2012 Race Reports 5 – 6: Tour Des Villas, Wood Dale State Criterium Championships
Race Five: Tour Des Villas, Masters. Distance ~20 miles. Temp 94 degrees, 67% humidity = 105 degrees “real feel”. Wind = light. Avg pace 25.2mph, Sprint finish max speed 37.2mph
You pass them on the sidewalk, in the supermarket, in the parking lot, at the movies, and even at the race course – some of them even leaning on sleek but untested bikes: non racers. You feel sorry for them. What do they know of suffering in the heat, of penetrating the turbulent airfoils of racers shuttling at 35mph across cracked concrete lined with sticky pits of soft hot tar? Of leaning 4 abreast through the final corner knowing that 1/1000th of a second stands between potential victory and a burning, tumbling, skin-tearing disaster. Poor souls.
What then can they know of freedom, of the liberation from petty worldly concerns boiled and burned away through the crucible of the race? How can they know clarity?
Walking – that innocuous benign activity known by billions the world over – is a different matter after a bike race. Unlike any other sport of intensity where ligaments are strained, muscles are sore or stiff: after a bike race, the neurons and filaments of the leg structure are alive with light. After a race even the simple walk from the car back to check results is filled with an absurd sense of mastery – every articulation of bone, tendon and synapse sending signals to the brain through channels cleared for instant communication. It is not an overstatement to say that a racer walks with a kind of confidence unique to the world.
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“Where has this course been my whole life?” I asked Brian from Enzo’s as we began our first lap around the one mile oval shaped course. With no wind, no corners and no hills, there was little chance for a break and a great setup for a sprinter victory.
“Strategy is great until you are punched in the face” – Mike Tyson.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. Two riders managed to gain a 50m, then 100m, then 300m gap. Laziness born of heat perhaps, but we weren’t moving, so I ended up taking a series of pulls on the backstretch (yes, me) to try and close the gap. Each hard pull at the front at about 31mph for 400m left me gasping and would bring us within reach of a bridge to the break – but, of course, I was toast and incapable of bridging at that point. No one took over, though one tall strongman kept the pace going in between efforts. After a few of these yoyos I gave it up and prepared for the sprint. It was going to be easy – I’d sit about 8th and w/ 400m to go I’d light it up on the outside using a slight tailwind to shoot into the homestretch.
Except… on the backstretch the race fragmented with an Enzo’s rider hitting it hard w/ 800m to go and I was suddenly gapped and 60m back from the race leaders. I burned most of my match to close the gap and found myself coming on the lead 5 riders with too much momentum and 500m to go… Too early and already hurting, but I decided to keep it going and lit the rest of my match… jumping into the clear air of the lead, the breakaway suddenly looming ahead and within reach. 400m, 300m, 200m, 100m to go and I’m in the lead but I’m dying, I’m dying, like a fish trying to breathe air I was gasping and struggling and sure enough 5 then 6 riders went sailing by just at the line and I finished 6th in the field, and 8th overall, just within the money.
Race Six: Wooddale State Championships, Masters. Distance ~20 miles. Temp 88 degrees, 80% humidity. Wind = light. Avg pace 26.3mph, Sprint finish max speed 36.1mph.
A massive thunderstorm had rolled through during the Master’s 40+ race and they had to stop and restart. It was cool and when I was warming up but by the time we headed off the start/finish it had warmed up and the road was dry.
The Wooddale course is a great sprinter course – bowl shaped with a small hill and only 2 real corners. I felt good right from the start and was dismayed when a group of 7 moved off the front. Again I put chase along with a couple other riders, but the Bicycle Heaven and Enzo’s team played a smart hand and insinuated themselves in the front immediately & repeatedly slowed things down. I even bridged 100m to a 2 man break and rode a lap in a breakaway (! I didn’t actually pull…). Like Tour Des Villas I tried some hard pulls in front to bring us within striking distance hoping the pack would surge with the break in sight, but to no avail.
With 5 laps to go I retreated to my comfortable spot on the back of the field. Oddly, with 2 to go the pack came to its senses and started to reel in the break, taking a 600m gap down to 300m with 1 to go. I followed my instincts sitting 10th across the start/finish line and then jumping up to 5th on the backstretch, waiting for the surge. It happened right in front of me, a powerful rider in green (one of the chasers as well) lit it up just before the 3rd turn and then hit it hard up the hill. I followed and was impressed – I was geared perfectly and this guy was cranking a monster gear up the hill leaving the pack behind. We entered the final corner 1, 2 and I dared a quick look back – no one had followed. I waited until 250m and then lit the remaining fuse I had left, jumping out of the saddle and suddenly seeing the breakaway within my sights. I shot ahead winning the field sprint with a good margin and picked off one breakaway rider along the way coasting past 3 more just after the line finishing 7th.
I changed clothes in a burning hot car and then walked to check the results, marveling at how alive my legs felt…
It has been a while since I posted a race report – hopefully this season will see more racing and more writing: both are things I find joy in.
So far the season has progressed in a predictable sprinter fashion:
Race one (April): dropped, shelled
Race two (Early May): last place, exploded
Race three (Late May): 10th Place, purging
Race four (Mid June): 2nd Place, surging
As a general rule spring racing sucks for the sprinter. First, the roadies have been at it all winter, bundled up in smart wool splashing for hours on end through the slush or languishing through interval workouts on the trainer or doing group trainer workouts or “trainer racing” – whatever that is.
The unvarnished lungs of the sprinter are further shredded by the cold air and winds that rake the early season courses. My first two races were noted by 15 – 20 mph crosswinds that created massive echelons and I found myself constantly riding in gravel by the curb or through puddles near the grass for much of the race. I lasted only half the first race, quickly shelled when gaps opened up. I managed to finish the second race, but exploded during the sprint setup, coasting through the last 300m having already lit my match. Race 3 saw some suffering, but I had a bit left at the end (despite the 98 degree temps) and a decent field sprint finish landed me 3rd in the pack and 10th overall.
Race Four: Wonder Lake Criterium, Masters 1/2/3 30+. Distance ~18 miles (timed: 40 minutes) Temp 88 degrees. Wind = light. Avg pace 25.2mph, Sprint finish max speed 37.8mph
My second visit to the Wonder Lake Criterium was held in lieu of heading all the way to Waukesha, WI, to race on a ToAD (Tour of America’s Dairyland) course that I hate.
I faced some of the usual pre-race challenges spending too much time relaxing over breakfast and not wanting to depart from my family. I finally hit the road without a great deal of buffer time to change, register, and warmup. Proudly though, I thought of pumping up my tires and oiling my chain before piling in the car. I couldn’t find lube, but I did find the pump and proceeded to quickly break off the presta valve of my front wheel. I checked the pressure w/ my thumb and it wasn’t terrible – probably 50 pounds – so I grabbed a spare tube and figured I change it at the race, assuming I arrived in time.
Sure enough the back roads to northern Illinois were slow going, and the 32 mile drive took an hour and fifteen minutes leaving me 30 minutes to register, pin on #’s, change and warmup.
