Jumping Rope on a Razor Blade: the precarious lives of sprinters

"It's like walking barefoot over broken glass,

It's like jumping rope on a razor blade,

all lightning quick decisions are made."

Ice-T, High Roller

Sprinters are a different sort of bike racer. The first of week of the Tour de France 2012 has shown the fleeting and dangerous aspects of sprinters careers. Thrilling, surprising, and intense, but gone in a moment.

Some of that is the nature of sprinting. Turning over a 140 rpm cadence, drop the chain to the 11 cog, kick it up to 50+ miles per hour, throw for the line: it's all done in seconds. No long grinding effort like a 50 minute 40km time trial. Neither a tango up a 12% Hor's Categorie climb over half an hour. Not the all day drama of a Spring classic. Sprints are won in the last kilometers, the final minutes of a race; blink and you'll miss it.

Some of the danger is from the size and intensity of Grand Tour field sprints. 200 racers are pushing themselves through twisting narrow roads to get to the 3km mark. Then the front 50 guys are working to set up 10-12 sprinters. Sprinters don't get the pleasure of whittling the bunch down to a mere dozen racers like the climbers do. Each sprinter is trying to thread a needle with their heart rate at 200 bpm while moving at 45 mph. One wrong move or slight touch and everyone could hit the pavement.

And sometimes they do. This year all but one "sprinters stage" has seen a crash effect the finish. All of the sprinters have hit the deck once, some several times. Tyler Farrar has been taken out of every sprint stage save for one. Certainly sprinters need to be lucky, and Peter Sagan seems to have the most luck this year.

Sagan also has the speed to match his luck. He has not won 3 stages by accident. Perhaps the most impressive aspect of his tally is the competition he is defeating. Ale-Jet and Oscar Friere have been no where. Cavendish has only won a single stage. Andre Greipel has shown his strength, but he was beaten too by Sagan, twice. Matty Goss has been close, but always a bridesmaid. Which reminds me how fleeting success in sprints can be. Last year's champion is this year's also ran. Yesterday's victory fades before the podium flowers loose their bloom. 

Which is why sprinters keep on sprinting. Winning a race out of a field sprint is an incredible rush, whether it's a Grand Tour or a local club criterium. The adrenaline spike, the intense focus, the whirling legs, it is an intoxicating experience. When I watch a field sprint all those sensations re-awaken. I miss those feelings.

I don't miss scraping myself off the pavement. I can live without the fear of clipping a pedal through a turn, or some one sweeping out my front wheel. So I have no plans to race a bunch of criteriums this year. But I won't say never again. The rush of racing on the razors edge is impossible to forget.

VT 6 Gaps: hot, haggard, and humbled

Sometimes a stupid idea captures my imagination and won't let go. My most masochistic friend Dana is moving back out west. Before he leaves at the end of the month he had to tackle the most grueling set of climbs in New England, the Vermont 6 Gap route. Our team mate Doug has chronicled every detail of this monstrous route on his website: 132 miles 12,000 feet of climbing over 6 major climbs, including the steepest mile in the north east . Of course, Doug's not the "hill junkie" for no reason.

Dana: our crazed leader

In my stupidity, I agreed to ride this route with Dana last Saturday. I had other rides/races in mind, but the weather looked good, and Dana is leaving for who knows how long, so...6 other friends (Big Brett, John J, Melody, Andy Harvey, Lou, and Mike Blouin) were equally silly. After a 4 a.m. wake up, one wrong turn, and two coffees, we arrived in Rochester, Vermont. We got rolling at quarter past 7 for a leisurely warm up on Brandon Gap. To my delight, I was climbing well and feeling good. Lou and I crossed the top together, the rest of the group about a minute behind. It is easy to feel good on the first 30 miles of a long day.

