Where's The Podium #21: Dawg Days Circuit Race 3/4 - Last(?)

This race... I'm not sure what I can say...

I fought hard, dug when I could, held my lines, and came up lacking in the last lap. I am frustrated, but no finger pointing except to myself. How much did I want this? How much did I want to risk in this pack? Sure, there was sketchiness and ridiculous riding on all sides, but my tactic to stay safe and ride opportunities when I could held strong for me until I faded in the last lap. I saw other team moves going and willed my legs to follow as best they could. I really stepped off of the gas in the last lap when I realized two things:

1. I was not going to win this race from where I was - edged out to in 20th+ spot after avoiding crashing into other riders swaying from their lines and squeezing their brakes.
2. I don't trust anyone around me - I've crashed enough this season. Seriously.

I did, however, decide to take pictures of my race experience - except during the race itself. Naturally.

I race...

26.3 mi/h average

182 hr average

98 rpm cadence average

I don't think there's much else to say. I will have to make up for this one. It's leaving a really bad taste in my mouth. I will keep riding and continue to drop weight for next season.

Thanks for reading.

Where's The Podium? #19: Poor House RR - crashed out

Had worse.

It's a sickening feeling to go down on a bike. Worse feeling when you have found your way so close to a win, 150 meters more would have taken you there. This was violent, but more on that in a bit.

My coffee and granola bar breakfast sent me on my way to West Virginia in a happy, excited mood. I don't usually hit the road at 5:30am, but if its going to be for a bike race, I can't complain. 

Martinsburg WV's finest ready to escort

Once parked, I hustled to registration and pinned my race numbers as fast as I could to have time to pee, make sure my brakes weren't rubbing rims, and slide into the starting area.

The organizer and official kept it short and sweet for the start, and we were off on the 10mile loop ready for our race. What wasn't short and sweet was our neutral start. I won't say much more than I am not used to a +2mile neutral start. At any rate, we were on our way to completing 3 laps of the loop. 

Along the way, the pace was well kept. There were obvious teams interested in being at the front except on climbs where they all dropped back through the field. That was sorta funny, but I would not get in their way when they wanted to ride in front on the mostly downhill second half of the loops.

We had good speed for the race considering the terrain and the field strength. My only hiccup came during the second lap on the steepest of the climbs. For whatever reason, my right foot unclipped from its pedal right as I started to put on the wattage. This caused me to lose all speed and have to try and not panic as I clipped back in on this 9% hill and work my way back to the group. I wasted no time as there was another hill to cover, and I burned a match to get back on the group. It took a lot out of me, but I knew it was what I had to do, and that I was not going to lose this race on something like that.

Skipping to the last lap.

I work my way up the field and sat no higher that 5th wheel going into the final few miles. I see them ticking by and I know that I have to hold the wheel I have in front as he is going a great job keeping his spot. All I had to do was stay to the yellow line, wait for between 500m-200m to the finish line to open my sprint to the far outside left lane where 1. No one would get around me 2. The road's last 100m had a slight left-hand bend that I would use for even more advantage. 

I was perfect. 800m to go, someone sped off my wheel to my left. He got a gap on the field  but was fading. I begin my sprint 200m to go slingshotting someone else's wheel and I surge! My power is big and I feel this win slowly take me in. I am gunning for the wheel of the one off the front. I can see he is fading fast. I look up as he looks back for who might beat him to the line. It was to be me. I can feel myself breaking away from the front of the group. I tell myself that I am the fastest one here. Then - snap!

My body is slammed to the pavement at +32mph. I don't know what just happened. I feel my head hit. My face and body slide across the pavement and find a stop in the gravel at the side of the road. My twisted bike is somewhere behind me. The first thing I think to say "f*ck that!" (Sorry, parentals.)

I don't know what happened. I have guessed that my gears skipped and somehow that caused me to fly to the ground. Maybe someone flung their bike, in the frantic sprint, into my back wheel and took me out. I'm not sure though. All I know is that I was really close to that win, and I really wanted it. 

Race promoter, Matt, was really helpful making sure I was alright, and with the help of some volunteers, found my keys that had flung out of my rear pocket* during my crash. 