Wonder Lake is a pretty little lake like the one I grew up on in West Bloomfield, and the smell of lake water & exhaust combined with the sun dappling off small green waves had me nostalgic for Walnut Lake, water skiing, swimming and… bike racing.
No time to change the tube, so I just lined up with the rest of the masters 1/2/3 field and listened to the race instructions. The course was the same as 2 years ago – 1.3 miles around with two long straightaways, one along the lakeside, the other up a small hill then running parallel. A long 4 corner crit, but with narrow roads, and some small changes in elevation. I never noticed the low pressure in the front…
The masters were feeling the sun and scenery and the first lap was luxurious – averaging just over 20mph. Then the attacks came and speeds in excess of 30mph down the straights were common. However, the few times I was on the rivet, things slowed down and I recovered. With a lap and half to go a lone rider snapped off the front, but no one chased. With one lap to go, I moved up to about 6th wheel assuming there would be a surge on the backstretch. Our lone rider was within reach, but with a 100m gap. Finally just prior to turn 3, the inevitable surge heaved out left and I joined a wheel slinging out right and moved up to 5th with 600m and 1 turn to go.
The pace held up front and we headed down a slight incline in view of the lake. The downhill created opportunity for the riders behind to encroach and I could feel but not see the jockeying behind me. I held my spot and exited the final corner with 400m to go in 5th spot, the lone breakaway still 75m out front.
The next 200m headed downhill and the speed increased and the leadout rider faded and the sprint was on, downhill into a slight headwind. I prefer not to sprint until <150m to go, but the inertia of the downhill was important so the 3 of us spread wide w/ 300m to go and for a moment we were 3 abreast screaming into the wind at 38mph w/ 150m to go. However, I had the slingshot from the later move and surged by the other two riders, suddenly closing on the breakaway rider. With 100m to go I was sure I would be second to the breakaway rider, until a sudden surge from behind by another rider who perfectly surfed our 3 abreast draft and shot around me and closed on the lead rider.
Coming to the line the breakaway rider and surging sprinter faded and I was able to regain 2nd position by passing the breakaway artist while closing the gap on the winner.
A 350m sprint is a really long way for me and when I crossed the line it was with a feeling of every circuit in my body on fire with the agony of lactic acid. As I drifted around the backside and the flames diminished and the embers remained I wondered if this kind of effort had any effect on the cardiovascular system – whether it could clear the cobwebs – or unhealthy deposits of the winter – from the circulatory system.
I circled around the start finish and was apprised of a protest regarding race #s (duplicates) that would take a while to resolve, so I warmed down by riding around the lake dodging in and out of spurs and cul-de-sacs to traverse the lake properties. I found myself wallowing in nostalgia for my lake-bound-youth: boats towing skiers, ramshackle homes with outboard motors mounted to plywood in driveways, the occasional massive home at odds with the cottage feel of the neighborhood, but all around the recognition that summer is for being outdoors – hunting frogs, swimming, skiing, bonfires, riding bikes, ding-dong-ditchit. Upon returning home I immediately commenced a search for lake properties.
INTRO: Sprinters are the pariahs of the peleton, despised and verbally abused as “wheelsuckers,” “peleton trollers,” or worse.
Deep down though is the unspoken truth: jealousy is at the heart of the contempt…. But, being a sprinter is more than fast twitch muscles, podiums, and podium girls – it is a lifestyle, with a clear set of unspoken rules and traditions – most of which are in direct contrast to the majority roadie rule. In these next few volumes I’ll attempt capture some of them.
If roadies obsess over their equipment as their number one focus (besides training that is), clothing is a close second. Like the series of arbitrary guidelines governing group rides, sign sprints, diet, training and virtually every other aspect of roadie life, how to dress while riding your bicycle is also subject to rules of byzantine complexity. Take a sample here from a Pez cycling news report regarding “the kit” – a fancy roadie way of saying your jersey & shorts.
“The Kit. Your jersey must match your shorts, which must match your arm warmers, which must match your socks. But under no circumstances should a replica pro team kit or a national/world champion kit be worn unless you’ve earned it. The only acceptable team kit is your own club kit.”
Here’s the thing. Roadies spend an inordinate amount of time on their bikes, thinking about being on their bikes, and talking about riding their bikes. As such it is only natural for them to create a schema of dress designed to work with their rather unique, if awkward, physiques. If roadies were insects they would be praying mantises, if they were reptiles, they would be tiny anorexic T-Rex’s: big legs, tiny little stick arms.
So, naturally, any item of clothing that would accentuate the fact that their upper bodies are composed only of bone and gristle becomes anathema. In fact, of all the rules which are subject to interpretation, there is clear unity by roadies that “one must never, ever wear a sleeveless jersey”. Also banned are “kits” (fancy word for jersey/shorts combo) that are replicas of a pro team, or really of any team you are not on or at least previously on. Also banned are any jerseys from charity rides or century rides. This is roadie elitism at its best – even though they participate in rides like the “ridiculously hilly 150” it is dismissed as mere training, because, after all, they are “racers” not some mere tourist or recreational cyclist.
Legs must be shaven, socks must be worn, everything must match, thy chain must be waxed – seriously its like a bad cult – drink the coolade but make sure its from a logo covered sponsored waterbottle – as long as it is your sponsor.
Here’s the sprinters guide to cycling fashion:
1) Wear whatever the hell you want – and with confidence. Nothing gives me more pleasure than showing up for a group ride with an old pair of non-bib shorts (shocker!), and an unmatching sleeveless jersey, a randomly selected helmet from a different kit (or none at all, which gets you immediately kicked out), and on occasion, two different gloves. More often than not I’ll have different colored tires on the front and rear and an increasingly dirty/squeaky chain to add sound to the sight. Here’s a recent ride setup:
2) Have arm muscles. It is completely useless excess weight, but it doesn’t really matter when you are drafting for 99.99% of the race, and besides, the podium girls seem to enjoy them.
3) Mix it up: on occasion, go “over the top” and out-roadie the roadies, showing up for a race or better yet a training ride in a clean kit featuring an egregious use of white including matching booties, helmet and a long sleeve skinsuit. Skinsuits also tend to be the proprietary domain of the sprinter as they contain no pockets for all the roadie accouterments of an extra bottle, Gu, team radio etc. Wearing them to practice practically dumfounds them.
For inspiration here’s perhaps the world’s greatest sprinter, Mario Cipollini, who arrived to the 1999 Tour de France wearing a toga in a chariot pulled by his team members, who won 10 stages of the tour, and perhaps closest to my own heart, pulled out of every single one of his tours as soon as they hit the mountains. Cipo was also famous for occasionally showing up disheveled and apparently hungover…
4) Never wear socks: can’t have all that mushy material reducing the synaptic response between muscle bone, metal and carbon fiber during the sprint
5) Always wear shades: perhaps the only sprinter fashion rule, but with speeds so high – you gotta wear eye protection.
