scot Hermann, and we make our way through the "easy" wooded section: a straightaway, then a soft right bend up into the woods, a steady uphill on dirt, left and then right around some bushes, and then a gently curving 180 that better riders -- like Butch and Scot -- took at speed without touching their brakes. At this point I had let a small gap open up, and my legs were tight and sore already. Uh-oh.

A long straightaway back to the finish line, over the pavement and into the sand. By now I'm fourth or fifth wheel, but doing okay. Out of the sand, 180 degrees on the grassy hill, and then the off-camber 180 back around a small tree. I screwed this turn up every lap, but never more so than on the first lap, when I slid out, unclipped my downhill foot, and stumbled to get going again. By this time Butch and Scot are gone with a number of other riders. Down the hillside and sweep left through some mud to the first barrier and runup. Around and down to the right through the bushes and then up to the second time through the sand. It was here that I knew I didn't have it today: it was slightly uphill, and pretty churned up, but should have been rideable (and was for many). I got three-quarters of the way through and just kind of keeled over when I didn't have the power to finish it off (2nd lap: tried to ride again, but dismounted 3/4 of the way through; 3rd lap: "ran" it). Get up, run the rest, hop on, and head for the wooded gravel stretch.

Pick up a little speed there, but scrub it at the end for the left hander into the muck. Pedal pedal washout pedal washout through a couple of twists, and then the out-and-back along the fenceline. About 3/4 of the way coming back the ground turned to mush, dismount, shoulder the bike, and slog along the fence to the righthand uphill turn. Slog up, find the footholes of others for traction, use the fence to make a tight 180-degree turn, and remount before getting too far down the hill. Sweep right (watch the rut) and set up for the left-and-right swoop leading up to the cut in the hill.

Here's the one place where I made up some ground during this race: dismount before the hill, shoulder the bike, and run up, across, and down as tight on the inside as possible. Many riders tried to ride the uphill and washed out, others ran the uphill and struggled to remount while crossing the hill, which was virtually impossible unless you could remount from the right (uphill) side of the bike. Set the bike downhill, remount, and use momentum to curve in a big rightward sweep back into the woods.

And here, in the wooded section, is where I gave up spots all day: grind uphill, then left, right, and left over some loose dirt, mud, and gravel. Okay there. Painful, but okay. Back further into the woods for a gentle downhill to the left turn creekside. Okay there -- I actually worked that turn out with a left-foot-down-and-take-it-tight technique. Then loop toward the steep little kicker that had been rideable in practice, but was a runup (at least for me and those I saw) in Sunday's mud. Remount, and then take the downhill righthand bend tight into the section of the course that made me ride like a clumsy donkey: a slippery little uphill where I kept losing traction and actually dismounted once or twice, a mushy lefthander that I took very gingerly, another tight mushy lefthander that came out of nowhere and kept going left left left, until it came back right and down to solid ground.

On the third lap in this section I was passed by the two leaders in the 45+ category; I was tired; I was cranky and a little puzzled by how poopy I felt, and I was in a lactic haze. I lost traction in one of the mushy lefthanders, dismounted, and actually ran along behind those two guys through this section until we headed to the righthand downhill. Mind you, it was relatively level here -- tight and twisty, but far from a running section of the course. But I was so dismayed at my lame-o handling skills that I chose to jog until I found safer ground. Part of me also thought, hey, we're in the woods, so it's not like anyone can see us. And then, to my horror, I heard the clipped British accent of our announcer describing the very duel for the lead of the 45+ race going on right in front of me. I almost stopped and left the course in mortification as it dawned on me: if he can see them, he can see me; and if he can see us, everyone over on the hill can see us. I kept waiting for him to say something like "and as these two duel it out for the lead of their category, some Darkhorse chap has forgotten how to ride his bike and is trudging along on foot behind them. That's a puzzling tactic, and not one you normally see in a cyclocross race." After all, he had earlier pointed out that I had dismounted "a little early" before the double barriers, so I knew he wasn't afraid to offer, um, constructive criticism. Mercifully, he refrained from commenting on my hike through the woods, or at least I didn't hear him.

Anyway, after the diabolic wooded section came a little passage through some trees, the "horseshoe" with Tony on the drums, the double barriers and a gravel downhill to the start line. Each lap concluded with the same "easy" wooded section that kicked off the race. Three laps, barely hold off Sparky at the finish, and be happy with 7th.

And I am -- happy with 7th, that is. At least, I can talk myself into being happy with it, even though it was disappointing to push the accelerator and have no response both days this past weekend. Sunday was, by my count, my 28th race in 2009, and while I've had significant stretches of not racing (mid-July to mid-September), that's more than double the number of races I've ever done in one year, and triple what I did last year. The smart part of my brain tells me to shut it down, to increase race and training loads more gradually year-to-year, to rest, recharge, and begin building a base for a bigger season next year.

This other part of my brain, though, I can't seem to shut up. It's whispering to me: Lexington -- come on, just one more ...

[pictures from Jeffrey Jakucyk]

Uncle Steve's Halloween CX

Ventured north on Saturday with the family for a big day of cyclocross, hanging out with friends, and trick-or-treating in the state capitol. We had rain all the way up 71, and my enthusiasm for a rainy, cold race waned with every drop. But (as the weatherheads promised), once we turned west toward Marysville, the skies cleared and it turned into a crisp, sunny, lovely autumn day.

With really muddy ground. Again.

Uncle Steve's, round 2 of the Cap City Cross series, was a different animal than the OVCX races: fewer racers, fewer races (3), more casual. Add in the Halloween celebration, and you had an atmosphere of general fun and good times.

Which was good, since we got a later start out of Cincinnati than I wanted, and we got a little lost on the way, so I was totally off my game by the time we arrived. Plus, after putting on my costume (Darkhorseman of the Apocalypse, of course), pinning my number on twice (to ensure visibility even with the cape), and riding my sole practice lap, I realized that the cape on the costume turned me into a windsock on a windy day, made remounts a blind leap of faith (and if there's anything in CX you don't want to be a blind leap of faith, it's the remount), and was destined to snag me on multiple tree branches and course stakes. So I made a quick switch into more typical raceday garb, which entailed re-pinning my number super-fast, and telling the organizers that I was forfeiting the half-price entry fee because I couldn't wear my costume because it wasn't safe but I had to race right now and I'd get them the $10 after my race. Which of course, I forgot. (Team Awesome, I owe you $10.) All of these things had me just frazzled enough that I forgot my helmet when I headed to the start line. Only the kindness of a competitor saved me from realizing this too late. Add in the fact that I was venturing into the B field (aka 3s, aka 45 minutes) for the first time, and I needed a fun, positive atmosphere around me.

We lined up, about 30 racers: costume callups to the front, everybody else behind, and we're off! I started back row left, and hit the first left turn pretty much near the back. The main field -- essentially a large back yard, now that I think about it -- was set up as a series of taped twists and turns: not really a pinwheel, but I imagine it had a similar effect for spectators. The first set of barriers was in here somewhere, and they were tough: the tape narrowed to make them at most two across, they were spaced awkwardly to disrupt running rhythm (mine, at least), and there was a righthand 180 afterward that made remounting before the turn too tricky for most to try. We rolled through a dirt trail in the woods, and turned up to a few taped switchbacks: up, and then down, and then up, and then down, and finally up again to the road, a muddy 180 next to the road, a long sloggy straightaway where, if you took the fastest line, you'd get whacked in the head by tree branches, up and over the driveway, and left down toward the pond and the technical stuff. Loop around a tree, drop down a muddy leftward stretch with water on the right, curve around the water and hit a steep little mudslide that I only ever managed to ride up once, and wished I hadn't (since it was slower that way), along a ridge and left back down into some swampy suff that was turning to peanut butter. Right again to a short RR-tie runup, and then back along the ridge to drop down left again. Short straightaway, right turn, and then 180 around a tree; left onto another straightaway, another 180 around a tree, and then a long swooping left toward the second, wider barriers. Remount, loop around a couple more trees, then up the hill, hairpin, and down through the finish line.

