Sunday Sunday Sunday at the Kenosha Dragway

Ahh, the first race of the year. An event marked by much excitement, anticipation, and trepidation. Excitement over the first chance to really test the payoff for hours upon hours on the basement trainer. Anticipation over reconnecting with friends in the peloton that you haven’t seen since Fall Fling. Trepidation over whatever surprises that Cycling Gods have waiting for you during the course of the racing season. I received Surprise #1 just 10min after arriving as I waited in the porta potty line next to a "yoot" (“My Cousin Vinny” is one of the fav flicks of this NYC native).

Me: Hey, how’s it going?

Yoot: It’s cool.

Me: How did the race go? (You see, this yoot couldn’t have been more than 13yrs, so I figured that he raced the Junior races that had just concluded)

Yoot: Haven’t raced yet. I’m doing the Cat 3 race.

Me (inside voice): Good God!!! The yoots are even younger this year!!!!

Me (outside voice): Well, I’ll see ya at the start then. Good luck.

Some 40 racers lined up for the start of this early season test, but there were some early season kinks apparent in our field. For starters, no one knew which strip of roadway crack-fill served as the start/finish. You see, there was a strip of the black crack-fill that ran clear across the road every 6 feet. The field had arbitrarily selected one of these crack-fills as the start/finish line, but I thought the next crack-fill up was the correct line. I decided to roll up to that next line and everyone followed. As the official is about to blow the whistle to start the race, I yelled…

Me: Could you point out the official finish line?

Official: Sure. It’s the crack-fill line 6 feet in front of you. In fact, that’s where you should all be lined up.

Field: Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Me (inside voice): Average speed for the first 1min of racing = 1mph. Cool.

The first race of the year is about confirming that the lean, mean racing machine is well oiled and ready for the long season ahead. Let’s run through the mental checklist- “License? Check. Helmet? Check. Shorts? Check. Jersey? Check. Number pinned right side up? Check. Legs shaved? No... Dang!” Within seconds of the race start, I heard something that made me think that my checklist wasn’t basic enough. “Dang, I forgot how to clip in” muttered a rider who was going backwards in the pack right from the get go. Ahh, the first race of the year…

Racing action was solid for early March as the strong riders drove a hard pace while the late bloomers faded early and stayed off to the right. (BTW, this new Kenosha course is a sweet venue with smooth roads and sweeping turns.) “Get a Grip” just schooled the field on how to control he race when you make up half the field (okay, they didn’t exactly make up ½ the field, but they sure seemed to be everywhere). At one point, a GaG driven breakaway had 30sec on the field and we all seemed content to sit back and watch. Well, this lone North Brancher wanted to try different things, work hard, and have fun. So, I moved to the front, assumed the captain’s chair, and pulled hard for half a lap. As soon as I pulled off, I realized that no one was anymore interested in chasing them down. Within a half lap, I was back at the front stringing out the field. Felt great to stay at the front for most of the day, recover well, and play such an active role in the field. No pack fodder status for me today!!!

With 3 laps to go, the legs fizzled just as an attack shattered the field. You know the feeling- everyone’s been there. You start drifting through the pack- backwards. That one last rider goes by you and starts gapping you, but you don’t realize that he’s the last rider in the peloton until it’s too late to respond. I think “Oh well, it’s a ‘C’ race, so don’t get hung up on the final result.” Just then, I hear “Get on my wheel” as a Burnham racer flies by. This time, I dig in, catch his wheel, and try my best to recover quickly. Shortly afterwards, I’m now pulling that rider back to the field. Without backing off my pace, I immediately worked through the field to the front of the pack, then eased off the power (that was one of my 1st lessons in college racing). Now, I’m staring at 2 to go sitting in the top 5 with a breakaway of 5 riders up the road. The legs were feeling heavy winding up for the final sprint, but I was able to power to 32.6mph to hold my position in the second group. Overall, Kenosha was a solid, safe first race that set a good omen for the 2009 season. Now, if I had only shaved the legs…

Gargoyles & Grotesques

Chicago has its collection of time honored traditions- Taste of Chicago, the Air & Water show, Cubs blowing the playoffs (did I mention that I’m a die-hard NY Mets fan), and Monsters of the Midway. This year’s MOM was even better than previous editions since the race didn’t conflict with Mom’s day, so Dads throughout the course weren’t trying to convince their wives that Mother’s Day was best spent watching lycra-clad bike geeks racing around sporting shaved legs. This year’s edition featured Jes “I’ve been published. I’ve been published” Cisneros, Johnny “Dunat Limit Yourself to 1 Race” Dunat, Darin “Give a Hoot, Don’t Pollute” Minter, Ed “Teammates? Bueller? Bueller?” Hernández, and Justin “is it like the Pier or the Pear” ???, and Rob “Call me Da’ Mayor of Platteville” Roop.