So, all my roadie friends, I have just one request – you know all those perfectly new century ride jerseys in your closet / dresser? Please, send them to me – I’ll cut off the sleeves, pair them with my non-bib shorts and blast into hyper-space to win the next sign sprint. And no, odds are good that I didn’t pull through prior…
What do a tennis school in Siberia, a soccer club in Brazil, a music camp in upstate New York, and a baseball club in Curacao all have in common with a bicycling club from Detroit?
They are all “chicken-wire Harvards,” a term coined by Daniel Coyle in his great book “The Talent Code”. That is, each of these remote destinations has a number of things in common: they tend to be underfunded, they have programs with a relentless focus on the fundamentals of a sport or activity, and at their helm they have or have had iconic coaches who “say a lot in a little,” and “repeat a little a lot.”
They also produce champions. Lots of them. So many that, when plotted on map in red, they become a “talent bloom” – a rose against the white of the page. In fact, one small, yet famous tennis club in Siberia, called Spartak, which has only one indoor court, achieved eight year-end top 20 women’s rankings for professional tennis players for 3 years running (as of 2007.) During the same period, the entire United States only had 7. As it happens there is also a little cycling club in Detroit with even more striking results.
Statistically speaking, it is impossible to conceive that there was more talent concentrated in the environs of Spartak in 2007, or around the Dorais velodrome in Detroit in 1980 than the entire United States. In fact the preponderance of talent from these locales belies their demographics – the argument can, and should be made that these coaches and environments created talent. But how?
Detroit, 1978. The Wolverine Sports Club was one of many of its ilk – typical in many ways. Underfunded, provided for primarily by largesse from Mike Walden’s bike shop in Hazel Park, the club also supported its activity through fund raiser “bike-a-thons” (also a Walden invention.) The Wolverine Sports Club (WSC) ran a regular series of practices – Tuesdays at the run-down Dorais Velodrome in Detroit, Wednesdays were the iconic “Wednesday night ride” from the Royal Oak Library complete with fans in lawn chairs who blocked traffic for the huge peleton, and Thursdays featuring practice races in Waterford on a 2.2 mile race car track. Weekends were for racing, because “racing is the best training,” or so we were told.
To an 8, 10, 12, even 18 year old kid, it all became so normal. I remember my first visit to the Dorais velodrome. Names were inscribed in the cement along the homestretch – Fred Cappy, Mike Walden, Clair Young, Jim Smith. These etchings were meaningless to me and hidden each year under more and more graffiti. Today the track has fallen into disrepair.
One of my first nights at the Dorais velodrome was in the fall, with a low turnout and leaves skittering across the cracked banked surface. Walden was mostly occupied shouting at two female racers who were preparing for a big competition somewhere. I was clueless and didn’t care. That is until, after a series of timed flying 200m events by the two women, Walden suddenly focused his shouting at me. “What about you? Let’s go: 200m as fast as you can go! Pedal circles and finish at the line!”
The two muscular women quickly shared some strategy – line up high on the track on the first corner and then dive for the blue line (marking the 200m mark) and then stay as low as possible on the “pole lane” or black line to the finish.
Moments later, exhausted but exhilarated by the speed, Walden barked out a time (“13.8!”) and turned to other riders. The two women, Sue Novara and Sheila Young, slowed to pass along compliments, “wow – you’re a fast little thing.” Little did I know that both were rivals and world champions in this exact event – the match sprint on the velodrome. I was surrounded by greatness. I was lucky. It only takes a quick spin through Malcolm Gladwell’s “Outliers” to realize that one of the core elements of the Wolverine Sport Club and my own success was simply the environment: we all got an early start on the requisite 10 years/10,000 hours of deliberate practice that greatness requires.
Another great book, that might have have featured Walden as its poster child is by Geoff Colvin’s “Talent Is Overrated: What Really Separates World-Class Performers from Everybody Else.” The thesis? “Greatness doesn’t come from DNA but from practice and perseverance honed over decades – and not just plain old hard work, like your grandmother might have advocated, but a very specific kind of work.”
“The key is how you practice, how you analyze the results of your progress and learn from your mistakes, that enables you to achieve greatness.” Deliberate practice, as practiced by Mozart, Bill Gates, Tiger Woods, Sheila Young and Frankie Andreu, is an unrelenting focus on the potentially mind-numbing basics of a sport or activity. In fact, at the tennis camp in Spartak, Siberia referenced earlier, kids spent an inordinate amount of time swinging rackets at the air before they were even allowed to hit balls, and then they were not allowed to enter a tournament until they had 3 years of practice under their belts.
Daniel Coyle then describes the unique characteristics of the coaches who create the right environment for focus on deliberate practice. In one chapter he details the key elements of a master coach, by documenting the actions of a certain famous athletic coach. This coach’s “teaching utterances or comments were short, punctuated, and numerous. “There were no lectures, no extended harangues…. “He rarely spoke longer than twenty seconds. “What made this coach great, “wasn’t praise, wasn’t denunciation, and certainly wasn’t pep talks. “His skill resided in the Gatling-gun rattle of targeted information he fired at his players.”
“This, not that. Here, not there. “His words and gestures served as short, sharp impulses that showed his players the correct way to do something. “He was seeing and fixing errors. “He was honing circuits.”
For those that knew him, this sounds exactly like Mike Walden. But this case study was of basketball’s John Wooden. The circuits Daniel refers to are the biological occurrences of “myelination” – the wrapping of neural circuits that become “talent” through repetition, coaching, and deliberate practice.
The hubris of youth suggests the following: “everything good that I have – I’ve earned.” And then the corollary “Everything I don’t have? Not my fault – I wasn’t born with that talent (or I’ve been thwarted by outside forces.”)
With time, maturity and a series of books by acclaimed authors I’ve been forced to realize that virtually all my athletic accomplishments and perhaps even all of my achievements in general – even in academics – boil down a couple simple facts: 1) I had the right parents (a subject for another day), and 2) I was born, raised, and trained at the right place at the right time: Detroit, 1980, WSC… with Walden.
Take away Dorais, Walden, Waterford, and the repeated refrains of “pedal circles,” “win it at the line,” and “race your strengths, train your weaknesses,” and humbly, it is clear that my entire life’s journey would be on a different trajectory. Gone would have been a bid for the Olympics, gone the silver medal, gone the singular element that encouraged some strong undergraduate (and graduate) schools to accept a student with SAT’s and GMAT’s that were at best “average” for these institutions.
My relationship with Mike Walden was not one I would have described as friendly: I came to practice, and he yelled at me. During practice, he yelled at me. Sometimes, after practice, he yelled at me. This was the same for most of the team, though I sometimes I felt singled out. Dorais velodrome was the worst – in the oval you were always within shouting distance. The bumpy track in the inner city was fraught with danger – bumps, graffiti, random kids throwing rocks, and the worst of all, crosswinds. Week after week, year after year, Walden demanded that riders should have only a 4 – 8 inch distance between the tires of other riders in high speed pacelines against crosswinds, over uncertain pavement, and variable speeds – all on racing bikes without brakes or gears. “Follow the wheel” meant be right on the wheel in front of you. If you let a few more inches stretch out as the peleton accordioned down the homestretch, then Walden’s penetrating voice was right there, “close the gap Coyle! Get on the wheel!”