So as not to dwell too much more on this, I'm glad to say that apart from adding onto roadrashes of before, I am fine and ready to race tomorrow.

I did, however, lose my favorite jersey today.

Between the jersey, helmet, and bib shorts, I lost easily $400 worth of kit today. Could have been worse! - always!

I'm glad I will get to race tomorrow, and I hope that I can race this Poor House Road Race again next year! 

Some more photos from today...

A bit scuffed

Take me home

As I was sitting by the roadside waiting for my keys to be found I heard a racer talking so someone walking back with him from the course say "The guy that crashed would have won." Then he pointed to me. Last night I typed out a message "I'll have some good news for you after my race tomorrow" to my girlfriend. That's how confident I was. I didn't sent it, but I guess me typing it out was enough to gynx it.

*my crash ripped open the stitching between my back pockets making it one long pocket-pouch.

Thanks for reading.

Where's The Podium? #18: Steel City Showdown 2014 - 22nd

race-prep

Well, it has been some time since I have posted here. It has been over a year since the last post and that horrible crash. That's obvious. Less obvious might be the opportunities I have recently been afforded to ride, train, and race my bike. To put this quickly, my updates here have been lacking due to less riding. I have put a lot behind me and while opening myself up to a new challenge ahead, the window of opportunity to ride and spend time with my bike and the friends and support around it has presented itself. I'll take it. After this weekend's race and experiences I have been motivated, if not inspired, to have a go at posting again, and to keep ever diligent with riding.

Tough drive up

The Pittsburgh Steel City Showdown holds a good place for my racing legs. Though I haven't raced every year of its existence, the two that I have did not disappoint. This criterium race through downtown makes for an exciting venue and an ever challenging race.

This is a road trip.

Though this will be the first 2014 race recap, this is not my first 2014 race. The three previous races of the season were fairly squalid as far as performance and quality on my part. Having been dropped in two of the three and finished in the back (tho apparently I scored a DNF) of the other, any subsequent recaps do not need much more breath than that. It could go without saying that my expectations for this Cat3/4 race were not high. My Cat4 abilities are still finding their legs and race alertness.

IUP Cycling had a great showing in the morning's earlier Cat5 race. Club VP, Theron, took the win! Teammates Drew and Alex finished top 15 at 10th and 14th respectively. Those boys make the IUP Cycling alum proud and excited to see more success.

Race day looms

The Cat3/4 race started its way around the .8mi course in a hustle. My expectations for this race was that it was going to hurt, and I would do my best to hang in for as long as possible. The early laps set a firm tone for the peloton's proceedings.

Photo by Mike Briggs

I had the sneaking suspicion that I wouldn't last, but somewhere through the middle of the race my legs fell into a rhythm following the pace, turns, and constant accelerations up and around the two bridges.

The turns were the worst. Most of my time was spent regaining lost ground from having to touch the brakes through corners 1 and 2 from the sometimes sudden and ever unfortunate decellerations that had to be made. I quickly realized thst this pattern of slowing and subsequent acceleration was nothing I could waste any energy on. I would do what I had to to hold wheels, catch drafts back to the pack, and not allow any gap to form between me and the main pack. Potholes pinched nerves and the curb after turn 2 claimed at least 5 riders throughout the race. I could not understand how guys could overcook turn 2 and skim up on that outside curb after that turn. Yet it kept happening, and I made sure to hold my inside line.

Green dot - start/finish. Clock-wise.

Round and round, my legs kept up. It was well apparent to me that I was not the strongest in the race. I sought recovery every chance I could, but eventually I began to realize that I had opportunities to make gains on the field as sluggers on the front slowed after ascending the bridges. No one really wanted to make a blistering pace in the field, so the pace dropping allowed a lot of guys to catch back on. Instead of me hitting my breaks and holding my place near the back, I would allow a simple sling-shot effect to take place and gain positioning up bridge 1. I knew I could easily carry speed through turns 3 and 4 to carry momentum over the second through to the lap lines. This tactic would keep me in the hunt.