After the second lap, the official shouted "6 to go!" as I rode by; I had to fight the urge to get off and throttle him then and there. I thought better of it when I realized that my legs were such jello that I might not be able to walk. I think he took mercy, because by my count we only did 5 more, for a total of 7 laps.

This was racing in a paper bag, the course was so tight. And where it wasn't muddy and swampy, the ground was bumpy and rutted enough that I was never comfortable: at different points in the race I was sure I had pinch-flatted my rear tire and broken my seatpost. Just a tough tough course. At least, that's what I kept telling myself, even as I knew that I also just wasn't having a good day: my legs weren't responding, and they hurt when I tried to power over little rises and around tight corners. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one suffering: on the last lap I rode back up to a rider who had passed me earlier in the race. Coming up the last rise and around the final hairpin into the finishing stretch, I caught him, and then gunned it a little to pass him in the stretch. He wasn't happy about someone "sprinting for 14th place," and let me know. I smiled and said "It's racing, man -- come on!" I don't think he was persuaded.

Looking back over this race report, it might seem like I didn't have a good time, but that's just not true: my family was there with cowbells, our Columbus hosts were there for their first-ever cyclocross race, and the Farmers were out there giving me extra cheers. Mark even told me that his grandmother would beat me, which really inspired me to ride harder. With the tight course, they could all pretty much stand in once place and holler for me five and six different times per lap. It was like having an entourage, and I loved it. I wish I could've raced better, but I loved it. And at least once per lap, the announcer would exhort the crowd to have more beer. And the Jeni's guy who raced in a diaper got his costume stuck in his rear brake on the second lap and raced the rest of the day in his tiny red tighties. I beat the cheerleader (I think), but got beat by the wizard, the skeleton, and several zombies, which is okay, since they probably ate the brains of anyone who beat them. The Mormon missionaries were drinking Miller High Life, and my remount is getting smoother and faster, although I'm still losing time getting clipped back in.

In short, I'm keeping this one on next year's schedule, and I'm already looking for the right costume: scuba diver, maybe?

Happy Birthday Brett!

Brett,

I wanted to wish you a happy birthday and to tell you that you are an excellent team mate and great human being! I am proud to call you my friend.

Lungbuster CX - Mayberry, MI

So, Nate and I didn't think we'd get much competition if we headed south to the USGP's so we went 5 hours North to the little town of Mayberry, MI.  I had a family reunion in norther Ohio, so it worked out.

It is interesting to head to a race where you do not know a single other racer there...  feel like a real Darkhorse (pun intended).  Anyways, Nate lined up w/ 30+ other riders and got a great start and settled into 6th place for most of the race.  A ferocious battle of man vs chain ensued, and he ended up loosing several spots on the last lap due to some untimely mechanical to finish 12th.

I lined up w/ 22 other B racers and headed into the sigletrack 6th.  There was lots of singletrack, and MTB's at this race.  I moved into 5th on the first lap and took a bike so that Nate could untangle the weed that had engulfed my cassette.  Pit bike worked great and I kept 4th place in sight, hoping to make a move on the last lap.  The 4th place rider ended up having some problems, and I caught him early in the last lap.  I waited and waited till the last real straight heading into a single high speed barrier before sprinting around, taking a very hot dismount and remount, got a mall gap and kept it for 4th.  Great little road trip w/ family and friends there to enjoy it with.

-tinny out

USGP of Cyclocross Derby City Cup Day 2

Day two of the USGP included a few changes to the layout of the course: most notably, the demons in charge had used the runoff from the cleaning area to create a new obstacle on the backside: a large mudpuddle curving around the hill to yet another runup of RR ties. The conditions were also significantly different: it was colder (cold enough that after my pre-ride of the course my fingers hurt enough to throw a couple chemical warmers into my gloves), and yesterday's slick, sloppy mud had turned to a thick peanut butter that was significantly faster along the straightaways and that had created little berms in the corners -- if you caught them correctly, you could actually hold some real speed through them. Otherwise, they were just there to knock you over.


I lined up mid-pack again, on the right side of the field, with one guy between me and the barricade. Moments before the whistle, I noted that the guy on my left had his left foot up on the pedal, whereas I and the guy on my right had our right feet up. Now the tendency when you slam your top foot down in a start is to drift a little to the opposite side of that top foot. That meant the guy to my left and the guy to my right could both be angling toward me at the start, narrowing my window of forward progress.


But that wouldn't happen, right?


Nah. Worse. Three-Stooges worse. The whistle goes, the guy to my left moves in front of me and my bars hook into his. The guy to my right bumps shoulders with me as he drifts left, and my bars hook into his. The bump into me knocks him back toward the barricade, and the other side of his handlebars hook into the barricade. For a moment (as the rest of the field pedals by), the three of us are locked together, and then the guy on my left takes off (after all, he had nothing impeding his forward momentum, since I was hooked behind his bar). By the time I got untangled from the other guy, the pack was almost to the turn onto the grass. (I should mention here that the whole comedy sketch was amazingly polite, given the possibilities for frustrated outbursts and obscenities: "Sorry -- Here --" "No -- My bad..." "Okay, got it -- good luck!").


So not only am I starting 100th of 100+ riders, I've given them all a 200-meter headstart. I sprint and catch the tail end of the pack right before the turn onto grass, and come across two riders sprawled across the course. Slow down, go around, accelerate to the next left, where I avoid another downed rider and head toward the money pit. More carnage, riders sprawled left and middle -- dismount and run around right (oooh, that mud is cold!), remount, and then try to settle into a routine of passing riders, moving up, keeping my cool. At least one guy asked "what are you doing back here?" I chose to take it as a compliment.


After Saturday I had spent a lot of time thinking about how I could improve in Sunday's race, and here before I even got off the start line all those thoughts had been thrown out the window, at least in terms of overall placing. There was no way I'd see the front of the pack again -- or even the back end of the front -- and for a second I was kinda bummed and pretty frustrated. Then I took a deep breath ...


... And had a great time. I moved up throughout the first lap, and came across the finish line to discover that they were shortenning our race to 3 laps today instead of 4. "Two to go?!" I hollered to the officials. "Really?!" "Yep." For the first time ever, I was a little bummed that my race wasn't going to be longer -- I was moving up on every lap, getting the feel of the course, the cold and wet weren't cold anymore, and I felt pretty darn good. So for the final two laps I held myself closer to the redline, pushed when I might've let up in a one-lap-longer race, and tried to make the most of it. I took too tight a line in one corner, ended up in the brush, and dropped my chain again, but today it seemed like a minor inconvenience. Dug cheeered me on when I finally caught him, I heard others out on the course cheering me on, and at one point my heart lit up when I heard Carole and Mairin hollerin' for me. Eamon was ringin' the cowbell.


I rolled across the line tired and smiling, figuring I might have broken the top-50, and maybe squeaked into the 30s. Cleaned off the bike, changed, and was more than a little pleased to see my name next to #28.


A great weekend of racing, socializing, and spectating. The USGP and Louisville really put on a show with this event, and combined with the emergence of the UCI3 weekend in Cincinnati, the Ohio River Valley region is becoming a real heavyweight in the national CX scene. That's a Very Good Thing. (third photo courtesy of Ben Wilson.)

