And so the local cyclocross season ended with me beating Nunzio (for real) on Saturday, him beating me (as usual) on Sunday. For the year, he won first place in 65+, I was second, and Mike came in third, even though he's faster than either of us, but he missed a few races - they grade on attendance.
Saturday was my best ride of the season. Nunzio and I passed each other a couple of times on the first lap or so, then I gradually pulled away from him and even caught a few 55+ guys. After the 65+ "podium" (a rock), I instinctively grabbed the third place prize, even though I finished second (to Mike). I suppose it's good to have been on the podium often enough to have "instincts", albeit self-deprecating ones.
Sunday's race was the opposite of Saturday's: long straightaways and a hill so steep that I ran it every time. I could have tried to ride it as far as possible, then probably fall off, roll down the hill and have to run it anyway. And in case any spectators from that hill are reading, "running" was mostly a state of mind - you might have mistaken it for "walking".
This race started with a drag-strip light, but my "instincts" expected a whistle. When everyone else started, I waited for an official to call "offsides" and move them all back ten yards. By the time I grasped the situation, let's just say I had maximized my opportunities to pass people. In the end, it was a fairly satisfying race: I was 12th out of 22, or as I like to put it, the winner of the second half (11 + 11 = 22).
With one lap to go, the official, as usual, rang a bell as I crossed the line, but this time, also yelled to me that I "just made it!". I was briefly proud of this until I realized that what I had "just made" was a requirement to endure a whole 'nother lap. I had crossed the line ahead of the leader who hadn't quite lapped me. See, once the leader finishes the race, you are done when you next cross the finish line, so I had to complete my entire lap. I was last to finish the race - but I wasn't last! The order was me, the leader, then all the guys I had passed. They had been lapped, so they got to stop after five laps; I had to do six. I knew the spectators mistakenly thought I was the slowest guy in the race, so I kept yelling "I'm Last Not-Lapped, not Last", but they thought I was just doing diction exercises.
You know, I think I've raced on Sunday's grounds before, in fact, it might be the site of a story that usually works when I tell it, but that I've never written. Could that be my next blog post? Is that a cliffhanger?
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Sunday, December 6, 2015
Penn Ultimate weekend
There is a brilliant website for discovering and registering for bike events, bikereg.com. It has a Race Predictor, which you might think analyzes prospective parents' chromosomes, but instead, predicts who will beat whom in upcoming bike races. Despite the fact that I have lost to the legendary Nunzio in every race this year, Race Predictor insisted I would beat him last Saturday. It probably also predicted that the Eagles would beat the Patriots. You can probably guess where this story is going - yes, I finished ahead of Nunzio for the first time this season. I can't claim that I beat him per se, because at the start of the race, a pile-up separated us, and he was hopelessly behind from the start. He just went through the motions, even stopping to fix damaged crime scene tape marking the course. But these details will be lost in the mists of time, so let the record show that on 12/5/2015, I finished ahead of Nunzio.
How did Race Predictor know this would happen? Over my lifetime, I've spent more time with algorithms than with people, and to me, this seems more impressive than Watson beating Ken Jennings at Jeopardy. I should apply R.P's algorithm to lottery numbers.
Within the race, my story was that I passed and gained on both Dr. Lou and #20 (never got his name). Neither of these gentlemen were in my racing class, but you play the hand you're dealt, or more to the point, race the guy ahead of you. I had enough margin on the last lap to be sure I could beat them if I didn't make a mistake. Once again, you can probably guess where this story is going - 50 yards from the finish, I did something to dislodge my back wheel. If I had my wits about me and just picked up the bike and ran to the finish, I could have beaten them, but by the time I finagled my wheel back into alignment, both had passed me. C'est la vie, although I think I said something other than "la vie" at the time.
Sunday's race was a return the norm - Nunzio beat me, Mike beat both of us. After the race, we discussed how finishing third is actually pretty good for me, because I'm three or four years older than either of them. They pointed out that in the 15-18 or 10-14 year-old races, a couple of years makes a huge difference: 10 year-olds vs. 14 year olds? 15 vs. 18? Hardly fair contests, so on the other side of life's Bell Curve, shouldn't I, too, be graded on a curve? I felt pretty good about this until I realized the flip side of the argument - I am three or four years closer to infirmity, decay and decrepitude than either Mike or Nunzio. C'est la mort.
On a brighter note, regardless of what happens in the last race of the season next week, I will finish second in cumulative points. I'm #2!
How did Race Predictor know this would happen? Over my lifetime, I've spent more time with algorithms than with people, and to me, this seems more impressive than Watson beating Ken Jennings at Jeopardy. I should apply R.P's algorithm to lottery numbers.