Photo by Mike Briggs

I kept an eye toward the lap cards flipping by when I could. Guys thinking they needed to bunny hop every pothole and gap in the road really got on my nerves, and kept me wary of someone making the wrong twitch into someone else's wheel to ruin everyone's day. As the laps moved on, my confidence and mentality strengthened. With 10 laps to go, I began noticing who the players for the finish wanted to be. Teammates began pairing up, and tho I didn't know any of them by strength, the tactics were simple. Follow their wheel for a ride to the finish.

I thought to myself "If you can see the front, you can be the front." I was going to give myself the best chance to win.

At this level, no one was going to be able to make a break away. With 3 to go, I knew that I had to be toward the front and hold my place there.

My adrenaline is pumping, my eyes twitch from wheel to wheel sizing up strengths and gaps in the field around me. Through turn 1 I am sitting halfway up the field. I ascend bridge 1 after a smooth, swift turn 2, and I put in a dig to keep myself moving as the front riders relax before they can dive into turn 3. Up the bridge to the line for 2 to go, I am sitting near 15th wheel. The penultimate lap is more of the same as I take more risks to put myself in the best place I can.

I am sitting 8th wheel as the peloton crosses the line to the bell lap. The pace is high and I follow a good line through the turn 1. I hold off touching my brakes as the back of my left hand is grazed by another rider's right. We acknowledge the contact by an instinctive twitch away from one another. My line into turn 2 is hindered by a surge from the outside squeezing me in. I accellarate hard through the turn to hold my positioning. Over bridge 1 and into turn 3 I have lost maybe 5 positions as more surge from the outside. My legs pedal through turn 4 and up the final bridge. I give it my all. I dig deep out of the saddle. My legs immediately burn and I feel my strength and acceleration dimming. My arms torque the bike side to side from the drops as I feel my handle bar jabbing my forearms. I sense riders flying past me and I know that my bid for a placing has passed. I keep turning as hard as I can for as long as I can through the finish line.

I finished 22nd out of 70 that crossed the finish line. I roll through one last lap to spin the legs, and I exit the course to go find my beautiful support girl on the sidelines of the course. I didn't register as immediately as she did that even tho I had not finished near the front, I had raced better than all season! This is certainly something to celebrate. I am so happy I had her and our Pittsburgh host cheering me on.

Looking back, I am really glad and honestly relieved to have given her something to actually cheer me on about. Me sitting 8th wheel at the end was, to me, the perfect place to be. I simply didn't have the legs to finish, but that will come with harder work put in. This performance is a step up because of my elevated training, and I know that the races will not be getting any easier.

By the numbers:

• 21.4 miles
• 50min 35sec
• 24.3 mph average

After the race I had the pleasure of meeting the inspiring person that is behind Cycling Inquisition. Klaus is a brilliant writer with a tireless passion for cycling as seen through the Colombian perspective. I had no idea I would ever get a chance to meet him, but he noticed the jersey he designed that I wore for the race and came up to me after the finish to introduce himself and share a chat. His humility and appreciation for me wearing his jersey was truly inspiring. I was more than happy to share that moment with my girlfriend and friend with me there.

The jersey trumped the "13" bad luck

Here are a few more pictures from the weekend...

Another weekend racer

She's my teammate, fan, and soigneur number 1. #lesigh

I am fortunate to have such great support around me!

Thanks for reading. Two races to face this coming weekend. Look for more updates soon.

Uncontrollable Moment

It donned on me today during my ride that cycling gives me more back than I often realize. One word seemed to rise above all else: Hope. Circling my legs through the strokes of my ride I found moments of solace. Where I am now from where I was after my last race... Well, I know things have worked out well for me in a number of ways. Not everyone is as lucky. Other aspects of where I am will take more than time and simple hope. A determination and diligence is what I must call upon to realize goals further than just the future.

The last time I raced was in Chantilly, VA over a month ago. Being relatively close to where I live, I was able to drag my girlfriend there to watch me race for the first time. My parents were also able to make it, and I was excited to be able to ride my hardest for them all.

