Jamestown Classic 2012 - Cat 5 Citizen Race Report

(Authors Note: the actual race report doesn’t start until like the 10th paragraph, the rest is just pontification and anecdotes that may amuse you or annoy you, depending on how much time you have on your hands).



Parade Watching


I spent Columbus Day weekend in Newport with my family and to race in the Jamestown Classic. Being there for the whole weekend gave me an opportunity to do my shakeout ride on the course to get a look at the terrain and scope some landmarks for the race.  Discussions with April and Dean in the week leading up to the race had given me the structure for a race strategy, and I wanted to make sure that I had some visual cues for when I wanted to do things.  One of the goals of this race was to work on things I felt were lacking at Battenkill, namely, not talking to anyone, and not really knowing what was going on or where I was late in the race.

On the shakeout ride, an issue with the borrowed 404 front wheel left me flatted and 15 min from my car. Normally this isn’t a big deal, it was early but wasn’t terribly cold.  But this morning, when I went to my saddle bag, the nozzle to my air was missing. I had left it in my Osprey pack because I had ridden MTB a couple of days earlier; since I committed to cycling on the cheap (don’t bring this up with my wife cause even “on the cheap” in cycling isn’t cheap, it’s just less than everyone else), I was swapping some stuff from road saddle bag to Osprey pack every ride, or rather, was supposed to, but clearly had forgotten.  Note to self, spend the $10 and get another CO2 nozzle.  As I was contemplating the long walk back to the car, and trying to decide if I should walk or take off my cycling shoes and run back carrying my bike (I could justify this as cyclocross training right?), I saw a guy come out of the house across the street.  He looked over and I asked if he had a bike pump, which he did.  I might have woken up 2 other people in the house, but they were very kind; I ended up with a bad tube and questionable tire and the young man, who it turns out was from Kerry, Ireland and married an American girl, gave me a lift back to the car.

We had a few laughs in the car given our very similar lives; he said his dad had just asked him to bring an indoor bike trainer back to Ireland over Christmas.  For all of you who don’t know how Irish in America and Irish in Ireland relationships work, it works like this.  When you live in America, and tell people in Ireland that you’re coming home, every family member, friend, distant cousin, and guy from the pub who you went to grammar school with, sends you a list, which you have to then go and fulfill, by driving all over Boston, including the North Shore and South Shore.  If you’re lucky, you can just use Amazon, but sometimes you have to go find specific sizes. Then you have to fit everything in your luggage, along with the clothes, toys, and dvds for the two kids you are required to bring back, which two are determined by the current rotation, taking into account what activities might happen in Ireland while you are there, like maybe a female cousins birthday, which would could bump a male child in favor of a female child. This is called "The Irish Mule". But I’m now off on a tangent, probably beacuase I just got off my indoor trainer, its late, I sweated a ton, I can’t sleep yet due to the recent exercise, and am now replacing fluids using Ipswich Harvest Ale. 

But that reminds me, so this Kerryman’s father asked him to bring a trainer home to Ireland for Christmas because he just started cycling, the weather in Ireland is generally crap, and they’re expensive there. I asked if had ever seen one or picked one up and he said no, so my bad luck with my wheel and his good samaritanism got him a chance to see one, because I had mine in the back of the minivan.  Let’s just say that he picked it up, his eyes went wide and he said, “jaysus dat weighs a tun.” Sorry Mr. Kerryman’s dad if you don’t get your trainer for Christmas.

The tire issue left me a bit out of sorts.  I put in a new tube, inflated it with a hand pump in the car, and did my ride, but the tire itself had two matching worn spots in the sidewall.  I rode the shakeout ride on it anyway, despite having some real concerns about racing on it.  I emailed a photo to FitWerx (Peabody) to get an opinion.  General shop consensus was that I “could” race on it, but none of them would.  So by last Saturday afternoon, when I was supposed to be deep into family time, I found myself scrambling to find a bike shop that had heard of Vittoria or Michelin tires, and had them in stock. Dropped the family at Eastons beach, and tore off to the shop with the now flat wheel, and made it there with a half hour til closing.  $110 later, which included a new tire, a new tube with an extended valve so I didn’t need the Zipp adapter on the 404 (I can never get them to inflate properly the first time and hold air), and two valve core replacement extenders later (which were moot due to the extended valve tube, but valuable at home with my 10 normal tubes), I was on my way back to the beach with a race tire. Phew! 

 

One-handed riding - not safe

Sunday was uneventful from a race perspective, and included an openers ride early around the Newport southern coast, a beautiful ride along the water that includes views of both the Atlantic Ocean and incredible mansions. Sunday evening I got all my gear ready, got the car ready, and was actually in bed early, thinking that with the tire drama behind me, I’d finally have a race where I was prepared. Except that Sharon asked the race start time, and I had to double check, and found out it was at 8:30 and not 8.  At least I wouldn’t have been late, but certainly was foreshadowing.

