Cycling is a passion

I was originally going to write today about how I became a cyclist and a cycling fan. But my sport will receive another 30 seconds of attention by the mainstream media this week (if that) for the wrong reason. Monday, the Court of Arbitration for Sport announced the denial of Floyd Landis' appeal of his doping suspension and subsequent disqualification as the winner of the 2006 Tour de France. With this unfortunate attention on the sport, I thought I would write about why I am passionate about this sport. I still don't know what to believe about Floyd and it really doesn't matter to my passion for cycling. For me, cycling is primarily about my participation and only as a secondary matter about being a spectator sport that I enjoy watching.

My passion for cycling is at its most basic level all about sensations. The ease of movement on two wheels is an amazing experience to me. When I straddle my bike, push off and just roll along for those first few seconds of the ride is when the magic happens. Sure its rewarding to ride faster, farther, or whatever than I have before, but it is that effortless movement through space that is what captures the imagination from the day you first learn to ride a bike. Everything after that is just a refinement of technology and training. In those first few moments of a ride, the wildly imagininative child in me conceives of the limitless places I could go or races I could win. After those first moments, the magic subsides and the purpose of the ride occupies my mind, the errand I'm running, the training goals for the day, etc..

The more "advanced" sensations of cycling also fuel my passion. The sense of speed and the physical effort required to achieve it, the satisfaction of avoiding a trip in a car by using my bike to complete an errand, the sense of pride or disappointment from a successful or unsuccessful race all are part of what I feel as a cyclist on any given ride. Whether or not a pro rider is successful in his quest for victory somewhere and whether he competes "honorably" does not effect this personal relationship with cycling that is the very essence of why I love the sport.

As a spectator sport, I certainly would prefer that bicycle racing be as credible and believable as possible, but even my relationship to that part of cycling is fueled by feelings and emotions that are largely in the moment and unaffected by later scandal. I suppose racing as a Master or Category 4, I may be up against someone who is doping in some simple (or not so simple) way. I would expect at my low level of the sport that they are few and far between. In any case, at this level I would propose that doping by any of my competitors says more about them than it does about my sport.

At the highest level, most sports are at least in part entertainment for the spectator. For me a large portion of that "entertainment" are the emotions and feelings I have watching the event. In 2004, I was fortunate enough to travel to France with my wife to see a few of the Tour de France stages that year in person. I was quite unprepared for the wave of emotion that engulfed me when the first riders passed. As we walked a few kilometers up the road to Plateau de Beille, the fans along the road, the location, and general atmosphere conspired to give me a sense of excitement about being at the Tour, but it was still in a slightly calculated and detached way. It was kind of like the logical mind saying to me "You're at the Tour, not just watching it on TV as usual". As the helicopters and lead cars approached, nothing really changed, but when the breakaway riders rolled by, the emotional mind said to me "You really are at the tour, how about if you get wobbly in the knees and shed a tear or two!". Being the obedient sort I am (at least to my mind), I complied immediately. The interesting thing is that it wasn't a one off experience due to the newness of it all. Several days later in the Alps, after having seen a stage start in the interim, I had the exact same emotional response when the riders rolled by.

What does all this emotional, rubber kneed experience have to do with doping? Those experiences at the Tour were what I remember about the sport and that trip. Whether any of those riders have been subsequently proven to have cheated or not (and some of them have), does not rob me of those very personal and intense experiences and memories from those days. Bicycle racing needs to remain credible and honorable to ensure its continued existence. Its existence gives me another aspect of cycling to be passionate about, but it is certainly not the only one or the most important one.

For me my passion for cycling will always start in those first few moments with a sensation of easy movement on two wheels.

The 2008 racing season so far

On the whole, this racing season has been an enjoyable and satisfying one for me so far. I've competed in a couple of races that were new to me (Frozen Flatlands omnium, Wenatchee omnium) and raced the Methow Valley omnium for the second time. Going into the season, my plan was to use Flatlands and the Wenatchee omnium only as preparation for the Methow Valley omnium, but I enjoyed both of them so much, I think I'll target them a little more seriously next season.

