Gamjams is back to reviewing products, and this week it's a tastier topic, quite literally.
On-the-bike nutrition. Yummy.
For me, it's basically all Clif products. Clif sponsors my alma mater's team. Some good friends back at GW Cycling appreciate my support, so they let me add on to the team's disconted order. (Speaking of which, I need to get back to one of them about that...)
I like Clif bars. There are plenty of flavors, so they don't get old. They don't have the tough to chew, leathery texture that powerbars had, and their chocolate flavor doesn't taste like dirt. They're quite good. Clif Bars and their Builders Bars are also part of my regular breakfast routine.
Yes, breakfast routine. For the first time in my life, I'm actually eating breakfast regularly. Thank Clif.
Of the flavors, I especially like the Cool Mint Chocolate Clif Bar. It's like a brownie meets thin mints. Delicious. But I'm not a fan of caffeine (which it has), so I also like the chocolate chip flavor and get boxes of a few of the nuttier and fruitier flavors.
One of the best recent discoveries I've made is that Clif sells boxes of "mini" Clif bars. Instead of the full-sized bar (250 calories), these mini bars are only 100 calories, thus significantly smaller. Thus, you can actually eat one on the ride and not have to stuff a sticky, half-eaten clif bar back into your jersey.
Interlude: What's the best thing to happen to cycling nutrition since the PowerBar (which wasn't that good in the first place)?
Clif Bloks.
If you haven't tried Clif Bloks yet, you're missing out. They're like gummy bears for cyclists. Except they're not shaped like gummy bears. I haven't tried a flavor I didn't like.
Best thing about them? When you're eating in the middle of a ride or race and someone starts hammering, you can quickly shove a whole heck of a lot of blocks in your mouth and easily chew 'em down. If you're too busy breathing hard to chew, you can do the "hamster" move and stuff them in your cheeks - without gagging because they're yummy. (Just make sure not to crash while pulling this maneuver or someone's going to think you spit your brains out.)
The only downside about Bloks? They're not cheap. No cycling nutrition is cheap, though. That's why the one non-cycling specific food in my cycling-specific pantry are Quaker chewy Chocolate Chip granola bars. Awesome stuff. You should know, though, that they get messy when it's hot out and hard as wood when it's frigid. Oh well, they're cheap and delicious.
Now, let's cover gels. Gu? Clif shot? PowerGel? They're all the same gooey junk. They take care of business and are convenient, but I can't tell one from the other for the basic flavors, so I'll take what I can get cheap. Those are Gu & Clif.
My team is sponsored by Gu (equally great stuff) but more often I order Clif stuff so I get their Clif Shot. Clif shots also have a tab that doesn't break off from the packet, so you're not littering and it's not going through the washing machine when it gets stuck in your pocket.
The only thing I'm really picky about when it comes to nutrition is raisins. I frikken' hate raisins. I'll pass anything with raisins onto that guy on every ride that forget food. Other than that, I go for what leaves a smaller dent in the wallet that doesn't make me gag. After a long year of riding, it all tastes the same anyways.
Thanks for reading, good riding to you all for the upcoming long weekend, and bon apetit.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Race Report: Reston Town Center Grand Prix, Cat 4
Reston is a technical crit, but it's full of 90 degree turns. It's pretty simple.
Go straight.
Turn left.
Go straight.
Turn left.
Go straight.
Turn right.
Go straight.
Turn left.
Go straight.
Turn Left
Go straight.
Turn Left
Go straight.
Turn right...
Immediate left to the start/finish.
Add some water, and it gets iffy. The Reston crit lived up to it's reputation as a race of attrition, but for the wrong reasons. This race was a crashfest like I've never seen. Just tons of dumb riding.
Plenty of people talk about going all-out from the beginning of plenty of races, and it's usually all for nothing. Well, being low in priority on my list of races, I thought this was one race where "go from the gun" was an adequate race strategy. But it's not that good of a strategy when everyone's trying to do that.
Unlike most guys, I started the race in the little ring to weave through traffic, then shifted up. I found myself in the top 5 racers around the first turn. Not bad.
Dave K lead the first lap or two, and when a few guys attacked, I chased them. Then when I saw we had a gap I went to the front and drilled it. Hard.
I went nuts. I went ballistic early on. It was awesome and safe up front solo because I could take my line at higher speeds. Dare I say this, it was fun.
In the first few laps, I basically rode alone or with 2-3 others off the front, but none of them would work hard enough to help create a gap. At one point, only one guy in some light-blue kit was with me. Out of breath before the downhill, I looked back and said "help?" He said, "55 minutes left, no thanks."
What a frikken' L7 weenie. I hope he never makes it out of Cat 4.
If you want to enter a bike race to sit in, Reston is not one of them. In such a technical race, why the hell would you even bridge up to a guy going all-out early on other than to help the effort?
Race, or go home.
A pair of laps later, I'm still off the front with two others and the field's catching back up slowly. Someone yells to me to slow down. I didn't understand this request, so I kept hammering.
Eventually, nobody helps me, and we get caught by a strung-out group. My teammate Drew counters down hill and creates a gap. I follow two guys that chase him (the one in front of me was a Coppi guy).
With NOBODY in front of them - just these two guys alone - they both hit their brakes in notorious turn #5 for no apparent reason except for fear.
The idiots skid out.
As the Coppi rider is skidding forward, I slow down as much as possible and crash near him but luckily not barrelling over him. Race over.
I was okay for the most part but stood up quickly because the field was coming around. The Coppi rider looked beat to hell, so I picked up my bike and put it horizontal between me and the incoming riders, just in case, to block the guy on the ground.
I could have gotten a free lap but I had a bloody knee, bruised hand, bent shifters, and was too pissed off. This course is fun as hell but some folks are just inept bike riders, making it a crashfest (especially when it rains).
On the bright-and-shiny side of life, Drew was able to make a breakaway stick. Three other racers joined him, but at the end Drew still took fourth. The team did an incredible job, though, of setting a "false tempo" to keep anyone in the field from bridging up.
...but it always sucks watch your race finish from the sidelines.
Go straight.
Turn left.
Go straight.
Turn left.
Go straight.
Turn right.
Go straight.
Turn left.
Go straight.
Turn Left
Go straight.
Turn Left
Go straight.
Turn right...
Immediate left to the start/finish.
Add some water, and it gets iffy. The Reston crit lived up to it's reputation as a race of attrition, but for the wrong reasons. This race was a crashfest like I've never seen. Just tons of dumb riding.
Plenty of people talk about going all-out from the beginning of plenty of races, and it's usually all for nothing. Well, being low in priority on my list of races, I thought this was one race where "go from the gun" was an adequate race strategy. But it's not that good of a strategy when everyone's trying to do that.
Unlike most guys, I started the race in the little ring to weave through traffic, then shifted up. I found myself in the top 5 racers around the first turn. Not bad.
Dave K lead the first lap or two, and when a few guys attacked, I chased them. Then when I saw we had a gap I went to the front and drilled it. Hard.
I went nuts. I went ballistic early on. It was awesome and safe up front solo because I could take my line at higher speeds. Dare I say this, it was fun.
In the first few laps, I basically rode alone or with 2-3 others off the front, but none of them would work hard enough to help create a gap. At one point, only one guy in some light-blue kit was with me. Out of breath before the downhill, I looked back and said "help?" He said, "55 minutes left, no thanks."
What a frikken' L7 weenie. I hope he never makes it out of Cat 4.
If you want to enter a bike race to sit in, Reston is not one of them. In such a technical race, why the hell would you even bridge up to a guy going all-out early on other than to help the effort?
Race, or go home.
A pair of laps later, I'm still off the front with two others and the field's catching back up slowly. Someone yells to me to slow down. I didn't understand this request, so I kept hammering.
Eventually, nobody helps me, and we get caught by a strung-out group. My teammate Drew counters down hill and creates a gap. I follow two guys that chase him (the one in front of me was a Coppi guy).
With NOBODY in front of them - just these two guys alone - they both hit their brakes in notorious turn #5 for no apparent reason except for fear.
The idiots skid out.
As the Coppi rider is skidding forward, I slow down as much as possible and crash near him but luckily not barrelling over him. Race over.
I was okay for the most part but stood up quickly because the field was coming around. The Coppi rider looked beat to hell, so I picked up my bike and put it horizontal between me and the incoming riders, just in case, to block the guy on the ground.
I could have gotten a free lap but I had a bloody knee, bruised hand, bent shifters, and was too pissed off. This course is fun as hell but some folks are just inept bike riders, making it a crashfest (especially when it rains).
On the bright-and-shiny side of life, Drew was able to make a breakaway stick. Three other racers joined him, but at the end Drew still took fourth. The team did an incredible job, though, of setting a "false tempo" to keep anyone in the field from bridging up.
...but it always sucks watch your race finish from the sidelines.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Friday Ramblings: Sprinters, Flyers, and Fast Women.
You know that blog title got your attention.
First of all, I gotta apologize to the fast man Mr. Brew. At the Thursday sprints at hains, he honorably kicked my ass after a teammate gave me an early lead out. The Brew kicked my ass so badly in a one-on-one sprint that he startled the living daylights out of me as he veered in my direction.
I threw him some emotional words after he done scurred me sh*tless coming into my line that fast. Sorry DJ. Don't arrest me or nothin'. I sent him an email to apologize and let him know - it's wasn't about him beating me. I told him that I take flyers; I knew when he flew by I was beat. I just got scared and don't really like when things get dangerous on a totally open road.
Anyways, we chatted. No harm, no foul.
The rundown: On my last sprint of the night, Chris Chapel lead me out on a flyer, so I was in a nice draft. So was DJ. He wasn't caught off guard and grabbed my wheel. He held my wheel as long as he needed to, and then made his statement.
Definitive.
So it was not like I had a chance to beat him at all. I go up hills. I take long flyers in hopes of catching the chasers off guard. DJ is a sprinter. Holy crap, he's fast. I saw that first-hand.
Sprinters amaze me. That man goes from fast to gone in like 3 pedal strokes.