With decent training leading up to it and a good warmup before the start line, my legs felt good. From the start I was cautious of my efforts, but not afraid to follow moves I felt were important. If I wasn't at the front of the peloton or slightly off the front nursing a move, I kept toward the outside of the field. Experience with a Cat 4 field has this solidified in my racing style. Yet, as good as I felt, as cautious as I was being, nothing could be done to save me from experiencing the worst crash of my career.

THIS is why a cyclist shaves his legs.

In an uncontrollable moment my front wheel is pushed to my left beyond my balance by the rider in front of me while my rear is held in place by the rider behind - an unnatural twisting force that grapples my front wheel to dip to the left. My left hand lifts from its grasp of comfort and is extended in a frozen purgatory. My eyes scan between each pinpoint of information my mind is absorbing in its hyperactive state. I hear a my voice waver a panicked yell as I realize my painful fate is near . As far to the left of the field as I was, another rider is at a glance in my left peripheral and the instant I have to stabilize is now far gone. My only option is to brace for black impact.

I hit. My body groans again as the solid pavement I have just slammed into begins to rip and grind away my left side. I know that the best way for me to lessen the damage to my already fraying skin is to be released from my locked footing to my bicycle and roll. Immediately my left foot is released from under my bike by someone's own ill-fated position behind me having run over my bike. My eyes are sealed and after one roll I feel a stunning 1-2 jab to my right ribs and upper arm. These impacts revive another groan from my worsening condition and I roll over and over again to allow the mauling pavement to decide where I stop.

I am stranded - alone. I lie there writhing in sudden pain and panic while the adrenaline quickly numbs my senses to help me cope. My eyes open and although my agonized groaning has not stopped, my only other response to the panic I am feeling is to raise my head and slam it back down on the pavement that did this to me over and over - the adrenaline needs to work faster. My eyes close and open once more and my right hand gently presses against the tender ribs that were just run over by someone not unlike myself.

"How can I help you?" My groaning stops. I am not alone. From my left another sorry racer that has just ridden over me asks again, "What can I do?" I look up and reassure his panicked inquiry that there is nothing he can do for me. I blink and now see other riders sprawled out past him that have gone down with me - because of me. I close my eyes and slam my head back once more.

My breathing is sharp now and the first sensation of feeling I regain is a flap of skin that has folded off my right thumb that has just brushed the jersey on my side. I place my thumb into my mouth and bite off the skin and spit it out. This is no time for remorse. I know I have to now asses the damages and limit my losses. The pressure on my ribs rises to a crescendo and I groan once more. The other riders are regaining their bearings and are remounting their bikes to rejoin the circuit race before the field passes us once more.

I now realize two things. First, there is blood. Second, I feel no pain except the pressure on my side - my ribs are bruised but not broken. I sense the open skin on the side of my hip, left leg, knee and ankle, right hip and shoulder, forearms, knuckles, and fingers, but no pain.

I finally get up and pick my bike off the ground. I run the pedals through a stroke or two to make sure I did not lose more than what I can repair; myself. I know that I cannot continue the race and I begin my walk back along the outside of the race course to the start/finish. In my state of shock reluctantly accept a free ride back with a race medic. When he and I get back I see my girlfriend still watching the race as if I was still in it. My parents too... They all thought they must have just missed me passing by during the past few laps.

Their eyes scan the damage and I am profoundly grateful they are there to take my car and me home, and that I was not 4 hours away from home with only myself to drive. My girlfriend drove me as the adrenaline was wearing off and the pressures and pains began to creep into my consciousness. We search for proper bandages and make it back to my home with french bread pizza waiting for us.

Bike and blood rag retrieved a few days later.

After a week of training for a new position at work and another week helping open a new store I am able to ride again. The healing process was often painful, but it's over now.

Today, my knuckles and other skin have sealed and healed. My riding, subject to the schedule I now am without, is sporadic and hardly something I can call training. But I still get out and ride when I can. And that gives me hope that I can still realize dreams I have about this cycling thing.

(instagram: @johnnybrison) Thanks for reading.

Also, the guy that I watched win the race... I've beaten him before in sprints and I could have beaten him again. Next time.