The last time I felt good on the ride, start of the last mile on Lincoln Gap

We caught a couple of groups who started ahead of us on Middlebury Gap. I was inspired to push a little harder to the top of this 7 mile pass. I've been climbing well (for my bowling bowl like shape) this season, so I didn't feel over worked, yet. The temperature had risen to near 80 degrees. But I was drinking regularly, or so I thought. At the route 100 junction we took a long break to refuel and change Lou's flat tire. I was eager to start up Lincoln Gap. I read Doug's blog about how steep and relentless Lincoln Gap is for the last mile. Yet I did not imagine just how severe it could be. The first 3 miles lulled me into a false sense of accomplishment. I was able to ride a steady tempo and lead the group upto that point. The last mile was the real cruelty. It is twice as steep as anything I had climbed before. I installed a 36 inner ring to go with a 28 rear cog. It was not enough gear. First Lou passed me and I was not surprised. Then Dana stomped past is a 34x32 gear. For half a mile I stood and forced the pedals over at 50 rpm. Then both quads started to cramp. With a quarter mile to go, I could not push my quads anymore, so I had to get off and walk. Oh the shame, the shame. I watched the gradient on my bike computer vary from 22-26%. In trying to remount the bike, my left hamstring seized up. I slowly rolled up the short finish pitch and flopped over into the ditch. 3 of our group, Dana, Lou and Andy managed to ride the whole climb. The rest of us stopped or walked part of it. The heat did not help our effort. After several minutes of stretching and recovering, I felt good enough to descend. We were all abit ragged at that point.

Hamstring stretches at the top of Lincoln Gap.

I would have lots of time to recover before App Gap, since John had 3 flats before we got to the top of Baby Gap. The only trouble was that the day was getting hotter. By the time we hit the last two miles of exposed road on App Gap the temperature was near 90. Cresting the pass, a cool stiff breeze quickly gave us some relief. But the damage was done, we were all tired, salt streaked, and dehydrated. I felt more pain climbing App Gap that day than any time I have climbed it in a race. We were also running an hour behind my estimated timeline. Yet smiles took over as we grouped up for a photo on top of the pass. We had made it over the toughest of the climbs.

Top of App Gap, we made it,
 so far.

We stopped for a late lunch in Warren. As we ate I began to realize just how shattered my legs were. Melody was in worse shape with heat sickness. Since she could not keep any food down, she decided to bail out down Route 100. Since John drove her to the start, he would bail too. I was happy to help them spin back down to Rochester. I had promised my wife I would be home by 7, and I knew it would be close even with skipping the last two gaps. The "spin" back over Granville Gulf and down Route 100 was hard, but not a death march. Andy decided to call it a day too, so he and I traded pulls for most of the distance. A chocolate milk, a large coconut water, and a clean set of clothes gave me just enough energy to get home.

In retrospect, I would attempt this again. But I plan to use more gears, and take more time. I would also avoid attempting all six gaps on a 90 degree day. Any two of these climbs in a row are hard. Tackling 4 or more in a day is monumental. All six? We'll see if I can do them all next year.

The beauty of new trails: Westhill-Grafton Ponds XC

Every mountain biker has favorite home trails. We ride these trails again and again, to the point where we can rip them at fantastic speed. We can also get a little bored riding them by the middle of the season. Racing  at different venues offers the opportunity to try something new. Sometimes it's not so good, sometimes it is better.


photo by Thom Parsons



The Grafton Pond XC trails are great. The Grafton Ponds center is a nordic ski area in the winter. (I have never skied there either, but I may make a trip this winter.) The start was in a large open field next to the pond. The pond is big enough for a swim raft and canoeing, so families had plenty to do while dad or mom was racing. The first section of the race course was a long double track uphill. The distance from the line to the first singletrack was almost half a mile!. The trail started level but progressively got steeper until just before entering the single track.

Once the single track started, the fun was at hand. Grafton Ponds has some gorgeous manicured single track trails. Lots of well built bridges, nicely placed rock crossings, and even linked bermed turns. I had fun racing just for the great sections of singletrack. Between the trails were enough flat double track sections to grab a drink or punch up some speed. Two tough double track climbs at the end of the lap gave us a chance to crawl  into the pain cave for a few minutes. I love this course.

photo by Thom Parsons

With a preview lap as my warm up I hoped I could turn out a podium result for the first time this year. I slotted into the front row and went for the long long hole shot. I was third wheel coming off the line trailing Carl Smith and Will Raymond. He and I had the same idea and attacked up the steep part of the hill leading into the singletrack. I followed Carl through the first trail section with most of our group stacked up behind us. At the next double track section, I attacked around Carl. I took the lead and created some separation from the bunch. Heading into the next singletrack section I drop my chain off the middle ring. My shifting had been touchy during the pre-ride, but I had hoped to have tweaked it enough for the race. I had not. I would drop chains three more times during the race. I quickly remounted in third wheel and pounded the pedals to catch back up to the leaders.