Within the race, my story was that I passed and gained on both Dr. Lou and #20 (never got his name). Neither of these gentlemen were in my racing class, but you play the hand you're dealt, or more to the point, race the guy ahead of you. I had enough margin on the last lap to be sure I could beat them if I didn't make a mistake. Once again, you can probably guess where this story is going - 50 yards from the finish, I did something to dislodge my back wheel. If I had my wits about me and just picked up the bike and ran to the finish, I could have beaten them, but by the time I finagled my wheel back into alignment, both had passed me. C'est la vie, although I think I said something other than "la vie" at the time.
Sunday's race was a return the norm - Nunzio beat me, Mike beat both of us. After the race, we discussed how finishing third is actually pretty good for me, because I'm three or four years older than either of them. They pointed out that in the 15-18 or 10-14 year-old races, a couple of years makes a huge difference: 10 year-olds vs. 14 year olds? 15 vs. 18? Hardly fair contests, so on the other side of life's Bell Curve, shouldn't I, too, be graded on a curve? I felt pretty good about this until I realized the flip side of the argument - I am three or four years closer to infirmity, decay and decrepitude than either Mike or Nunzio. C'est la mort.
On a brighter note, regardless of what happens in the last race of the season next week, I will finish second in cumulative points. I'm #2!
Monday, November 23, 2015
Reign in the Appalachains falls mainly on the chain (derailleur doesn't rhyme)
Dear Subjects,
When I enter a room, trumpet fanfare and drum roll are no longer necessary, nor are bowing, kneeling or saluting; curtsying is optional. I am no longer PA State Champion. The new 2015 PACX State Cyclocross Champion in the 65+ category is...
Nunzio.
As in every race this season, if Nuzio finishes first, I finish second. If he is second, I am third. Sunday's State Championship race near Pittsburgh was no exception. He and I pulled ahead of our peers at the start, and if it had only been a one-lap race, I would have won. I passed him just before the finish line, but he retook the lead a hundred feet later, then steadily gained on me throughout the race. Nunzio got the gold medal, I got the silver.
The funny thing is, I managed to break the derailleur on my new geared bike before the race, so I defended my championship on my old singlespeed bike. This is no excuse - I only lost a few seconds a lap because of the bike, the rest was due to genetic and character flaws - but there's some sort of convoluted irony going on here. I broke so many derailleurs by 2013 that I gave up and went singlespeed. I accidentally won the 2014 championship without benefit of gears, which pumped up my ego so much that I bought the geared bike to defend that title in 2015. Then at the critical moment, I broke the geared bike and returned to singlespeed, and to my original ego.
Oh, well, maybe next year I can win the 70+ State Championship. And the Nationals, of course.
Speaking of ego, we spent the entire weekend driving five hours both days just so I could be in that race. For balance, we took my 93-year old mother so she could visit her 98-year old sister, visited with my cousins, and on the way home, stopped at the Flight 93 memorial. Thanks to all the cousins for schlepping my mom twixt PA and WV, and for their generosity in putting us up (and planting their own granddaughter as our waitress in the restaurant WE chose just so THEY could pick up the check).
The Flight 93 Memorial is a stunning piece of sculpture. The dissonance between the art and its subject is impossible to resolve. It's worth visiting.
When I enter a room, trumpet fanfare and drum roll are no longer necessary, nor are bowing, kneeling or saluting; curtsying is optional. I am no longer PA State Champion. The new 2015 PACX State Cyclocross Champion in the 65+ category is...
Nunzio.
As in every race this season, if Nuzio finishes first, I finish second. If he is second, I am third. Sunday's State Championship race near Pittsburgh was no exception. He and I pulled ahead of our peers at the start, and if it had only been a one-lap race, I would have won. I passed him just before the finish line, but he retook the lead a hundred feet later, then steadily gained on me throughout the race. Nunzio got the gold medal, I got the silver.
Oh, well, maybe next year I can win the 70+ State Championship. And the Nationals, of course.
Speaking of ego, we spent the entire weekend driving five hours both days just so I could be in that race. For balance, we took my 93-year old mother so she could visit her 98-year old sister, visited with my cousins, and on the way home, stopped at the Flight 93 memorial. Thanks to all the cousins for schlepping my mom twixt PA and WV, and for their generosity in putting us up (and planting their own granddaughter as our waitress in the restaurant WE chose just so THEY could pick up the check).
The Flight 93 Memorial is a stunning piece of sculpture. The dissonance between the art and its subject is impossible to resolve. It's worth visiting.
Sly Fox photos and video
Sly Fox is the Best Race Ever.
Here's the local TV coverage of the 2015 Sly Fox race:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=arL54p1tHXI
Some highlights (IMHO) are 1:05 through 1:11. The singlespeed race gets going at 1:05. I'm #429 in a Spock costume at 1:09. The marriage proposal from the first race replays at 1:10:45. But you can poke around anywhere and get the flavor, although the coverage doesn't capture the noise. It's not unlike a high school football game at times.