 I had a bit of difficulty sleeping, had my now-routine Mexican beers to settle me down to sleep before the race, and watched the end of Das Pro Und The Rookie, which I won’t spoil, but was not what I expected, but at the same time, was exactly what you need to understand happens in cycling, and in life (Buy the DVD and support kids cyclocross!).

 

Race Venue

The morning came quickly, I made a cup of coffee, checked the weather, which was around 45, and checked the wind, which was light from the north, and headed off to the race.  I got to the race at 6:45 and was one of the first to arrive. This got me a prime parking spot right at the finish line, so I could warm up on my trainer and watch the staging area, listen to the announcements, and just be close to all my stuff and the race in case of emergency.  I checked in at 7, got my numbers and went back to my car to pin my jersey and start getting ready for the race.  I have to stop for a second and say, that while I am not sponsored by anyone, if Honda wants to sponsor me, I’ll gladly sign on.  Specifically, Honda Odyssey. I’d plaster that all over my jersey, my bibs, my socks, my hat, my warm up gear, and here’s why.  With the back seats down, I fit my bike, all my gear, my bike trainer, and could leave the car on, listening to music and sit comfortably. In addition, when it rains, which it did at the GP of Gloucester, you can fit a bike under the opened back door and stay dry in the rain on your trainer. It may be the perfect cycling vehicle short of a team caravan. I could fit 3 racers, 3 bikes and 3 trainers in there no problem.  So for all you married male cyclists, do not be afraid of the minivan.  If you’re single, it may still be a deal breaker, so drive at your own risk.

So back to the pinning of the numbers; I had to make a decision at this point, an hour and a half before the race as to what I was going to wear.  I do not like to use 4 pins and have a parachute on my back.  I’m an over-pinner, but my number  does not move when I ride, and that’s how I like it, but it also means that I cannot make a last-minute kit change, I have to go with what I pick. It was still about 48 degrees and not forecast to warm up much at all.  So I decided on a light jacket, I could always go base layer, and jersey underneath, with full gloves and a skull cap if it was really cold, and I put on my long bibs. With an hour to the race, I jumped on my trainer, I had a 42 minute warmup (well my coach had said 45 min, but it added up to 42, and I’m an engineer, so that was an inconsistency, but I went with 42).  I also have a routine of printing out my warmup or workout in Excel in a small font, and using packing tape to make a semi-laminated card so I can tape it to my handlebars or stem.  This may be a bit anal or compulsive (anal was just so I get sweet google search placement), but I find this a great way to keep my strategy.  When I’m at threshold or above I find that I can’t really think of anything else, and I start to forget things, like watching to see where the leader is, like at Battenkill. For triathlons and long road races, I also use it for my nutrition guide. That coupled with an alarm on my garmin greatly increases my likely hood of staying on target and not bonking because I forgot to eat or drink.   I had printed my workout out, but forgot it, so commence annoying, not-prepared drama. I jumped off the bike, got a pen from my laptop bag and wrote the warmup frommy phone onto my hand and jumped back on the trainer.  All was good for 10 minutes as I warmed up and watched the other racers show up in their cars.  After 10 minutes, I was sweating profusely.  It was way hotter than the 48 degrees my phone said it was.  I took off my beanie and my jacket as the warmup progressed. I was hydrating with Cytomax during the warmup, and with 15 minutes to go, after a few minutes at FTP, I decided that I could not wear what I was wearing for two reasons, first, it was going to be too hot to race in, and second, what I had on was soaking wet, plus, I really really had to pee. I cut my warm up 5 minutes short, giving me 15 min to change, hit the head, and get to the starting line.  Under normal circumstances, 15 min is a lot of time, but with a bit of pressure, you be surprised how many stupid things you do.  I had to change my entire kit, but I had brought a backup.  I put on short bibs, new socks, a fresh jersey, and threw on the jacket because I had to, it had the numbers. I considered riding no shirt under the jersey, it felt that warm, but I was concerned about potentially getting too hot and having to unzip. Cyclists do not have the most manly, tanned upper bodies.  Think Addonis, but make it way smaller, and turn up the brightness, and add a funky tan-ish line from a century ride in San Diego.

In my own created chaos, I forgot to eat my Roctane GU, which I realized when I was standing in the staging area.  I wondered where I had put it, it wasn’t in any of my jersey pockets, probably because it was supposed to have been eaten already.  The glint of sun off the green packaging as the race started 5 minutes later confirmed that I had left it on the rear bumper of the van when I got inside and closed the rear door to change. Rookie. Tim Johnson would not have done that. And we were off.