I caught Carl Smith at the end of the next singletrack section. The guy who was in the lead had attacked through the singletrack and was out of sight. The rest of the race Carl and I would trade attacks, each getting a 10-20 second gap, then the other pulling back. In the middle of the last lap I dropped my chain for the third time, this time off the inside of the cog, while I was leading Carl by 30 seconds. I yelled, swore, and got to re-setting my chain. Carl cruised passed me as I was fixing the gears. He realized his chance and pushed the pace. I tried to pull back the gap, but felt demoralized by the mechanicals. I lost a minute to Carl in the last mile of the race.

My effort was good enough for 3rd place. I was on the podium at a mtb race for the first time in 2 years. I clearly did not have the legs for the win, but I was happy to execute my race plan. I hope to find more great trails at the new Stonewall Farm XC race in July. Until then, go check out Grafton Pond's trails if you have a chance.

Domnarski Farm XC: the good, the bad, and the muddy

Domnarski Farm XC is an old timey mountain bikey course. I only suppose this is so, since I've been racing mtb for 6 years. The guys I train with used to race mtb "back in the day" on narrow long loops of mixed dirt road/jeep trail/single track courses that sound just like this one. So I imagine this course appeals to racers who fondly remember Onza pedals, Suntour XC group, and Oakley pilots.

I found the course really challenging to ride and more challenging to race. The course is a ten mile loop starting and ending on a narrow strip of farm trail. I came early to do a preview lap since I had never ridden at Domnarski Farm, and my category was racing only one lap. Immediately I saw that the narrow start track heading quickly into uphill single track would mean a front row start would be vital. After the first single track climb the course meandered around the woods, in and out of wide dirt roads. The challenge was that every so often a hub deep pool of murky water covered the track, both in the single track and on the dirt roads. These mystery bogs could be fast, could be slow, and could hide wheel breaking obstacles; sometimes in the same mud hole. There must have been two dozen of these death traps around the course from the monsoon like rains of the prior week. No one could avoid them. A few times I wished for a snorkel and mask.

I finished my preview lap muddy and a little beat up. I had just enough time to change jerseys, clean the mud off my glasses, and hustle for my front row spot. I kept my elbows wide as we rolled up to the line so as not to get shuffled back, but all for not. Off the line I missed my pedal twice and faded back to 6th wheel. I kept driving into the single track and picked off a couple of guys as they fell on slippery roots. Once we got to the flatter single track, Will Raymond caught my wheel and cruised past. No worries, I figured I could catch him in the double track and pass him on the hill. No such luck.

Once into the double track I kept pushing the speed. I found the mystery bogs easier to ride at race speed with a little bit (alot) of dumb luck. At the end of the race I saw broken bikes eaten by the monsters in the bogs littering the field. Once at the power line hill I could see Will about 30 seconds ahead. Unfortunately he was hoofing fast, and worse John Allen rode up to my wheel. John and I traded positions back and forth up the steepest hill on the course. Once we got down into the boggy single track I realized we only had 1.5 miles left to race. Another guy in our category was closing on John as well. Being the good cyclocross racer I am, I started running every deep mud section. I put a solid gap into John and his chaser. Then coming into the last wide mud bog my bad luck caught up to me. I picked the wrong line, endo'd on a submerged log, and splashed down in the murky muck. John and the chaser passed me as I was remounting. I had half a mile of down hill single track to try and catch them. It was not enough course to close the gap. I rolled across the finish line a few seconds behind them and pounded my handlebars in frustration.

Solid effort, lack luster result. But on the bright side, I've never raced a muddy mtb course better. I supposed that if I close my eyes and imagine the muck monsters just aren't there, they go away; at least for a little while.

P.S. Thank you to Matt Domnarski and his family for putting on a mountain bike race at their beautiful farm. Worth the trip.