Where's The Podium? #17: Salisbury Road Race - 6*th

I am trying up up my fitness. With the work days and all that fills my weeks between the wars that I am slotted to wage come Saturday and/or Sunday, they call my kind the "weekend warrior." Each day can be a battle to do what I feel I need to do so that I can succeed and rise to each weekend's challenge. Yet, yesterday's road race war was not quite the type of race war I have been training for. As you read this please understand that my complaints here are not without reason. I felt unnecessarily unsafe in nearly every moment of the race and I will not sit idly by when a cheater tries to cheat me. I would have moved up if I could have, but this is the nature of these lower category races sometimes.

Despite my placing 6*th out of +/- 65 riders, yesterday's race was a poor road racing experience. The only "race" happened in the last kilometer. Before that, my brakes got more work than my legs.

Reason being, the tactical wariness and timidity of the category 4/5 race field. Two weeks ago I complained about the unnerving manner of the U-19 racer combined with the poor weather conditions. Yesterday's race had neither, but was the sketchiest race I have ever had to ride. On the first of four laps alone, there were 2 crashes. Because no one is willing to ride hard enough to make the peloton, nor least of all, themselves hurt a little to make the race an actual race, the riders were subject to suffer far worse consequences. I would be willing to wager nearly a quarter of the riders were affected by the 5-6 crashes yesterday. Disgusting.

But okay, Let me put some of this into context.

There is a center-line rule in place. That rule is there because the race organizers, despite the amazing work they do to make these events happen, could not get all of the roads closed to traffic. Thus, cars, trucks, horse-buggies, and anything else is allowed to drive through the course on the left side of the yellow line of the road while the races carry on. Simple. Understood by all. De jure. De facto... riders hate the yellow line rule for a number of reasons that I won't go into here, but they cheat it whenever they can and think the will win the race by doing so. It's next to impossible to move up when the peloton is tight and slow, but some can't seem to understand that the race will not be won cheating up a few places by going over the yellow line. 

I had one guy try do it to me after a turn (where the yellow line disappeared through the intersection) and when I wouldn't budge over into another rider or slam on my brakes so that he could slot himself in front of me. I pleaded with him "Yellow line dude. Come on..." as if to say, "why would you try that? I'm not letting you in. I hate you right now." He protested back at me with, "It disappeared through the turn!" Readers... this is an example of the morons that I had to wage war against yesterday. It took an oncoming horse-buggie for him to pull his brakes and go back to where he was behind me. Pathetic. Dangerous. Cheater. Waste of a race entry.

 One guy I called an explicative for cutting me at the beginning of the last lap so that he could be behind his teammate. As if that was going to make him win the race. As if that move was going to have him beat me. Nay, rider. Nay.

Yesterday, because no one wanted to ride at a decent pace on the front, because of the yellow line rule, and because these riders are novice, I and everyone else, was on my brakes way too many times. I was scared that one wrong move in the compact, stuck peloton would send my bike and me straight to the pavement. 

My friend's race was ruined on the last lap when some rider on a climb decided to swing and swerve his bike over and accidentally into my friend's rear derailleur. This move caused the following to happen:

1. Broke the cable to my friend's rear derailleur - no more shifting for him - meaning he had to finish the race in that easier gear he was using to ride over the rolling hill where/when this event happened.
2. Rider that hit rear derailleur hits pavement next.
3. Rider hitting pavement hits other riders on the way down causing them to hit pavement too
4. The race is over for many riders and the lucky survive.

My strategy for this race became clear to me on the first lap. If I am to stay safe and out of the path of falling riders, I have to either be at the front or on the yellow line so at least I can swerve outside and not into someone next to me should something happen. That strategy paid off and I was able to go into the final turn down and up the finishing hills with decent positioning, perfectly un-fatigued legs, and enough clarity in my mind to want to end this race as soon as possible. Taking 6th was not a great or terrible result for me with a lot considered. But don't get me wrong... I'm content enough* with my placing.

No matter how much I complain about the terrible racing that my friend and I were subjected to yesrerday, nothing will change until we cat-up for stronger fields where race tactics, stronger legs, fearless riders, and everything else changes. I've been through these races before. I just hope my bike and I make it out safe again.