First off was Johnny, who rolled out for his first race of the year in the Masters 40+ field. Impressive showing for the fella, as he finished within the field after looking like the elastic was going to snap on that young man. Good start to a double race day for Mr. Dunat. Next up was yours truly as the solo rep in the Cat 3 field.

Most of the crits have been decided by a small breakaway, so my strategy was to position myself towards the front and try to make the selection via the winning break. Now, how would I know the winning break from a failed attempt? Not sure about that one, but here was the scenario about 15min into the 45min race….

“Okay, I’m third in line. Good. Wait. There are 4 riders off the front- dang! Wait. These two riders in front of me are on the same team. I guess they’re blocking for one of those guys up front, but the jerseys don’t match up. Wait. These two guys are wearing skin suits and one of those guys up front is wearing the straight up jersey with slightly different graphics. I much prefer the skin suit design. I need to look into buying a skin suit of my own… STOP IT AND FOCUS, YOU IDIOT. THEY’RE BLOCKING. GO GO GO!!!”

I decided to sprint to the right and make an attempt to bridge to the breakaway. Problem was that everyone else responded to my attempt and I merely succeeded in towing the field to the break (mental note: need to work on that explosive sprint). No worries. At least, the field was back together again. Of course, the killer became recovering sufficiently to contest the final sprint. (The heartrate monitor would later show that I pegged at 193bpm during that brief effort- my lactic acid threshold occurs at 184bpm). Two laps later, I was 100% recovered and moving back up through the field. The final 5-7 minutes of the race were a complete blur as I pegged the heartrate at or above LAT to maintain the pace. Problem was that I kept exiting turns behind riders who had tossed in the towels, so I had to burn a few matches to come around them. That final drag race was an amazing rush, and I figured that I finished somewhere in the top 15 for a good day’s work. For all those Cat 4 working on the upgrade- this was the first race EVER that I did not hear “Hold Your Line” or “Inside Line” at any point in the entire race. The field was fluid, smooth, and safe (except for that one guy whose wheels slid out following an aggressive line around turn 4). Fellas, this was bike racing as it was meant to be enjoyed, so keep accumulating those points towards the upgrade.

The North Branch “show of force” focused on the Cat 4 field, which had to be the largest field of the day. Darin was a constant presence towards the front of the field for the first half of the race. Perhaps, his novel commute to the race- Bike to the Metra, Metra to the City, Bike to the Race Course- was not appreciated by the Cycling Gods on this particular day. On the other hand, Justino did an amazing job moving up through the pack and showed promise for the remainder of the season. Jes and Rob had a solid showing, choosing to peak for the upcoming Carroll County road race. Johnny was Mr. Consistency as he rode well within the pack throughout the race full of ‘em young whipper snappers. Speaking of “young whipper snappers”, Justino came around Johnny at the finish to claim the top NB placing in the Cat 4 race.

Mojito Intervals in South Beach

The life of a full-time suburban dad, full-time marketer of luxury wines & spirits, and part-time cyclist is an absolute balancing act that has become very challenging the last few months. Travel has risen faster than gas prices and two weeks ago, I found myself in South Beach, Florida miles and miles away from my bike. Instead of LAT intervals, I ended up doing M&CC intervals (that’s mojitos and Café Cubanos for those that have relished in South Beach’s tropical climate). Would the Cycling Gods forgive such insolence?

I decided to travel up to Muskego Park to find out if I was in good graces with the Cycling Gods. Dang, those all-knowing Cycling Gods were really pissed off at me!!! First off, I got lost on the way up to the race venue (who would have thought that signs were necessary to mark the turn for out-of-towners). Then, I couldn’t find the registration area (again, who would have thought that “the cabin by the beach” wouldn’t suffice for out-of-towners). I was beginning to think that the vague directions were just a ploy to weigh the balance in favor of the Wisconsin riders. So, I ended up rolling to the line with about 30sec of a warm-up in my legs. Didn’t even have enough time to flush out the M&CC from the muscles before we gunned it on the 1.1 crit course with ~100 ft of “climbing” per lap.