A short gallery with some great photos (and two of me, #7 and #10) is at
http://www.aelandesphotography.com/2015-sly-fox-cyclocross-race#main
Spock photos:
http://www.sergiogphotography.com/p827640183/h69823589#h6bdca64c
http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/151108-sly-fox-cx-cross/h6bec8d04#h60cd11e3
http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/151108-sly-fox-cx-cross/h6bec8d04#h68aa4233
(in the last two, I'm attacking Ronald McDonald - he hit me first)
Full galleries for true die-hards:
http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/151108-sly-fox-cx-cross
http://www.sergiogphotography.com/slyfoxcross_2015
Here's the local TV coverage of the 2015 Sly Fox race:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=arL54p1tHXI
Some highlights (IMHO) are 1:05 through 1:11. The singlespeed race gets going at 1:05. I'm #429 in a Spock costume at 1:09. The marriage proposal from the first race replays at 1:10:45. But you can poke around anywhere and get the flavor, although the coverage doesn't capture the noise. It's not unlike a high school football game at times.
A short gallery with some great photos (and two of me, #7 and #10) is at
http://www.aelandesphotography.com/2015-sly-fox-cyclocross-race#main
Spock photos:
http://www.sergiogphotography.com/p827640183/h69823589#h6bdca64c
http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/151108-sly-fox-cx-cross/h6bec8d04#h60cd11e3
http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/151108-sly-fox-cx-cross/h6bec8d04#h68aa4233
(in the last two, I'm attacking Ronald McDonald - he hit me first)
Full galleries for true die-hards:
http://aelandesphotography.zenfolio.com/151108-sly-fox-cx-cross
http://www.sergiogphotography.com/slyfoxcross_2015
Thursday, November 5, 2015
Singlespeed, religion and identity
On this date in 2009, I got my first cyclocross bike, a Trek X01. Over the next 2 years, I broke the derailleur (the gear-shifting gadget on the back wheel), the seat, the rear wheel, another derailleur, and the frame. With a new frame and new wheels, over the next 2 years, I wore through the front wheel, totaled another derailleur, broke the right shifter, and finally crashed the derailleur into the spokes, taking out both derailleur and back wheel. I replaced the wheel but swore off gears - I converted to singlespeed.
Singlespeed is what it sounds like - one (1) gear. On a hill, you pedal harder; on a straightaway, you pedal faster. When your legs tell you "it's too hard", you can't shift to an easier gear, you just say "shut up, legs". When you're clipped into the pedals of a single-speed, you and the bike are primally connected like some kind of cyclo-centaur: half-bike, half-man. The mythical beast image helps going uphill - you can't rely on gears to ease the pain, you have to charge like a bull and use every fiber of your being to get to the top. But going downhill, you pedal like a half-clown, half-tricycle.
Singlespeed has been compared to a religion. Not as has been suggested, an Amish-like renunciation of gears, but a kind of cult with sacraments, vestments and rites. Beer is its sacrament, gorilla suits are its vestments, and climbing hills in a single gear is its rite of self-flagellation. Of course, if you pass someone on the hill, it's a rite of passage.
Back to the bike - after all those changes, is this the same bike? A person's identity is determined by continuity of consciousness. Descartes famously said "I think, therefore I am", but sadly, he is no longer with us because when a bartender offered him a drink, he said "I think not".
What determines a bike's identity?
Everything has a line where identity breaks down. Those '50s groups like the Drifters are still at it even though the original members are dead, but the Beatles could never be the Beatles after John Lennon was gone. The line is somewhere between Queen with Adam Lambert instead of Freddy Mercury, and Genesis with Phil Collins instead of Peter Gabriel.
A bike's identity is where your own identity meets the bike. The three places where you connect to the bike are: pedals, seat and handlebars. A school of thought says the seat is the most intimate contact, but(t) this is not where my identity is centered. I contend that the handlebars are the Line of Identity - in the drone video, they're the first thing you see. They are where I steer and brake (and used to shift). I can change the frame, the wheels or add a Mary Poppins basket, but until I destroy the handlebars, it's the same bike. The Line of Identity is so decreed.
Destroying the handlebars could happen this weekend - I am entered in two singlespeed races at the Sly Fox Brewery, 3:30 and 4:20, Sunday, November 8th, 331 Circle of Progress Drive, POTTSTOWN, PA 19464. I have no gorilla suit, but I do plan an alternate identity, if I can finish my Spock costume.