Between each activity, Walden was not shy on letting anyone and everyone know how bad they had failed. “Alcala – you’re a disaster – can’t ride a straight line.” “Andreu – you pick it up every single time you hit the front.” “Paellela – you’re herky-jerky – ride smoothly, quit riding up on everyone.” I was afraid – everyone was afraid – to get it wrong, and you modified each and every pedal stroke to pedal circles, keep an even distance, accelerate smoothly, and drop down after pull at the front. I didn’t know it then, but this extraordinary focus on pedaling fundamentals every Tuesday for nearly 10 years allowed a 30+ year racing career featuring 3000+ races, with almost no crashes (<10), and not one injury serious enough to prevent racing the next day. It also gave my limited strengths a path for success: to move swiftly and safely through the peleton in preparation for the sprint in a manner that may be my primary defining strength as a cyclist. Mike always said, “race your strengths,” here’s a video of that put into action.
Walden was not one to shower complements. In 1980 at 11 years old, racing as a Wolverine, I won the national championships at the Balboa Park Velodrome in San Diego, California. In the process I also met Eric Heiden who I would “pro-fro” with (live with for a week as a prospectivefreshman/frosh at Stanford 6 years later.) My relationship with Walden had only slightly warmed over the years, nonetheless I was fully expecting some warm words after my victory against some difficult odds against the likes of Jamie Carney. Immediately after the awards ceremony, still wearing my stars-and-stripes jersey, Walden sought me out and came up extending his hand. I was beaming and expecting (finally) some recognition. Instead I heard, “Don’t get cocky – it’s just a race. “There are a lot more important ones in your future.” He turned on his heel and stomped away. 30 years later and I can still feel the flush of heat to my cheeks as I describe that moment.
By the time I was in my late teens, I was winning races left and right. At 15, like Frankie Andreu, I was solicited by the almighty 7-11 team, and raced for them over the next couple of years. I continued attending Walden practices and continued to fear his penetrating bark. I had decided that he must clearly hate me until an odd morning one summer when I was 18.
I had been invited to a club ride that was leaving from Walden’s house in Berkley one Saturday morning. I rolled into the driveway a little early and no one was there, so Harriet Walden, Mike’s wife invited me into their comfortable, but humble home. I was struck by how normal it seemed. For nearly a decade Mike had been an enigma to me, someone ‘other than human’ who only pushed and prodded, who only repeated the same damn things again and again, “pedal circles! “Finish at the line! “Race your strengths!” Harriet was very accommodating and seemed to know all about me. As I waited for the other riders to arrive, she said something to me that shocked me then, and still cuts me to the core now, “You know, Mike is quite fond of you…” She paused, waiting for her words to sink in. “He speaks very highly of you.” I was stunned.
I didn’t know. But I know now. I should have known then. How could I not know? What kind of courage does it take to push someone to become all they can be and never even ask for any acknowledgment in return?
A few years ago Richard Noiret made a movie, “Chasing the Wind” about Walden and the Wolverine Sports Club. I believe this is the tip of the iceberg. How did a club in a random suburb of Detroit produce 5 Olympians, 10 World Champions, 300 National medalists, and more than 25% of the nation’s national champion cyclists fortwo decades?
I’m a coach myself now, both for an incredible team at work, and as the head coach for the Franklin Park speedskating club. It’s odd: I’m relatively terrible at coaching speedskating despite a life dedicated to practicing the sport – it feels like total mayhem. Yet, every Tuesday night, more than one of the kids will say to me, “thanks Coach John!” as they leave the ice, despite all my yelling and it gives he a huge thrill. During all my formative years, it never, ever occurred to me to thank my coach – Affholter, Young, Walden – and it never occurred to me that they weren’t paid for all that time, effort and shouting.
Theron Walden (Mike) died February 12, 1996. I never even new his real name. I was probably busy with something I thought was important. I missed the funeral. It came to me later that I had never really known the man, and worse, that never, in my life had I ever said, the simple words I write now, 15 ½ years later. Thank you, Mike.
I owe you more than you could possibly imagine, but it is only now that I realize it. Thank you Mike – for your (tough) love, and your legacy that I’m attempting, clumsily, to pass on.
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PS: In order to pass on Mike’s legacy I feel I must pass on the below verbatim. It concerns a sophisticated understanding of strengths vs. weaknesses that is best described in the incredible book, “Now, Discover Your Strengths” by Marcus Buckingham. As usual, an incredible amount of science belies the couple sharp barks that only become clear with time and repetition. This is another great legacy of Mike’s: repetition is the key to coaching. Think carefully about the conundrum posed by the below and what it suggests for your life’s path regarding your strengths, passions, and weaknesses:
Race your strengths, train your weaknesses.
Racing is the best training.
Race your strengths, train your weaknesses.
SENIOR MEN’S MATCH SPRINT : final for 1st and 2nd: Roger Young. Ml beat Jack Disney, CA, 2,0
SENIOR WOMEN MATCH SPRINT: final for 1st and 2nd: Sheila Young, Ml, beat Sue Novara, Ml, 2,0
MIDGET BOYS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Jeff Bradley, IA, 21
2. James Gesquiere, MI, 10
1974 Road – Pontiac, MI, July 27-28
JUNIOR MEN
1. David Mayer-Oakes, TX
2. Pat Nielsen, MI
3. Tom Schuler, MI
1974 Track – Northbrook, IL, July 31-Aug. 3
SENIOR WOMEN MATCH SPRINT – Final for 1st and 2nd: Sue Novara, MI, beat Sheila Young, MI, 2.0
INTERMEDIATE GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Connie Paraskevin, MI, 21