Anyways, I threw DJ the email because I sure don't wanna mess with the big boys or piss anyone off. I could learn a bit from these guys; we all need a bit more punchiness in our legs. We chatted back and forth and the guy made me laugh with his response. Hoping he doesn't mind me sharing, here's the closing line:
Ahhh, yes, Mr. Chapel's "vocal soundtrack" cracked me up. Let's go backwards in time here to my second-to-last sprint lap. I was sitting behind my teammate Chris Chapel in the group. With is iPod blasting, Chris was singing at the top of his lungs, now leading a group of 30 folks at over 30 miles per hour.
Hard-man stuff right there. He does it all the time. I frikken' love it.
It always pumps me up when he's singing and hauling ass. I didn't know that I wasn't the only one that heard him singing. Which brings me to the song-of-the-blog.
There's something inside me,
That pulls beneath the surface,
Consuming, confusing,
This lack of self control I fear is never ending,
Controlling...
I can't seem to find myself again
My walls are closing in,
I've felt this way before,
So insecure...
~ "Crawling" by Linking Park
I heard Chris yell the "so insecure" line and got a bit antsy. I jolted with well over 1k to go to the line, and gunned it. I gunned it hard, stayed uber low, and hurt my legs good. Nobody stuck with me. I was pretty happy about that effort, especially because it was about 40 miles into my ride at that point.
The next guy across the line was Tim Rugg, who had tried to bridge up. That made me happy - Ruggles has got a big engine. Then he told me he'd been on his bike since about 4PM. It was about 7:30 PM.
Enough about the boys.
Here's a little something about The Woman That Made Me Fast. She found a post-collegiate frat boy and got him riding his bike again. She got him in shape by making him tag along on long rides. Then she got him racing again.
One of the stars in the sprints tonight was my girl, wearing her token handicapped-blue GW argyle kit. She was hard to miss, because she was the only long-haired blonde in the group, and the colorful kit makes her look like a jockey.
After warming-up with some childish sprints where was I leading out a few of the NCVC Cat 5 guys, Catherine stuck with the big sprints group for the rest of the night. I was ecstatic every time I saw her flying with the big dogs. I'm pretty sure she was the only woman that stuck with the group tonight.
She wasn't just hangin' on or hangin' in. She was hangin' tough, playing it smart near the front of the group and everything. Textbook. Like most of us, nearing the sprints, she was forced to bridge gap after gap after some guys cracked up front. And nearly every time, she was among the first few folks to cross our finish line of egotism just by being in the right position.
So she loaded her Garmin's info, and it turns out the sprints weren't a joke. They definitely weren't the hardest or fastest sprints we've done - the average speed was just that - average. Yet the last eight sprints were over 30 miles per hour.
In addition to the usual egotistical Cat 4 suspects like Chris and me, there were some hometown hotshots in the group: fast-twitchers like DJ, rolleurs like big Cliff and SuperDave, and even a pair of Harley guys made a cameo. Those boys don't exactly race in women's Cat 4 events much, but it didn't phase her - at one point, some dude rode up to her and called her a rockstar and an inspiration.
How 'bout them apples?
First of all, I gotta apologize to the fast man Mr. Brew. At the Thursday sprints at hains, he honorably kicked my ass after a teammate gave me an early lead out. The Brew kicked my ass so badly in a one-on-one sprint that he startled the living daylights out of me as he veered in my direction.
I threw him some emotional words after he done scurred me sh*tless coming into my line that fast. Sorry DJ. Don't arrest me or nothin'. I sent him an email to apologize and let him know - it's wasn't about him beating me. I told him that I take flyers; I knew when he flew by I was beat. I just got scared and don't really like when things get dangerous on a totally open road.
Anyways, we chatted. No harm, no foul.
The rundown: On my last sprint of the night, Chris Chapel lead me out on a flyer, so I was in a nice draft. So was DJ. He wasn't caught off guard and grabbed my wheel. He held my wheel as long as he needed to, and then made his statement.
Definitive.
So it was not like I had a chance to beat him at all. I go up hills. I take long flyers in hopes of catching the chasers off guard. DJ is a sprinter. Holy crap, he's fast. I saw that first-hand.
Sprinters amaze me. That man goes from fast to gone in like 3 pedal strokes.
Anyways, I threw DJ the email because I sure don't wanna mess with the big boys or piss anyone off. I could learn a bit from these guys; we all need a bit more punchiness in our legs. We chatted back and forth and the guy made me laugh with his response. Hoping he doesn't mind me sharing, here's the closing line:
You are definitely a flyer cuz you handily rode away from your teammate the lap before and there was nothing I could do about it. That was pretty awesome. Sucked for me nonetheless, but awesome, and to know that your teammate provided the vocal soundtrack to it all made it worse.
Ahhh, yes, Mr. Chapel's "vocal soundtrack" cracked me up. Let's go backwards in time here to my second-to-last sprint lap. I was sitting behind my teammate Chris Chapel in the group. With is iPod blasting, Chris was singing at the top of his lungs, now leading a group of 30 folks at over 30 miles per hour.
Hard-man stuff right there. He does it all the time. I frikken' love it.
It always pumps me up when he's singing and hauling ass. I didn't know that I wasn't the only one that heard him singing. Which brings me to the song-of-the-blog.
There's something inside me,
That pulls beneath the surface,
Consuming, confusing,
This lack of self control I fear is never ending,
Controlling...
I can't seem to find myself again
My walls are closing in,
I've felt this way before,
So insecure...
~ "Crawling" by Linking Park
I heard Chris yell the "so insecure" line and got a bit antsy. I jolted with well over 1k to go to the line, and gunned it. I gunned it hard, stayed uber low, and hurt my legs good. Nobody stuck with me. I was pretty happy about that effort, especially because it was about 40 miles into my ride at that point.
The next guy across the line was Tim Rugg, who had tried to bridge up. That made me happy - Ruggles has got a big engine. Then he told me he'd been on his bike since about 4PM. It was about 7:30 PM.
Enough about the boys.
Here's a little something about The Woman That Made Me Fast. She found a post-collegiate frat boy and got him riding his bike again. She got him in shape by making him tag along on long rides. Then she got him racing again.
One of the stars in the sprints tonight was my girl, wearing her token handicapped-blue GW argyle kit. She was hard to miss, because she was the only long-haired blonde in the group, and the colorful kit makes her look like a jockey.
After warming-up with some childish sprints where was I leading out a few of the NCVC Cat 5 guys, Catherine stuck with the big sprints group for the rest of the night. I was ecstatic every time I saw her flying with the big dogs. I'm pretty sure she was the only woman that stuck with the group tonight.
She wasn't just hangin' on or hangin' in. She was hangin' tough, playing it smart near the front of the group and everything. Textbook. Like most of us, nearing the sprints, she was forced to bridge gap after gap after some guys cracked up front. And nearly every time, she was among the first few folks to cross our finish line of egotism just by being in the right position.
So she loaded her Garmin's info, and it turns out the sprints weren't a joke. They definitely weren't the hardest or fastest sprints we've done - the average speed was just that - average. Yet the last eight sprints were over 30 miles per hour.
In addition to the usual egotistical Cat 4 suspects like Chris and me, there were some hometown hotshots in the group: fast-twitchers like DJ, rolleurs like big Cliff and SuperDave, and even a pair of Harley guys made a cameo. Those boys don't exactly race in women's Cat 4 events much, but it didn't phase her - at one point, some dude rode up to her and called her a rockstar and an inspiration.
How 'bout them apples?
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Help me find Mark Pro's stolen Ridley Excalibur
Early this morning I see that I received an email from my good friend Mark Pro that his Subaru was broken into while in Crystal City last night, and his bike was stolen. This broke my heart. Sh*tty things happen to good folks.
Mark is one of my best friends and a darn good man. I've known him since high school, where we rowed together. You could say that I followed in his footsteps at GW, joining him on the crew team there, too. Then he taught me how to race bikes when he started the GWU Cycling Team in 2004. He even enlisted his legs to race for the stars & bars back in 2005-06 when the team was called NCVC-Edge.
Still great friends, we ride bikes together all of the time. Mark doesn't race anymore, but he does all of his own wrench work. At heart, we're all penny-pinching cyclists. Especially us young guys. Mark in particular takes pride in finding good deals on parts and gradually building up a hellishly nice bike to ride.
I know there's a very slim chance he'll get his bike back. Still, as a friend, I feel that if I don't do everything I can to help him find the Ridley, then I'm not doing enough. So I'm enlisting your help, too.
If you're poking around on Craigslist or Ebay in the next few days, keep your eyes open for this bike and its components. It's a very unique build. Not too many folks have a 175mm Campagnolo Chorus Crankset paired with SRAM Force/Red on a 2008 Ridley Excalibur frame, with Easton EA70 tubulars with the token green Vittoria tires.
Here's a somewhat crappy picture from the basement of the Lost River Barn, but it'll give you a good idea of what to look for:
Feel free to contact myself or Mark if you come across the bike or hints of these components. Here's the original message from Mark:
-------------------------------
Tonight my car was broken into and my bike stolen. This happened around 11:00pm on Tuesday June 23 in Crystal City.
Please be on the look out for the following bike description:
2008 Ridley Exaclibur Black and Gray Size Medium
Sram Red shifters (custom painted with blue accents)
EA70X tubular wheelset w/Green Vittoria Pave Tires 25mm
Sram Force derailleurs, Sram 1070 Cassette 11-26, Shimano Ultegra Chain
Campagnolo Chorus Carbon Compact Crankset Ultra-Torque, 175mm, 50-34t
White Fizik handlebar tape (left hand side dirtier than right)
White Fizik Aliante saddle carbon rails
EC90 Zero seatpost 29.4 w/shim to fit 31.6
My contact information is:
Mark Protacio
mprotacio (@) gmail (.) com
571-643-9435 (c)
Thanks for anything you might be able to help with.
------------------------------------------------
Now, today's song of the blog is unfortunately appropriate.
She's my world, she's so rad.
She's the best ride I've ever had.
She's my world, she's so bad.
She's the best ride I've ever had.