Singlespeed is what it sounds like - one (1) gear. On a hill, you pedal harder; on a straightaway, you pedal faster. When your legs tell you "it's too hard", you can't shift to an easier gear, you just say "shut up, legs". When you're clipped into the pedals of a single-speed, you and the bike are primally connected like some kind of cyclo-centaur: half-bike, half-man. The mythical beast image helps going uphill - you can't rely on gears to ease the pain, you have to charge like a bull and use every fiber of your being to get to the top. But going downhill, you pedal like a half-clown, half-tricycle.
Singlespeed has been compared to a religion. Not as has been suggested, an Amish-like renunciation of gears, but a kind of cult with sacraments, vestments and rites. Beer is its sacrament, gorilla suits are its vestments, and climbing hills in a single gear is its rite of self-flagellation. Of course, if you pass someone on the hill, it's a rite of passage.
Back to the bike - after all those changes, is this the same bike? A person's identity is determined by continuity of consciousness. Descartes famously said "I think, therefore I am", but sadly, he is no longer with us because when a bartender offered him a drink, he said "I think not".
What determines a bike's identity?
Everything has a line where identity breaks down. Those '50s groups like the Drifters are still at it even though the original members are dead, but the Beatles could never be the Beatles after John Lennon was gone. The line is somewhere between Queen with Adam Lambert instead of Freddy Mercury, and Genesis with Phil Collins instead of Peter Gabriel.
A bike's identity is where your own identity meets the bike. The three places where you connect to the bike are: pedals, seat and handlebars. A school of thought says the seat is the most intimate contact, but(t) this is not where my identity is centered. I contend that the handlebars are the Line of Identity - in the drone video, they're the first thing you see. They are where I steer and brake (and used to shift). I can change the frame, the wheels or add a Mary Poppins basket, but until I destroy the handlebars, it's the same bike. The Line of Identity is so decreed.
Destroying the handlebars could happen this weekend - I am entered in two singlespeed races at the Sly Fox Brewery, 3:30 and 4:20, Sunday, November 8th, 331 Circle of Progress Drive, POTTSTOWN, PA 19464. I have no gorilla suit, but I do plan an alternate identity, if I can finish my Spock costume.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Creative way to finish second
There are 16 races in a typical cyclocross event, but there are only 7 viable hours, so classes have to double and triple up. 35+ is usually paired with 55+, which starts one minute after 35+. Second-rate classes such as 65+ don't get their own start, they go with 55+, but in the back of the pack, so we tend to get lapped.
After the leader finishes, the next racers are allowed to pre-ride the course for 10 minutes or so, but they cannot pass anyone who is still racing, no matter how slow he or she is.
I finally got to raise my hands as I crossed the finish line, but in one hand, I held my bike.
At West Chester last Sunday, the 65+ class was just Nunzio, Steve and I. Nunzio passed me on the second straightaway, but I stayed on his wheel the whole first lap. On the second lap, to my surprise, I passed him somewhere in the back 40 and held the lead for a while. Then I heard what sounded like a shotgun blast. I even felt it hit my bike, so I stopped cold. Alas, the blast was actually my back tire "burping" ( Click for burp example (not cyclocross - mountain bikers are insane) ). The tire was hopelessly flat, so I shouldered the bike and started running. You may recall that everyone finishes on the same lap as the leader, so all I had to do was keep going until the leader finished the race. It doesn't matter how you finish, just whether you and a bike finish, staying inside the crime scene tape. Run, walk, hitchhike, ne c'est pas.
I ran the half-lap to the finish line, the announcer (there's an announcer) made a big deal of "Jimmy" running the course, "and he's 68". I corrected him:"68 and a half".
But age does not confer wisdom. I crossed the finish line while the leader was still racing, so I had to run a whole 'nother lap. When I finally finished, the announcer exhorted the crowd to "give it up for Jimmy, who ran a whole lap". I corrected him: "a lap and a half".
All in all, I ran a 5K with my bike on my shoulder. I was last, of course, but I still came in second to Nunzio in 65+ because Steve burped TWO tires and called it a day.
During my half-hour run, I imagined that spectators and riders alike would be uplifted by the human interest story of the codger whose life-affirming spirit propelled him to the finish, despite all odds. In reality, a bunch of unhappy pre-riders were jammed up behind me waiting to test the course. I don't know how they got all those pitchforks so quickly.
If I had it to do over, I would put my old singlespeed bike in the pits before the race. The pros swap bikes every lap when it's muddy, so I could have swapped my damaged bike for the singlespeed and kept riding. Before this race, I never had a mechanical problem, so a pit bike seemed like too much trouble: "If I have a mechanical problem, I'll just run". I may rethink that policy.
Or I could have dawdled until the leader finished, rather than run another 2.2 mile lap. Better yet, I could have teamed up with fellow burp victim, Steve. We could have hung out 50 feet from the finish, smoking cigarettes and shooting craps, then after the winner finished, sprinted to the line carrying our bikes. It would have been glorious, despite the utter meaningless of the outcome.