MIDGET BOYS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Kevin Johnson, MI, 14
2. Troy Stetina, IN, 8
MIDGET GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Jacque Bradley, IA, 21
2. Debbie Zbikowski, MI, 9
1975 Road – Louisville, KY, Aug. 14-15
SENIOR MEN
1. Wayne Stetina, IN, 114mi in 4:35:53.22
2. Dave Boll, CA
3. Tom Schuler, MI
1976 – Track – Northbrook, IL, Aug. 3-4
SENIOR WOMEN MATCH SPRINT- Final for 1st and 2nd: Sheila Young, MI, beat Sue Novara, MI, 2,1
JUNIOR WOMEN OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Jane Brennan, MI, 17
INTERMEDIATE BOYS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Jeff Bradley, LA, 17
2. James Gesquiere, MI, 15
INTERMEDIATE GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Connie Paraskevin, MI, 19
2. Nancy Merlo, MI, 12
MIDGET GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Kirstie Walz, NJ, 19
2. Susan Schaugg, MI, 15
3. Anne Obermeyer, MI, 8
4. Lisa Parkes, MI, 5
1977 – Road, Seattle, WA, July 26-Aug. 6
SENIOR WOMEN – 1. Connie Carpenter, WI, 38.24mi in 1:38:31
JUNIOR MEN
1. Greg LeMond, NV, 71.5mi in 3:10:40
2. Jeff Bradley IA
JUNIOR WOMEN
1. Beth Heiden, WI, 31.5mi in 1:24:28
MIDGET BOYS
1. Grant Foster, CA, 11.25mi in 31:27
2. Greg Foster, CA
3. Jimmy Georgler, CA
4. Glen Driver, CA
5. Frankie Andreu, MI
MIDGET GIRLS
1. Sue Schaugg, MI, 9mi in 27:50
2. Lisa Parkes , MI
3. Ann Marie Obermayer , MI
1977 – Track – Marymoor Velodrome, Redmond, WA, Aug. 2-6
JUNIOR WOMEN OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Connie Paraskevin, MI, 15
2. Dana Scruggs, IN, 10
3. Nancy Merlo, MI, 8
4. Rena Walls, MI, 7
5. Jane Brennan, MI, 7
MIDGET GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Susan Schaugg, MI, 14
2. Lisa Parks, MI, 12
1978 Road Milwaukee, WI, July 26-30
JUNIOR MEN
1. Jeff Bradley, IA. 7Omi in 2:50:48
2. Greg LeMond, NV
JUNIOR WOMEN
1. Sherry Nelsen, MO, 24mi in 1:03:51
2. Tracy McConachie, IL
3. Nancy Merlo, MI
4. Karen Schaugg, MI
5. Louise Olson, MI
VETERAN WOMEN
1. Jeanne Omelenchuck, MI 15mi in 40:26
MIDGET GIRLS
1. Elise Lobdell, IN
2. Tyra Goodman, MI
3. Beth Burger, PA
4. Karn Radford, CA
5. Celeste Andreu, MI
1978 – Track – Kenosha, WI, Aug. 1-5
SENIOR WOMEN MATCH SPRINT – final for 1st and 2nd: Sue Novara-Reber, MI, beat Jackie Disney, CA, 2,0
SENIOR WOMEN POINTS RACE
1. Mary Jane Reoch, PA
2. Cary Peterson, WA
3. Sue Novara-Reber, MI
JUNIOR MEN OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Eric Baltes, WI, 13 pts
2. James Gesquiere, MI, 12
3. Jeff Bradley, IA, 8
JUNIOR WOMEN OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Connie Paraskevin, MI, 17
2. Sherry Nelsen, MO, 15
3. Tracy McConachie, IL, 7
4. Nancy Merlo, MI, 6
5. Rena Walls, MI, 3
MIDGET GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Beth Burger, PA, 19
2. Elise Lobdell, IN, 11
3. Tyra Goodman, MI, 7
4. Karn Radford, CA, 7
5. Celeste Andreu, MI, 7
1979 – Road – Milwaukee, WI, Aug. 1-5
SENIOR WOMEN
1. Connie Carpenter, CA. 39.6mi in 1:44:16
2. Beth Heiden, WI
JUNIOR MEN
1. Greg LeMond, NV, 70.4mi in 2:55:08
VETERAN WOMEN
1. Jean Omelenchuk, MI, 15mi in 43:30
INTERMEDIATE GIRLS
1. Sarah Docter, WI, 15mi in 38:02
2. Sue Schaugg, MI
3. Abby Eldridge, CO
4. Lisa Parkes, MI
5. Laura Merlo, MI
MIDGET GIRLS
1. Celeste Andreu, MI, 9mi in 27:09
2. Elizabeth Keyser, CA
3. Melanie Parkes, MI
1979 – Track – Northbrook, IL, Aug. 7-12
SENIOR MEN POINTS RACE
1. Gus Pipenhagen, IL, 18 pts
2. Roger Young, MI, 18
SENIOR WOMEN MATCH SPRINT Final for 1st and 2nd: Sue Novara-Reber, MI, beat Jackie Disney, CA, 2,0
JUNIOR WOMEN OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Rebecca Twigg, WA, 16
2. Connie Paraskevin, MI, 13
JUNIOR MEN OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Mark Whitehead, CA, 15 pts
2. Jeff Bradley, IA, 13
3. Peter Kron, IL, 7
4. James Gesquiere, MI, 6
INTERMEDIATE GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Brenda Hetlet, WI, 17
2. Susan Schaugg, MI, 10
3. Laura Merlo, MI, 10
4. Lisa Parkes, MI, 7
MIDGET GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Susan Clayton, IA, 17
2. Jennifer Gesquiere, MI, 15
3. Celeste Andreu, MI, 13
4. Elizabeth Keyser, CA, 4
5. Melanie Parkes, MI, 3
1980 – Road – Bisbee, Az, Aug. 13-17
SENIOR WOMEN
1. Beth Heiden, WI, 35mi in 1:43:56
JUNIOR WOMEN
1. Sarah Docter, WI, 28mi in 1:25:58
2. Rebecca Twigg, WA
INTERMEDIATE GIRLS
1. Dedra Chamberlin, CA, l7mi in 57:52
2. Lisa Lobdell, IN
3. Mary Farnsworth, CA
4. Lisa Parkes, MI
5. Susan Schaugg, MI
MIDGET BOYS
1. John Chang, MI, 7mi in 24:29.54
2. Steve MacGregor, WI
3. Hector Jacome, CA
4. John Coyle, MI
5. Jamie Carney, NJ
MIDGET GIRLS
1. Celeste Andreu, MI, 7mi in 39:59
2. Lisa Andreu, MI
1980 – Track – San Diego, CA, Aug. 20-23
SENIOR WOMEN MATCH SPRINT -Final for 1st and 2nd: Sue Novara-Reber, MI, beat Pam Deem, PA, 2,0
INTERMEDIATE BOYS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Tim Volker, IA, 19
2. Brad Hetlet, WI, 11
3. Bobby Livingston, GA, 10
4. Joe Chang, WI, 4
5. Frankie Andreu, MI, 4
INTERMEDIATE GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Susan Schaugg, MI, 14
2. Dedra Chamberlin, CA, 9
3. Amy Saling, NJ, 7
4. Mary Krippendorf, WI, 7
5. Lisa Parkes, MI, 6
MIDGET BOYS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. John Coyle, MI, 19
2. Jamie Carney, NJ, 11
MIDGET GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Celeste Andrau, MI, 17
2. Jennie Gesquiere, MI, 15
1981 Bear Mountain, NY, Aug. 3-9
INTERMEDIATE BOYS
1. Gordon Holterman, VA, 33mi in 1:33:47
2. David Farmer, PA
3. Frankie Andreu, MI
INTERMEDIATE GIRLS
1. Elizabeth Keyser, CA, 23.4mi in 1:15:15
2. Bozena Zalewski, NJ
3. Celeste Andreu, MI
MIDGET GIRLS
1. Lisa Andreu, MI, 11.7mi in 38:17
2. Joella Harrison, AZ
3. Gina Novara, M
1981 Track – Trexlertown, PA, Aug. 11-16
SENIOR WOMEN MATCH SPRINT – Final for lat and 2nd: Sheila Young-Ochowicz, WI, beat Connie Paraskevin, MI, 2,0
Final for 3rd and 4th: Sue Navara-Reber, MI, beat Betsy Davis, NJ, 2,0
INTERMEDIATE GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Rene Duprel, WA, 19
2. Celeste Andreu, MI, 15
MIDGET GIRLS OMNIUM OVERALL STANDINGS
1. Jenny Gesquiere, MI, 21
2. Gina Novara, MI, 15
3. Alicia Andreu, MI, 9
This list only represents cycling – note the rising tide of MI athletes on the national stage.