This course was different from Whitnall in that the “climbing” was focused on one stretch of the course instead of a 3 step staircase at Whitnall. The relatively drawn out climb started to take its toll on the legs, especially that final pitch from the finish line to the crest. Figures that those 30 yards would be my penance at the hands of the Cycling Gods.

Left leg went pop. Right leg went pop. Cycling Gods had their revenge. I managed to hit the red zone each remaining trip up the climb, but the field was long gone (as was my top 10 finish). Oh well. Those mojitos and Café Cubanos were damn good and well worth the pain (I hope that Cycling Gods weren’t listening). Now, it’s off to Monsters of the Midway!!!!

Mother's Day and Monster of the Midway. What a pairing! Like apple pie and ice cream. Like NASCAR and Skoal. Like Borat and Azamat. Yech...

The most challenging aspect of the day wasn't following that right wheel through the field sprint. Or trying to identify that squirrelly riders in the pack. Or trying to find where the registration table was hidden this year. No, the most challenging aspect was convincing Mom's that spending a day out in 60 degree weather watching mindless bike racing was the ideal way to spend their special day. The tifosi reminds me that I was perhaps the worst in terms of selling the race day Mother's Day match up. How grotesque! Regardless of the empty promises of post-race fine dinners and back massages, the tifosi gives mad props to Nicole "My husband promised to win me the Ferrari prime" Hernandez, Stacie "My husband promised to win me the ChamoisBut'r prime" Cisneros, and Mrs. Vik "My husband promised to wrap up by 2:40pm" Rentas.

Today's racing action brought us to the hallowed campus of University of Chicago under the gaze of watchful gargoyles where some students were in the throes of a Renaissance reenactment and others in something that looked like 'Myth Busters.' The tifosi was generally confused. How grotesque... Regardless, the racing was fast and furious with a unique mix of collegiate racers (who probably have done a keg stand within the last week) and the ol' seniors (who would have probably broken a collarbone setting up for a keg stand).

North Branch hopes started in the Cat 3 field with no other than Vik "Call me David" Rentas who played the role of slingshot bearer to the hoards of ClifBar, XXX, and Get a Grip riders. Vik's inaugural MOM experience as a solid one as he was well positioned on the front of the pack, making sure to field any breaks, and prepare himself for the final sprint. Vik represented North Branch well by finishing within the field during the dragrace sprint. The tifosi was very impressed with this guy's panache on the bike. Unfortunately, we don't have the final results for the Cat 3 field yet, but the editor promises to update as soon as possible.

No sooner did the Cat 3 field finish, than the Cat 4's (wannabe Cat 3's) assembled in mass. Did someone say "Mass"? Ayy, por no ir a la misa!!! There were about 90 racers toeing up to the start of the Cat 4 field. Ay caramba! North Branch was represented by the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse- Justin "Go Shorty, it's my birthday. We're gonna party like it's my birthday. We're gonna sip Bacardi like it's my birthday. And you know, we don't give a" Pierson, Jes "Mr. Special Sauce" Cisneros, Pete "Not Darren" Monaco, and Ed "They Call Me Papi" Hernandez. First off, the tifosi gives mad Italian props to Mr. Special Sauce for his ability to lure Pete out of racing retirement to mix it up wit' da' youngins. And young they were, ladies and gents. Even Justin looked like an old man compared to these juniors. Justin had more hair growing on his right knee than most of these kids had on their entire bodies. In fact, Justin had more hair... okay, you get the idea.

The racing action started in the typical Cat 4 style- with the painful sound of metal against asphalt! This wreck happened to the left of Ed and was grotesque in its chain of events. How is it that a rider goes over his handlebars all by himself in the first 50ft of a crit? Who knows. The tifosi is collectively pondering this phenomena with a raised eyebrow. Later, we come to find out that the series of events started after this kids' chain snapped at the start. Ay, caramba! Unfortunately, Justin was caught behind Mr. Snapped Chain and three other riders that wrecked behind him. Justin played catch up for the remainder of the race, struggling with the domino effect and a gaggle of "INSIDE LINE" kamakazis.

