schmalz two FBFs and a CRCA

Last Monday I returned from a trip back to the headwaters of the schmalz family creek in Dubuque, Iowa. It was a lovely two week trip filled with socializing, imbibing, restorative swims in the Mississippi River (now with 5% less diesel fuel!), sausage consumption, cheese injection (they put cheese everywhere now, in crusts, in hot dogs, in peaches) sitting down and occasionally reclining. I was able to share the majesty of the anatomically oversized squirrel at Paul's Big Game Tavern with my wife, and I was also able to ride my bicycle while I was out there—something I haven't done in about 15 years.

Since it is situated on the Mississippi River, Dubuque is a very hilly place, with bluffs and elevation changes reminiscent of a fanny-packed Hudson Valley. The climbs tend to be more of the "straight up and ridiculously steep for a place where snow falls" variety, but they are mercifully short, most are less than a quarter mile. While I was back in town, I had my iphone with the Strava app tucked into my pocket. Strava is a ride tracking app that uploads your rides to their site where you can post rides and segments and compare them with other users, and in essence, compete with others—you can even "win" KOM points for certain segments. It's a good app and can be very addicting for individual like me who are competitive but don't always care for the company of others.

Since there's so many A-type personalities in the Tri-state Area, my plan was to retire to the wilds of Iowa and begin setting up KOM segments on the hills I remember from my youth (I had quite a bit of free time), and subsequently setting the best times up those climbs in order to become the Incline King of Eastern (Iowa) Area (or IKEA—I should probably think about getting a trademark for that). Here is the resulting list of KOMs that I was able to horde during my visit. Success! You might notice the gaudy grade percentages for each climb (the hill leading up to my grandparent's house averages 15.6%—the snowy drives to grandma's for Christmas were always eventful), Eastern Iowa is a lot like Belgium in it's rolling topography, except with more manure scent.

While accumulating my IKEA™ points was great fun (hopefully no one in Iowa gets wise to the Strava app and I can reign as IKEA forever!), it was not racing. In fact, I checked and there didn't seem to be any races in the entire state during my visit (I will never again complain about rising early to drive 35 minutes to race in Central Park again), this meant that I would probably be sacrificing much of my accumulated race fitness from the season to become IKEA™. But this was a trade off I was willing to make, because I'm a big fan of cheesy peaches.

My plan upon my return to the NYC area was to get back into racing as soon as possible. Last Thursday's race at FBF presented that opportunity, and I approached that race with a heart filled with doubt and a digestive system clogged with cheese and sausage. Teammate Andrew and I decided that we would be aggressive and shortly after the whistle blew, we took off. We created a split rather quickly, and a short time after that Andrew attacked, held about 200 meters for a lap or so, and then disappeared into the distance, not to be seen until after he had won the race. Back in the break, I didn't really have to do anything, but I figured I'd work enough for the break to stay away, as I have placed at the Thursday night FBF race every time I've raced it and didn't want to break my streak. I rolled along with the rest of the break for the entirety of the race, and ended up fifth, which is really not bad for a cheese transporter.

Sunday's club race in Central Park was another story though. It was an aggressive race with numerous attacks and splits and gut-chewing chases. As IKEA™, this wasn't something I was prepared for. I worked a bit to bring back a break, and managed to set up our sprinter for 15th place, and that was all the moxie I could muster. Zach K of Blue Ribbon raced a very smart race (™ Adler) and bridged to the break up the road before outsprinting his breakaway mates for the win. That's a very smart and strong move, and honestly, I probably detest him a little bit for it.

So going into last night's race at FBF, I was a bit apprehensive about my chances. Thursday's success had beget Sunday's mediocracy, so the status of the IKEA™ was in doubt. There was a large crowd of racers assembled last night, and many teams had a lot of representation. No Tubes/AXA had four riders, we at BH had seven and Mengoni had about roughly 42 riders, and with the crosswind blowing, a split looked to be in the works. We BHes decided to be attentive and aggressive, and that's the way the race began.

There were attacks and counters and counters again. I was resting near the back after a round of attacks and happened to notice that yellow jersey wearer Jermaine B was near the rear also, and hadn't been in any of the splits yet. In many ways, at FBF I am like a troll that sits beneath a bridge. I take notice of things that I can take advantage of, and when John L of No Tubes/AXA went up the road, I figured that Jermaine would try to bridge across—and he did! I latched onto his wheel with my troll-ish tenacity and followed him up to the split ahead. We made it there and when we assembled at the front, it was John L of No Tubes/AXA, Jermaine B of WS United, Augusto S of Mengoni, Adam A of Foundation, Jose C of JV racing and one IKEA™ troll. I had made it to the breakaway, which was, in this case, like winning an opportunity to punch yourself in the throat for 6 laps.

The first laps in the break were like an out of body experience for me, as in, I wanted to get out of my body because it was really painful in there. I couldn't pull through because I was unable to pull through, so I was sitting caboose on the work Jermaine, Augusto and John were doing—I'm pretty sure that Dr. John went to sleep last night with the refrain of my nasally voice squeaking out "Get that" ringing in his ears—but I wasn't the only one tail-gunning. There was a three way race to see who could do the least in that break—and I came in second. Eventually I was able to collect myself and make my small contributions to the group.

We rolled together for what seemed like an eternity, and as we got to the last three laps, I assessed my situation. I was probably the weakest sprinter in the break, and there was no way I was going to attack and drop anyone. I was at the mercy of the break. When we hit the bell, John attacked and sailed home for a fine win. Jermaine and Augusto were marking each other for points in the overall, so neither reacted immediately. If I been able to follow John, which is a large "if", that would've been my best chance at a high placing, but I couldn't follow John, so that left me in the village of the screwed.

Jermaine attacked a little while later and I was gapped. I chased between turns two and three and eventually caught back up to the group as they were cat and mousing away the gap on the backstretch. I saw the pack closing quickly behind us. The other guys left in the break would be able to sprint and hold off the trailing pack, but my chances of doing the same were very slim. So in order to preserve my meager placing, I went to the front and pulled to the finish. I was jumped by the others, and they sprinted it out for second. I threw what little coal I had left onto the fire to try and salvage my sixth place, but I was passed by Stalin Q at the line. I ended up seventh, which is not a bad placing for the IKEA™.