She's secondhand, so what?
She's true, she's by my side.
For all I care she's hot,
she's a real good ride.
When we go out people stop and stare with jealous minds.
It's OK for me as long as they let her be...
To prevent something like a theft,
I got her locked around a tree.
~ "Fox" by Millencolin
(For the record, it's not about a girl, it's actually about a Vespa.)
Mark is one of my best friends and a darn good man. I've known him since high school, where we rowed together. You could say that I followed in his footsteps at GW, joining him on the crew team there, too. Then he taught me how to race bikes when he started the GWU Cycling Team in 2004. He even enlisted his legs to race for the stars & bars back in 2005-06 when the team was called NCVC-Edge.
Still great friends, we ride bikes together all of the time. Mark doesn't race anymore, but he does all of his own wrench work. At heart, we're all penny-pinching cyclists. Especially us young guys. Mark in particular takes pride in finding good deals on parts and gradually building up a hellishly nice bike to ride.
I know there's a very slim chance he'll get his bike back. Still, as a friend, I feel that if I don't do everything I can to help him find the Ridley, then I'm not doing enough. So I'm enlisting your help, too.
If you're poking around on Craigslist or Ebay in the next few days, keep your eyes open for this bike and its components. It's a very unique build. Not too many folks have a 175mm Campagnolo Chorus Crankset paired with SRAM Force/Red on a 2008 Ridley Excalibur frame, with Easton EA70 tubulars with the token green Vittoria tires.
Here's a somewhat crappy picture from the basement of the Lost River Barn, but it'll give you a good idea of what to look for:
Feel free to contact myself or Mark if you come across the bike or hints of these components. Here's the original message from Mark:
-------------------------------
Tonight my car was broken into and my bike stolen. This happened around 11:00pm on Tuesday June 23 in Crystal City.
Please be on the look out for the following bike description:
2008 Ridley Exaclibur Black and Gray Size Medium
Sram Red shifters (custom painted with blue accents)
EA70X tubular wheelset w/Green Vittoria Pave Tires 25mm
Sram Force derailleurs, Sram 1070 Cassette 11-26, Shimano Ultegra Chain
Campagnolo Chorus Carbon Compact Crankset Ultra-Torque, 175mm, 50-34t
White Fizik handlebar tape (left hand side dirtier than right)
White Fizik Aliante saddle carbon rails
EC90 Zero seatpost 29.4 w/shim to fit 31.6
My contact information is:
Mark Protacio
mprotacio (@) gmail (.) com
571-643-9435 (c)
Thanks for anything you might be able to help with.
------------------------------------------------
Now, today's song of the blog is unfortunately appropriate.
She's my world, she's so rad.
She's the best ride I've ever had.
She's my world, she's so bad.
She's the best ride I've ever had.
She's secondhand, so what?
She's true, she's by my side.
For all I care she's hot,
she's a real good ride.
When we go out people stop and stare with jealous minds.
It's OK for me as long as they let her be...
To prevent something like a theft,
I got her locked around a tree.
~ "Fox" by Millencolin
(For the record, it's not about a girl, it's actually about a Vespa.)
Monday, June 22, 2009
Race Report(s): Tour of Washington County, Cat 4
Forgive the length of this report but there’s nothing like a stage-race weekend to bring the NCVC Cat 4 team together and perform. The story needs to be told. Any race hosted by Joe Jefferson just makes the experience even better. The strong roster included Chris Abbey, Eric Bruins, Chris Carraway, Mike Ephsteyn, Bert Garcia, Harry Goldman, Nate Hakken, Dave Kirkpatrick, John Myrick, Geoff Rezvani, Jeff Spaulding, and Drew Wisniewski.
Stage 1 – Smithsburg Road Race, 37 miles
After the neutral roll-out, the ref’s blew the whistle to start the race, and we actually slowed down. We took off a whopping 14 miles per hour. Our two crit racers, Chris and Geoff, took charge early on and took off with some Coppi guys. Mike, Chris A., and Eric flooded the front with a bunch of huge Coppi guys. (I think Coppi has a weight and height minimum this year.) The wind on the backside of the course was NUTS. A WWVC guy bridged up. Chris, Geoff, and the Coppi dudes didn’t last too much more than a lap. D-Wis then took off, again with the WWVC guy. Futile but fun.
On that first lap, Eric was in a small bunch of guys leading the pack into the false flats. None of them knew the course and the road guards didn’t either. Eric and some others took a detour straight, instead of taking the right turn. He’d jump back in though.
Throughout laps 2-3-4, only up the false flats and rollers were folks ever really picking up the pace. The wind was too strong on the flat section leading up to the feed zone, so we were riding at a snail’s pace. Everyone left the attrition to the hills. I tried a few digs into the headwinds with the stronger Bike Rack guys but we laughed at each other when we realized we were burning our own matches and gaining no ground hammering at about 18mph.
Jeff S. and I helped Geoff R. cover stuff up front, pushing the pace a lot too. There were some splits when some other teams helped on those rollers. The big guns were really drilling it at the front and stringing things out. Behind, Dave K dug deep to bridge some big gaps and stay with the lead group. Harry’s legs were giving him trouble, so he dropped from the race.
On the fifth lap, the group was down to probably 30 folks and shrinking. After dropping his chain, Drew started a grupetto with Nate and John trailing. Back in the autobus, they apparently discussed changing NCVC kits to camouflage so they could hide in the “pretty forest” next to the race course until we came by on the last lap..
It wasn’t as social up front. The fifth lap leading up to the main, steep hill was a painful pace. A few guys were hammering up front and Dave was behind me yelling to help them out. I did, until Dave K took over and showed me what he really meant. He nearly blew himself up but it thinned the field a ton more.
Lap six was one of the best one-man shows I’ve ever seen. Eric Bruins, a relatively new NCVC guy, is on loan from USC’s cycling team this summer. He was bitter about his first-lap detour, so he took to the front into the wind and set a steady and strong tempo for a while. Such a long while in fact, that Dave Kirkpatrick, for the sixth time in a row, was disappointed to know that the feed zone was closed. (Little did Dave know that “No Feed” sign was just signifying the end of the feed zone, and that the “Feed Zone” sign had just blown over.)
Nobody had the manliness or stupidity to overtake Eric until descending from the rollers. At that point, Dave, Jeff, and myself were well rested. Right before we left the loop, though, Dave’s legs locked up on the steep hill. About 15 guys were left in the mix now – 3 in NCVC kits. The leftover bunch was jockeying, so I followed Eric up the final hills with Jeff to my right. Cresting the 2nd to last hill, three Bike Rack guys took off. Eric had faded. Jeff and I got stuck in a bit of traffic. On the final downhill, I yelled to Jeff and he took off to bridge me up.
The race was about 40 feet ahead, so I sprinted like a freak up the hill, made up some ground, and caught one of the Bike Rack guys for fourth place with no time loss on the leaders. Jeff and Eric would finish a few seconds back, with Dave K at 50 seconds back. The rest of the main field was at 2:20 from the winner, Martin A. from the Bike Rack. His boy Tim Brown lead him out and took second. Coppi took third. (Fun fact: All of the top four finishers in this road race were in the winning breakaway last weekend at Murad, too.)
For dinner, the team crossed the hotel parking lot to Outback Steakhouse. A few notable moments there: Geoff Rezvani ordering some big chicken dish for dinner, with an additional Filet as a side dish. And then he called the waitress back for a salad, too. Two minutes later, we’re ordering some tasty beverages, and Dave K gets carded.
Stage 2 – Boonsboro Time Trial, 12 miles out-n-back
Personally, being 4th on GC going into the TT, I was in the mix of some big guns. I knew that two soon-to-be Cat 3s from Bike Rack were starting behind me, with Brownie chasing me. I’d never done a TT before, so I went into the race with a mindset of angry damage control. I had my road bike, regular wheels, clip-on bars I bought for $20, and a borrowed TT helmet. (Hey, you do what you can, right?)
There was a big headwind on the way back in, so my plan was to keep things comfortable and then comfortably painful. I had no delusions of grandeur, but stayed consistently strong, tucked and aero, and managed to finish with a kick up the final hill and a hint of wanting to die. I didn’t catch anyone, but nobody caught me. I’m content.
I ended up finishing 11th with a time of 29:13. Nate wasn’t too far behind me with 29:29 for 15th place. A TT hunk from WWVC totally obliterated folks, with a jock from ABRT close behind. GC was all theirs.
Stage 3 – Williamsport Downtown Criterium, 20 miles (28 laps)
The downtown crit had three 90-degree right-hand corners (one was a speedy downhill on a horrible road surface), then a narrow sweeping lefty, and a SHARP right-hand turn into an uphill finish. Conveniently enough, if you overcooked the fast downhill turn, you’d end up in a graveyard.
We found out the TT times and GC standings about 3 minutes before staging. After the TT, I was still the top NCVC guy in 11th overall (last man in the money) with Jeff Spaulding in 13th and Eric in 14th. I had 2 guys within 2 seconds of me. Priority number one was to protect the GC position. Secondly, try to set me up for a prime to get bonus time.
From the gun, Bike Rack and NCVC took to the front and hammered – particularly D-Wis. The guy was ballistic for the first third of the race and at every prime. The first five laps were insanely strung-out. It was ruthless, and unfortunately took its toll on Nate. A few laps later, Jeff Spaulding became a victim of Karma. After incessantly complaining about how dangerous this crit was going to be, his tire blew on the bumpy downhill and sent him skidding on his butt through the fast turn (lost some skin but he’s ok).
On nearly every lap, I had at least Geoff, Chris C. and D-Wis looking for me. I’d try to save energy in the sweet spot and then move up with a lap or two to go before the primes - it was relatively easy behind these guys on the uphill and top of the course.
They’d drill it and I’d be sitting pretty in the top 5, but through the final hairpin turn – on every lap – I’d just get slightly gapped. I was strong enough to close the gap but I burnt my sprint match too early for the primes. After the first and fastest prime, some gaps formed, so I worked with Martin (winner of the RR) for a bit to see if we could make some splits. It didn’t work, so I eased off. (Drew kept hammering.)