USGP Derby City Day 1

Made the pilgrimage to Louisville this past weekend to race both days in the USGP of Cyclocross Derby City Cup. The races are already starting to run together into one big lump of pain, so I'd better get these race reports out fast.

Saturday: We cat 4s got the 8:30 start (apparently an improvement over last year's 8:00 start, which happened to be two minutes before sunrise), which meant that most prerace preparations happened in the dark. by 7:45 it was light enough to preride the course without a headlight. I wish it had still been dark, because what we saw was the promise of sweet pain, a gift from the rains on Thursday and Friday: wet, boggy straightaways, greasy off-camber turns, a mucky down-up-and-back-down through a soggy drainage ditch, and four (4) rideable-but-only-on-the-right-line sandpits.

I lined up in the middle of a one-hundred-odd man pack, and when the whistle blew I got the best start I've had yet this year. Long paved start where I moved from fifth row to about second (row), a sweeping left across the field, left around a tree and then a curve right down into the drainage ditch (aka "the money pit") -- ran it the first lap in the crowded carnage (rode it otherwise), and moved up a little more -- up and then down right back through it. Turn through some trees and then a sloggy straightaway to the barriers, which felt deceptively high after grinding across the muck. Under the Green Monster (renamed "The Jolly Green Giant") and toward the pits. Over the pavement and a couple of twisties, and then the first sandpit, which had a drop-in to a nice (narrow) hardpack line where you could pick up speed all the way through. Left turn right out of the pit, so don't carry too much speed or you're breaking tape. Not much later you hit the second sandpit, which was hardpack for half, and deep sand for the second half: if you carried speed through the first part, you could get through the second without much pedaling. I know this because I dropped my chain first time through, and made it to the end coasting (more like flailing, but hey, it's my story, right?). Pulled off to the side, watched the lead group ride out of sight and a bunch of the others pass me as I forced the chain back on, hopped on, and rolled down the off-camber to a paved section. Back up through some muck, around a tree, down and up a tricky little grass-paved-grass off camber, and eventually you hit two more sandpits, both rideable (first one hardpack all the way through, the second a sloggy grind, but not too bad).



Somehwere in here on the second half of the course (or right after) was the Bob's Redmill RR-tie runup, as well as a long headwind straightaway so sloggy that I thought it would never end, the very entertaining off-camber positioned right near the beer tent (many slideouts with many beery "Ooohhs!"), and finally a straightaway toward the Green Monster: for me it was hoist the bike up, get up there, throw a leg over and let go, trying to at least get my feet (or one foot) on the pedals for the down ramp, followed by another downhill off the shoulder of a former tee-box. A real-live roller-coaster-type whoop-de-doo. Get around the corner, clip in if you haven't yet (and I hadn't, believe me), and pedal toward the start-finish area: loop around a tree and head out to the road. For all the manmade and other barriers and features of the course, the last 20 meters before the roadway on Saturday were the cruelest: flat, swampy, slower than slow, with speedy pavement sticking its tongue out at you just a few feet away. Finally back up on the road, and let's do it again!

On Saturday we did four laps: by the fourth I was pretty much on my own, although a Bob's Redmill guy was hanging with me, catching up on the technical stuff and after remounts. He slid out on a corner, but got up and rejoined me. Then, on the second sandpit (the same one! my nemesis) I came off the hardpack into the deep stuff, and saw a rut going the wrong way: sideways. It ate my wheel, took me down and bent my right shifter in. Got up seeing a few stars and rolled the rest of the lap solo, finishing 21st.

I was very happy, both with the course and atmosphere, and with my race. I had made a good start, and (I thought) except for my chain dropping, had put myself in position for a pretty high placing. I had kept an eye on the riders I know have scored in my OVCX field, and think I fared pretty well. (The plan as I understand it is that the OVCX scorers will separate out the age-group categories for purposes of that series -- all cat 4s regardless of age were scored together this weekend in deference to the "big show" in town). Plus, I knew there was tomorrow, which held out the promise of fairer conditions, and where I could work on improving some things from today.

Heh. More on that later... But before I go, let me give a shoutout to all the Rogues who put up with me this weekend. Special thanks to the OVCX Commissioner of Results Agitation Brian Segal, who not only put up with me, but put me up for the weekend. Those Rogues act all tough, but they're a bunch of softies, and they love their CX. (photo by Marcia Seiler)

Harbin Park 35+ 4s

I know Friday's wet trench warfare conditions got everybody all hot 'n' bothered and squeakin' 'n' squawkin' "epic! epic!" but with beautiful fall conditions and a good time racing, the chill sun of Sunday morning at Harbin Park was more my style. The ground was still wet, several places on the course were muddy enough to matter, but the sunshine made the festivities even more festive and the racing more racy.

Mitch designed a great course -- plenty of fast, plenty of turns, some off-camber, a diving downhill familiar to anyone who's done the Wednesday night practice rides, and the classic double sandpit, complete with Tony on the drums.

Lined up with my field, and was surprised not to see Greg (ZWS), who had taken first and second on Friday and Saturday. Saw him later, and he was an injury scratch. I was sad to see him go, although it most likely meant that almost all of us would move up one spot in the results. Chatted a little bit with Scot and Joern from Dayton about the little mulch bed with RR ties on either end: I had no spare wheels and couldn't afford a stupid pinch flat, so we were discussing whether or not it was totally lame to run it, or worth the risk to put my (questionable -- oh who am I kidding: nonexistent) bunny-hopping skills to the test. I asked Scot where his spare wheels were in the pit. He laughed.

The start was a pretty long flat paved section, and by the time we got to the off-camber section next to the road, today's winner in our field was away. Things really backed up, and I wasn't sure where I was positioned going toward the finish. The most aerobically challenging part of the course was the long headwind uphill grind over the field to the finish line, with a cruel little kicker up and over the line, continuing up through the uphill side of the sandpit. Did I mention that this section was uphill? I haven't looked at my max HR from the race, but I'm sure it came right as I exited the sandpit. At this point I make my way through the twisty section and come back down through the sandpit. I ride it clean, and am so stoked that I almost stop and look around for applause. Instead, I keep riding onto the section of the course that suits me better: some twisty sections through the trees, through the little mulch bed (please don't pinch flat on the railroad ties! please?! I repeated every lap). First lap I came off the mulch bed, bounced a little to check rear air pressure, and Joern, right behind me, says in his German-accented deadpan, "Shannon: you have a flat." Scot laughs. I panic for a second until I realize he's kidding, and we ride on. We take a long grass straight onto the backside of the course, 180 around a tree and onto pavement, fast down to a muddy transition back to grass, back to pavement and up around a turnaround, back onto grass and toward The Big Roller, aka Collarbone Corner: a diving downhill where -- with the right line -- you could release your brakes, pick up huge speed (for a CX race), whip up the other side and around the bend into a wooded section. I liked carrying speed into that section because for some reason I had good power through there, and was able to drop some folks and pass others. Around some trees, up and over the barriers, cross the road, around the pine tree and down to the mudhole. After the mudhole, make up as much ground as possible before zig-zagging through the off-camber and then into the headwind and the long long grind up to the finish line, knowing and dreading that the uphill slog through the sandpit awaited once again.