The Frozen Flatlands omnium consists of a circuit race held at Spokane Raceway Park (a car road racing track) and a road race on the roads south of Cheney. The races took place the first weekend in April and coming so early in my season, my hopes were just to finish with the bunch. This proved to be no problem in the circuit race on Saturday, but the 5o mile long road race on Sunday was a little taller challenge. The road race had it all weather wise. We had wind, rain, and hail. It was definitely the harshest conditions I have raced in on the road. Around the midpoint of the race, the pack fractured into three main groups. I found myself in the third group. We set to chasing and were able to regain the second bunch which I suppose would be considered the main field. Shortly after this, we came to the last significant climb on the course which was maybe 12 miles or so from the finish. The group basically dissolved on the climb and the rollers following it and for the last 10 miles or so it was small groups of 2 or 3 heading for the finish. Riding in solo felt like I had been dropped and had failed in my goal to finish with the bunch, but I actually finished the road race in 25th out of 58 starters in the Cat 4/5 field. If there had been a true bunch, I would have been in it. At the time, I felt I had ridden strongly for the first race of the season and after seeing the results, I was quite pleased with my weekend's efforts.

The next race I competed in was a Tuesday night training race at Pacific Raceway in Kent. I raced in the Cat 4/5 field and to my surprise was able to manage a third place finish. This was my highest placing ever in a road race. With these early successes under my belt, I headed to Wenatchee.

I raced Masters C at the Wenatchee omnium and had a sense of quiet optimism for the weekend's racing. The time trial course was nearly flat and I expected to do well based on my strength as a time trialist. I managed to nearly screw up my start by being a little too relaxed during my warm-up and arrived at the start line only about 20 seconds before my start. The outbound trip went well and felt great due to a substantial tailwind. The trip back as you might guess was quite a bit tougher due to that wind. I had hoped to be well into the points for the TT an was a little deflated to find myself in tenth, the last points paying place. I noticed that eleventh was less than a second behind me and decided that my single point was better than if I was that guy in eleventh wondering all weekend where I lost eight tenths of a second.

The crit was later that afternoon and although I felt pretty recovered from the TT, I wasn't overly confident as it has been a long time since I've finished a crit. Since I don't have the opportunity to ride a lot of them, the speed is always a shock. I had a bad start when a rider a few places ahead of me had a difficult time clipping into his pedals. After that, it was chase, chase, chase in an effort to regain the main field. I never did get back and was pulled with about 5 minutes left in the race. From a fitness point of view, I felt good about my effort as I was able to hang in there for a long time, but results wise a dnf is a dnf.

The road race course filled me some trepidation as I approached the weekend as it features a very long and difficult climb. It would definitely be the hardest climb I had ever tackled in a road race. The saving grace about the course is that due to the difficulty of the climb, there really is no group from which you are dropped. As soon as the field starts up the climb, it just sort of detonates and breaks into small groups. I was able to stay somewhere around the middle of the field until the detonation occurred and then hold that relative place in the race as I fought my way up the climb at my own pace. I was definitely at my limit several times during the climb and really didn't have a sense of my placing by the time I reached the top. The descent off the top of Wenatchee Heights is like descending off the roof of the world (or at least North Central Washington). I managed to hook up with a couple of Cucina Fresca riders and we drove the pace all the way down the descent, occasionally catching and sometimes dropping other riders. Once back down by the Columbia and on the flat, tailwind endowed highway back to the finish our group had swollen to about six or seven riders. With only a couple miles to go, I began to feel that me and maybe one or two other riders were doing all the work and that the rest were just being towed in. I was trying to figure out how not to get outsprinted by these "passengers" when I looked over my shoulder on a rise while sitting second wheel and saw that we had opened a gap of about 150 meters. They were passengers because they were cooked. I let the guy pulling know it was time to go and we just kept pushing the pace all the way to the finish. I ended up 17th out of about 40 starters and felt really good about that result because I am not what I would consider a climber. For the weekend I managed to tie for 15th out of 35 in the Masters C field. I really enjoyed my weekend in Wenatchee and look forward to trying to improve next year.