Here’s a testament to the team: the entire race, that’s the only time I was really in the wind. Other than that, I’d sit on guys wheels and catch my breath. Guys like Mike Ephsteyn might be pretty quiet, but he’s always in the sweet spot and is a perfect wheel to follow.
If there’s one thing I can appreciate in athletes, it’s the ability for people to execute when they say they’re going to do something. Chris Carraway is a cross racer with the ability to execute. He said his plan was to drill it from the gun, hope to last 20 minutes, and see what happens. That he did, and he obeyed the words of the fresh tattoos on his quads: “should stop, won’t stop.”
Before the third prime, I see Chris C. looking back over his right shoulder. He’s looking for me again. Then he sees me to his left, and shows a hint of a smile. “I have one match left, what do you want me to do?” I didn’t know what to say, but I wasn’t feeling so hot at the time having given some effort to the two previous primes. Chris was fearless and was navigating through the pack like frikken’ Magellan.
Carraway got me up the hill in front, and then I took Chris Abbey’s wheel and told him it was his turn. Oh boy, this junior can roll. He had some trouble in the hilly road race but not the crit. He dropped me off up front and drilled it. Then he nearly dropped me and everyone else.
I have the legs, I just don’t yet have those crazy fast technical suicidal hairpin pee-your-pants crit skills. My number one priority was to finish this darn thing, and I’m sorry I couldn’t finish what the guys started for me. It was killing me that I couldn’t get some bonus seconds since the guys were working so hard. In my mind, Drew clearly became the man to watch for the primes and sprints. He was flying up the hill every time.
With a few laps to go, Geoff and Dave K kept me where I needed to be and Bike Rack was following whatever crazy one of us was dishing out the pain in the front. With two laps to go, I came around D-Wis and told him that he could win the race. I was feeling confident to finish now, and our guys were rolling strong. They needed to go for it. On the last lap, there were a few Bike Rack guys leading the charge and Dave K, Drew, and Geoff are lined up with me on their wheel. I was probably 8th wheel going through the final hairpin turn.
No dice. The WWVC guy that killed the TT took himself out on the final turn, causing Dave to ride over him, Geoff to tumble into him, and Drew took circumnavigate him. I had to hit the breaks hard. The boys worked their nuts off and got screwed. I guess that’s bike racing. They awarded all of us the same time, but that was just dumb riding on WWVC’s part. I ended up finishing the crit upright, in a mediocre 11th place. Dave, Drew, and Geoff got the shaft.
Good Racin'
Because of the crash, the refs took advantage of the infamous “Levi Rule” so everyone was awarded the “same time” (aside from bonuses) on the crit. So even though the WWVC guy took himself out, he still won the overall race (we were just kinda bitter about that, can you tell?).
The results will show that Bike Rack dominated the weekend. In particular, Tim Brown had his boys working for him, and he took 2nd in the Road Race to his own teammate, then won all of the primes and the crit race himself. (The dude literally has 37 upgrade points from the last 3 weekends alone, Cat 3s watch out.)
The important caveat is that we raced excellently, gave them frikken’ hell, and made anyone who took the laurels earn them. The team finished with me 10th on GC, Eric Bruins in 14th, and Dave Kirkpatrick in 15th.
Overall, riding as the top GC guy on the squad, in my first “stage race,” was bittersweet. I wanted to do well in the road race and originally had no overall ambitions, but there’s no way I was gonna let up. The crit especially was just tough for me. But as a team, we were on par all weekend and I felt like a VIP with the NCVC secret service in the crit.
With some good friends constantly looking out for me it was a frikken’ honor to be a part of this squad. I’m sorry I couldn’t fill the void of a few seconds to land bigger prime bonuses, boys. But if our performance as a group was just a sign of things to come, these final few big MABRA races are going to be tons of fun.
I want to give special shout-outs to Geoff Rezvani, who’s moving soon and will be racing in Philly, and Chris Carraway, who’s leaving next week for a cross-country bike tour. You guys really killed it this weekend. Can’t wait to race with you guys again in the future.
Thanks for reading. See y'all at Reston.
Stage 1 – Smithsburg Road Race, 37 miles
After the neutral roll-out, the ref’s blew the whistle to start the race, and we actually slowed down. We took off a whopping 14 miles per hour. Our two crit racers, Chris and Geoff, took charge early on and took off with some Coppi guys. Mike, Chris A., and Eric flooded the front with a bunch of huge Coppi guys. (I think Coppi has a weight and height minimum this year.) The wind on the backside of the course was NUTS. A WWVC guy bridged up. Chris, Geoff, and the Coppi dudes didn’t last too much more than a lap. D-Wis then took off, again with the WWVC guy. Futile but fun.
On that first lap, Eric was in a small bunch of guys leading the pack into the false flats. None of them knew the course and the road guards didn’t either. Eric and some others took a detour straight, instead of taking the right turn. He’d jump back in though.
Throughout laps 2-3-4, only up the false flats and rollers were folks ever really picking up the pace. The wind was too strong on the flat section leading up to the feed zone, so we were riding at a snail’s pace. Everyone left the attrition to the hills. I tried a few digs into the headwinds with the stronger Bike Rack guys but we laughed at each other when we realized we were burning our own matches and gaining no ground hammering at about 18mph.
Jeff S. and I helped Geoff R. cover stuff up front, pushing the pace a lot too. There were some splits when some other teams helped on those rollers. The big guns were really drilling it at the front and stringing things out. Behind, Dave K dug deep to bridge some big gaps and stay with the lead group. Harry’s legs were giving him trouble, so he dropped from the race.
On the fifth lap, the group was down to probably 30 folks and shrinking. After dropping his chain, Drew started a grupetto with Nate and John trailing. Back in the autobus, they apparently discussed changing NCVC kits to camouflage so they could hide in the “pretty forest” next to the race course until we came by on the last lap..
It wasn’t as social up front. The fifth lap leading up to the main, steep hill was a painful pace. A few guys were hammering up front and Dave was behind me yelling to help them out. I did, until Dave K took over and showed me what he really meant. He nearly blew himself up but it thinned the field a ton more.
Lap six was one of the best one-man shows I’ve ever seen. Eric Bruins, a relatively new NCVC guy, is on loan from USC’s cycling team this summer. He was bitter about his first-lap detour, so he took to the front into the wind and set a steady and strong tempo for a while. Such a long while in fact, that Dave Kirkpatrick, for the sixth time in a row, was disappointed to know that the feed zone was closed. (Little did Dave know that “No Feed” sign was just signifying the end of the feed zone, and that the “Feed Zone” sign had just blown over.)
Nobody had the manliness or stupidity to overtake Eric until descending from the rollers. At that point, Dave, Jeff, and myself were well rested. Right before we left the loop, though, Dave’s legs locked up on the steep hill. About 15 guys were left in the mix now – 3 in NCVC kits. The leftover bunch was jockeying, so I followed Eric up the final hills with Jeff to my right. Cresting the 2nd to last hill, three Bike Rack guys took off. Eric had faded. Jeff and I got stuck in a bit of traffic. On the final downhill, I yelled to Jeff and he took off to bridge me up.
The race was about 40 feet ahead, so I sprinted like a freak up the hill, made up some ground, and caught one of the Bike Rack guys for fourth place with no time loss on the leaders. Jeff and Eric would finish a few seconds back, with Dave K at 50 seconds back. The rest of the main field was at 2:20 from the winner, Martin A. from the Bike Rack. His boy Tim Brown lead him out and took second. Coppi took third. (Fun fact: All of the top four finishers in this road race were in the winning breakaway last weekend at Murad, too.)
For dinner, the team crossed the hotel parking lot to Outback Steakhouse. A few notable moments there: Geoff Rezvani ordering some big chicken dish for dinner, with an additional Filet as a side dish. And then he called the waitress back for a salad, too. Two minutes later, we’re ordering some tasty beverages, and Dave K gets carded.
Stage 2 – Boonsboro Time Trial, 12 miles out-n-back
Personally, being 4th on GC going into the TT, I was in the mix of some big guns. I knew that two soon-to-be Cat 3s from Bike Rack were starting behind me, with Brownie chasing me. I’d never done a TT before, so I went into the race with a mindset of angry damage control. I had my road bike, regular wheels, clip-on bars I bought for $20, and a borrowed TT helmet. (Hey, you do what you can, right?)
There was a big headwind on the way back in, so my plan was to keep things comfortable and then comfortably painful. I had no delusions of grandeur, but stayed consistently strong, tucked and aero, and managed to finish with a kick up the final hill and a hint of wanting to die. I didn’t catch anyone, but nobody caught me. I’m content.
I ended up finishing 11th with a time of 29:13. Nate wasn’t too far behind me with 29:29 for 15th place. A TT hunk from WWVC totally obliterated folks, with a jock from ABRT close behind. GC was all theirs.
Stage 3 – Williamsport Downtown Criterium, 20 miles (28 laps)
The downtown crit had three 90-degree right-hand corners (one was a speedy downhill on a horrible road surface), then a narrow sweeping lefty, and a SHARP right-hand turn into an uphill finish. Conveniently enough, if you overcooked the fast downhill turn, you’d end up in a graveyard.
We found out the TT times and GC standings about 3 minutes before staging. After the TT, I was still the top NCVC guy in 11th overall (last man in the money) with Jeff Spaulding in 13th and Eric in 14th. I had 2 guys within 2 seconds of me. Priority number one was to protect the GC position. Secondly, try to set me up for a prime to get bonus time.
From the gun, Bike Rack and NCVC took to the front and hammered – particularly D-Wis. The guy was ballistic for the first third of the race and at every prime. The first five laps were insanely strung-out. It was ruthless, and unfortunately took its toll on Nate. A few laps later, Jeff Spaulding became a victim of Karma. After incessantly complaining about how dangerous this crit was going to be, his tire blew on the bumpy downhill and sent him skidding on his butt through the fast turn (lost some skin but he’s ok).