On the second lap I was pretty sure I was riding in second position, and sure enough as I rode the downhill side of the sandpit (cleanly, for the second time), the announcer says "and there's a Darkhorse rider, #601, our second place 35+ rider ... Shannon Smith." Now the pressure's on: one thing about CX I haven't got down yet is riding from the front (and from what I can tell of the first-place finisher's race, we were pretty much in a race for 2nd -- so for me, this was the front). I tried to relax, keep it steady, and push myself to just this side of the limit. But I couldn't help looking back, and it didn't seem like I was getting much distance between myself, Scot, Joern, Butch (Smitty's), and a QCW rider I think was Sparky (there were probably others in there, I just don't know them yet). And once I overcooked a pretty easy corner and went down on the 3rd lap, I figured holding off the chasers might be more of a challenge than I'd hoped.

So I let up a little, knowing that they'd join me, but knowing some of the risks involved with that: I was, after all, letting two teammates join me, but I was hoping to put some of the onus for driving the pace on Dayton, recover, and make a push to get away near the end. And so we headed into the fourth and final lap as 4, competing for 2nd through 5th: me, Scot and Joern, and Butch. We went up through the sand, hung out through the twisties, and headed back into the downhill sand section. I tried to take the same line I had all three previous laps: start right, grind it and drift left, clearing the pit just as I got near the left edge. This put me behind Butch, but no problem: Butch is a mountain biker, and he'll clean this easier than me. D'oh! Butch got sideways, I got into his rear wheel, and Joern and Scot were off to the races. I came out of the pit raring to go, and got a little gap on Butch that held. I rejoined Scot, but Joern was turning in one of his strongest laps of the race, and I didn't see him until he was prostrate on the ground at the finish. I led Scot around for the rest of the lap, trying to hold off Butch and wondering what I was going to do about Scot at the finish. And then I learned I was dealing with a true gentleman: near the end of the final lap, as I was working to keep Butch at bay, Scot told me not to worry about him, that he appreciated the work I'd done and wouldn't come around at the end, and in fact, here, let me see if I can lead you out. I finished as strong as I could, but pictures show that he may have had to hold up to avoid passing me. Let me add here (and Scot may now regret this) that Scot and I are very close in the series points standings for our category. So by removing the final contest for third place, he 1) surrendered a few OVCX points to a close rival, and 2) may have given up a place on the podium -- he definitely gave up a chance at the podium. I believe the term for this is mensch. I now owe Scot a solid, but I told him it might have to wait until road season.

Devou Park Darkhorse Cyclo-Stampede

I'll skip the parts from 7 am to the start of my race at 12:30, and from 1:15 until I rolled home at 9:15 pm, because, after all, they weren't racing -- well, the parts from 1:15 until 6:30 featured racing, but not mine, and I'll let others tell their own stories -- they were all that other stuff that goes into putting on a race: unloading and setting up barriers, taping the course, manning the course crossings, shuttling messages between registration and the announcers, breaking down and re-loading barriers, pulling stakes and tape in the dark, etc. (Okay, so maybe I won't skip those parts.)

I will add also that after forecasts of a deluge, the rain itself for the most part stopped Friday morning and, except for a few drizzles and spits, held off until we had wrapped up the last bit of yellow tape. But the course -- wow, was it wet. And my teammates had designed a diabolical course that would have been challenging and technical in the driest of conditions: tons of off-camber, some short but steep little legbreakers, a fair number of grass-to-pavement and pavement-to-grass transitions, and several nice little twisty sections.

But I'm getting ahead of myself: the dual logistics of running a weekday race and a UCI race meant that cat 4, cat 35+, cat 4 45+, juniors, and women cat 3/4 and 35+ would all be racing at the same time. I heard someone mention a total of 155 riders, and I'd believe it in a heartbeat. We were also going 30 minutes instead of the usual 40, but given the conditions and the challenging course, I didn't hear a single complaint.

My race kinda went like this: sprint off the line, weave through as much of the cat 4 open field as possible on the paved section up past the finish line and then right up toward the museum, watch Greg Fasig (Cycledots) power away through some magical hole in the field, never to be seen again, and then hit the greasy downhill from the museum toward the golf course. Whoa! Gridlock, and guys behind yelling "Ride! Ride! Don't stop!" and people stopping and dabbing and cursing until back out onto the pavement and right into off-camber #1 along the golf course; left foot out, coast through, and then a series of rollers and twists until up up up can I ride this? No. But look, I'm running past guys who are riding it, so let's run from now on. Back over the path and a few twists (where I'd have a slo-mo crash on a later lap) and down the cart path where, like on all the paths, mud would build up in a slick mound down the middle, so you'd think whew, I'm on pavement and safe for a few seconds, but oh no: on the second or third lap I'd see a guy wash out right in front of me. Carry some speed up and over, and then down past the barn and -- hey look, that rider (Kerry from Hungry) is dismounting before the end of the gravel -- wonder why. Round the bend, into the muck, up a little rise, bog down -- oh, that's why. Smart Kerry. Awkward dismount, run up, remount and ride down the slogfest clip in clip in clip in arrrgghhh oh well at least get one of your feet on the pedal, dismount and slog up the muck. Onto the path, back onto the bike, heading for off-camber #2. (This became a great spectator spot later in the day, since it got so bad that the pro riders would propel themselves as fast as possible along the off-camber until they couldn't pedal any more, hold their skid/slide/hydroplane until the last moment, dismount and find some way up the steep little kicker back to the road. Many superb riders misjudged this delicate ballet, and much tape was broken.) Claw, scrabble, and slide my way up to the road, remount, and head through the pits. The pits had one of the most deceptive difficult sections all day: a stretch of innocuous flat ground that was so soaked that it took forever to pedal through -- didn't look bad, didn't take riders down, but it sapped a lot of energy and stirred the seeds of panic: hey! I should be able to get through this no problem -- what's wrong? everyone's gonna catch me! Up out of the pits toward off-camber #3, this one with roots and juniors and a hill that was rideable the first lap, and maybe the second, but after that, get off, run up to the path, remount, back towards the road -- oh, crap, I forgot: barriers. Who put barriers on this course? -- that's inhumane, I tell you. back down twisting past the pits, and up through the finish line.

One down, three to go.

The race was a survival fest, and I had little sense of how I was actually faring. In fact, I had little sense of actually doing any racing, until the last lap: I got caught by a guy in my field (Sparky from QCW). I knew he had better handling skills than me, so I followed his line as much as I could through the lap. I decided I wouldn't panic if he gapped me, but that I'd sprint on the pavement to the finish line to catch him if I could (a roadie's revenge if you will). After the barriers he had 15 meters on me, and he gained a little more through the pit area. I hit the pavement, shifted (it still worked -- small miracle) into a harder gear, and passed him at the line, mouth open and totally gassed. It's little things like that I love learning in each of these races: where I can give ground, where I can make it up, how to recover just enough to make one more effort, and even when I've gone too hard and need to cut my losses by letting someone go.

There's no hiding in cyclocross, even when you're covered head to toe in mud and muck. Of course, the finish-line grin gives you away every time.

[Jeffrey's pictures are now up from Friday's race]

Tour de Louisville CX 35+ 4s

Left at dawn in Dan-O's Pilot w/ Tinny, coffee, 4 bikes, spare wheels, and more. Drive to L-ville was uneventful, except I just couldn't get over the GPS lady: does she talk back? does she yell at you? no and no, apparently, but her voice does take on a certain urgency when she says "recalculating ... recalculating..."

When we got there, we unloaded the bikes and headed for registration. I learned that pinning numbers on a skinsuit is way harder than on a simple jersey. I also learned that it's best to finish using the port-o-lets before putting the skinsuit on, but I learned that the hard way.