So, the singlespeed bike on which I won the 2014 PA State Championship (33 days left) is not just for nostalgia, it could be the Plan B that spares me future public humiliation.
After the leader finishes, the next racers are allowed to pre-ride the course for 10 minutes or so, but they cannot pass anyone who is still racing, no matter how slow he or she is.
I finally got to raise my hands as I crossed the finish line, but in one hand, I held my bike.
At West Chester last Sunday, the 65+ class was just Nunzio, Steve and I. Nunzio passed me on the second straightaway, but I stayed on his wheel the whole first lap. On the second lap, to my surprise, I passed him somewhere in the back 40 and held the lead for a while. Then I heard what sounded like a shotgun blast. I even felt it hit my bike, so I stopped cold. Alas, the blast was actually my back tire "burping" ( Click for burp example (not cyclocross - mountain bikers are insane) ). The tire was hopelessly flat, so I shouldered the bike and started running. You may recall that everyone finishes on the same lap as the leader, so all I had to do was keep going until the leader finished the race. It doesn't matter how you finish, just whether you and a bike finish, staying inside the crime scene tape. Run, walk, hitchhike, ne c'est pas.
I ran the half-lap to the finish line, the announcer (there's an announcer) made a big deal of "Jimmy" running the course, "and he's 68". I corrected him:"68 and a half".
But age does not confer wisdom. I crossed the finish line while the leader was still racing, so I had to run a whole 'nother lap. When I finally finished, the announcer exhorted the crowd to "give it up for Jimmy, who ran a whole lap". I corrected him: "a lap and a half".
All in all, I ran a 5K with my bike on my shoulder. I was last, of course, but I still came in second to Nunzio in 65+ because Steve burped TWO tires and called it a day.
During my half-hour run, I imagined that spectators and riders alike would be uplifted by the human interest story of the codger whose life-affirming spirit propelled him to the finish, despite all odds. In reality, a bunch of unhappy pre-riders were jammed up behind me waiting to test the course. I don't know how they got all those pitchforks so quickly.
If I had it to do over, I would put my old singlespeed bike in the pits before the race. The pros swap bikes every lap when it's muddy, so I could have swapped my damaged bike for the singlespeed and kept riding. Before this race, I never had a mechanical problem, so a pit bike seemed like too much trouble: "If I have a mechanical problem, I'll just run". I may rethink that policy.
Or I could have dawdled until the leader finished, rather than run another 2.2 mile lap. Better yet, I could have teamed up with fellow burp victim, Steve. We could have hung out 50 feet from the finish, smoking cigarettes and shooting craps, then after the winner finished, sprinted to the line carrying our bikes. It would have been glorious, despite the utter meaningless of the outcome.
So, the singlespeed bike on which I won the 2014 PA State Championship (33 days left) is not just for nostalgia, it could be the Plan B that spares me future public humiliation.
Monday, October 19, 2015
So far, so mediocre
In "Taking the Fork in the Road", I proved mathematically that I will win the 2017 cyclocross Nationals. The very foundation of mathematics is in doubt, however, because there is a growing body of evidence that 2017 might not be a sure thing after all.
For this racing season, I had three things going for me: gears, nation-leading points, and a new 65+ class, even better for me than a 60+ class. All I had to do was get good starts and stay in front of a bunch of old guys - how hard could that be? Perhaps late in the season, after I had an insurmountable lead in cumulative points, I would allow someone else a little glory. I pretty much expected to win every race just by showing up. But there was one thing I didn't count on...
Nunzio.
In every 65+ race so far, I have finished second to Nunzio. He is either my hero or my nemesis ("Nunzio!", like "Newman!"). He rides really smoothly, pulls away on every straightaway, never seems to tire, and never makes a mistake. I make mistakes.
In half of the races so far, I have done endos (see the 18th reference on Wikipedia, the one that alludes to flipping "end-over-end", not the one about "marijuana", nor the one about "root canal").
In the season's first race, I didn't get the memo, literally. A late email on the eve of the race warned us to jump, not ride, over a deceptively deep water crossing. Horses know not to enter water when they can't see the bottom, even without checking email. Not I - my front wheel stopped cold and I landed on my helmet. No permanent damage, but I lost a quarter of a lap.
Remind me to tell the story of a more spectacular endo two Labor Days ago.
In the second race, another endo, another lost half-lap. I caught the third-place guy, so I suppose there was some honor in coming in second.
No excuses in the third race, I had one brief fall, but it didn't make much difference, and the best man won. That would be Nunzio, in case you're keeping score..
In yesterday's race, I had my first "tire burp" (dramatic flat tire), but that's worth its own story. Spoiler alert: Nunzio won, I was second.
Don't give up on mathematics just yet, since the 2017 Nationals are for 70-74 year olds, not mere 65-year old children such as Nunzio, but the countdown has started on my 65+ PA State Championship.
