FBF 3/4ths race, July 28, 2009

For the most part, Tuesday nights this bike racing summer have been the dumping ground for thousands of gallons of moisture from the skies; and if these were times where we looked to the skies and felt that we were being punished by some manner of rain or weather god, we would’ve resorted to animal sacrifice a long time ago. But these are modern times, and I only resort to animal sacrifice in really dire circumstances, such as when I need to skip the line to "It’s a Small World" at Disney World or I want to win an Ebay auction for a really nice sandwich.

Last night at FBF was not an animal sacrifice occasion though, with grey yet moisture-free skies, and a classic ripping FBF wind coming from turn 2; it was a night made for a breakaway to succeed. We rolled off into the headwind, and it took me until turn one to get clipped in. I was having troubles clipping in because I am nearing the point in the season where I am done with racing, and one of the first signs of this approaching moment is when I start neglecting my equipment. My pedal has been giving me clip-in troubles for a while now, but instead of doing anything about it, I’ve merely started stomping and pawing at the pedal with my foot like a circus horse trying to count to 25. In fact, it’s starting to become a fun game for me now, seeing how long I can ride before I begin using both legs.

And that’s how we started, 62 racers and one stubborn horse imitator stabbing his right foot at the ground. With the wind, it was going to be a night of splits in the pack, so being near the front of the race would really help with not being left behind to flap in the wind like the remnants of a Christmas yard banner in April. I had some moments off the front of the race early and the field seemed to be softening after the attacks in the first half of the race, and then –––––––––

Well, I have to stop there, as I flatted on lap five and my race was over. I can’t say that I was too upset; I was glad to back and racing on a Tuesday night. And I can complain about my desire for FBF to have a free lap, but I think Charlie’s mind is made up, so I will say that I am at peace with my night’s effort and the fact that the air in my tire escaped at a rapid pace at an inopportune moment.

Side notes to the night

It looks like a break did work, with Scot Willingham, Phil Penman and eventual winner Tom Luzio staying away. Well done fellows.

Patrick Littlefield got caught in a crash that put a hitch in his mosey and a helmet shaped boo boo on his head, so here’s to wishing him a quick recovery of both his head aesthetics and his normal mosey.

Schmalz Race report

Every race that I have a mechanical mishap in is a race I obviously would’ve won, so let’s go with a 3 here.

Tuesday’s head song was the, in opposition to the circumstances, "Last One to Die" by Rancid.

 FBF 3/4ths race July 14, 2009

The sun was finally shining at FBF last night, after what has seemed like an endless succession of moist Tuesdays. I’ve been race-free since June, and I’ve been off the bike for fours days, so I approached the race with both excitement and trepidation, as I didn’t know whether I was rested, rusted or busted. I told myself before the race that I would just try to race a smart race tactically and if my body failed me, then so be it. You can’t ask much more from yourself than that, and since I’ve been loading digestive system with a barge load of coffee, egg sandwiches and all manners of cheese, I wasn’t expecting much from my body except minor efforts and middling eruptions.

It’s been so long since we’ve raced at FBF that it almost seemed like we were starting a new season. The wind was blowing from the north east, which is an unusual direction, and made for a near headwind between turns two and three. It also made wind an issue in 3 of the 4 straights, so it seemed that conditions were right for a split in the race. I settled into my standard approach for windy night at FBF: stay near the front, jump on any splits, ride hard until you nearly poop, and hope the move works out.

The first few laps of the race saw some jumps and leaps from the pack, but there was enough chase in the group to nullify any early stuff. I was diligent in the beginning, and I even dangled out front for about 1/2 a lap to see what rose to the bait of my red backside off the front. Nothing developed. Just after the sprint at around lap 4 or so I think that someone countered and the move at the front started forming. I waited for about a half lap to see if they were working together, and I jumped up between turns three and four. This was the portion of the race where I nearly pooped.

The move to the front was wreaking havoc on my barge load of collected vacation colon sloth, so I had to take a knee for about a lap. I just hung on while those that were stronger and faster than me did the heavy lifting. I was able to rally after a bit of groveling, and then was able to contribute to the move of 11 that had formed. Well, let me revise that – we had a group of 10 racers – and Scot Willingham. Scot chose to ride at the very back of the break and contribute nothing, obviously biding his time for an attack of some sort. The rest of us did turns of differing strength and length. In fact we collaborated to create the strangest breakaway rotation I’ve ever been involved in. We did manage to get a good gap, but we had our magic Wonder Wheels ticket Tom Luzio with us. WWs would be content to let all the points get up the road, as they wouldn’t have to worry about losing any yellow jersey points.

And so we rolled, bungling and bouncing our way to the finish. Now before I mentioned that I had planned to race a smart tactical race, and we had some sprinters in our midst of our little move, so the smart thing to do would’ve been to attack the break to move the odds more towards my favor, but I was suffering from a crisis of confidence. I just didn’t have the faith in my own abilities. I put myself at the mercy of the race, which is exactly the opposite of racing a smart tactical race. We got to the bell lap, and Scot finally made his inevitable move, fooling no one. He was drawn back by turn two, and we were all together again. Jon Orcutt had been motoring in the break, and made a counter move after we caught Scot – an example of a smart tactical move, I did the opposite again and sat back like a pile of marmot dung.

Jon opened a gap and was joined by Ben Woodbury, and after we hit turn 3 Tom Luzio and then finally Scot made their moves across to the front, as the marmot dung piled even higher underneath my behind. I was left in a group of sprinters and others about 200 meters behind the front four, and still I didn’t do anything – once you make a marmot dung hut, it’s very hard to leave it behind.

Tom ended up winning the race with Ben second, Jon third and Scot fourth; I was a dung covered 9th.

Side notes from the night

Scot, you realize you only get to do that once a season, right? Just letting you know.

Schmalz race report

Lack of nerve, failure, and marmot dung, just another Tuesday at FBF, so I’ll call that a seven, and of course, I’ll be back next week.