Unsolicited Product Endorsement #1: Praxis Chainrings

I love SRAM double tap rear shifting and the Red group. I loved the the SRAM road components from the first time I tried them, except for one important part, the front deraileur shifting. Know that I relied on crisp accurate Shimano Dura Ace shifting for 7 years. It never failed me, but a pivoting brake lever never felt secure. That feature always seemed too loose in a tight crit corner. I have not used Campy 9 or 10 speed shifters enough to get the feel of them. The SRAM shifitng was intuitive to me from the 2nd ride. The crisp down shift and sweeping up shift just seemed natural. The total group is lighter than Dura Ace, reliable (for me) and good looking too.

The SRAM Red drivetrain had one big draw back, the front end shifting was poor to say the least. When I first used a Red front derailuer it would throw the chain over the outer chainring when upshifting for a sprint. This only ocurred at the top of a climb when I was slamming the chain up to the big ring for a hard sprint, but that is a critical time to have a chain drop. Moreover, because the chain was completely off and wrapped around the crank arm, I had to stop, dismount, and reset the chain on the outer ring. Not Good, not good at all. This happened a dozen times in a season and a half.


I tried to solve this problem with improved new SRAM Red outer rings, a stiffer Force front deraileur, and even going to a super stiff SRAM Time Trial outer ring. None of these solutions worked well. At best I would get hesitant up shifting on the front. Oddly, I never had this issue on my cyclocross bikes, perhaps because the front shifting only goes 10 teeth from 36 to 46, perhaps because I use different after market rings, perhaps because I just don't get out of the big ring than much on my cyclocross bike.

This spring I was encouraged to learn that SRAM was revamping its Red group specifically to improve the front end shifting. I was a little crest fallen when I understood that I would have to buy a front deraileur, shifters, and crankset, at over $1000 for the whole works for improved front shifts. I was even more disappointed to find out that the parts were as rare as hens teeth. I could be waiting until fall before they were shipped to my Local Bike Shop.

Then I read about Praxis Works chainrings in Pez Cycling and Bike Rumor. My first reaction was "these are only chainrings, how much difference could they make?" Yes, they are cold forged like Shimao Dura Ace rings, but that can't make so much improvement in shifting, can it? Frustrated at the delay in shipping the new SRAM Red parts, and after another botched town line sprint, I decided to give them a try. This was not an easy decision since they cost $160 a set. I followed the Praxis recommendation and also installed a new KMC chain with the new chainrings. To my surprise the front shifting was dramatically improved from the first ride. No more hesitation in up shifts, no more clunky drops in down shifts, and most important to me, no more over thrown chain during hard accelerations. For once the hype about an aftermarket bike part was true. These rings are delightful if you use a SRAM drivetrain. Get them and you'll never again look wistfully at a Dura Ace crankset or front deraileur, promise.

Digging Deep: the Grand Tour weekend.

I am a short twitch guy in a long twitch sport. I know that I have limited endurance for an endurance athlete. My best performance tends to be in races that last about an hour. After two hours I tend to fade. After three hours in the saddle I'm riding for survival. I hope that as I get older my endurance will increase, but I never see myself as a randoneur or mtb marathon racer. I love cyclocross for just this reason.

Yet I am very aware of the benefit from logging mega mileage rides before an intense racing season. I see the results that some racers get from doing stupid long rides like the 200 on 100 or the New Hampshire 100 or the D2R2. My plan for this past weekend was to race Crank the Kanc TT, 60 +/- miles with warmup & ride back, then the Grand Tour short route on Sunday, 80-90 miles with 5,000 feet of climbing. I was also planning to train my usual 100 miles during the week. All together it would be 4 race level efforts in 5 days for a total of 250 miles, 10,000 feet of climbing. A one day piece of cake if you're the Wilcox, or Matt Roy, which I am not.

grunting out the finish on the Kanc TT

I was not entirely looking forward to Crank the Kanc. I was defying the old maxim by "racing my weaknesses" rather than just training them. I am a mediocre time trialist and I climb long hills like a bowling bowl. So putting a 4.7 mile 7% grade climb at the end of a 21.2 mile time trial is just wrong for me. Yet I wanted the training benefits of the race and the early season focus for xc races in June.