Easter colors for you from my morning drive up to PA

I would like to say thank you again to the support I have and the race organizers that put on these events for us. I am by no means complaining about their hard work, sacrifices, and commitment to us all. They do a wonderful job and I cannot thank them enough.

The sun was a welcome friend during the warm-up ride, race war, and drive home. It was incredible how I could feel the intense cold when someone's shadow passed over the lyrca on my legs.

Thanks for reading.

*Originally, results posted said I took 5th. USA Cycling official results put me in 6th. I need to train harder and drop these races with better results.

Where's The Podium? #16: Strasburg

You could say this race had a lot not going for me. You could also say I couldn't care less.

I'm just happy to be racing again.

And that is how I am choosing to look at this early morning's experience. Leaving my house at 5:15 am to drive 2.5 hours for a 1.25 hour race may sound daunting to most, but I leave for work every day only an hour later to face 8-10 hours of retail onslaught. This morning's cycling onslaught is a trade I'm happy to make.

Strasburg, Pennsylvania is part of the great county of Lancaster. From iconic PA sights interwoven with its rich, unique Amish culture, bike races are allowed to flourish here and I hope to make my way up many more times. As you can see from these first two pictures, the morning was beautiful in sight. Yet the cold winds were leading the charge of a bitter spitting of hail turned snow for the 9:00am race start.

The race course had its rollers, twists, and Lancaster character. From the ripe smell of cow presence to the horse manure patching the roads... if you can't tell by now, this race was sketchy. Instead of me going into a long-winded explanation of all the forces against a more positive result for me, I will simply list them out for you to see.

Beginning with factors effecting the race overall...

1. First race of the season for many
2. Poor, cold weather
3. Snow making the roads wet and slick
4. U-19 riders not heeding warnings, yellow lines, or their positioning on the bike, within the peloton, nor anyone else around them
5. 2 crashes - caused by the aforementioned factors, yet they still play a part  (unnerving for some - tho one was right near the end near the back where the strong and capable of winning wouldn't be found)

And for me personally...

1. My first race in two years
2. Sketchy riders all around me causing me to be unnerved for much of the race
3. Legs weren't fluid - for a number of reasons on their own...
1. Poor training - SO MUCH WORK all on my feet for those 8-10 hour shifts (not a complaint- just a fact) My legs can only handle so much before fatigue cripples any gains I would hope to get from all the training I wish I could be doing
2. Asthma - this only comes up in extreme cold with high exertion and in extreme heat with extreme exertion - it flared up for the last 4 of the 5 laps sapping my needed oxygen for that ATP energy production, muscle recovery, and sustainable strength in the legs. 
4. At the end - I was caught behind a crash that took our 5-6 riders in front of me and almost claimed me with it. Glamourless onslaught.
5. Legs didn't have it.
6. Legs didn't have it.
7. Legs didn't have it.

If my legs did have it, I wouldn't have been caught in the back behind that crash at the end that nearly took me out with it. I would have been up front with my friend going for the top step. But you know what... I got 22nd and I can only hope to improve with hard work, more dedication, and trusting myself.

I'm not done here yet.

I've done what training I could so far, and I will continue to do what I can as I dive into this upcoming season. It's a balancing act I feel most have to contend with. As much as I may feel mine is the worst, I cannot help but simply retract any negativity and replace it with appreciation for my ability to race, all the support I have around me, and what I hope to still accomplish. I have a lot of work to still do, but no one is in my way*.

Leaving Lancaster, PA and the Strasburg road race was not accompanied by disappointment. Seeing people going about their daily lives of work in this weather I hated to race my bike in certainly reminded me of the perspective I carry. I'm finally racing again and I couldn't care less about the placing I got today... I'm lucky to be able to do this. I will be back to race in Lancaster two weeks from now and I look forward to it. I am happy that my friend's hard work in training time and efforts payed off with a 3rd place and I hope I can help him out a bit more next time and slot myself up a few places in doing so.

100% Colombian + me = 200% Colombian

Thanks for reading.

instagram: @johnnybrison

*except me