What is missing is the world and Olympic results for cycling and the same results for speedskating. Champions like Gold, Silver and Bronze Olympic medalist Sheila Young, World Champion Roger Young, World Champion and Olympic medalists Connie Paraskevan, World Champion Sue Novara, 9 Times Tour de France Rider and Olympic 4th place finisher Frankie Andreu – and on and on the list is a Who’s Who of American cyclists and speedskaters.
2011 Race Reports 1, 2, 3 & 4: The End of My Youth…
I lived my 50’s in my twenties (thanks to the heavy training for the Olympics that left me so exhausted I constantly craved sleep and avoided stairways.) Then, I lived my 20’s in my thirties (where I had seemingly endless energy and required very, very little sleep.) Last weekend I confirmed I’ve solidly entered my 30’s in my forties…
Why again, do I race? It is a question worth repeating. In full disclosure I hate most of it: the monotony of training, the pre-race gymnastics – loading up, driving, registering and paying, the pinning of numbers, warming up, lining up… I hate all of it. Even worse is my hate for the first half or even ¾’s of the race – an agonizing, lung shredding celebration of all my weaknesses and incredible pain and lethargy against faster, stronger, and younger men than I with their chrome plated legs bulging with muscles…
But time, time is flexible, and for the sprinter, there comes a few moments where light penetrates the gray haze of the mind numbing training days and racing hours. For a few moments a brilliant pulse of energy comes to neurons, blood, bones: muscles align to provide a glimpse of hope and opportunity. Today – today could be the day where I win, despite the odds and the haze of pain. And in those seconds, we the dormant, we the feeble, encased in the shell of the peleton suddenly thrust through the shroud of the chrysalis and life, color and hope returns to feed the unfolding of our flight.
—————–
The end-of-season races in Grand Rapids included the U.S. Pro Championships and a series of highly competitive categorized races both downtown on the bricks and then in East Grand Rapids in the gentrified “gaslight district.” My plan was to “double up” each day, which would mean racing 4 times in 21 hours.
It was in those 21 hours that the evidence ending my extended youth piled up. It all started with an innocuous phone call “Coyle, want to bunk up for the races in Grand Rapids?” This from Ray Dybowski – the “Godfather” of Michigan cycling and heir apparent to Walden’s coaching legacy. Ray turned 50 today and is still tough as nails often doubling up or even tripling up at races, completing 50 to 60 competitions each summer.
In my mind I pictured a leisurely dinner after the first day of racing, a glass of wine, a luxurious hotel with two queen beds, and a good rest prior to the second day of racing. Then Kroske joined in the group – another Master’s level racer with a strong sprint, great sense of humor, and a ubiquitously available camera. Fantastic I thought – “let’s order a roll-away.”
Then team members “the Rodds” entered the picture – a pair of brothers in their young twenties known for winning races, flashing irresistible smiles to the ladies at every opportunity, a high tolerance for post race libations and little requirement for sleep. This is the beauty of bike racing – age matters nothing, only ability. “I’ll bring my inflatable bed” said Ray. Just like old times…
Saturday:
The day dawned gray-blue and lugubrious and the 4 hour drive to Grand Rapids featured varying speeds of windshield wiper the entire way. Oddly I actually felt a quiver of nerves as I approached the race course, partly due to the inherent danger of racing on wet cobbles, and partly due to built up expectations of delivering results: I had won the last two times racing this event and wanted to do so again.
It was about an hour out from Grand Rapids when the realization that another driver of the empty feeling in my stomach was simple hunger – of course – I would need to eat lunch prior to racing. I swung off the highway and looked at the fast food row dismayed by my options. I tried Wendy’s, pulling through the drive-thru. No, nothing there I can eat. I then followed the signs to McDonalds knowing I could get a yogurt parfait and maybe a grilled chicken salad. The McDonald’s was in a giant Walmart. This Walmart was in the middle of no-where in western Michigan. As I entered the sliding doors to Walmart I had a sudden jolt – everywhere, padding along in flip flops and ill fitting stretchy waistbands were rotund families and individuals who were either eyes down looking into an electronic device, or shoving something unhealthy into their mouths – or both. As I waited in line at the McDonalds it was overwhelming – the sizzle of the fat, the massive sugar laden drinks, the mottled skin, stretchy outfits, and instantaneous entertainment befitting the lifestyles and girths of kings – these were now reserved for those without the money or education to realize what the 24/7 passive entertainment, 2000 calorie, 2000mg of sodium meal was doing to them. I was in an earthbound version of Wall-e and it was no joke.
Chastened I ordered only a yogurt parfait, (king sized, of course w/ a superfries and 64oz Coke), and headed to the car feeling holier than thou while texting Randy and checking weather.
I managed to arrive in time to see the end of the pro race, register, change, AND warmup. It was weird.
It was pure luck – the pro race had been delayed 45 minutes due to a storm that had rolled in and taken out half the field and a number of the barriers. All the extra time made me nervous. Ray remembered to give me a plaque from a few years prior – we thought about replacing my hood ornament:
It was a good thing I warmed up – 100 riders on a still puddled course with 2 sections of cobbles. The pace was high much of the race and I wandered the peleton looking for a comfortable position, suffering immensely. Mid-race the pace was particularly tough and I moved up 20 or 30 spots. A few laps later and I found myself at the back of the pack again – without dropping position – the pace had dropped a number of riders.
As the miles added up and the laps counted down I began to feel a glow of power in my legs and mastery of the bike in the corners that Csikszentmihalyi would describe as “Flow”. With confidence and control I rotated up through the corners, purposely fell back on the short straightaways, and then hit the afterburners down the long homestretch in order to stay connected to the stretched-thin core of the peleton. Each lap we hit 32, 33mph into the slightly uphill stretch on cobbles against a mild headwind. Each time the effort put me at the edge of my aerobic capacity, but instead of fear of getting dropped I recognized in the open mouths and agonized pedal strokes of those around me that for once I wasn’t the one “on the rivet.”
Three laps to go and it was “my time” and I began that odd dance through the swaying peleton that has come to characterize my racing career over the years. Like a highly choreographed dance routine on a ship experiencing high seas, the peleton tends to be predictably scripted in its patterns, with the occasional lurches flashing changes like shoaling fish when a predator appears.
Six men off the front, I read the patterns and flashed left and right when the signals suggested panic and in the space of 2 laps I found myself in the top ten readying for the sprint with much younger, stronger and faster men than myself.