 

Race Report Actually Starts Now.

Hi, welcome to all the people who skipped the previous 10 paragraphs, this is where the race report actually starts. Jamestown is a 19.2 miles circuit race around Jamestown, RI. It’s a rolling hill course with the longest hill a mile before the end of the race, with a healthy downhill right after it, a 90 degree left hand turn into a 1 minute sprint finish with a slight hip in it. Previous to this race, I had only ever ridden one race before, the Tour of the Battenkill, which is a 60 mile, grueling war of attrition, at least in cat 5. So I didn’t really know what to expect, but I did have two strategic goals, and two tactical goals.  From a race perspective, I was going to sit in, and do nothing for a long time; unless there was a break that went out that had a couple of strong guys and they were staying away, I was never doing anything interesting.  The second strategic point will be revealed later.  My tactical goals were to find people in the peloton and talk to them, and to make sure I knew what was going on around me.  Both of those were issues at Battenkill.  I think the talking thing is a cat 5 phenomenon and that as you race more, and you know more people in races, it happens naturally, but I finished Battenkill 20 secs. behind the guy in 2nd and we were 3 min behind the leader.  Had he and I actually talked with 10 miles to go, we might have caught the leader.  Instead, we didn’t talk and battled it out ourselves, and we both lost.  There were several guys from the Beverly Athletic Club in the race, so I rode up next to one and started talking to him. After the initial surprise, he was friendly enough.  Since nothing was going on in the race for the first 5 miles, we might as well talk. I asked him about his team, if he was working with anyone, and if he had a coach.  He said he was the strongest guy and would probably not wait for his teammates, that he wasn’t, and that he didn’t. So we kind of agreed to work together if the time came. He also asked what pace I wanted to ride when I got going.  I didn’t have an answer for that, I ride to watts, maybe it’s the triathlon background, so I’m not sure I actually knew how strong he was.  As we rounded the north end of Jamestown, and the peloton worked through the rough road, no one really seemed compelled to do anything.  When we returned to the smooth, long road south, I found myself at the front, talking to my BAC buddy.  I was starting to get itchy legs.  I don’t know if it was the long warm up, or how slow we were going as a peloton, or what, but I think I was getting antsy.  Logically, I wasn’t supposed to be, I was supposed to be sitting in and doing nothing in like 10-15th place, making sure I could cover any breaks if I needed to.  The problem was, when I was sitting in 10-15th place, I didn’t feel like I could cover a break, so I was anxious and ended up riding at the front.  I looked down a couple of times and remember seeing 150 watts on my 30sec avg.  Looking back at my data file, I averaged 206 watts for the first 7 miles.  So I ended up on the front of the pack for a lot of the southbound stretch, sitting up and talking to the BAC guy.  He had asked if I had heard about Dean’s crash, so I told him that story, and we generally passed the time with a couple of mentions of, I wonder if we could get away.  We both knew it was a bad idea, but we were going really slowly, and if I’m honest with myself, I did think about making a break for it a couple of times.  But that wasn’t my strategy, and I was sticking to it as best I could.  The first 10 miles, even with me on or near the front for the last 3 was at 246 watts.  When we made the right hand turn across the causeway, the pace picked up a tad, but it wasn’t a huge increase.  There’s a longer hill at mile 12 that I had considered attacking on, but given the length of the race and the speeds which previous years had finished, I didn’t think I could channel my inner Cancellara enough to stay away.

 

That being said, my second strategic goal for the race was to not leave it to the end.  I knew that I did not want to leave it to a sprint finish if I could help it. So the hill at mile 14 was my go point.  I had already scoped out a house half way up the hill that was my trigger, and when I got there I attacked.  I got a gap of about 100 yards and settled in to TT my way around the south end of the island.  I thought that if I could make it to the turn at the lighthouse, I’d have a chance to stay away.  That turn is tight and the entire peloton would have to slow through it, and there’s a gradual but long uphill false flat after the turn with some bends that would have put me out of sight.  Unfortunately, when I looked back to see the gap, I saw the peloton closing in with their “power faces” on, and knew it was futile, I sat up had a drink and waited for the catch.  I pedaled to stay in the top 5 to round the corner, I didn’t want someone else to attack and miss it, so I rounded the lighthouse turn in about 4th place.  It was no surprise that people powered out of the turn, I had seen it in the Strava profiles of previous year’s races, it thinned out the peloton and made for an opportunity to break. I was sitting at the front with two other guys, my BAC friend, and another guy who looked pretty fresh.  The three of us were chatting and checking to see how we felt, and I basically said, I’m going on every break, so if you guys are fresh, let’s go, so we attacked.  Unfortunately, the BAC guy and I rode side by side, and the other guy slotted in behind and the BAC guy burned out quickly, so it was just me and the 2nd guy.  We got a bit of a gap, but were joined by a 3rd rider who bridged.  The three of us did a couple of rotations to try and stay away, but the peloton was still close and we didn’t have clear break, plus I was finding it difficult to power through turn pulling, probably due to the earlier attack. We got absorbed, but the pace stayed quick as we approached the return across the causeway. The other factor that I didn’t realize at the time was that there was a stiff enough headwind from the north that the attacks we made after the lighthouse were always going to be difficult.  I had the same problem at Battenkill when I went off the front and made a turn into a huge headwind, that I ultimately sat up in. I should have known better.  Looking back, an attack, with two other strong riders, on the south bound part of the main island, could have stayed away.  It was smooth, with some longish hills and a tailwind, but you know what they say about hindsight.