Unlike Kingswood, the organizers lined up the 4s Open first, then the 35+ 4s, and then the 45+ 4s, and sent us off individually. This was my first chance to look at the guys I was actually racing against, and put a few names from previous results to faces (and bib numbers). Anyway, the 4s went off, and we were ready to go when one of them went down in the starting straightaway, and didn't get up for what seemed like forever. We were going to go 30 seconds after their start, and as the time ticked down everyone kept looking at the guy on the ground, and then over to the official with his whistle in his mouth, and then back to the guy still on the ground, and ... finally, he got up, got back on his bike, and rode off.

And we were off! I'm still working on my start -- I think I came into the first turn in about 7th position, when I would've preferred to be in 3rd or 4th. The course was entirely on grass except for a couple of path crossings, and it was twisty and rolling. After one lap it seemed like there were about 4 of us at the front of the 35+ group, and we were beginning to pick our way through the back of the first field. I had pegged two guys at the beginning of my race to watch: Scot Hermann (Dayton) and Greg Fasig (ZWS): they had finished 1st and 2nd at Kingswood, and I had been well behind them there. Here I was keeping with them, and then Greg disappeared (I learned afterward that his chain, already with a faulty pin, had snapped). So I followed Scot a bit, along with a Smitty's rider (Butch); we were trailing at least one guy ahead who I didn't know. I felt pretty good, so I took a dig and Butch came with me, and then he dropped off a bit (after a painful remount experience -- I feel for ya, Butch, really I do), and then I was alone for most of the rest of the race, picking off the occasional rider from the field ahead, but eventually losing sight of the one guy I knew was ahead of me. We raced 5 laps; sometime in the fourth lap I started looking over my shoulder to make sure that no one was closing on me, and began pacing myself a little more carefully: those steep little kicker-hills were beginning to hu-u-u-rt, and I was starting to take poor lines on turns. I finished thinking I had probably got 2nd, maybe 3rd, and worst-case top-5 (in case I hadn't recognized two or three other riders in the grouping ahead of me). Initially the results came back saying I was 3rd, but they were corrected and I indeed did finish 2nd. Mairin helped me with my podium form before the awards.

For an all-grass course, there was a whole lot of variety: the downhills, tape placement, and tons of off-camber made for some real exercises in cornering, and I washed out my rear wheel a couple times and was fortunate not to go down. Several places were boggy mud that got more rutted as the ride went on. And the cruelly placed steep little kickers took away momentum just when you really wanted it, so there you couldn't really get a long stretch going. I guess it worked for me.

After my race we stuck around for a picnic, watched the 3s, and wore out our cowbells -- Nick represented well, and said he felt a whole lot better than at Kingswood. Dan went out and won the 35+ 3s. That's our Quarterback-horse.

Kingswood CX races

The last two months:

"Hey, Shannon -- come on out for a ride."

"Naw -- I gotta go out and do throw-up intervals. Better off alone for those."

"Huh?"

"Hey Shannon -- meet us for a ride."

"Naw, I'm running today."

"Wha--?"

"Hey Shannon, are you even there?"

"Naw, I'm training for 'cross -- I'm on another planet. Planet Pain."

Came out of hiding to double up at Kingswood last weekend, and see if all those intervals and runs and more intervals and practice dismounts and more intervals had added up to anything. Turns out that even when you prepare, 'Cross still hurts -- a lot!

And it's still fun -- a lot!

Saturday: Warm, sunny, dry, and dusty: lined up in the second row with 40+ cat4s and took off like a madman at the whistle. I was sitting in top ten when at one of the first turns a rider swung way wide and almost knocked me off the course. With that I was gapped from the frontrunners, and spent the rest of the race making up ground and losing it back. I made it up on straightaways and up hills -- the power was pretty good. I lost it on turns and (especially) in the sandpit, where the two times I tried to ride I went down. At the start of the 4th lap (of 5) I was by myself, missed a right turn in my anaerobic haze, and went off course, breaking the tape. Lost a few places there. On the final lap I ended up with one other rider -- he pulled away a little, but I closed it down in a twisty section (ironic, huh), and led through the last turn to the finish line. I thought leading out of the turn would be good, since the sprint was pretty short, but I didn't have much left, I hit a bump pretty hard, and the one-chainring thing drops the top-end a bit -- or he was just faster, and he pipped me at the line. Somewhere top-15 overall, 3rd in 35+ cat 4s.

Sunday: Opposite day: cool, grey, rainy, and slick. Lined up in the fourth row of 115 racers (!) behind a tiny junior. Did okay on the hole shot, and was far enough ahead to miss the carnage on the hill. From Jeffrey's photos, it looks like this was where field separation really took place. I was slow and tentative on corners and the off-camber stuff, but the sandpit was a piece of cake (the course ran in the opposite direction Sunday, meaning that the lip that took me down twice yesterday was more of a launchpad into the pit today). I was pleased with my race, and started moving up through riders. Found myself on the wheel of another junior (those young guys are solid) on a long straightaway before the runup. I was gathering speed, he was losing a bit, and I stupidly crossed wheels with him. I went down hard, and lost all the places I had just madeup. I got up and kept racing, pretty much holding my position but cursing my stupidity -- I had determined to ride a smarter race Sunday, and I was doing it in all the ways I thought I should. And then I went and made a total roadie mistake by crossing wheels. Grrr. Still, 8th in 35+ cat 4s, somewhere mid-20s overall.

Tuesday evening: No, no race Tuesday, but that's when I discovered (while wiping down my frame) that my right seatstay is cracked almost all the way through. Fortunately I've got at least one weekend with no races scheduled to find a new setup.

QCW Team Time Trial

Well, I've been looking forward to this event for sometime now and had high hopes for a multiple Darkhorse team (A team, B team etc.) turn out. There was some serious arm twisting the night before at the team meeting (at the Ott Estate) but to no eval. We did have a committed group of four Ott, Hoffman, Dobson, and myself), as well as our newest memeber, Doug Polignano (AKA Dudehorse), who was going to make the trip with us, just to get some quality hang time.

So here's the low down: ten teams registered, most with tricked out TT bikes and helmet's. The new guy's on the block, Team Hungry represented "old school" with all four rocking their normal kits and road bikes (Nice!). On the warm-up, Hoffman called-up Doug from the minors, who stepped admirably in his place. The line up: Ott, Brevoort, Dobson, & Polignano (Tall guy/TT bike, short guy/road bike...).

All I can say for certain is that it hurt really bad! The heat added to the intensity of the event and I think all four us were on the rivet the whole time. We started out of the gate pretty fast and didn't let up too much. Half way in, I think our avg was around 27. I ate too many brats the night before and some of my pulls at the front were pretty sorry.

Chip & Dan came through big time and put in some serious pace setting at the front. Doug's debut was pretty impressive, and all four us stayed together almost to the very end. I say "almost" because, I think I might of had an out of body experience with about 2 miles to go. I was brought back to the world of the living, when Aslan, I mean Chip, started yelling at us to "go-go-go...1 mile left...do it for Narnia!" I was like, "What is he talking about, has this heat and that TT helmet cooked his brain?" Ha! I love it. Anyway, with the finish line in sight, I exploded into a million brett-peices and Chip pulled through with Ott and Dudehorse in tow. Way to finish strong boys!

Well, I had a blast and can't wait to improve on our time and do it again next year. Listed below are the results for the top 3 teams, which can also be seen at http://www.qcw.org/.

