Instead of a Race

What was supposed to be a race weekend turned into a weekend of riding with teammates, and a good amount of hours and miles put under the legs. 73mi+ on Saturday and just under 50mi on Sunday puts this weekend's riding up a notch from the past this year.

a humble man's bike shop

It just so happened that I made the newbie mistake of registering too late - though I thought I had registered weeks ago - for the William & Mary Tidewater Winter Classic. I was put on the waitlist, and such as it is, I did not feel particularly motivated to drive down to the race and be potentially turned away from being abl to line up. Yet, my motivation to ride did not fail. I took my bicycle out in race-ready form (tubular wheels and no saddlebag) to the Clifton group ride. It always helps when teammates begin chatter on the emails about the weekend ride options. The cold was not quite deep enough to turn me away, and I wanted to try my new frame out with the carbons and sprint efforts along the way.

old bike, but with an old friend

We had good numbers at the Clifton ride. For the teammates that were there, we rode hard, communicated, took sprints from the die-hards, and enjoyed the cold outing. As motivated as I was, teammates were ready to roll as well. I put my efforts in for what I thought would be a 55-60 miles ride. They added a bit more than i anticipated. I bonked hard 65 miles on to the end. Luckily a teammate gave me a lift home to save me the uphill to my place from his, and ending with more than I was ready for is not all that bad for how fun it all was.

Sunday provided a bit of a different pace. I rode to a teammate's place and we rolled out to the roads by Mason Neck State Park for measured, interval work. It was a bit more than I expected, but it was just what my legs needed. A bit more work and effort to drive home the weekend's riding was great. Not to mention the warm, sunny 60s weather the area enjoyed. I now recline very tired, but glad with where my legs are. There is a lot of room for improvement, but I learned a lot this weekend and look forward to the races coming up.

Anyway, I want to get back in the habit of grabbing a few pictures for this place. Hopefully I'll have a few more to spruce up the posts with next time.

Thanks for reading.

On Again

Each year, this off-season mantra plays through my head again and again: "You get out what you put in".

I live life trying to get the most out of it. I have talked on here before about how fortunate I feel to be in the position that I am to even pedal a bicycle for the fun of it. I am even more fortunate to be able to compete and try again and again to win.

Looking forward to my 2016 season, I see a lot of opportunity. That opportunity comes in the form of strategy. I am planning my season upon a more focused way of racing. I will play to my strengths, and do everything I can to give myself the best chance to win.

I have to finally let go of my amazing 2011 Scott Addict R2 frame that has treated me so well over the past 5 years. I have moved to a single-season used 2015 Felt AR5 frame. I am swapping over all of my SRAM 10speed components and powermeter. Until now, I hadn't realized I do not have a good picture of the bike yet, but here it is mid-assembly.

I had some help, but I did most of the assembly myself. No one to blame but me for any mechanical failure. Having worked in a bike shop over this past summer, a lot of things have been demystified. Having a better understanding of what I need to be doing as far as maintenance and repair will go a long way for me this year and beyond.

Speaking of which, I have applied to numerous doctor of physical therapy (DPT) programs. It has been an arduous process completing prerequisites, taking standardized tests, and waiting to hear back. More on this to come, I'm sure.

Funnily enough, my support crew has gotten the itch to start racing a bicycle, herself. I don't know if it's seeing my scars, watching crashes happen less than 100m from where she has been sitting, or all of my nerdy bike-talking over the past FOUR years, but she has herself a 2015 Felt ZW5 ready to race! Note that she came to me about wanting to race... I never suggested it, but I'm all for it and am ready to throw back my 100% support her way.

One thing we both recognize is that we hope for the same thing when we ride - to have fun! For me, losing sight of that serves no one any good. I like to think that having fun is what keeps me riding.

I'll finish this post by sharing a rider on the other side of the globe that I find to epitomize what having fun on the bike is all about. I discovered Mark Ferguson of "Cycling Maven"'s vlogs on YouTube recently and have not stopped watching. His channel and following has been growing, and I hope you all can see what I mean when you check out his videos. From racing tips and in-race footage, to rider interviews and life-style commentary, Mark shares with his viewers a lot of what makes him fulfilled in life and the cycling culture he loves in Melbourne, Australia. Check out his channel here: YouTube - Cycling Maven.

Thanks for reading. I hope to be touching base here more often. I've got biology class in less than an hour.

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.