Philly Phlyer, View from the back

The first race for most of us this season who didn't go to the FL training camp was the collegiate race The Philly Phlyer that also has a 3/4 category. This was a short circuit race of four laps on the west side of Farmount park.
There was much talk of strategy before the race, Jack had done really well last year so everyone wanted to see his murder face cross the line first this year. So the plan was to have most of the team try to start a break, then bring Jack up to that break, then block. Just in case this didn't work Brendan and I were to sit in the whole race saving our selves for the final sprint.

A total of eight teammates lined up at the start, which is a big turn out for any team. The weather was perfect, it was in the 70's and I was worried that I had already gotten too much sun, but the wind was starting to pick up as the race went off.
I assumed my roll and stuck to the wheels infront of me like glue. The group made its way down from memorial hall on to West River Drive and it was easy to see that this was going to be a scary race. Everyone was twitchy, and many riders hadn't ridden in a group for several months. On the first climb there was a crash that nearly took out Jack. As the race went on I could see red and black jerseys go up the road, over and over attacking the field either trying to start a break away or bridge up the an existing one.


As the last lap came up I decided it was time to move to the front or be trapped in the back for ever. My legs felt fresh and I hopped behind Mike Green as we jockeyed for position up front, Brendan and Gerry were also in the mix. Gerry had earlier been part of a breakaway with 3 other strong riders but he had fallen off. By the last lap they where too far up the road and wouldn't be brought back. On the last trip up west river drive Mikey went on a flyer and tried to bridge up the the brake away, putting out a huge effort and staying away from the pack for the whole straight flat stretch but he got caught on the hill.

As we hit the last climb up to Memorial Hall I knew I had to attack on the hill because I wasn't gong to be able to out sprint the field. I went off the front of the field and was the first to top the hill. I was passed in the traffic circle, then as my legs and lungs screamed I was passed a couple more times on the final straight to the finish line. I crossed at 7th place with Brendan close behind at 18th, Gerry 23rd. Jack unfortunately was caught out in the wind a few times, and most of the other teammates burnt themselves out earlier in the race working for the team.
All and all, it was a great start to the season. It was a perfect day and a really fun race. Racing is always better when its in your back yard.
Cheers.

Iron Cross VII, mud, blood, sweat and tears in the woods

I pre-reged for this race a while ago when I had the 70 dollars to blow on a race. As the date for the race drew nearer I felt less and less prepared and motivated to do it and more and more people that said they were going to go dropped out. At the 11th hour I got hooked up with a ride with Team Bike Therapy's newest/first/oldest team member Misha (I hope I'm spelling that right) and Warren from Alliance. Misha was one of the founders of the team that would one day become Team Bicycle Therapy, he recently quit Amoroso's to go back to Therapy to start racing cross at the age of 60. Warren is a crit/ track powerhouse rider and is one of the riders responsible to pushing the drives ride to 36 mph on the first lap.
I have to thank Lee for helping to cut out a whole lot of driving time by helping tune Misha's Subaru WRX, it is a very quick car even, loaded with gear, three people and bikes. But we got to the camp ground where the IC lite race was earlier that day, and sat down to our spaghetti dinner in the dining hall. There were about 30 to 40 people in sweat shirts and flannels packing down second helpings of pasta. After dinner we grabbed a bunk house, it was a small partially open shelter with no heat or insulation or bunks. We all laid our sleeping bags and pads our and did our preped for the next day, filling camel backs, ect. Warren and Misha both brought a bottle of wine so we emptied both using our new iron cross pint glasses. As we where getting ready to turn in Chris Pagoda from ciclismo popped his head in the bunk house looking for a place to sleep.

The next morning it was cold, I was freezing after I got out of my sleeping bag. I did push ups to warm up every few minutes, put my chamios cream on with a cold hand and colder cream. Misha made some really good strong coffee but I really didn't wake up until after the first hard road climb and fire road climb. Check point one seamed to come really fast, I was in that early morning auto pilot until the first single track section that I conservatively picked my way though while everyone I passed on the climbs blew by me. But the whole ride until the third check point was pure pleasure. Crisp sunny day, 40+ mph descents on fire roads, bridging up to a small group on the roads and flat sections of fire roads and organizing a pace line, the leaves were at their peak fall colors and shimmered in the sun. The coarse was very well marked, the volunteers at the aid stations were extremely helpful.

Even the long hike-a-bikes where you shoulder your bike and hike for over a mile up the side of a mountain, where hard but not all that bad. After check point three, the road pitched up toward the sky, you would reach what from below looked like the top thinking it couldn't keep going, and it did, for about 5 miles of hard fire road climbing. My tempo was a bit to fast and on the rollers at the top of the climb I came within an inch of cracking. Which is where Warren did crack, after getting three flat tires both of his legs cramped up and he feel over, still clipped in and then started to cry from the pain. That is how hard of a race it was. The single track after the rollers was really tough, and the last hard climb on the single track is where I did crack, my legs cramped up and I had to walk my bike up the last part of the climb before the last hike-a-bike. Mercifully the last 5 miles of riding where on the road, they flew by, I rolled over the finish line after four hours and thirty five minutes in 45th place and received my iron cross socks.


The winner did it in three hours and fourty five mintues, and the last person in finished in seven hours and fourty minutes. Most races are as hard as you make them but this race is just hard period. But I'll be back next year, maybe I'll break 4 hours.

Images are from Felkerino's Flickr site