7HR Men's 1
Mike Abney
Greg Tombragel
Jim Wilson
Marty McGrory
22:27.0

Darkhorse Racing
Dan Ott
Brett Brevoort
Chip Dobson
Doug Polignano
23:10.0

Team Hungry
Mike Starr
Scott Pardi
Mike Chewning
Andrew Suchocki
23:36.0

Purattacking

Instead of a long narrative, I'm opting for a twitter like blog...So, here it goes: Nick and I signed up for the 2/3's at Pur Tour. We were greated by mild temps, headwind on the down hill, bit of a tail on the backside and a headwind again at the finish. Lots of attacks but nothing gotta way for very long. I wish had more to offer Nick, who was committed to leading me out. We communicated well but I think he'd agree that we were just a little bit too far back at the start of the sprint. Enjoy the pics fella's:

Thought I would post a few pics from Tour De Burg. Enjoy:

Team Dayton Crit

After a long season of racing, I thought I'd better blog at least one of them. I should also thank Shannon for recaping most of my races in his blogs. Thanks Shannon! You made it easy for me to not blog.

Well, after last years mishap in the race with Chip, costing a trip to the hospital, I was sent back to fight some seious demons on his behalf. With heavy legs from a stout group ride the day before (The Team Nickmaxson-climb fest 2009), I trekked-up I-71 only to find Shannon racing (what the?). I thought he had retired his CAT-4 license for the year? So, instead of warming-up, I watched the tail end of Shannon's race.

At the start line, we had a field of about 30, mostly flush with Team Dayton and some random ex-pro guy (so, I heard). For a majority of the race, with "tired legs," I was a good boy and sat in at the back of the pack and did'nt have a lot of fight in me.

On the third corner (off-camber) going into the last lap, I found myself in the grass and riding cyclocross style, thanks to my own poor line (perhaps?) and some guy drifting a little too far left coming out of the turn. The strong crosswinds didn't help too much either, I suppose. So, I managed to get back on the road and in the pack safely. By that point, it was a pack sprint in a brief up-hill to the finish. I worked hard to pass as many guys as I could. I have to admit though, that I think many had stopped sprinting. I finished 10th place, which turns out to be one place better than last year. I'll take it!

Well, it was a fun race and a good vibe. Not sure who won, just know that Todd Frye finished 3rd. Nice work Todd (who also took a prem early on).

My race report isn't as good as Shannon's but at least I finally posted one. Later...

Team Dayton criterium

So long, road season. Wrapped it up today with the Team Dayton criterium at the Renaissance Festival grounds in Harveysburg. Sad to say, I hadn't touched my bike since my cool-down lap in Miamisburg last Sunday. And last Sunday I had told at least 17 people that I was done for the road season, I was skipping next weekend and getting ready for CX training. So my expectations were low, and I lived up to them. Sort of.

We rolled out with a small field (17, I think) swollen with about 7 Dayton riders. I took the front at the whistle, ramped it up to a whopping 21, and looked back to see a 100-yard gap. Huh. I pedaled steady for a lap and a half, had stupid thoughts about taking a real dig and seeing how far out I could get, finished warming up, and then welcomed the field back as it slowly made its way to me.

After that, I was one of several other singletons on the defensive as Dayton made attack after attack, most of which we had to take somewhat seriously. I patrolled the front, took digs when I needed to (and sometimes when I didn't -- I was a little tired of my previous strategy of "sitting in until I found a good wheel on the last lap," so I tried to be more active).

With a few to go, a Dayton rider and a NE/COBC rider got off the front, and it started to look serious. I got on the front, and so did Shayne (Abundance). But third wheel was always a Dayton rider, so our turns were short, and the suffering was long. We brought the break most of the way back, but when a surge went to shut it down the rest of the way, I popped, and watched them ride away. And then they slowed down. Oh, man, I can get back on. And I did (with some real help -- thanks Chris), only to get dropped again when the riders began winding it up for the finish. I rolled in off the back, and only learned a bit later that Shayne attacked in turn 3, avoided a crash, and rolled away for the victory, while Bo Sherman took second for the home team. I'm alright with that -- two very good guys I've lined up with a lot this year.

Good times today -- not a great result, but I didn't expect one. Most important, I had fun racing. After Steve G's news this week, I'm very grateful for that opportunity.

Brett represented DH in the 3s, and brought home a very nice tenth place, especially after the hill- and sprint-fest of the MAXtour the day before.

I'm hittin' the beach. Gotta do something about this biker tan.

Tour d' Troyburg Classic ...

... or is that the Classic d'Burgtroy Tour?

Anyway, three races this weekend, two at Troy and one at Miamisburg on Sunday. You understand why I might be a little confused.

First, I lined up for the 40+ Masters race at Troy. Our field was mixed with the 30+, and starting a minute behind us were the 50+. A few laps in, figuring out who was who required a little focus, and a few laps later, the race was over. Well, not quite, but at 12 laps, it was pretty short. Jamie from Abundance kept attacking and attacking -- I did my share of chasing him down, but was always too gassed to help form a break. Jeff Aufdencamp (Olympus) was a real engine in this race, driving the front and chasing down breaks. It came down to a sprint out of the roundabout -- a rider in front of me almost overcooked the turn and I lost some momentum. I got it going enough to finish 5th in the race and 3rd in my field. Oh, and I got a nice Bob Evans giftcard for a prime sprint that I have to admit went largely uncontested.

The 3/4 race a few hours later was a different story. Big field, lots of nervous energy, and for some reason riders who could easily navigate the nine corners in the course couldn't get through the roundabout without swinging too wide, or overlapping wheels, or whatever. A crashfest became carnage when it began to drizzle. The painted strawberries on the road took down a few riders, and after 8 laps (of 20) I came into the roundabout, saw a pileup ahead of me, tried to take evasive action, and before I knew it found myself skidding on my left hip. My bike was fine, I was fine, but I passed on the free lap and headed home. Brett and Chip, who both finished the race upright (nice work, gents!) told me later that the crashes continued, so I have no regrets about that DNF.

Plus, I wanted to turn my attention to Sunday morning's Cat 4 (or as all the promotional materials had it, Cat IV) state championship crit at the Tour d' Burg. This race was good -- I think I was a little focused on cornering after Saturday's crash, and a little uncertain how my body would react to going race-pace for the third separate time in 24 hours, so I wasn't as relaxed as I'd like to have been. It was a pretty tactical race, with a few guys making breaks for it. Mostly Dayton brought things back together for their sprinter Bo Sherman. I rode at or just off the front for a couple laps, partially to test the legs, partially to get the speed up, and partially to give myself the choice of lines in the corners.

With two to go the officials rang the bell for a prime (WTF? a prime with 2 to go? in the state championship race? really?). When we came through for the prime, the bell didn't ring for 1 to go, but I assumed that was because they were catching the prime winner's number. I should've looked at the lap card again, since it apparently still read 2. The next lap was confusion, with riders asking each other how many to go. I was in the "this is the last lap" camp (figuring it was better to sprint twice than not at all), and I got in good position for my sprint. I took off, and then my heart sank as I heard the bell this time around. Okay, do it again -- catch breath, move up, get in line, and be in position before the last two corners. On the backside, I rolled up the single file next to Shayne from Abundance, and nudged my way in front of him, figuring he might not mind being on my wheel and I wanted to be about where he was. Ready to go. Except now the Dayton train was one guy, and he was shot from pulling for two laps. Nobody else wanted to go to the front, certainly not me. So we came around the last corner into the straightaway at a pretty low speed. I expected to get swamped, but instead only Nate Grubbs (UC) went, and went early. Bo followed him, and I followed Bo (still too early I thought).

But it wasn't, and we picked up speed from the slo-mo start down the straightaway. I closed down some ground between myself and Bo, and he closed down ground between himself and Nate, but we hit the line before anything changed.