Despite my lack of talent for a time trial + hill climb, I do still have some pride. I had a time target and average power goal for Crank the Kanc. Justin Spinelli of Luxe Wheelworks built a beautiful powertap race wheelset for me this winter. I would be able to know my exact  power output through out the event. Unfortunately that meant I knew I was 15% below my target just 2 miles into the race. My legs were blocked. I would push, they would cramp. All I could do was ride tempo and hope my legs would feel better in a few miles. They never did. I kept pushing to the end, squeezing out a threshold effort for the last mile. I had a fair result at 7th in the M35-44 group, but I was a little disappointed. Riding back to the start with my team mate Lou, my legs were still crampy & now sore.


Sunday was a gorgeous morning for the Grand Tour. I was tired but not burried. This ride brings out every type rider in the region; racers, ex-racers, fitness riders, randoneurs, even some of the mtb crowd. Normally the grand tour breaks up into dozens of clusters of similarly matched cyclists. This year was different. I admit I felt horrible at the start. I let my group go ahead up the west side of Kanc because my stomach was doing cartwheels. I thought I would suffer to the top and return back to the car. By the time I got to the peak, I felt a little better. An hour of spinning and burping up the hill had warmed me up. A group of 30 or so had congregated at the top. I thought that if this larger group stayed together, I might make it over Bear Notch and up Crawford with out collapsing. So on we went.


We had a group of 25 going over Bear Notch Road, and by the time we were half way up, I actually felt good. The pace was moderate, the company was pleasant, the weather was sunny. When we got to the lunch break in Bartlet, about 10 more cyclists joined our group. We took a nice partial group photo and started up to Crawford Notch together. A peloton of 35 or so rolled up Route 302 in double pace line. Unlike past years, no one wanted to drop the hammer. We rode a nice steady group pace until the base of Crawford Notch climb. Then things got punchy



part of the lunch stop bunch

The real climb on Crawford Notch is only 2 miles long, but it's a 12% wall for a third of that distance. The group shattered as the fast kids sprang ahead. I paced at the back of the first chase group of 4. Up the steepest section I stood up to lead the chasers. Just after we crested the Notch I got a puncture on my front tire. Fortunately there were plenty of friends behind me ready for a little rest. I was starting to feel the accumulated effort of two long hot days, and I had 30-40 miles to go.

Before the ride I told everyone that I was not going down the Franconia bike path. I detest the bike path. It is always narrow, bumpy, and covered with kuck. On a warm spring day I imagined it would be swarming with gawking tourists too. In short, it is an accident waiting to happen at 30 mph. Instead, I planned to ride over Kinsman Notch, adding 12 miles and 1000 feet of climbing to the route. But by the time we got out of Twin Mountain I was salt streaked and worn. I was drinking a liter of fluids every 20 miles. The cool shade of the bike path seemed like an oasis in this desert of open sun baked road. I certainly did not feel like fighting a cross wind solo up Kinsman Notch.

I lead down the bike path just to be ahead of any incidents. Fortunately very few tourists were out despite the weather. Unfortunately, I got another puncture. By this time every one was riding their own casual pace. I yelled out for a tube. My good friend/ team mate Dana stopped to lend one. 7 miles later, and one botched town line sprint, and we were back to North Woodstock. The time in the saddle was 4:20 minutes with 3,500 calories burned. I've never downed a coconut water or devoured a bag of chips so fast.

Will the long weekend of hard riding yield race fitness results? Time will tell. I only know that this years Grand Tour was truly grand.

On Becoming a Dirty Old Man

I confess. I've become a dirty old man, in my bike racing at least. I probably should have seen this coming, yet the transformation has snuck up on me.

Please understand, I was a roadie at the start. I've always thought of myself as a road racer. My first love was road racing because in 1983, that's all there was. I was never a bmx kid. Yes, early mountain bike races existed then, but they were very rare and very remote for a boy in eastern Kansas. NORBA was the odd new kid on the bike racing block, and mountain bikes looked more like burly touring rigs than todays carbon dual suspension xc race bikes. When I got my first Schwinn mountain bike in 1990, I used it for touring and commuting exclusively (suntour xc group and big bear trap pedals, 28 lbs of steel rigid fork fun). Cyclocross only existed for me in training books, sort of like fantasy fiction, or fairy tales.

So 10 years ago when I started racing bikes in New England, I only thought of road racing. With so many good road races around, why do anything else?