For this racing season, I had three things going for me: gears, nation-leading points, and a new 65+ class, even better for me than a 60+ class. All I had to do was get good starts and stay in front of a bunch of old guys - how hard could that be? Perhaps late in the season, after I had an insurmountable lead in cumulative points, I would allow someone else a little glory. I pretty much expected to win every race just by showing up. But there was one thing I didn't count on...
Nunzio.
In every 65+ race so far, I have finished second to Nunzio. He is either my hero or my nemesis ("Nunzio!", like "Newman!"). He rides really smoothly, pulls away on every straightaway, never seems to tire, and never makes a mistake. I make mistakes.
In half of the races so far, I have done endos (see the 18th reference on Wikipedia, the one that alludes to flipping "end-over-end", not the one about "marijuana", nor the one about "root canal").
In the season's first race, I didn't get the memo, literally. A late email on the eve of the race warned us to jump, not ride, over a deceptively deep water crossing. Horses know not to enter water when they can't see the bottom, even without checking email. Not I - my front wheel stopped cold and I landed on my helmet. No permanent damage, but I lost a quarter of a lap.
Remind me to tell the story of a more spectacular endo two Labor Days ago.
In the second race, another endo, another lost half-lap. I caught the third-place guy, so I suppose there was some honor in coming in second.
No excuses in the third race, I had one brief fall, but it didn't make much difference, and the best man won. That would be Nunzio, in case you're keeping score..
In yesterday's race, I had my first "tire burp" (dramatic flat tire), but that's worth its own story. Spoiler alert: Nunzio won, I was second.
Don't give up on mathematics just yet, since the 2017 Nationals are for 70-74 year olds, not mere 65-year old children such as Nunzio, but the countdown has started on my 65+ PA State Championship.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Taking the fork in the road
Cyclocross races are several 1-2 mile laps on twisty courses in county parks, corn fields, campuses, ski slopes, and breweries (not at the same time). Races are by time, not distance. After timing the leaders for a couple of laps, officials decide how many laps the race will be. For example, 45 minute race, 8 minute laps might be 5 laps, 6 if they're sadists. Everyone finishes on the same lap, so if the leader laps us just before the finish, then we're done; if the leader doesn't quite lap us, we have to do a whole 'nother lap. Races are all out, all the time. I hope either for the leader to lap me or for an aneurysm, which ever stops the pain first.
For two years starting in 2010, I raced in the 55+ class. I was seldom last, but not far from it, so I named my one-man racing team Penn Ultimate (get it?). For the next two years, I raced in Category 4. This is the class where people normally start, and they move up to Cat 3, 2 and 1, or age out into Masters classes (35+, 45+, 55+). Cat 4 folks range from "dude - let's go ride our bikes around in the mud" to future superstars accumulating points to move up. There are often 100+ riders, so there is always someone with whom to compete. This is where I learned lessons like "don't fall", "try to pass the guy ahead of you", and "get a starting spot near the front". I think you're supposed to learn this stuff when you're 15, not 65, but I'm a bit of a late bloomer.
By 2014, I chose my niche: I converted my bike to singlespeed (another story) and went back to my true people, Masters 55+. With newfound wisdom, a couple years of conditioning, and the Baby Boom swelling the ranks of 55+, I was adequately competitive: in a dozen races, I averaged in the top 2/3rds. I was in no danger of winning, in little danger of being last, and there was always someone with whom to compete - I had found my place in life, forever.
But a funny thing happened starting November 2nd at Stoudt's Brewery, the belated State Championship. I realized that on some courses, gears actually matter. Then, on the 15th at Kutztown, I learned that hidden within the 55+ class, there was a virtual 60+ class that accumulated points throughout the year, meaning they grade on attendance. Hmm - I can do attendance. I could even reconsider gears.
Then after Thanksgiving, I learned not only was I State Champ, but also if there were a 69+ class2, I would be #1 in the country (based on USA Cycling's incomprehensible points)! Finally, in December, I learned that the Nationals have actual races for 65-69, 70-74, 75-79 and 80+ (there are two guys!). Whoa - in 2017, I would be #1 in points in 70+, therefore, I would win the Nationals!
I had to get me some gears! And some disc brakes! And a carbon frame lighter than my Comcast remote! I went to my beloved bike store, Bikesport 1, and bought a Niner LSD Rodeo (or maybe it's BSB RDO, I was too excited to pay attention). It cost almost as much as my first new car (1974, not much of a car, but still). How do you know when you've spent too much on a bike? When your bike store features your bike at an "Endurance Sports Expo". Just kidding - no price is too high for the 2017 National Champion bike (uh, oh - I hope I didn't disrupt the cosmic timeline by revealing facts from the future).