On nearly every lap, I had at least Geoff, Chris C. and D-Wis looking for me. I’d try to save energy in the sweet spot and then move up with a lap or two to go before the primes - it was relatively easy behind these guys on the uphill and top of the course.
They’d drill it and I’d be sitting pretty in the top 5, but through the final hairpin turn – on every lap – I’d just get slightly gapped. I was strong enough to close the gap but I burnt my sprint match too early for the primes. After the first and fastest prime, some gaps formed, so I worked with Martin (winner of the RR) for a bit to see if we could make some splits. It didn’t work, so I eased off. (Drew kept hammering.)
Here’s a testament to the team: the entire race, that’s the only time I was really in the wind. Other than that, I’d sit on guys wheels and catch my breath. Guys like Mike Ephsteyn might be pretty quiet, but he’s always in the sweet spot and is a perfect wheel to follow.
If there’s one thing I can appreciate in athletes, it’s the ability for people to execute when they say they’re going to do something. Chris Carraway is a cross racer with the ability to execute. He said his plan was to drill it from the gun, hope to last 20 minutes, and see what happens. That he did, and he obeyed the words of the fresh tattoos on his quads: “should stop, won’t stop.”
Before the third prime, I see Chris C. looking back over his right shoulder. He’s looking for me again. Then he sees me to his left, and shows a hint of a smile. “I have one match left, what do you want me to do?” I didn’t know what to say, but I wasn’t feeling so hot at the time having given some effort to the two previous primes. Chris was fearless and was navigating through the pack like frikken’ Magellan.
Carraway got me up the hill in front, and then I took Chris Abbey’s wheel and told him it was his turn. Oh boy, this junior can roll. He had some trouble in the hilly road race but not the crit. He dropped me off up front and drilled it. Then he nearly dropped me and everyone else.
I have the legs, I just don’t yet have those crazy fast technical suicidal hairpin pee-your-pants crit skills. My number one priority was to finish this darn thing, and I’m sorry I couldn’t finish what the guys started for me. It was killing me that I couldn’t get some bonus seconds since the guys were working so hard. In my mind, Drew clearly became the man to watch for the primes and sprints. He was flying up the hill every time.
With a few laps to go, Geoff and Dave K kept me where I needed to be and Bike Rack was following whatever crazy one of us was dishing out the pain in the front. With two laps to go, I came around D-Wis and told him that he could win the race. I was feeling confident to finish now, and our guys were rolling strong. They needed to go for it. On the last lap, there were a few Bike Rack guys leading the charge and Dave K, Drew, and Geoff are lined up with me on their wheel. I was probably 8th wheel going through the final hairpin turn.
No dice. The WWVC guy that killed the TT took himself out on the final turn, causing Dave to ride over him, Geoff to tumble into him, and Drew took circumnavigate him. I had to hit the breaks hard. The boys worked their nuts off and got screwed. I guess that’s bike racing. They awarded all of us the same time, but that was just dumb riding on WWVC’s part. I ended up finishing the crit upright, in a mediocre 11th place. Dave, Drew, and Geoff got the shaft.
Good Racin'
Because of the crash, the refs took advantage of the infamous “Levi Rule” so everyone was awarded the “same time” (aside from bonuses) on the crit. So even though the WWVC guy took himself out, he still won the overall race (we were just kinda bitter about that, can you tell?).
The results will show that Bike Rack dominated the weekend. In particular, Tim Brown had his boys working for him, and he took 2nd in the Road Race to his own teammate, then won all of the primes and the crit race himself. (The dude literally has 37 upgrade points from the last 3 weekends alone, Cat 3s watch out.)
The important caveat is that we raced excellently, gave them frikken’ hell, and made anyone who took the laurels earn them. The team finished with me 10th on GC, Eric Bruins in 14th, and Dave Kirkpatrick in 15th.
Overall, riding as the top GC guy on the squad, in my first “stage race,” was bittersweet. I wanted to do well in the road race and originally had no overall ambitions, but there’s no way I was gonna let up. The crit especially was just tough for me. But as a team, we were on par all weekend and I felt like a VIP with the NCVC secret service in the crit.
With some good friends constantly looking out for me it was a frikken’ honor to be a part of this squad. I’m sorry I couldn’t fill the void of a few seconds to land bigger prime bonuses, boys. But if our performance as a group was just a sign of things to come, these final few big MABRA races are going to be tons of fun.
I want to give special shout-outs to Geoff Rezvani, who’s moving soon and will be racing in Philly, and Chris Carraway, who’s leaving next week for a cross-country bike tour. You guys really killed it this weekend. Can’t wait to race with you guys again in the future.
Thanks for reading. See y'all at Reston.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Provocations.
It’s Friday, which means I’m anxiously awaiting the weekend to come. I’ve got the Tour of Washington County this weekend, so my mind is wandering. I’ve been reading blogs on Gamjams and one in particular caught my eye today.
Money n Stuff talks about “turning your pedals into anger.” He says that in one particular race, he discovered that a bit of anger gave him a whole new level of speed for the sprint.
So why does it work? Why does anger drive us to push the pedals that much harder? Is it really just half a drop of adrenaline that increases our performance? Or can amazing athleticism simply be compounded by emotion? I think so.
Refer to: 1995 Tour de France, Stage 15:
Also, refer to: 1995 Tour de France, Stage 18.
Is it really anger – or emotion – that pushes us, or a sort of desperation? You can win a few sprints, but surely, an entire cycling career can’t be fueled by anger.
In the book “Lance Armstrong’s War, Daniel Coyle writes about the development of European professionals. The makeup of many European professional cyclists is different from that of America. Cycling is like golf here – it’s mostly a middle- to upper-class hobby – and you have to have a good amount of cash just to get into the sport.
Like Americans often view college as a path to success, these European boys use their bicycle to leave the working-class life of their parents: Jacques Antequil was the son of a builder. Charly Gaul worked in a butcher shop before earning himself the nick-name of the Angel of the Mountains. Eddy Merckx was the son of a grocer. The less famous Federico Bahamontes was the son of a Cuban refugee in Spain that made money by breaking rocks.
It’s a matter of class and social standing. They find that their bicycle is their only vehicle to a better life. (And we wonder why they dope?) Coyle says it best:
Bike racing contains everything a boy could love: speed, danger, heroism, and, most of all, the promise of change... the hope lies in the idea that pouring all your energy into a bicycle can raise you up, make you different than you are. ~ Daniel Coyle
It’s not just that we hope a bicycle can change ourselves. Deep inside, we must have an instinct telling us that “pouring energy into a bicycle” can change the course of events - whether it be the order in which we cross a finish line or how we judge our success in life. This can’t be a façade, it must be hope and determination, layered with trained ability.
Anger, emotion, adrenaline – they will only turn it up to 11 if the dial goes that far.
I distinctly remember trying to enlist hope to win. As a coxswain in 1999, with a few hundred meters left in the state championship race, my crew was destined for a silver medal. We were 2 seats behind but the race course was ending. I was yelling to my crew whatever I could to fire them up. I was watching the other crew hold a steady lead.
In my mind, I remembered what a friend had joked to before the race: “Use the force,” he said.
It obviously didn’t work.
When I was a rower, it became evident that the sport wasn’t just a physical process for me. For a lot of guys, pulling a stick through water is a “shut-up-and-row” process. It’s not that simple here. Yanking that oar through the water was a release. Every stroke through the water had the tenacity of an aggressive mind. Every meter was an accomplishment. It wasn’t just about muscle; it never was. It was emotion, in particular, anger.
Looking back, I knew what I was mad about. It was the usual crap in adolescent life that I will never miss: homework assignments, overbearing parents, and teenage politics. Specifically, it was everything.
Even if I had to scapegoat someone in my life, I could truly find a tangible target. I could convert all of the angst in my mind into one stroke in the water because of someone or something. It was that simple. As much as I could, though, I left it on the water. Call it method acting, but it was such a strong presence in my personality that it worked. I was full of rage and the sport of rowing catered to that mindset.
Which brings me to something I haven’t done in a few weeks, the song of the blog:
I can see you're in pain,
and I know that there's something wrong.
I know that you've been angry,
I know that you've seen hate.
But you gotta dig deep to the heavens above,
And sit down learn to create.
You gotta lose all your anger, lose all your hate,
It ain't gonna work no more...
~ “Black Rock” by O.A.R.
Nowadays, I’ve gotten over that teen angst that made me a fast rower. For cycling, I need a provocation to get me fired up. It suits the change in sport, too. Rowing is about expelling every last ounce of energy on the race course; cycling is about conservation and sporadic bursts of energy.
In my belief, you can’t just be angry and you definitely can’t act angry. You have to get angry. You need a reason to be mad. Most of all, you have to know that you can channel those emotions through your abilities. And that’s what happened last night.
Here’s a story:
At Hains yesterday evening, I was pedaling along being social with some other older cyclist when a triathlete in aero-bars cuts right in front of us. Three stragglers desperately hanging on to her wheel nearly took out the wheel of my casual riding buddy, to my left. He slowed, and then they bumped me just about putting me into the curb.
I would have none of this inconsiderate nonsense.
You wanna play games? I can play games.
It happens. I get fired up and pumped. I wish I had that same chip on my shoulder in races – surely I’d be unstoppable among my peers if I had 10 seconds of fury before the finish line.
From behind the triathlete and her harem of Freds, I bolted for their sprint line about 300 meters up the road. I crossed the line and looked back at the freds with a grimace from hell. I took off my sunglasses so they could see my eyes, and shook my head at them.
If I didn’t make my point enough, I slowed down to talk to them. Now, I played it nice. I killed them with condescending kindness and politely told them not to cut off fellow cyclists. Just because you’re wheelsucking doesn’t mean you have to be a lemming and put another guy into the curb.
Two laps later, the Freds had the audacity to wheelsuck me. The whack-jobs don’t learn. It's like they were trying to pick a fight.
Are you f’ing kidding? You want to go again?
Now, this is when knowing your own fitness is essential. You can be as angry as you can possibly imagine, but you need to know youre ability. In my mind, I knew I wasn’t picking on someone my own size; I had every upper hand. These guys aren’t racers. I knew I could make them suffer.