Things then peeled and surged and I lost position again but notched my way back up against ever rising speeds, never falling below 30. On the backstretch of the final lap I burned a match to position back in the top 7 and then followed the leadout machine around the final corner and into the uphill, upwind finish. The resisting elements caused a fanning of riders up front and I rode the drafts and waited, finally hitting the afterburners directly in the slip stream of super-strong Panther rider and former Wolverine Ryan Cross who surged toward the line. I had the advantage of the draft and timing and had hopes of breaking through and winning the field sprint when a breakaway rider appeared directly in my path hurtling backward. I came across the line coasting, hands on the brakes and finished third in the field sprint, 9th overall. I was happy.
The lactic acid burden had reached its climax just as I coasted to a stop at the line w/ the Masters. I was in miasma of pain and could barely speak when I found Kroske and Dybo and they unpinned my old numbers and repinned the new ones as I heaved over my bars, finishing the job only seconds before the officials sent us off for race two.
F-ing Masters racers! Never content to settle smoothly into a race, they hit it hard right from the start and it was everything I had to just stay tacked onto the last wheel of the peleton for the first lap. Same for the second. By lap three I started recovering from the intense effort of the prior race, and then things slowed up and I began to enjoy the dance, trading places with Ray on several occasions as he made bold moves up the inside to try and force a breakaway.
Things moved to their inexorable conclusion and I moved up into the top five with one to go. Surges put me back to 12th so I again used a match on the backstretch to slot into 4th – as it turns out, right onto the race winner’s wheel. As we wound around the snaking final corners, I considered an attack into the final two corners, and then watched it happen to me – Switlowski hitting it hard just prior to the final two back-to-back corners. I tried to match and then found myself taken to the barriers by a racer shooting up the inside. Braking into the final corner, I tried to retrieve my speed but found myself only able to hold onto 5th.
Then, the true test of endurance began….
Saturday night:
Kroske, Ray and I planned a nice dinner at the bistro across from the hotel and for a while the older crew held sway – risotto, paella, shrimp and varied libations at an outside table. But Randy and Ryan brought their own energy to the conversation and moments later Randy had convinced the waitress to spoon feed him his food, sitting on his lap.
From there were a series of visits to various Grand Rapids eateries and bars where we watched the younger crew expend their endless social energies.
At one point we tried to lock Ryan in a Port-o-Pottie but he escaped and tried to force us on to the next stop.
Kroske, Ray and I threw in the towel around midnight and it was only upon returning to the room that I had failed at one of my golden rules – 2 glasses of water for every glass of wine, AND there was a huge inflatable bed between me and the sink to get more water. Chugging some tap water before bed and leaving the 10 oz cup lonely on the bedside table I crashed only to be awakened much later by the returns of Ryan and Randy.
Sunday:
It was a night of awakenings – 5 guys in one room, 2 stragglers returning, and then the need to get up and head to the races.
Dehydration and fatigue are familiar friends – despite feeble attempts to hydrate enroute to my first morning race, I actually felt too tired to drink water. I wondered how I could possibly race feeling hot and dry with a pounding head and queasy stomach, but knew I could – and would.
Cat 3: Temp 74 degrees, light winds, average speed – I forgot to check, finish speed painfully fast.
After arrival at the course came an agonizing tiring string of events – parking, registration, changing, number pinning, and lining up for the first race – sun glaring. After 3 laps I wanted to quit, not unusual. With 3 laps to go I was chugging the rest of my water and wanted still wanted to quit – highly unusual. Still, as a chessmaster I knew what to do even if my pieces didn’t want to comply and pushed my pawn into position for a checkmate, coming around the final corner in 5th and finishing… 5th. Nothing to give.
Masters: Temp 76 degrees, light winds, average speed – I forgot to check, finish speed painfully fast.
The beauty of pre-registration is that it creates a dialectic between laziness and frugality: I had already paid so of course I’d have to start my fourth race in 20 hours. Some additional hydration helped with my motivation as well as energy and despite a faster pace I navigated the laps with little difficulty. In the final sprint I struggled despite a leadout from Kroske and only managed 10th.
After the race I hooked Dybo up with a “5 hour energy” vial and then jumped in the Jaguar for the long drive home.
As always, there was something about the darkening reach of the trees and the end of August light that suggested the closing in of time – that the summer solstice and height of the racing season was well behind me and that try as I might, races to try and win would be far and few. Still, I smiled – what a weekend of intensity, fear, pain, suffering and joy.
I remember reading in one of the many books on “Happiness” about a study on joy. I believe the book was called “Satisfaction”. Specifically, the author entered an experiment where he was subjected to some extended and extensive pain (ice water over his extremities). The interesting outcome was that the neurological response to the end of this programme was exactly identical to that of happiness – and indeed the author experienced a “high” following his ordeal that could only be described as joy.
I guess this is why I race: the extended periods of suffering required for limited periods of joy is a tradeoff I’m willing to make. Corollary: choose your suffering – don’t let it choose you.
(an edited repost… I think I’ve converted 3 or 4 cyclists with this line of logic)
So… why is cycling the single greatest sport in the world?
Three ages and three scenarios:
1) Age 35 – 65: Let’s say “you’ve arrived” – after switching jobs and questioning your career, finally, in your late 30’s or into your 40’s, 50’s or 60’s+ you come to that odd and sudden realization that money suddenly is no longer the end goal – that you “have enough” to satisfy your needs – though not necessarily your wants. Meanwhile the questions pile up: “Am I really as old as my age says I am?” (How did that happen?) And then a little more subtly, “yes, where did my energy go? – and my waistline?” or, “How can I stay healthy?”
2) Age 20 – 35: Instead, maybe you are in your 20’s or 30’s – finally “growing up,” finally have a real job and doing well, moving out and moving up, thinking about building a career and a family, fulfilling your potential. “How can I do all that and still stay in shape?” “Am I predestined to become yet another doughy pale office professional?”
3) Age 10 – 20: Finally, lets imagine you have (or are) a grade school or junior high school kid – band, drama, national honor society, soccer, football, track, baseball – so many choices – what activities should you choose?
Let me propose that the activity that is the best answer to all the above questions – and I mean “best” in all its objective and subjective senses – is cycling. Riding a bike is the single greatest sport in the world.
I can prove it.
“Sure,” you immediately conjecture, “you must be some kind of cycling fanatic, aiming to convert the masses to your biased way of thought. Besides, who wants to cavort around in spandex and risk their lives in traffic?”
Let’s examine each of the three examples above to determine whether there is any truth to my potential fiction. Further, let us add that the criteria for the ‘greatest’ is based on the sport’s contribution to health, longevity and happiness.
Let’s work our way forward starting from the youngest age bracket above from 3) Age 10-20: the junior high, high school, or college kid. Normally soccer, track, football, baseball, or academic pursuits or some combination are the typical achievement oriented activities for this age group. Rightly so – all of these have a teaming aspects and bring about important developmental opportunities including discipline, social development, and balancing individual performances against team gains. For most of these activities, true victories and the associated celebrations come about from the performance of the group rather than the individual – a great corollary for the modern workplace.