So, I've gone from being totally at peace with mediocre 55+ finishes to having lofty, some say delusional, goals:
1) drive 12 hours round trip to defend my 65+ State Champ title in 2015
2) enter enough races for podium finish in 60+ year-long class (attendance, not performance)
3) raise my arms at the finish as I win 2017 Nationals as youngest in 70-74
Right now, you're probably wondering "how's the progress toward those goals a third of the way through the 2015 season?", but that's a story for another post.
1 Bikesport is one of the best businesses I've ever dealt with. Even before I was a B-list bike store celebrity, they treated me really, really well. http://www.bikesportbikes.com/
2 Just in case you don't believe that I was first in the nation at some point in a make-believe 69+ class according to USA Cycling's incomprehensible point system, here's proof:
(there are 52 more)
↩
For two years starting in 2010, I raced in the 55+ class. I was seldom last, but not far from it, so I named my one-man racing team Penn Ultimate (get it?). For the next two years, I raced in Category 4. This is the class where people normally start, and they move up to Cat 3, 2 and 1, or age out into Masters classes (35+, 45+, 55+). Cat 4 folks range from "dude - let's go ride our bikes around in the mud" to future superstars accumulating points to move up. There are often 100+ riders, so there is always someone with whom to compete. This is where I learned lessons like "don't fall", "try to pass the guy ahead of you", and "get a starting spot near the front". I think you're supposed to learn this stuff when you're 15, not 65, but I'm a bit of a late bloomer.
By 2014, I chose my niche: I converted my bike to singlespeed (another story) and went back to my true people, Masters 55+. With newfound wisdom, a couple years of conditioning, and the Baby Boom swelling the ranks of 55+, I was adequately competitive: in a dozen races, I averaged in the top 2/3rds. I was in no danger of winning, in little danger of being last, and there was always someone with whom to compete - I had found my place in life, forever.
But a funny thing happened starting November 2nd at Stoudt's Brewery, the belated State Championship. I realized that on some courses, gears actually matter. Then, on the 15th at Kutztown, I learned that hidden within the 55+ class, there was a virtual 60+ class that accumulated points throughout the year, meaning they grade on attendance. Hmm - I can do attendance. I could even reconsider gears.
Then after Thanksgiving, I learned not only was I State Champ, but also if there were a 69+ class2, I would be #1 in the country (based on USA Cycling's incomprehensible points)! Finally, in December, I learned that the Nationals have actual races for 65-69, 70-74, 75-79 and 80+ (there are two guys!). Whoa - in 2017, I would be #1 in points in 70+, therefore, I would win the Nationals!
I had to get me some gears! And some disc brakes! And a carbon frame lighter than my Comcast remote! I went to my beloved bike store, Bikesport 1, and bought a Niner LSD Rodeo (or maybe it's BSB RDO, I was too excited to pay attention). It cost almost as much as my first new car (1974, not much of a car, but still). How do you know when you've spent too much on a bike? When your bike store features your bike at an "Endurance Sports Expo". Just kidding - no price is too high for the 2017 National Champion bike (uh, oh - I hope I didn't disrupt the cosmic timeline by revealing facts from the future).
So, I've gone from being totally at peace with mediocre 55+ finishes to having lofty, some say delusional, goals:
1) drive 12 hours round trip to defend my 65+ State Champ title in 2015
2) enter enough races for podium finish in 60+ year-long class (attendance, not performance)
3) raise my arms at the finish as I win 2017 Nationals as youngest in 70-74
Right now, you're probably wondering "how's the progress toward those goals a third of the way through the 2015 season?", but that's a story for another post.
1 Bikesport is one of the best businesses I've ever dealt with. Even before I was a B-list bike store celebrity, they treated me really, really well. http://www.bikesportbikes.com/
2 Just in case you don't believe that I was first in the nation at some point in a make-believe 69+ class according to USA Cycling's incomprehensible point system, here's proof:
| Region | State | Gender | Discipline | Category | Age Range | |
| - |
Note: Ranking points are NOT upgrade points. An explanation of ranking points can be found here.
... | Current rank points for Road: Cyclocross Mens (69-98) | ||||||
| Rank | Points | Name | City, State | License | Racing Age | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 299.67 | J2M | Pottstown, PA | 443321 | 69 | |
| 2 | 326.04 | james briggs | North Huntingdon, PA | 274597 | 72 | |
| 3 | 332.85 | Rick Abbott | Boulder, CO | 213837 | 69 | |
| 4 | 350.82 | Donald Snoop | Middleburgh, NY | 104325 | 71 | |
| 5 | 363.30 | Whitney Fanning | Waco, TX | 89401 | 70 | |
(there are 52 more)
↩
Thursday, October 8, 2015
2014 PA State Champion 65+
If your only exposure to cyclocross is the "Alone with a Drone" video, mentally add 25 to 125 other cyclists, a couple miles of crime scene tape marking the course, and on a good day, a lot of mud. In many races, add gorilla suits, tutus and beer, always beer.