The family came up for the day: Eamon joined me on the podium, Mairin dominated the kids' parade in a breakaway, throwing elbows and resplendent in her facepaint, and Carole cheered loud and long for me. We caught Brett's Cat III race, which featured a big field and a fast pace -- he did a solid job finishing with the front group in the top 20.

In summary, then: two days, three races, one crash, two thirds, one of which was kind of a fifth, one Bob Evans prime, one state criterium championship bronze medal, no podium girl. (She was there for the earlier races, double-cheek kissing away. Harumph. We got the promoter, sans kisses, thankfully.)

[pictures at Jeffrey's site]

Plus 1!

More Darkhorses than I knew we had lined up for the 3/4 Ault Park Plus 1 event his past Wednesday: Coach, Tin, C to the A, Quarterbackhorse, BBoy (who got a special haircut just for the event), Kaiser, Matt B, Bad Boy Bill Hoffman (two weeks in a row!), and yours truly.

Over burritos the week before, we had discussed a loose plan: Tin and Bret would be the presprint guides and team lieutenants; CA, Coach, and Bill would drive the front and chase breaks when necessary; Matt would be pure bonus, since he's still getting up in the middle of the night with his new daughter; Dan, Alex, and Shannon would sprint as their legs permitted. Chris, Bill, and Matt weren't there when we decided their roles, but they didn't seem to mind. Wednesday night before the race began, we decided that Alex and I would go for the odd # sprints, and Dan for the evens, including the biggies at #20 & #40.

And as a team we were good, and smooth, and communicated well, and things worked out pretty well overall. Oh, sure, we didn't produce the winner. And we didn't make the podium. But we raced together as a substantial team for the first time all year (and first time ever for me), and we worked our roles. Four Horses scored, led by Dan. By comparison, only the dominant Dayton (who grabbed the first two podium spots) and the cheeky Hungry boys put as many riders on the charts.

And I just gotta say: after forcing myself onto strangers' wheels all spring, it felt damn good to look around, find Tin, or Dan, or Bret, or Bill, or oh-man-do-I-really-have-teammates-to-choose-from?!, and know whoever it was, was going through the pack to get me to the front for my kick.

My favorite moment of the race was lining up behind Tin for a sprint and just as I started my kick, I heard Alex on my wheel yelling "Shannon, GO!"

Don't have to tell me twice.

What a great time. Troy Classic, anyone?

Ault Park B #5: end of the series

It was a hurly-burly night in the Bs: very tactical as the riders took a look around, measured their chances, double-checked the points totals, and got ready to defend, attack, or survive. I had decided that #1 & 2 were too far off, so I should focus on keeping #3 overall. That meant watching the two guys behind me, one from 7Hills who seemed to have peaked earlier in the series, and one from UC who was coming on strong. Alex was right behind them, and he was aiming to leapfrog at least one and finish in the trophies. The two of us lined up with Matt and the elusive Bill Hoffman. Bill Lorenz called the top five to the front, teased Alex for being #6, and sent us on our way.

I promptly went out and lost the wheel of the UC kid (Nathan) on the first sprint, which he won to close the gap on me to virtually nothing. For the lap #10 sprint I was more assertive, and took third place for four points, and then did it again for two points at lap #15 (which Alex won in his effort to secure fifth place -- more on that below). So going into lap #20 I had pretty much neutralized Nathan's early gains, and just wanted to watch his wheel and pip him if it looked like he might score.

In a young-guys sticking together move, Charlie (Turner, and the series winner) led Nathan from the top of the hill on lap #20 around to the sprint. I tucked in behind Nathan, and when he stood up to go, I did too. It looked like 1st, 2nd, and 3rd for the sprint were already out of reach, but I wanted to be sure, so I stood up to follow Nathan's wheel, and felt something grab my right leg and knock into my bike. Then I heard the sound of riders and bikes going down. I got held up and missed the sprint. I think Nathan grabbed 4th for 2 points, but it wasn't enough to overtake me in the series.

So I came away with a nice functional 3rd-place trophy (this year they engraved metal insulated water bottles instead of wall plaques), a few bucks, and a tire burn on the outside of my right leg. Alex, who did enough to overcome one of the guys ahead of him (and, we thought, slot into fifth place) got blindsided by Andrew from Team Hungry, who racked up 20 points (!) in last night's race alone to emerge from nowhere (15th) to snag fifth in the series.

I'm pretty happy with the series: I was consistent, and sometimes got better results on night when I felt bleh than when I felt like the king of the world. I hated to see the last sprint of the last lap of the last race in the series end with a crash, and that kind of put a damper on things at the end for me. But if all goes as planned, this was my farewell to the B race, and I'm pleased I was able to put up some results.

Hyde Park Blast 4/5

After two hours of sweeping corners and helping set up for the races in 90-plus degree sunshine, I suited up with Kaiserhorse and a bunch (55? 60?) of other riders for the 30-minute 4/5 race. We had callups, but not like I've ever seen -- first went all the teams with 5 or more riders, then a select few presumably based on results, and then the rest of the field in alphabetical order. Somehow, despite throwing down a few decent results this year, I didn't make the cut and ended up with other "S"s near the back of the field.

No worries -- just a little assertive riding and in a few laps I was up where I needed to be: near the front, taking the inside lane through the hairpin (missed two crashes that way), risking the outside line up Shady Lane to secure the inside track on both the turn at the top and the sweeper back onto Erie.

Lather, rinse, repeat.


During the race a few riders attacked -- especially two riders from Ontario who were making a southward bike-racing weekend of it: Michigan on Friday, the Blast on Saturday, and Grandview on Sunday. They made the most of their race, attacking and counterattacking, countering their counters and keeping the field on its toes. Thanks for coming, fellas! 7Hills and Dayton did most of the chasing, which was just fine with me. I stayed out of the wind, watched which wheel I was on, and tried to gauge which moves might be dangerous.

With two to go the pace eased and everyone left up front got ready for the last corner and the final straightaway. Coming out of the square after the hairpin there was one more dodgy move and one more crash, leaving me with some space to make up. It ended up being too much, as a rider from Lexington took a nice win with a clean set of wheels ahead of Dave Steward (7Hills). I managed to make up some ground along Erie and turn what looked like 6th or 7th into 3rd by holding off Geoff Reynolds (Dayton) and Justin Ling (Jeni's Ice Cream). I'm still looking for the lung I left in front of the public library.

The podium setup was sweet, 2johns were rocking the house with good tunes and insightful analysis (exactly why did the 7Hills rider chase down a break with his teammate in it? I asked myself the same question in the middle of the race, but I wasn't going to complain), and the atmosphere was pure summer festival. I rolled home, showered, and came back for some OTR ale and to cheer on Nick, Chris, and Bret in the 3s. Big ups to Tank and Mitch for stellar work putting on a marquee event, and thanks to all my Darkhorse teammates (and friends of Darkhorse) for their hard work making it go so well.

Pictures are up at Jeffrey's site.

Ault Park #4: B race

Hot 'n' muggy last night up at Ault. We had a big field with a fair number of new riders even at this late stage of the series. I entered tied for third with Greg from 7HR, and we were both 17 and 19 points behind the top two, so not much hope of catching them. The goal: be more active than last week and get a few points ahead of Greg.

Matt and Alex lined up this week, and both were strong men tonight. I told Alex that I would fend for myself on lap #5, but that I'd love a ride toward the front on #10. Then we'd see how the rest played out.

I missed out on the lap #10 sprint, and even though I thought I got 4th on both #5 and #15, apparently I got fifth. No points. I didn't know this at the time, but even when I learned it afterward, I didn't care, because I felt so much better than last week, and I was having fun racing. Alex, on the other hand, nailed the lap #15 sprint and finished second I think.