Next up on my racing calendar was my home race, the Methow Valley Omnium. As the Masters field was all categories and I didn't feel the need to get killed by Cat 2s, I chose to race in the Cat 4/5 field. Again I felt very confident going into the time trial and expected to be well into the points, likely as high as top 5. Also again, my scatter brain took over and I rolled to the start without the proper focus. My tt helmet has a clear shield or visor on it which drops down over the eyes to make it more aero. Because I was wearing sunglasses on the trainer when I was warming up I didn't notice when I put my helmet on that the visor was flipped up out of the way. About a mile into my race I thought to myself something seems different. I realized that I was still wearing my sunglasses and that my visor was in its less than aero position. I had a few moments of indecision. Should I throw my glasses on the shoulder and hope I can find them after the race? Should I just leave the visor up? I tried pulling the visor down and luckily it cleared the glasses. Also luckily, it was a sunny day as the combination of the sunglasses and the tinted visor would have made things quite dark on a cloudy day. The rest of the tt went well although I felt I struggled more than I should have getting over the hills on the course. I'm sure the visor episode didn't cost me any significant time, but I was certainly annoyed with myself for allowing it to happen. My time was about 35 seconds faster than I had achieved the previous year so I felt good about that, but I managed only 8th which was a little lower than I had hoped for.

For the crit that afternoon in Twisp, I was determined to give it my all and try to get near the front early as a way to deal with the speed and yo-yoing that usually dooms my efforts in crits. I got a good start and stuck to my plan of trying to stay up near the front, but soon the inexorable slide down the field started for me. I lost contact with the bunch and realizing that burying myself to finish off the back in a non point paying 30-somethingth position didn't make a lot of sense with a long road race the next day. I eased up and just cooled down until I was pulled by the official.

For the road race, I had high hopes of finishing in the points. Earlier that week, a few of us local riders who were doing the race without the benefit of a team had met over beers to discuss our expectations of how the race would unfold and how we could best pool our talents and efforts to ensure some good results for the locals. The first two laps of the Chewuch Loop course passed well and we were all riding well and feeling quite confident. It all changed on the third lap of the scheduled four. Beginning the third lap, it was clear that riders were getting antsy and waiting for an invitable attack to occur. There was a little more crowding and a little higher pace up the hills and then ........the inevitable tangle of bikes and bodies hitting the pavement. I was on the opposite side of the field from the initial crash and thought I was going to get through when a rider came tumbling across in front of me. I got slowed down considerably before I hit him but still ended up going down and landing on my hip. I got up as quickly as possible and started chasing. The large number of riders in and behind the crash created a lead group of about 17 riders. According to other reports I've read, those 17 immediately started trying to drive open the gap. As one of my friends put it, for Cat 4/5 racers, the sound of a crash is like a starter's gun going off. This is in direct contrast to my experience last year in the Masters field at this race where after a couple of riders fell, the field sat up and waited for delayed riders to rejoin.

I never did see the main field again, but managed to drag myself in 19th place for the road race and finish the weekend in 21st position overall. As for the rest of the local contingent that had met at the pub to carefully discuss this race. They both went down hard in the crash and were unable to finish. Next year we'll try again and try to get it right. I felt pretty good about the weekend, but was certainly disappointed to have missed out on the opportunity for a good result in the road race.

That's for my race season to this point. The next big goal: The Washington State Time Trial Championships in Tenino on August 3rd.

Welcome to Speedbump's Dump

Recently, I've enjoyed reading some other folks' blogs regarding bike racing (especially in Washington State) and cycling and thought I'd take a stab at it. As I don't race more than about ten times a year, there won't be a lot of first person race reports, but probably just more general observations and thoughts on bike racing and cycling in general. I'm sure many totally unrelated posts will also leak out of my brain as well. Welcome to the Dump!

Speedbump