I can’t be beat. I won’t be beat.
I knew these guys were brittle. I knew they would snap. This was like bending raw spaghetti. I wanted to see how far I could bend them until they shattered to pieces. I wanted them to suffer.
Patience now. Don’t let them know you’re toying with them.
I put a bit of pressure on them, riding quickly but nowhere near my top speed. Nowhere. I started in a lower cadence so I wouldn’t have to shift much. I just increased the pace each pedal by a fraction of force. I’d hear clicks behind me – they’re trying to find a comfortable gear. I’m spinning up now, putting more pressure on the pedals and slowly speeding up.
Tolerable. Comfortable.
It must not comfortable for the three guys dangling behind my wheel. I hear threads snapping.
I move my hands to the tops of the hoods and start scooting up on the saddle. I’m shorter than them as it is. I’m getting lower. I want to hang ‘em out to dry.
Keep it comfortable. Go. Comfortable.
Not comfortable for long. My legs are moving too fast.
I hear that someone’s still on my wheel and I need more speed. I let up some pressure for half a second to click it up a gear as silently as possible. It works – smooth shift without losing my leg speed. A few hundred yards later I do that again. I hear breathing, but nobody behind me is clicking gears. They’re near their limit now.
I start to spin my legs up faster. I wiggle my fingers – it reminds me to relax my torso. It’s all about the legs here. They legs feel solid and fast, comfortably burning and within my ability. I’ve got more. I’m on a mission.
No looking back now, the line’s in site. I don’t want to look back. Looking back is a sign of insecurity and weakness. Click. I shift another gear.
More speed. Legs. Move ‘em. You go.
The line’s too close. If anyone’s still on my wheel, they’re about to pounce for it. I hope they’re not there, I’m near my limit now. I give it more, but I stay in the saddle. I want this to look effortless. My arms are still on the hoods, elbows bent. My head is sagging down like a predator.
Kick it.
My bike is swaying slightly from all of the pressure of my legs driving the pedals down so fast. It’s beautifully rhythmic.
The line goes under my wheels.
I can look back now. They snapped, earlier than I thought. And to think I basically gave them the perfect lead-out. No surges whatsoever.
Ungrateful bastards.
I’m in my little ring now. One of the victims rides up to me. Smiling, he calls me an animal. Then says good night. I return the gesture, and head home.
I think I made my point.
Thanks for reading. I’ve got my first stage race this weekend, which will surely knock this chip off my shoulder. I’m pumped.
See y’all at the Tour of Washington County.
Money n Stuff talks about “turning your pedals into anger.” He says that in one particular race, he discovered that a bit of anger gave him a whole new level of speed for the sprint.
So why does it work? Why does anger drive us to push the pedals that much harder? Is it really just half a drop of adrenaline that increases our performance? Or can amazing athleticism simply be compounded by emotion? I think so.
Refer to: 1995 Tour de France, Stage 15:
Also, refer to: 1995 Tour de France, Stage 18.
Is it really anger – or emotion – that pushes us, or a sort of desperation? You can win a few sprints, but surely, an entire cycling career can’t be fueled by anger.
In the book “Lance Armstrong’s War, Daniel Coyle writes about the development of European professionals. The makeup of many European professional cyclists is different from that of America. Cycling is like golf here – it’s mostly a middle- to upper-class hobby – and you have to have a good amount of cash just to get into the sport.
Like Americans often view college as a path to success, these European boys use their bicycle to leave the working-class life of their parents: Jacques Antequil was the son of a builder. Charly Gaul worked in a butcher shop before earning himself the nick-name of the Angel of the Mountains. Eddy Merckx was the son of a grocer. The less famous Federico Bahamontes was the son of a Cuban refugee in Spain that made money by breaking rocks.
It’s a matter of class and social standing. They find that their bicycle is their only vehicle to a better life. (And we wonder why they dope?) Coyle says it best:
Bike racing contains everything a boy could love: speed, danger, heroism, and, most of all, the promise of change... the hope lies in the idea that pouring all your energy into a bicycle can raise you up, make you different than you are. ~ Daniel Coyle
It’s not just that we hope a bicycle can change ourselves. Deep inside, we must have an instinct telling us that “pouring energy into a bicycle” can change the course of events - whether it be the order in which we cross a finish line or how we judge our success in life. This can’t be a façade, it must be hope and determination, layered with trained ability.
Anger, emotion, adrenaline – they will only turn it up to 11 if the dial goes that far.
I distinctly remember trying to enlist hope to win. As a coxswain in 1999, with a few hundred meters left in the state championship race, my crew was destined for a silver medal. We were 2 seats behind but the race course was ending. I was yelling to my crew whatever I could to fire them up. I was watching the other crew hold a steady lead.
In my mind, I remembered what a friend had joked to before the race: “Use the force,” he said.
It obviously didn’t work.
When I was a rower, it became evident that the sport wasn’t just a physical process for me. For a lot of guys, pulling a stick through water is a “shut-up-and-row” process. It’s not that simple here. Yanking that oar through the water was a release. Every stroke through the water had the tenacity of an aggressive mind. Every meter was an accomplishment. It wasn’t just about muscle; it never was. It was emotion, in particular, anger.
Looking back, I knew what I was mad about. It was the usual crap in adolescent life that I will never miss: homework assignments, overbearing parents, and teenage politics. Specifically, it was everything.
Even if I had to scapegoat someone in my life, I could truly find a tangible target. I could convert all of the angst in my mind into one stroke in the water because of someone or something. It was that simple. As much as I could, though, I left it on the water. Call it method acting, but it was such a strong presence in my personality that it worked. I was full of rage and the sport of rowing catered to that mindset.
Which brings me to something I haven’t done in a few weeks, the song of the blog:
I can see you're in pain,
and I know that there's something wrong.
I know that you've been angry,
I know that you've seen hate.
But you gotta dig deep to the heavens above,
And sit down learn to create.
You gotta lose all your anger, lose all your hate,
It ain't gonna work no more...
~ “Black Rock” by O.A.R.
Nowadays, I’ve gotten over that teen angst that made me a fast rower. For cycling, I need a provocation to get me fired up. It suits the change in sport, too. Rowing is about expelling every last ounce of energy on the race course; cycling is about conservation and sporadic bursts of energy.
In my belief, you can’t just be angry and you definitely can’t act angry. You have to get angry. You need a reason to be mad. Most of all, you have to know that you can channel those emotions through your abilities. And that’s what happened last night.
Here’s a story:
At Hains yesterday evening, I was pedaling along being social with some other older cyclist when a triathlete in aero-bars cuts right in front of us. Three stragglers desperately hanging on to her wheel nearly took out the wheel of my casual riding buddy, to my left. He slowed, and then they bumped me just about putting me into the curb.
I would have none of this inconsiderate nonsense.
You wanna play games? I can play games.
It happens. I get fired up and pumped. I wish I had that same chip on my shoulder in races – surely I’d be unstoppable among my peers if I had 10 seconds of fury before the finish line.
From behind the triathlete and her harem of Freds, I bolted for their sprint line about 300 meters up the road. I crossed the line and looked back at the freds with a grimace from hell. I took off my sunglasses so they could see my eyes, and shook my head at them.
If I didn’t make my point enough, I slowed down to talk to them. Now, I played it nice. I killed them with condescending kindness and politely told them not to cut off fellow cyclists. Just because you’re wheelsucking doesn’t mean you have to be a lemming and put another guy into the curb.
Two laps later, the Freds had the audacity to wheelsuck me. The whack-jobs don’t learn. It's like they were trying to pick a fight.
Are you f’ing kidding? You want to go again?
Now, this is when knowing your own fitness is essential. You can be as angry as you can possibly imagine, but you need to know youre ability. In my mind, I knew I wasn’t picking on someone my own size; I had every upper hand. These guys aren’t racers. I knew I could make them suffer.
I can’t be beat. I won’t be beat.
I knew these guys were brittle. I knew they would snap. This was like bending raw spaghetti. I wanted to see how far I could bend them until they shattered to pieces. I wanted them to suffer.
Patience now. Don’t let them know you’re toying with them.
I put a bit of pressure on them, riding quickly but nowhere near my top speed. Nowhere. I started in a lower cadence so I wouldn’t have to shift much. I just increased the pace each pedal by a fraction of force. I’d hear clicks behind me – they’re trying to find a comfortable gear. I’m spinning up now, putting more pressure on the pedals and slowly speeding up.
Tolerable. Comfortable.
It must not comfortable for the three guys dangling behind my wheel. I hear threads snapping.
I move my hands to the tops of the hoods and start scooting up on the saddle. I’m shorter than them as it is. I’m getting lower. I want to hang ‘em out to dry.
Keep it comfortable. Go. Comfortable.
Not comfortable for long. My legs are moving too fast.
I hear that someone’s still on my wheel and I need more speed. I let up some pressure for half a second to click it up a gear as silently as possible. It works – smooth shift without losing my leg speed. A few hundred yards later I do that again. I hear breathing, but nobody behind me is clicking gears. They’re near their limit now.
I start to spin my legs up faster. I wiggle my fingers – it reminds me to relax my torso. It’s all about the legs here. They legs feel solid and fast, comfortably burning and within my ability. I’ve got more. I’m on a mission.
No looking back now, the line’s in site. I don’t want to look back. Looking back is a sign of insecurity and weakness. Click. I shift another gear.
More speed. Legs. Move ‘em. You go.
The line’s too close. If anyone’s still on my wheel, they’re about to pounce for it. I hope they’re not there, I’m near my limit now. I give it more, but I stay in the saddle. I want this to look effortless. My arms are still on the hoods, elbows bent. My head is sagging down like a predator.
Kick it.
My bike is swaying slightly from all of the pressure of my legs driving the pedals down so fast. It’s beautifully rhythmic.
The line goes under my wheels.
I can look back now. They snapped, earlier than I thought. And to think I basically gave them the perfect lead-out. No surges whatsoever.
Ungrateful bastards.
I’m in my little ring now. One of the victims rides up to me. Smiling, he calls me an animal. Then says good night. I return the gesture, and head home.
