Race Report: Fort Ritchie Criterium, Cat 3

The temperature was nice, but it sure was gusty for this 2010 edition of the half-technical, half speedy Fort Ritchie Criterium.

While discussing whether we should use carbon wheels or not, Catherine discovered her rear Carbone was flat. That settled that issue for her. After my warmup on the trainer (works better for me), I was switching my rear wheel. Pumping up my own Carbone, the valve pin popped off with a loud hiss of air. Well, two for two. I guess we're rolling with the low-profile aluminum rims today. The deities of bike races had spoken.

The Cat 3 race had a relatively small field of 44 (or at least that's what the results sheet said). NCVC had three guys: Drew A., Schlomo (Dan S.), and myself. We knew the strong winds could make this race interesting, and that the field drops most of the competitors. Our plan was to share the efforts to cover the front, and try to make something happen after the initial non-sense.

On the first lap, Drew got to the front immediately. I watched him push the pace with a couple of gents from the back, because of a horrible clip-in. I've just sucked at clipping in this year.

The pace was not unbearable, though, so I was able to move up easily during the next two or three laps after the start/finish and the slight uphill. Drew's little move with a few guys was caught quickly, but with little delay a group of five split away from the pack. Schlomo covered that move.


Though promising in strength and team representation, that group never got more than a corner ahead of the field.


As a few guys chased to bring back Schlomo's break back, I weaseled my way up to the front of the pack. I found myself among a few aggressive racers - Michael Flanagan (Harley), Dan Drumwright (Conte's), and a slew of Bike Doctor guys. The BD guys have a big Cat 3 squad and have been aggressive all season, which makes racing super fun.


Between Drumwright's incessant attacks, Michael pulled the field around for almost an entire lap - if not more. His tempo was strong and kept Drumwright and the field quiet, but when he pulled off, there was a certain antsy feeling among all of the riders.

That's when I followed Drew's previous advice for us to try to make something happen after the initial craziness in the race. I simply put my head down and continued the hard effort that Michael had started, and eventually created a gap ahead of the peloton.


After a few seconds solo, I looked back to see Michael bridging up with one Bike Doctor racer. I simply thought, "Perfect!" then took a sip of water and jumped in behind both of them. Eventually, a second Bike Doctor rider joined our breakaway, but it turns out he was off-the-back. Both Bike Doctor racers did not hit the wind very much. The tempo took its toll on them quickly.

Michael and I rotated through the first prime to keep the tempo high and consistent. I was behind him for the line reconsidering our agreement, but figured there would be a second prime I could take. (Unfortunately the refs made it a field prime, darnit!) Good reminder: No gifts! Michael won a case of beer for that effort and there was no second chance for a consolation prize.

Bike Doctor's presence in that breakaway was very necessary. Those first few laps, a Bike Doctor racer off the front prevented one of the biggest and strongest teams from chasing. Michael was the only Cat 3 on Harley this year, and during those first few laps of the breakaway, I saw that Schlomo crashed out of the race on the left turn and Drew was now on the sideline, too. He'd been caught behind the accident and could not catch back on. Only Bike Doctor would have had guys blocking, or at least ready to counter the move.


Flanagan is a true time trial artist, and I am quite the opposite - a flyer of sorts. Most of my "training" (if you call it that) consists of lots of tempo with many 2-6 minute surges. Michael loves those 20-40 minute TT efforts. After the Bike Doctor riders sagged back, we continued to work really well together (even as a Carytown racer caught onto our train). On the backstretch, though, we had an interesting audience: Chuck Hutch. Every time we would pass, he'd simply yell "Drop him!" to Michael. (Start foreshadowing.)

Our gap grew big enough that we could see a comfortable gap to the field as we took the only left-hand turn on the course. That was an encouraging contrast to Chuck's Jedi mind tricks. The gap grew bigger and bigger for about 10 laps, and we could see the field rolling through the start/finish. It was a huge motivator.

Knowing that we'd started the effort with over 18 laps left to race was a tough sell to my legs, though. I figured if I could not-so-simply hang on to Michael's tempo, I could outsprint him. I am pretty sure he knew what I was thinking and could notice any of my hesitations and growing weakness (shorter pulls, more drinking water, etc.).

Under a bit of stress with about 10 laps to go, I clipped a pedal on the turn before the start/finish line (but held the bike upright). I made the common noobie mistake of pedaling before the bike was upright. That killed my momentum, and Michael looked back to see that I was gapped.