There are a dozen or so races in the PA Cyclocoross series (PACX), and one race each year is designated as the PA State Championship. 2014's championship race was in early November at Stoudt's Brewery. I race in the 55+ class, and some of those young whippersnappers are way faster than I could ever hope to be. I was only dimly aware that the race was a state championship. My goal was respectable mediocrity. The thought of winning anything never crossed my mind.
And! I was racing my singlespeed bike (that's another story) against guys with gears, so I had to carry the bike up the steepest hill five times. I was lapped by the 55+ leaders. Still, I finished 11th out of 25 - above average! B-? At least C++.
I continued to race in November (another story) with similar results: 11 of 17, 18.of 32, 14 of 23, probably C-. I pretty much forgot about Stoudt's. In December, six weeks after the Championship Race, PACX's weekly email casually mentioned that they were planning to get the 55+ riders' ages and come up with retroactive 55-59, 60-64 and 65-69 State Champions. Who knows how old the guys I race are? They all must be older than me; I look the same as I remember from my 20's, but still, I thought I might have a chance for a podium finish, retroactively. Just in case, I began practicing Tour de France Podium Girl air-kisses ( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Podium_girl ).
A couple of weeks later, the PACX email had an obscure link in which, way down at the bottom, I discovered that I was the least slow of the 65+ geezers! I am the champion, my friends - now I have to keep fighting 'til the end.
The link was so obscure it's no longer on the site, but trust me, it said "Gold: J2M". I emailed the PACX guy to confirm my discovery and ask whether there was an actual medal. He said "I'm getting a medal and I'll mail it to you" - maybe it was his medal? Whatever - eleven weeks and two days after the race, I had my medal:
That was delayed gratification at its finest.
Self-deprecation notwithstanding, according to USA Cycling's incomprehensible point system, I would be #1 in the country (US) if there were a 68+ class! OMG! What could I achieve if I had gears? Might I dream of a race in which I could raise my arms as I cross the finish line (and probably fall off the bike)? But that's yet another story.
There are a dozen or so races in the PA Cyclocoross series (PACX), and one race each year is designated as the PA State Championship. 2014's championship race was in early November at Stoudt's Brewery. I race in the 55+ class, and some of those young whippersnappers are way faster than I could ever hope to be. I was only dimly aware that the race was a state championship. My goal was respectable mediocrity. The thought of winning anything never crossed my mind.
And! I was racing my singlespeed bike (that's another story) against guys with gears, so I had to carry the bike up the steepest hill five times. I was lapped by the 55+ leaders. Still, I finished 11th out of 25 - above average! B-? At least C++.
I continued to race in November (another story) with similar results: 11 of 17, 18.of 32, 14 of 23, probably C-. I pretty much forgot about Stoudt's. In December, six weeks after the Championship Race, PACX's weekly email casually mentioned that they were planning to get the 55+ riders' ages and come up with retroactive 55-59, 60-64 and 65-69 State Champions. Who knows how old the guys I race are? They all must be older than me; I look the same as I remember from my 20's, but still, I thought I might have a chance for a podium finish, retroactively. Just in case, I began practicing Tour de France Podium Girl air-kisses ( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Podium_girl ).
A couple of weeks later, the PACX email had an obscure link in which, way down at the bottom, I discovered that I was the least slow of the 65+ geezers! I am the champion, my friends - now I have to keep fighting 'til the end.
The link was so obscure it's no longer on the site, but trust me, it said "Gold: J2M". I emailed the PACX guy to confirm my discovery and ask whether there was an actual medal. He said "I'm getting a medal and I'll mail it to you" - maybe it was his medal? Whatever - eleven weeks and two days after the race, I had my medal:
Self-deprecation notwithstanding, according to USA Cycling's incomprehensible point system, I would be #1 in the country (US) if there were a 68+ class! OMG! What could I achieve if I had gears? Might I dream of a race in which I could raise my arms as I cross the finish line (and probably fall off the bike)? But that's yet another story.
Friday, October 2, 2015
Alone with a drone
Click here for video
Producer - Neighbor Craig
Director - Kasey Kirby
Editor - Kasey Kirby
Chief Cinematographer - Kasey
Apprentice Cinematographers: Craig and J2M (on the bike)
Music - Joe Satriani "Surfing with the Alien"
Cyclist - J2M
Producer - Neighbor Craig
Director - Kasey Kirby
Editor - Kasey Kirby
Chief Cinematographer - Kasey
Apprentice Cinematographers: Craig and J2M (on the bike)
Music - Joe Satriani "Surfing with the Alien"
Cyclist - J2M
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