Then I was introduced cyclocross. I went to my first cyclocross race 8 and a half years ago, the CycleSmart Amherst Campus 'Cross. Gina Hall and Carmen D'Alussio battled it out against Mary McConneloug. Todd Wells and Marc Gullickson flew in to take on Tim Johnson and Mark McCormack (both racing for Saturn at the time). I was overwhelmed. Who knew racing bikes on dirt could be so spectacular? That winter I bought a Lemond Poprad and a set of Tufo tubulars.

The following cyclocross season my lack of technical skill was a huge limiter. Turns out if you don't ride on dirt much, you don't have much finese on dirt. I bought a proper mountain bike, a Trek Top Fuel, and started to race it, but only to be better at cyclocross. In the novice category I did well for a few races. Once I tried a few Sport category races I found out just how bad my technical skills were. I was finishing xc races completely shattered, from falling, flailing, and failing.

So like a good roadie, I went back to road racing exclusively in 2006. That year I accomplished alot of road racing goals. But I was exhausted for most of the cyclocross season. The next couple of years I was having more fun at cyclocross than at road races. I still only raced a handfull of mtb races each summer. Yet cyclocross became my primary bike racing interest. Racing on dirt was as important now as the tarmac.

I decided to commit myself to eight mtb xc races in 2010 inorder to improve my dirt riding skills once and for all, just for cyclocross. I bought a new re-designed Trek Top Fuel and started riding it once a week, every week. I managed to actually get some results in xc races and have the same sort of fun as in cyclocross. I began to target summer mtb races more than road races. I still wouldn't wear baggy shorts, even on trail rides. And I still thought of myself as a roadie dabbling in xc, for the sake of cyclocross.

The final shift from happened this past Sunday. I watched the XC World Cup race live and then the last 30km of the Giro stage. To my shock, I found the mountain bike race more thrilling. World Cup XC races have gotten punchier and the coverage much better than even a few years ago. I was motivated to go ride single track after watching that XC race; while the Giro, was just another day at the Giro.

Yesterday I spent two hours riding wet technical single track, grinning the whole time. Today, as I look at my summer race plan, I have three times the mountain bike races scheduled as road races. I still love a good hard road race, but yesterday I came home covered from knees to toes in mud, and smiling.

I've become another dirty old (cx/xc bike) man.

The Kids are Alright: the future of US Cyclocross 2

Last week I wrote about the US Junior men. I thought they were going to be the highlight of nationals. I was wrong. The highlight of cyclocross nationals were the U23 champions. Zach McDonald and Katie Antonneau may have the brightest futures of anyone racing cyclocross in America.

Don't get me wrong, I loved seeing Jeremy Powers in tears coming across the finish line for his first national championship. Katie Compton once again showed her brilliance. Dylan McNicholas was riding phenomenally well. But Zach and Katie exceeded even the high expectations they had for themselves.

Zach dominated the U23 race on Saturday. He took the race wire to wire. Unlike last year when he was leading Danny Summerhill until a crash with a spectator, there was no error. He won with a 2:20 minute margin to second place. His really impressive ride was in elite race on Sunday. After taking the hole shot Zach crashed through the course tape. A mechanical and long bike exchange put him 40 seconds behind the leaders. The front four favorites were not waiting for anyone as they sped through the course. Yet by 3 to go Zach managed to bridge up to the group and play a critical role in Jeremy Powers win while holding onto fourth place. Zach showed the technical skill, strength, and poise to race with the best American champions.

Katie has a similar race in winning the collegiate championship as Zach's U23 race.  The only other racer within 3 minutes of her was college team mate and room mate Coryn Rivera. In the elite race on Sunday is also where Katie truly shone. Her second place behind Compton reveal Katie to be the smart, strong, dedicated racer that her coach has indicated.

The question that remains is how will these two young racers perform in international competition? This year they have both had some strong results in Europe: Zach getting 3rd in the U23 race at Zolder and Katie getting 10th at the Namur World Cup. The next two world cups will reveal how much form they have left at the end of a demanding season.

On paper neither should do well at the World Championships in Koksijde. The sand dunes in Koksijde are typically conquered by big power riders. However, Daphny Van den Brand has done very well there in the past few years, perhaps showing that a rider like Katie might as well. Zach has stated that he is learned to love the sand, and is targeting a top ten result. With some luck perhaps they can both get top tens at worlds. Regardless, if they continue to develop, they will be at the front of US cyclocross for years to come.