Pete handily claims the "Boom Bling Boom Bling" award for his bike assortment and racing style. This fella brought not one but two bikes to the race. One for the warmup and one for the race. The tifosi is only mildly impressed by his display of bike bling. But wait! There's more. This man's racing bike looks like a classified project with deep dish unmarked carbon wheels, and Mavic electronic shifting. Dang! Bling, bling to the hilt, baby! Tifosi has fallen over with shock and awe! The Boom portion of the award is due to the manner in which this fella would fly past the Cat 4 field to assume his position at the front of the pack. Ed could tell Pete was on his way up via the sonic boom off his Bling Bling ride. Very nice!

Ed and Jes were wolves in LOT clothing as they shadowed the 4 LOT riders hoping to act as the caboose for their blue and white train. Jes and his Chamois But'r special sauce rode strong and well positioned throughout the race. Alas, two corners on the bell lap spelled doom for Mr. Special Sauce as he slid too far back in the field to contest the sprint. Ed was tucked in fourth behind a LOT rider going into the 3rd turn when an attack of two was launched on the inside. Ed managed to accelerate and latch on to the breakaway, then wind up for the finishing sprint. Unfortunately, the rider in second place sat up midsprint and Ed wasn't able to close the gap to 1st place. Then, Robbie McEwen came from nowhere to beat Ed at the line for 2nd (Editor: hey, if you control information, you control the world...)

As Ed went over to collect his hard earned $20 bill (wait, the entry fee was $23!!! Arggg!!!), he came across a XXX rider that looked all of 12 yrs old.

Ed (spoken): Hey, how did it go in that race?
Ed (thinking): Dang, you look a bit young...

Youngin': Great, I just wrapped up the Cat 4 race.

Ed (spoken): Nice, how'd it go?
Ed (thinking): Please don't be better than 3rd. Please don't be better than 3rd....

Youngin': I won the race.

Ed (spoken): Dang...
Ed (thinking): Dang...

In summary, Vik finished in the Cat 3 field, Justin finished in the 70's for the Cat 4, Jes in the 50's, Pete was somewhere in the field, and Ed took a podium spot.

"Welcome to the jungle. We got fun and games. We got everything you want..."

Ahh, high five!

Peace!

FINALLY! Clear skies. Bright sun. No chance of rain. Temps in the 70's. Conditions perfect for.... working on the tan lines. That's right! Riders threw their Andrew Jackson's into the ABR bucket o' money for a chance to shed their pasty whiteness in favor of those knife-like sharp tan lines that yell "I have nothing better to do on a beautiful Sunday afternoon than to ride my bike" OR "I go to a tanning salon wearing my cycling jersey" OR "I'm vacationing in Disney World wearing my cycling jersey". Skip? Ahh, I digress..

Ladies and gents, the North Branch blue train was in full effect at yesterday's Kenosha Crit in some random industrial park in the middle of nowhere, Wisconsin. The action started off with Mike "Check out my new Uvex helmet" Stodden pulling the Dan "I wasn't at Kenosha but I still get a reference in the race report" Berg Master 40+ and Cat 4 double. Tifosi very impressed. The Master 40+ field set a blistering pace on the downhill back stretch that would stretch Mike's bungee cord to the max. This guy was actually catching up with the field on the uphill stretch into the wind. Loco, man!

Mike did not get more than 30sec to air out his chamois before jumping back on the start line for the Cat 4 race. Unfortunately, he did miss the obscure pre-race ritual for the rest of his Cat 4 team. Let's go to the tape. There is Jes smearing some chamois butter in his... oh, you know where that stuff goes!!! There is Ed H. getting dressed while blasting the new Nine Inch Nails CD for the world to hear. Look, it's the Roop crew with Daddy Roop trying to convince lil' Robertito to let Dad lead him out for the win! Ahh, there is Justin flashing the latest schwag to an ever drooling Ed H (now, if I could only sell one of my kids to the black market, then maybe I could buy that Garmin computer and new Sidi shoes). Where's Jes? Heck, he is still working on that chamois butter!!! There's our newest member Brian with that game face glare that yells "Let's get ready to rumble!" Greg is sharing his experience about climbing wood (wait, that didn't come out right...). Jes? Aww, that guy is still messing with that chamois butter?!!?? Cool, check out Mike S. with that schweet Cervelo. Wait, Jes is finally coming out with that container of chamois butter...