He upped his tempo a bit; it was a super smart move on his part - the pedal clip was just a stimulus. Our cooperation had been heavily turning into Siggy-sucks-wheel anyway. I was having trouble holding his hard tempo and had unintentionally been taking shorter pulls. A smart move on his part was to just kept rolling on with out me.

I tried to surge immediately to minimize the gap but could not catch him. Solo TT mode it was, and a lesson learned: don't start a fight you can't win!

With 10 laps to go, I knew I had a substantial gap on the field, but had no clue if I could hold them off. I have seen a dozen of small-group breakaways where only the lead rider survives the chase, and did not want the same fate. I had already become victim to Michael's tempo, but I did not want to get caught - or worse - passed and dropped.

A lapped Carytown rider was still sucking my wheel (as he did for the next three laps). At some point, he actually asked me, "Are you off the front or back?"

Uhh, WHAT?!?! You didn't realize you were hanging on to the lead breakaway?!?! Oh well, at least he didn't get in the way. I was humorous but I was in no mood to laugh. I simply yelled "FRONT!" and kept pushing with my head down. He was not bothering me. If anything, it was nice not to be entirely alone.


With about 5 laps to go, two strong riders I recognized had made a clean bridge up: Mike Fawell (HPC, 2009 winner of Jeff Cup and Wolfpack as a Cat 4) and Alex Weiler (Bike Doctor, won Murad Cat 3 last week).


I managed to work with them for a lap before Alex asked me the important question, "How many guys are up the road?" I could not believe what I was hearing. How could he not know? Then again, I had a very different perspective on the race thus far and we were lapping straggling riders every minute. I simply said, "one" and then I could not believe what I was seeing: he simply took off.

There was no holding his wheel - at least not for my tired legs and dried-out lungs. From what I hear he was that decisive bridging up to me, too. Strong riding, Alex. Chapeau.

The accelerations trying unsuccessfully to keep up with Alex dropped the Carytown guy (or maybe he finally got pulled), so Fawell and I traded pulls for a pair of laps. Watching another step on the podium pedal away from me was salt in the wound that was my entire body. I am sure Mike was thinking about the podium as much as I was, so we were trading pulls erratically, though working together relatively well.


Alex and Mike bridging up to me probably saved my race from being a total fluke and failure. I had initiated the breakaway WAY too early for my fitness. Having a wheel to hold occasionally provided necessary respite.


The peloton was gaining and I could not stop thinking, "Do NOT screw this up, do NOT get caught now." I wanted to hold on to something, if not just to prove to myself that I could beat the field. I wanted to know that I could dig that deep from so early on.

The sound of the bell was a huge relief. By then I knew I would not get caught. I took the pull past the start/finish leading up to the sharp corners, and I kind of half-assed it. I figured I would be able to answer a surge if Mike Fawell (not Michael Flanagan, who was already crossing the line first) jumped around me as I pulled off, then hold his wheel to try to beat him in the sprint.

That plan failed.


My lungs and legs were dead, and I could not dig quite as deep as I thought. When Mike took his pull, he accelerated through the corners and simply road me off his wheel on the final half-lap. I kept him in sight but rode in hyperventilating for 4th place, still comfortably ahead of the accelerating field.


You know when you've worked darn hard for something, and you don't want anything to steal the measly rewards of the effort? Well you can imagine the panic I felt when I didn't see my number on the results sheet.

It was a humorous mistake compounded by coincidence - the referees had put "336" down for 4th place, although I was number 311. Apparently, I had finished a huge 36 seconds behind Michael Flanagan, the winner, and it was an innocent, hasty penciling error by the refs that they corrected immediately. The freak coincidence was that the winner of the field sprint was an AABC rider whose number was 336, so his result then disappeared. They had to bump everyone down once in the rankings, but it was ironed out smoothly.

Last week I had someone ask me how many upgrade points I have because I have placed in the top ten a few times. Actually, I have only 9 or 10 points depending on how many Cat 3s were in the Cat 3/4 races.

I have been racing aggressively and finishing well, but still not well enough. I should say, though, that my prerogative is not necessarily to chase points for myself in a rush to upgrade. I want to race strong and work well with my teammates (some of whom want to upgrade), and believe that taking each race as a goal in itself will put me where I should be.

Somewhere, somehow, I have to find the fury to break onto the podium.

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Much thanks to my teammate Yon Nuta for taking pictures. He drove to the race planning to line up with us, but his front carbon fork drop out cracked on the windy drive over. Nuts, huh?

If you are my friend on Facebook feel free to comment on the Facebook album). The full-sized pictures are available for download on my public Zenfolio page here.