The peloton picked up a lot of speed as we crossed the causeway and we were stretched out in a long line.  At the end of the causeway is a slight weave as the main road goes left but the race route makes a right off of that.  That right is the start of the final hill.  I had planned on trying to sit 4th or 5th wheel on that last hill and attack about half way up, but the attacks started at the bottom, first one guy, then another, and then everyone was out of the saddle.  I was in 2nd going around weave, but got passed by 3 or 4 guys before I got out of the saddle and chased.  It’s a long enough hill, and once I had my watts up, I sat back down and settled into my hard climbing pace.  The legs were burning and there wasn’t enough oxygen, and everyone was still pushing it.  As we approached the crest of the hill, gaps had appeared all over the place.  I was sitting about 15-20th place with a couple of bike lengths between me and the tail of that group at the top of the hill.  Despite being pain and wanting to coast, I forced myself to bridge on the downhill to that group.  I caught them about half way down the hill and grabbed onto the back wheel and tried to recover a bit.  There are some times when being a light rider on a light bike isn’t the best scenario.  This was one of them.  Not enough inertia on the downhill.  In retrospect, I should have stayed out of the saddle for the whole climb.  I was worried about having something left at the end, but in the end, I still had to burn watts on the downhill.  I don’t know if it was tiredness, or inexperience, but Dean was right, the race to the top of that hill was the race. 

I had a couple of seconds of recovery as we approached the 90 degree left at the bottom of the hill.  I was at the back of the group and knew that there wasn’t much race left.  I took the turn wide to go around people, which let me keep my speed up, and I came out of the corner out with some momentum; a couple of hard pedal strokes out of my saddle got me a few places right there.  You can’t see the finish line from that turn, the road goes to the left a bit, and there’s a hip and the road goes back to the right just before the finish line.  I knew this was going to be a very fast sprint finish, and despite all my attempts to not make it a field sprint, that’s what it came down to.  I picked up a couple of spots on the turn and sat back down.  Some guys tried to sprint from the turn, and paid the price dearly.  Just before the hip, everyone was all out, but guys who had started too early were dropping off.  We were going fast, and I tried to sprint to the inside of a guy just as the road made the turn back to the right and I was nearly run into the barriers as he had gassed and was veering to the right.  I yelled at him, stopped pedaling for a second, then went once I knew I could make it through.  I crossed the finish line out of breath in what looked like somewhere between 8-12th place. It was hard to actually tell exactly where.  Everyone bled off speed and slowed after the finish and did the nice race thing.  I talked to the guy with whom I had tried to get away at the light house, and his first words to me were “nice race, you did too much work”.  He got second, nipped at the line.  Another guy rode up next to me and said nice race, you did lots of hard work.  I probably did.  Aside from the attempts to get away, I spent a lot of time at the front, probably too much time, and I paid for it on that last hill.  I voted myself Most Aggressive Rider for the race for no other reason than it makes me feel good about how I rode.

I circled back to the finish line, ran into some friends who were racing later in the Cat 1-4 men’s, and the Cat 3 women’s races and had a chat. I went back to the car to change, and then up to where the results were going to be posted.  Official result was 8th place, 3 seconds off 1st and 2nd, and 2 seconds off 3rd and 4th.  Realistically, I was never in the hunt for the win based on how the race ended.  I got 8th because I finished strong and out sprinted a couple of guys.  My data file has a 5 second hole where I had no power, which was when I had to stop from being run into the barriers.  I have no idea what would have happened if I had gone to the left, but I still didn’t ride that last hill properly. I had to peak at 390 watts on the downhill to bridge to the front group, and that’s not good.  Still, I have to be pleased with the race.  I learned a lot of things, got a circuit race under my belt, and have things to take away to work on.