Cyclocross, the Sport of the Future

Much has been said of late about American Cyclocross peaking, or declining, or being killed. I could not disagree more. Never mind that American pro's are doing better than ever. Never mind that the best pro/elite racing for women is in the United States. Never mind that our best u23 riders are competing at world cups for podiums. Never mind that there are more people racing cyclocross across the country than ever before. The future of US cyclocross is stronger than ever because of the talent of our juniors. Yes, our juniors are the sign of the strength of American cyclocross.

Consider this before nationals: as I look at the race predictor rankings for the various categories, the most competitive event of the week is the Mens Juniors 17-18 race. Each of the predicted top ten have a legitimate shot of winning. 8 of the top 10 have been racing in Europe during Christmas week at Geoff Proctor's 'Cross Camp. 5 of them achieved top 20 results while racing in Belgium.
Remember these names; Logan Owen, Curtis White, Andrew Dillmen, Sam O'Keefe, Nate Morse, Chase Dickens, Tobin Ortenblad, Cyprus Gorey. They are the future of American Cyclocross.

Will they all become Pros? Who knows. Some of them may go the way of Jesse Anthony or Danny Summerhill or Gavin Mannion and decide that road racing is more attractive. Then again, those guys may be like Tim Johnson and eventually come back to cyclocross. Some may even leave the sport entirely. But even if half of them go the way of Jonathan Page and Jeremy Powers and Ryan Trebon, then the future of American cyclocross is bright. All of these kids have already been across the pond. They've seen how the game is played at its highest level. They've had a glimpse of how the top Pro's race on the toughest courses.

Oh, and besides those boys, there are a dozen 15-16 year olds coming behind them. I haven't even mentioned the junior women yet, or Katie Antonneau. And who knows how big Bruce Fina, Joan Hanscom, Adam Myerson, & Paul Boudreau can make US Pro Cyclocross races. But I am excited to see it.

American Cyclocross: the Sport of the Future.

"It's Just Stupid Bike Racing...."

Why do I do it? Why do hundreds of others do it too? We spend hundreds of hours training, thousands of miles traveling, and thousands of dollars on equipment each year to race bikes. My level of talent is so mediocre & my number of podium results so few that the question may seem very relevant; as if one would be delusional to pursue a sport with such a meager pay back.

This week I read three articles by bike racers about their perspective on their own racing. Two of them by people I know, Justine Lindine & Bill Strickland, one by a guy I can sympathize with. All three were worth reading as  reflections on the personal madness that is amateur bike racing. Two also quote Adam Myerson in his interview after Sterling CX this year, "Its just stupid bike racing, but it means everything."

In truth its much easier to be a cyclist than a bike racer. I live in a place where great cycling abounds. I ride every week in the summer with dozens of good cyclists. Most of these cyclists don't race any more, or never did. So they don't train systematically, they don't diet, they don't fixate on their performance limiters, they don't strategize to find their opportunities for victory. They just ride; sometimes easy, sometimes hard, sometimes more miles than I do. And that's great for them, truly, but its not racing.

Racing is different. Racing requires a focus, discipline, perhaps even fixation most cycling does not. Each week and each day of a racers season is shaped by activities that drive toward the next race. Whether it is sleep or nutrition or training or recovery, some part of the day is devoted to preparing to race. The bike racers life becomes a lifestyle with a central goal of peak personal performance.  This may be a healthy obsession, but it is still an obsession.

Every year I notice that a few people, who used to race with me, drop out of the sport. They just stop showing up. Perhaps they get injured, perhaps they get frustrated with their results, perhaps life gets in the way of training, perhaps they loose the passion. Yet without racing, there is no reason to pursue the lifestyle, and there in no lessons to be learned about ones own discipline, or toughness, or focus, or strength, or humility, or capacity for improvement. These lessons are the pay off for the sacrifices that a bike racer's lifestyle demands. If I do not race, I will not wring out of myself all that I have within me, physically & emotionally; if only to see exactly what I am at my core.

Bike races are not like life, they are life. Most times a stupid bike race is the most concentrated, distilled, intense part of my life. Bike racing draws from me a passion and discipline that I hope I will infuse into the rest of my life. That is for me its great worth.
"It's just stupid bike racing, but it means everything".