Near the end of the race I found Matt's wheel. He took me a new way to the front, riding the curb and taking it tight. On lap #20, he ramped it up on the downhill, and as we came around the bend one guy took a flyer. It got a little crowded, but I got a great jump off Matt's leadout, and headed in pursuit of the flyer. Just then, I heard disaster strike behind me: one of the Turner rider's chain broke in full sprint. I held my sprint to the line in second, for six points on the night.

Big thanks to Matt and Alex, who both win "Most Amazing Fitness Gains in One Week" awards.

And it was great to see even more Horses line up in the A race -- 4, if I count correctly, including the enigmatic and elusive Chris Anderson. I even saw Tin finish just out of the points on a sprint -- nice!

Come on out to the race this weekend at the Hyde Park Blast: fast, fun, good crowds, plenty of stuff to do, and your registration fees go to charities (not our pockets). More information at hpblast.com.

Ault Park #3: B race

What a difference a year makes. Last year, if you'd told me that I'd contest two sprints (one of them double-points) in the Ault Park B race and take 3rd in both, I would've been pretty stoked. If you'd told me that I would do this three days after the state RR, with some sharp pain in my lower back, and after a poor night's sleep, I would've thought it was beyond what I could possibly do.

Last night, all these things were true, but I expected more. Yes, I've become greedy.

Lined up with Matt and Alex and 50 others. Unlike previous weeks, it was fast from the start -- Ben from Team Hungry even took off like a bat out of hell on the first lap. On lap four, I got on Alex's wheel, but by the time we reached the downhill on lap 5, it was clear we weren't getting to the front. So we sat out that sprint, and hung around for lap 10, when Matt took me around the outside. I got a decent sprint in, and came in third, behind Bo Sherman from Dayton (series leader) and Charlie from Turner (Cat 4 state champion, probably second-place in series by now, and quick-recovering youngster -- grrr.). I've been trying to get around Bo and Charlie since week one, and it's just not happening yet. Meh -- but four points is four points. Soon after, as I was beginning to get some position for the lap 15 sprint, I saw that Matt & Alex had done their day's work -- so I found Geoff Reynolds's wheel, kicked it, and -- we had a carbon copy of the lap 10 sprint: same players, same top three sequence.

After that I was gassed -- more tired than I realized. I sat in for three laps, tried to get to the front for the final lap but didn't have it. As I rounded the bottom of the hill and saw that I was in about thirtieth position, I eased up and soft-pedaled in. Apparently there was a sprint for thirtieth that nobody told me about, however, because someone rear-ended me tire-on-tire. I heard a "Hey!" and the sound of bike on pavement. After I crossed the finish line, I tried to figure out what happened, but no luck. My guess is someone was head-down trying to finish fast and didn't expect to come upon a slower rider, but that's just a guess.

So like I said: a couple good sprints and six points on a night when I felt like a scuffed penny. Not great, but certainly not bad. I'll take it, but I'll be back next week looking for better.

State RR cat 4

Yesterday at Caesar's Creek, I lined up with about forty other hopefuls in the cat 4 OH state championship road race: there were a lot of new faces from upstate (and beyond), and we were missing some familiar ones -- recent upgrades swelling the ranks of the cat 3 field to over 80 riders.

The course was twisty and rolling, with one extended downhill and, at about 1.5 miles before the finish line, a tough hill that started out steep, eased in the middle, and then kicked again near the top before "leveling" out into a false flat for a while. Then, a right turn, and about one k to the slightly downhill long straightaway to the finish line. When I saw this during warmup, I practically salivated: if I could make it up the hill near the front, there was enough space between the top of the hill and the finish line to regroup and position myself for what looked like a sprinter's dream.

Or so I thought.

The race was, to say the least, pretty uneventful for a while: no dominant team, so not much in the way of team tactics. With a bunch of singletons, or pairs of teammates, we rode around, reeling in the occasional frisky feller. I stayed out of the wind, drifting back through the field and then taking rides back up to the front third. The field strung out on the climb, but no one really used it to launch anything, and it always seemed to come together. For the third lap, one rider attacked just past the feed zone (I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt here, since the general grumbling opinion was that he attacked in the feed zone), built up a lead of about 30 seconds, but then popped when he got to the hill. After four laps, it was gruppo compatto, and I mentioned to the rider next to me that it looked like we'd roll neutral through most of the lap, and then go balls-out from the hill.

So we get to the bottom of the hill, and I'm pretty much where I want to be. I shift down, take a deep breath, and stomp -- and the guy right in front of me does the same, but stops cold when he tries to pedal, as if he'd hit a wall. In fact, the field explodes -- I think five laps was exactly necessary to make the hill matter in this race. I had to brake and turn my front wheel to avoid him, and then build momentum all over again. I'm cramping a little, but no panic, since there's all that room after the top of the hill, right?

Wrong. I reach the top further back than I wanted to be, and form into the third group on the road. Justin from Jeni's takes a huge dig to bring us most of the way to the second group. I keep taking peeks back, thinking that other groups will be coming forward and wondering if I should save something for a group sprint. But no one appears to be joining us, and finally I lower my head in the second group and get on the front, pretty sure that we can bring back the leading six, but not sure if there's enough room left to do it. Dick from Abundance is on my wheel -- he promises to come through and pull, but later tells me he couldn't. I drop my head and dig deep, and when I look up ...

Carnage. Four of the six leaders were splayed across the road, and the remaining two -- Charlie from Turner and Mike Malmer from Dayton -- were making the run for the line. I towed Dick through a clear spot in the middle of the wreckage. Now I know that not only do I have Dick on my wheel (although at this point I think he's cheering me on), but I know that others are coming up on me. I gave what I had, which meant I caught a fading Mike just before the line for second. Dick got pipped and ended up fifth. I rolled across the line, caught Bret's eye (thanks for coming out, Bret!), and nodded "yes!" You can't really holler for a second place, but I was pretty durn happy with the result, especially given the way the finale played out.

People keep telling me that the 3s are waiting, but after seeing ninety guys line up in that field, I'm not really in a hurry. The 4s are strong, and tough, and I got a little lucky (and others got a little unlucky) yesterday. If I had made the front of the race after the hill, after all, I stood a good chance of joining four other riders on the pavement. Instead, I've got this nice official USAC silver medal.

19 laps of futility, plus one

or, Ault Park B race #2.

Lined up tonight in unseasonably cool temps and foreboding skies with Mike M. and Alex. The squirrels came out to play tonight -- it certainly seemed a bit twitchier than last week. We skipped the first sprint, but after it three riders went off the front and stayed there. I chased, Alex chased, BioWheels guy chased, and Geoff from Team Dayton chased. We never caught them until after the lap-10 points had been gobbled up. Two guys crashed on the backside. For lap 15, I thought I was in perfect position: on the wheel of a strong rider. When he went, I stood up to go, and the gap closed as riders on either side of me stood up to sprint, squeezed in, and went nowhere. Nowhere. I yelled at them to stay out of the way if they weren't going to sprint, and instantly felt like a jerk.

I was frustrated. Three sprints, no Darkhorse points. I found Alex's wheel and stayed safe for laps 4, 3, and 2 to go. On the bell lap I followed him around the right side, where he picked up Geoff and the other Team Dayton strongman. We bided our time, and when Alex went, I went. Alex stayed strong and won the sprint; I couldn't come around him (believe me, I tried) and rolled in second, hollering "Yeah!"

After 19 laps of futility, we had one perfect lap. Sweet.