It's off to the racing action. North Branch alone accounted for about half of the stinkin' Cat 4 field and we still had members sitting out the race ("It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small, small, world...") Those numbers alone weren't 'nuff to impress the tifosi. Ahh, once the tifosi noticed that the North Branchers brought along a massive cheering crowd, then they were impressed. Kudos to Lorena, Sophia, Robertito, Stephanie, Grandma & Granddad Schallmoser, Justin's g-friend and parents, and that lady in the big straw hat- what? Oh, that was Stacey Cisneros under that hat. Can ya feel the North Branch love?

The Blue Train definitely animated the Cat 4 race this afternoon. There was a lot of maneuvering as xXx (there, I got it right this time) and LOT made it clear that NB would have some competition. Ed and Jes showed some teamwork in sending Jes up the road for a short lived breakaway. Jes slingshot past Ed at the front of the peloton, after which Ed sat up and let Jes develop a gap of ~10 riders. Unfortunately, LOT chased down the doctoral candidate and he proceeded to castigate them with various SAT words worthy of their insolence. Rob traded in his TT bars for an impressive show of force staying at the front of the field through the race midpoint. Forget the tifosi on this one. Robertito was VERY impressed as demonstrated by the constant jumping and fist pumping. (The tifosi was very impressed by the vertical that boy was achieving on his jumps.) STO even traded pulls at the front, showing the intestinal fortitude that this workhorse from Lake Zurich possessed on this day. Brian, Greg, and Justin also showed why they are quickly becoming forces to be reckoned with in the Cat 4 field.

The LOT vs. North Branch showdown came to a head with 2 laps to go as the team's hopes hung on the shoulders of Jes, Mike Schallmoser, and Ed H. The final hill rep served a severe blow to the NB victory hopes as both Ed and Jes got involved with some rubbing & racing. Ed got bumped on the 4th turn by some “Inside Line” rider, but managed to stay upright. Jes got the worse of the action. Apparently, the tifosi heard something like "I double dog dare ya to stick your foot in the spokes of my rear wheel" coming from Jes. Next thing Ed sees is Jes coming to a virtual complete stop as some other rider did take Jes up on that double dog dare. Ay, por no ir a la misa (For those non-Spanish speaking members of our audience, this phrase is the epitome of Catholic guilt in the Latino culture). The tifosi wasn't surprised since the "Double Dog Dare" has been the downfall of many men. With 1/2 lap to go, Mike S. and Ed are riding side by side when Mike asks 'How many laps to go?' Huh?!?!

Unfortunately, three riders slipped off the front during the NASCAR stretch of the final lap. By the time Ed "How ya liking my tan lines now" H got to the front, the race had become a drag race for 4th place. Fortunately, Ed had enough juice (Gatorade in the veins, I mean) to edge out an ABD rider for the field sprint. Wa-hoo. $10 for his work. Let's see. Between the bikes, clothing, ClifBars, Power Gel, shoes, helmets, Panera cappuccinos, inner tubes, riding gloves, USA Cycling license, ABR license, wheels, entry fees, gas, mileage, hundreds of disposable razors, powdered Gatorade, EPO (wait, who wrote that?), and trainer, ten dollars just about covers things. Ahh, the psychotic world of the amateur athlete...

But wait, there's more... The racing action continued with Jes and Ed immediately jumping on the starting line for the Master 30+ race. Those maniacs! The tifosi was very impressed. No wait! There goes the field and Ed and Jes are dropped in minutes. Tifosi no longer impressed. Ay, por no ir a la misa! Seriously folks, fresh legs do a body good and J&E had zippo fresh legs. The tifosi did spot Delfino (a Harper Ride regular) in the field. That man was riding strong that day and finished in the field.

The successful day for North Branch was set to continue once Marc rolled up with his game face. After some recon with Ed H, that man got immediately to work as he sat in the front of the field and ventured on a two man breakaway through the midpoint of the ride. Just as the pair held on to a 9 second lead, the field.... Wait! The credits are starting to scroll up the screen!!! I have to finish this report!!! NO, they've instructed the orchestra to start playing!!! Wait!!! Now, they're fading to black!!! Ay, por no ir a la misa....