I think I made my point.
Thanks for reading. I’ve got my first stage race this weekend, which will surely knock this chip off my shoulder. I’m pumped.
See y’all at the Tour of Washington County.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Race Report: Murad Road Race, Cat 4
Short story - an eight-man breakaway took off on the second of six 8-mile laps. It stuck the entire race, somehow. I made it into the break and took third in the anti-sprint. Won $50 and some Tifosi sunglasses. Not bad!
The long version goes something like this:
A good crew of us NCVC Cat 4s were lined up for this 48-mile road race on rolling hills. Our roster included Eric Bruins, Geoff Rezvani, Nate Hakken, Jeff Spaulding, Chris Abbey, Harry Goldman, the Brookes brothers, and some other faces too. We'd planned out to do our best taking turns covering breaks, and did darn well especially with Chris Abbey and his always stellar positioning.
Murad is a horribly hard race to position yourself in. I found the premium line to be on the right side, so I didn't have to deal with the guys bordering on the center-line rule (Kelly and Potomac Velo were constantly pushing the limits here). The first two laps were uneventful for the most part, although a few R1V guys tried to break on River road. Even with 4 of their teammates blocking the field, they made zero distance. Chris Abbey pulled the coolest stunt, somehow sneaking through the blocking R1V riders and catching up to that break. Ballsy move, but it didn't last long.
I was sitting in the "sweet spot" and on the right side of the road, essentially blocking others from being able to move up on that side around me. Near the end of the second lap on Hughes Road, we're speeding up, and the front 1/3 is strung out. Chris Abbey finds himself in a breakaway. Jeff Spaulding is caught in no-man's land 50 meters between each group. Major gaps everywhere near the front.
I recognized a few familiar faces from the guys in what would become the breakaway - Martin A. and Tim Brown from Bike Rack, Brian Cheung (my fellow GW cycling alum) from Evolution with another teammate, and Dan Drumwright from R1V. Also represented were Coppi, AABC, and C3-Sollay with one guy each. There was also an unattached dude in a V-neck t-shirt wheelsucking. (Apparently he had only brought a sleeveless jersey so he put that on instead.)
I know many of these riders and I know that most of them are strong Cat 4s, or at least they'd work together with other famliar faces. I wanted to be in that break.
I wheelsurfed a few stragglers from the strung-out guys up front. Of the break, I first caught up to Jeff in no-man's land, caught my breath, then bolted up to the tail end of the group. Jeff couldn't hold my wheel, though. But I was in the break with Chris. Perfect - two guys there. I caught my breath at the back for a few to look back and nobody else was coming along. We were really drilling the pace on Sugarland and it was working.
After a lap, we really got organized, nearly everyone rotating fairly well. The pace was taking its toll on a few guys - Brian from Evo and our own Chris A. They both dropped off after a lap. The guy in the V-neck started wheelsucking. This would become a trend.
A lap later, the other Evo guy took himself out before the turn off of Hughes. He rubbed my rear wheel and then fishtailed, missing the turn (I talked to him and he was okay, jumped in the pack) and sliding out. Someone yelled to keep going, and of course we did.
Hopefully others can chime in to what was going on in the field. I have no clue about that, all I know is that I felt much safer in the breakaway, although it was pretty painful pushing the pace, which I did a lot of. I wanted this to work.
Throughout the race the moto was giving us time splits. When we got to 1-minute after less than 2 laps off the front, I really knew this was a good effort. Each lap after that we basically gained at least thirty more seconds.
During the fifth lap, a few guys started slacking off - folks in the break were getting tired. The guys doing the brunt of the work were myself, both Bike Rack guys, C3, and Coppi. Dan from R1V was trying to contribute but hurting. He's my pal so I was encouraging him. AABC was in the mix a bit too, but not much. Dude in the V-neck was doing more of nothing. Absolutely nothing. A few of us gave him a bit of a talking to, so he'd take one pull, then sit on the back some more. Pretty annoying.
On the last lap, the real laziness kicked in. Everyone wanted to do lots of nothing, so Tim Brown from Bike Rack was doing a good amount of work with me. C3 contributed a lot too. On a few of the uphills I pushed the pace a good bit just to see how guys looked. R1V, AABC, and Coppi were looking pretty beat. Both Bike Rack guys and C3 had some kick left. I felt pretty confident I could place well in this little group. On an uphill on River Road, I gave it a decent dig but everyone seemed to jump right on, so I let off the gas. This was going to be a sprint.
Dan (R1V) told me to get on his wheel and rest up since he knew he didn't have much of a kick left. He's already waiting on his Cat 3 upgrade with 27 points, so he was being a good sport and helping me try to dislodge the advantage Bike Rack had with two guys. C3 worked with us.
Through the final turn, Coppi created a bit of a gap, just by chance, though. Dan sagged back as a few of us caught up. Then Martin from Bike Rack said "enough of this cat-n-mouse" and picked up the pace a bit (but we were probably only zipping around 22 mph). I was second wheel with 500 to go, well-hidden from the headwind, ready to prounce.
The sprint was like a really bad bar fight. None of us had much of a kick left but we all threw down. The Coppi dude kicked early on the right, so I jumped on his wheel as guys moved up on the left. He nearly put himself in the right gutter when he got a memo from his cramped legs that he'd no longer be participating in the sprint. On my left, Tim Brown (Bike Rack) bolted ahead at the perfect time with the V-neck dude (that wheelsucker!), riding his draft. I was out of the saddle with my legs cramping and couldn't quite match the two of them but made up some space on the rest.
Third place out of a breakaway in a Cat 4 event like Murad? I'm content. (A few of us gave a few pointers to that wheelsucker, though...)
I'm pooped now. It was an early morning, I've got little food in me, and I really drilled it out there. Now I'm starving and just beat. It feels like I worked hard. It feels great.
Thanks for reading.
The long version goes something like this:
A good crew of us NCVC Cat 4s were lined up for this 48-mile road race on rolling hills. Our roster included Eric Bruins, Geoff Rezvani, Nate Hakken, Jeff Spaulding, Chris Abbey, Harry Goldman, the Brookes brothers, and some other faces too. We'd planned out to do our best taking turns covering breaks, and did darn well especially with Chris Abbey and his always stellar positioning.
Murad is a horribly hard race to position yourself in. I found the premium line to be on the right side, so I didn't have to deal with the guys bordering on the center-line rule (Kelly and Potomac Velo were constantly pushing the limits here). The first two laps were uneventful for the most part, although a few R1V guys tried to break on River road. Even with 4 of their teammates blocking the field, they made zero distance. Chris Abbey pulled the coolest stunt, somehow sneaking through the blocking R1V riders and catching up to that break. Ballsy move, but it didn't last long.
I was sitting in the "sweet spot" and on the right side of the road, essentially blocking others from being able to move up on that side around me. Near the end of the second lap on Hughes Road, we're speeding up, and the front 1/3 is strung out. Chris Abbey finds himself in a breakaway. Jeff Spaulding is caught in no-man's land 50 meters between each group. Major gaps everywhere near the front.
I recognized a few familiar faces from the guys in what would become the breakaway - Martin A. and Tim Brown from Bike Rack, Brian Cheung (my fellow GW cycling alum) from Evolution with another teammate, and Dan Drumwright from R1V. Also represented were Coppi, AABC, and C3-Sollay with one guy each. There was also an unattached dude in a V-neck t-shirt wheelsucking. (Apparently he had only brought a sleeveless jersey so he put that on instead.)
I know many of these riders and I know that most of them are strong Cat 4s, or at least they'd work together with other famliar faces. I wanted to be in that break.
I wheelsurfed a few stragglers from the strung-out guys up front. Of the break, I first caught up to Jeff in no-man's land, caught my breath, then bolted up to the tail end of the group. Jeff couldn't hold my wheel, though. But I was in the break with Chris. Perfect - two guys there. I caught my breath at the back for a few to look back and nobody else was coming along. We were really drilling the pace on Sugarland and it was working.
After a lap, we really got organized, nearly everyone rotating fairly well. The pace was taking its toll on a few guys - Brian from Evo and our own Chris A. They both dropped off after a lap. The guy in the V-neck started wheelsucking. This would become a trend.
A lap later, the other Evo guy took himself out before the turn off of Hughes. He rubbed my rear wheel and then fishtailed, missing the turn (I talked to him and he was okay, jumped in the pack) and sliding out. Someone yelled to keep going, and of course we did.
Hopefully others can chime in to what was going on in the field. I have no clue about that, all I know is that I felt much safer in the breakaway, although it was pretty painful pushing the pace, which I did a lot of. I wanted this to work.
Throughout the race the moto was giving us time splits. When we got to 1-minute after less than 2 laps off the front, I really knew this was a good effort. Each lap after that we basically gained at least thirty more seconds.
During the fifth lap, a few guys started slacking off - folks in the break were getting tired. The guys doing the brunt of the work were myself, both Bike Rack guys, C3, and Coppi. Dan from R1V was trying to contribute but hurting. He's my pal so I was encouraging him. AABC was in the mix a bit too, but not much. Dude in the V-neck was doing more of nothing. Absolutely nothing. A few of us gave him a bit of a talking to, so he'd take one pull, then sit on the back some more. Pretty annoying.
On the last lap, the real laziness kicked in. Everyone wanted to do lots of nothing, so Tim Brown from Bike Rack was doing a good amount of work with me. C3 contributed a lot too. On a few of the uphills I pushed the pace a good bit just to see how guys looked. R1V, AABC, and Coppi were looking pretty beat. Both Bike Rack guys and C3 had some kick left. I felt pretty confident I could place well in this little group. On an uphill on River Road, I gave it a decent dig but everyone seemed to jump right on, so I let off the gas. This was going to be a sprint.
Dan (R1V) told me to get on his wheel and rest up since he knew he didn't have much of a kick left. He's already waiting on his Cat 3 upgrade with 27 points, so he was being a good sport and helping me try to dislodge the advantage Bike Rack had with two guys. C3 worked with us.
Through the final turn, Coppi created a bit of a gap, just by chance, though. Dan sagged back as a few of us caught up. Then Martin from Bike Rack said "enough of this cat-n-mouse" and picked up the pace a bit (but we were probably only zipping around 22 mph). I was second wheel with 500 to go, well-hidden from the headwind, ready to prounce.
The sprint was like a really bad bar fight. None of us had much of a kick left but we all threw down. The Coppi dude kicked early on the right, so I jumped on his wheel as guys moved up on the left. He nearly put himself in the right gutter when he got a memo from his cramped legs that he'd no longer be participating in the sprint. On my left, Tim Brown (Bike Rack) bolted ahead at the perfect time with the V-neck dude (that wheelsucker!), riding his draft. I was out of the saddle with my legs cramping and couldn't quite match the two of them but made up some space on the rest.
Third place out of a breakaway in a Cat 4 event like Murad? I'm content. (A few of us gave a few pointers to that wheelsucker, though...)
I'm pooped now. It was an early morning, I've got little food in me, and I really drilled it out there. Now I'm starving and just beat. It feels like I worked hard. It feels great.
Thanks for reading.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Gamjams Reviews: Miracle Road-Rash Cures - Betadine & Tegaderm
Note: If you're reading this on my Facebook notes, it's a feed from my blog at http://sigberto.blogspot.com. I'm part of a network of Mid-Atlantic cyclists, called Gamjams, that reviews products and talks about our obsession with bike racing. It just so happened that this week's review was ickier than usual. I'm sure we'll get back to the race reports soon.
Just over a year ago I lost a lot of skin to a nasty skidding accident. My chain jumped into my wheel during a sprint and sent sliding on the road at hains point. Within seconds, I no longer had skin on my entire left butt cheek, most of my bicep, elbow, a patch on my forearm, and knuckles. I had even smaller scrapes by my ribs and on the side of my thigh and calf.
Needless to say, it was one of the most painful few days of my life. The only thing that felt good with road rash all over my left side was not feeling a thing at all, which meant I had to lie down on my right side and not move.
Spending $200 on first-aid products at the pharmacy in two days was salt in the wound. The "oh sh*t" handle in the car became my best friend. Any time we'd take a right turn, my butt cheek would burn.
There's not much you can do to make road rash less painful. All you can do is heal yourself up with time, a lot of patience, and some grinding of your teeth. Like Time Trials, I think some people are just made out for the suffering more than others. I had a pretty bad batch of road rash, and I've seen people with lesser injuries suffer more because it's that painful. Road rash is like getting the slowest lashing ever; you really have to bite down on a wooden dowel for a few days. And then it ends.
Most folks will probably recommend the same thing, but I think that for basic road rash, 3M/Nexcare's Tegaderm (and similar products) are the best. I don't know the generic name for Tegaderm type of products, so I'll use that term generically. They're breathable, stretchy bandages that cover the entire wound directly against the skin.
Nexcare knows that us cyclists love this stuff so much, they even put a cyclist's leg on the cover of the box:
For deeper cuts and scrapes, you'll need some serious first aid, gauze, antibiotic creams, and non-stick pads. For road rash that just scrapes off the top layer of your skin, Tegaderm sort of bandages and antiseptics should do.
The first step to cleaning out your road rash is to disinfect the wound. Road rash can be a friction burn as well as a scrape, so it's tender, but you need to make sure all of the debris from the road is cleaned out of the wound. If you have a loved one with a strong stomach, this might be the perfect time to enlist their nursing services. It's pretty hard to pick sand out of your own butt cheek.
The sharpest pain won't be cleaning the wound. The inevitable sting from hell is from that first moment that you run water through your uncovered flesh. You are forewarned. Showering with road-rash wounds sucks. This is why Tegaderm helps.
Disinfecting the wound is basic. At first, Catherine had me use Betadine because it didn't sting as much. The stuff works, but it's brown and can stain everything including the bathtub and sink. After a while I started liking other types of spray-on alcohol-based disinfectants. A few days after the initial wound was branded onto my body, the relatively brief sting was refreshing.
You don't want to leave your open wounds exposed for too long but I usually let them air-dry for a bit. Covering up the wounds protects them from bacteria, preventing infection, but also promotes skin growth. This is where the bandages come into play.
As I said before, the most painful part of road rash is showering or running water through your wounds. The biggest advantage of tegaderm is that you can shower with the stuff on and they stay put. I would generally leave them on for up to two days (or as long as they looked clean and didn't smell), then shower, and put fresh bandages on after I dried up.
My personal favorite bandages became the large tegaderm bandages that also had gauze on the inside. The first few days of healing up your road rash, the wound is going to have all sorts of blood, gu, and puss coming out of it. It's gross. Normal tegaderm is just an adhesive, so the puss will puddle into the bandage. If the seal of the bandage has a breach of any kind, your clothes are ruined. The tegaderm bandages with gauze soak up the puss well.
Tegaderm supposedly can stay on for a week. If you can pull that off, you have no sense of smell. Your wounds will get a serious case of the funk after two days. That's gross. Change them up.
It's quite likely that your wounds will be pussing so much that normal tegaderm (without gauze) won't work well the first few days. If this happens, go to the pharmacy and get their cheap, huge, house-brand bandages with tons of absorbent material. Use those for the first few days but make sure to use an antiseptic like Neosporin so the gauze doesn't stick to your wound or you'll have to painfully rip it off. After a few days the wound will be less messy and you can move to something more versatile like tegaderm.
The biggest downside to tegaderm-type of products is their price. The bandages are a few bucks each, so you're going to be out some cash. The small and medium sized bandages come in boxes, but the bigger bandages are sold individually and can really hit your wallet hard. I'd hope, like me, though, you'd go to farther lengths to heal up your wounds than you would to repatch a tire.
Of all the blogs I've written, I hope that nobody reading this has to use any of this advice.
Just over a year ago I lost a lot of skin to a nasty skidding accident. My chain jumped into my wheel during a sprint and sent sliding on the road at hains point. Within seconds, I no longer had skin on my entire left butt cheek, most of my bicep, elbow, a patch on my forearm, and knuckles. I had even smaller scrapes by my ribs and on the side of my thigh and calf.
Needless to say, it was one of the most painful few days of my life. The only thing that felt good with road rash all over my left side was not feeling a thing at all, which meant I had to lie down on my right side and not move.
Spending $200 on first-aid products at the pharmacy in two days was salt in the wound. The "oh sh*t" handle in the car became my best friend. Any time we'd take a right turn, my butt cheek would burn.
There's not much you can do to make road rash less painful. All you can do is heal yourself up with time, a lot of patience, and some grinding of your teeth. Like Time Trials, I think some people are just made out for the suffering more than others. I had a pretty bad batch of road rash, and I've seen people with lesser injuries suffer more because it's that painful. Road rash is like getting the slowest lashing ever; you really have to bite down on a wooden dowel for a few days. And then it ends.
Most folks will probably recommend the same thing, but I think that for basic road rash, 3M/Nexcare's Tegaderm (and similar products) are the best. I don't know the generic name for Tegaderm type of products, so I'll use that term generically. They're breathable, stretchy bandages that cover the entire wound directly against the skin.
Nexcare knows that us cyclists love this stuff so much, they even put a cyclist's leg on the cover of the box:
For deeper cuts and scrapes, you'll need some serious first aid, gauze, antibiotic creams, and non-stick pads. For road rash that just scrapes off the top layer of your skin, Tegaderm sort of bandages and antiseptics should do.
The first step to cleaning out your road rash is to disinfect the wound. Road rash can be a friction burn as well as a scrape, so it's tender, but you need to make sure all of the debris from the road is cleaned out of the wound. If you have a loved one with a strong stomach, this might be the perfect time to enlist their nursing services. It's pretty hard to pick sand out of your own butt cheek.
The sharpest pain won't be cleaning the wound. The inevitable sting from hell is from that first moment that you run water through your uncovered flesh. You are forewarned. Showering with road-rash wounds sucks. This is why Tegaderm helps.
Disinfecting the wound is basic. At first, Catherine had me use Betadine because it didn't sting as much. The stuff works, but it's brown and can stain everything including the bathtub and sink. After a while I started liking other types of spray-on alcohol-based disinfectants. A few days after the initial wound was branded onto my body, the relatively brief sting was refreshing.
You don't want to leave your open wounds exposed for too long but I usually let them air-dry for a bit. Covering up the wounds protects them from bacteria, preventing infection, but also promotes skin growth. This is where the bandages come into play.
As I said before, the most painful part of road rash is showering or running water through your wounds. The biggest advantage of tegaderm is that you can shower with the stuff on and they stay put. I would generally leave them on for up to two days (or as long as they looked clean and didn't smell), then shower, and put fresh bandages on after I dried up.
My personal favorite bandages became the large tegaderm bandages that also had gauze on the inside. The first few days of healing up your road rash, the wound is going to have all sorts of blood, gu, and puss coming out of it. It's gross. Normal tegaderm is just an adhesive, so the puss will puddle into the bandage. If the seal of the bandage has a breach of any kind, your clothes are ruined. The tegaderm bandages with gauze soak up the puss well.
Tegaderm supposedly can stay on for a week. If you can pull that off, you have no sense of smell. Your wounds will get a serious case of the funk after two days. That's gross. Change them up.
It's quite likely that your wounds will be pussing so much that normal tegaderm (without gauze) won't work well the first few days. If this happens, go to the pharmacy and get their cheap, huge, house-brand bandages with tons of absorbent material. Use those for the first few days but make sure to use an antiseptic like Neosporin so the gauze doesn't stick to your wound or you'll have to painfully rip it off. After a few days the wound will be less messy and you can move to something more versatile like tegaderm.
The biggest downside to tegaderm-type of products is their price. The bandages are a few bucks each, so you're going to be out some cash. The small and medium sized bandages come in boxes, but the bigger bandages are sold individually and can really hit your wallet hard. I'd hope, like me, though, you'd go to farther lengths to heal up your wounds than you would to repatch a tire.
Of all the blogs I've written, I hope that nobody reading this has to use any of this advice.
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