For all the above reasons, Team sports are a mainstay of youth development programs the world over and provide many valuable lessons. There is just one huge, glaring problem – team sports for these kids tend to end as soon as high school ends. For a smaller percentage, it ends in college. And for that incredibly rare few (1 in 10,000? 1 in 100,000?) it means a few years as a professional.
Regardless, the fundamental flaw of team sports remains the same – they end. Joe Montana isn’t playing adult league football somewhere and for 99.9% of these talented athletes the result is the same – ‘retirement’. There is no opportunity to create an extended healthy routine from these kinds of team sports. If the goal is health, longevity, and happiness, then these sports have a very limited shelf life.
Want to help your junior-high school student have a full, healthy, active life? Consider individual sports… in particular cycling…
Let us consider the second age bracket, 2): the twenty/thirty-somethings. Work lunches, late nights, travel and the associated fast foods, Friday night beers and cocktails – all without the active lifestyle and sports of high school and college – including the basic physical activities of walking across campus or playing intramural Frisbee.
Witness the arrival of the second ‘freshman 15’ weight gain. Team sports may still be an option – and if you are single – they may still be the best option: find a league dominated by the opposite sex and you’ve got a surefire way to potentially ensure continued reproductive health (and the motivation to continue it.)
Sooner or later though, the odds are you’ll settle down – and suddenly 3 hour softball games a couple of nights a week with single girls in short shorts and tight t-shirts, combined with post game rituals of pitchers of beer after the game may not fly so well with your fiancé – and definitely not with your pregnant wife even if you are both part of the league. And, seriously – is swatting an oversized ball and jogging a few bases really an equal balance to the beer, shots, hamburgers and brats?
At this point, running might seem the best option – easy to do anywhere, no equipment other than shoes and shorts – even city living presents no serious obstacle. That is, until the first injury… Lots of 20/30 somethings decide to train for marathons – often with the doubly noble goals of getting fit and accomplishing a difficult task, as well as raising money for charity. However, there is a significant downside. According to several studies, running a marathon can create irreparable damage to bones and tendons. Even if an injury isn’t serious, a sidelined ‘occasional’ runner may well lose weeks or months of activity while recovering, and will likely be more cautious in the future.*
(*sidenote – in 31 years of cycling I’ve never had an injury that kept me from riding, and indeed, all injuries were from crashing – not from the actual activity of pedaling).
Finally, 1): the productive 35/40/50/60+ year old. No longer in the full bloom of youth where muscle pulls are rare and bodies recover quickly, these maturing adults, professionals, teachers, factory workers, working mothers and fathers etc. still need exercise. Indeed it is more imperative than ever for success in work, family – in life – to reduce stress and increase productivity, as well as to manage weight and blood pressure: heart disease is the number one killer of adults in the USA.
Running remains a temptation – but becomes more and more fraught with injury perils with the exception of those naturally birdlike lightweight athletes whose frames can withstand the pounding.
Now those other team sports – softball, racquetball, tennis, football etc. become more and more untenable – either from a schedule standpoint – or from an injury standpoint. In the modern office workplace it seems that a majority of casts and splints are a result of one of these sports – the sudden twists, sideways movements, stops and starts – these begin to push the limits of the aging musculature and thinning bones.
So… whats left? Surfing and downhill skiing may actually be the perfect combination of “flow” activities that are seasonal and sustainable, but lets be fair to the other 98% of Americans that don’t live near surf and mountains. What remains for the majority are swimming, cross country skiing, walking, and cycling. All of these are low impact sports and tend to be relatively injury free. Each has their limitations – lets start with swimming. For some dedicated few water rats that don’t mind being in a liquid habitrail with no sights and no sounds, swimming may be the perfect addiction – safe, all muscles used, aerobic, no impact – an excellent choice assuming you live near a gym with a pool that has lanes available and you don’t mind all of those other limitations.
How about cross country skiing? Potentially the ‘perfect sport’ for winter – scenery, low impact, all muscles, strength, power, speed, and aerobic conditioning – it also requires… snow. Not exactly year round.
So we are left with walking and cycling. Walking is amazingly healthful – a long walk burns fat, strengthens muscles, improves coordination, and gets oneself outside (weather permitting) to bring in that other significant contributor to health and reduced stress – nature.
That said, walking feels a bit mundane for many – and because it limits output, is necessarily a low aerobic exercise – very difficult to approach aerobic thresholds or test oneself.
Finally – we are left with cycling. An interesting side-note here: guess what, according to several recent polls, is the number one preferred leisure activity for adult Americans? No – it’s not cycling, running, skiing, swimming, baseball, golf, soccer or football.
It is ‘going for a drive.’ Americans love their roads and their native invention the automobile.
Cycling is low impact – the smooth rotation of the pedals causes few injuries. Cycling is both aerobic, as well as anerobic – the body is naturally stressed to accompany the needs to accelerate, shift gears, climb hills. The fat burning characteristics of low aerobic efforts like walking are enabled during flat steady efforts, but this is complemented by the muscle and bone building anaerobic strength exercises caused by accelerations, stop signs and hills. Cycling provides the perfect balance of aerobic, strength, and aesthetic activities in one form.
So… there you have it – for teens, an individual sport like cycling creates a lifelong skill and interest that will increase their lifespan and happiness. For twenty-somethings it can replace time consuming team sports or injury prone activities like running, and for the rest of us 30+ athletes, cycling provides a low impact sport that burns fat, builds bone and muscle and serves as a non-sedentary surrogate for the #1 US pastime of ‘going for a drive.’
But all that is a lot of data – let me end with two stories:
Story 1: When I was growing up – as a young teen – there was a guy in my cycling club named TJ Hill that led a lot of the rides where I grew up in Detroit. He was sort of ageless – lean, muscular, and incredibly strong. On club rides he would take the lead for long stretches and we would all draft off his strong legs and amazing endurance.
I went to college over 20 years ago and never moved back to Michigan. Nonetheless a couple years back I joined the email newsletter of my old cycling club in Detroit – the “Wolverine Sports Club” and lo and behold, TJ was still leading rides and a key figure in the club.
For the last couple of years I continued to read about his exploits without much thought – “that’s TJ” I thought. It never really occurred to me that TJ could have aged in the process.
It wasn’t until I read a ‘race result’ from a 100 mile tour/race in Northern Michigan a couple summers ago that it brought home the legacy I had always observed but never comprehended growing up. Those ‘ageless’ guys leading the rides? They weren’t 20 or 30 something athletes – they were 40/50/60 somethings continuing to practice their craft.
The race result I read? 1st in the 70 – 75 year old category – TJ Hill. 100 miles: time? 4 hours and 17 minutes. 73 years old and he averaged over 23mph for 100 miles. TJ is now 75 and rode 12,313 miles last year (yes – that’s nearly 40 miles a day, every single day). He just got back from a two month training camp in Alabama where rode 58 days straight and averaged 67 miles every day.
Sure – he’s a freak – an anomaly of nature to do so much and do it so fast. But do this – go to a charity cycling event or a century ride – you’ll be amazed at the number of healthy older individuals out making their mark and helping others.
Story 2: This one is simple. Think back to when you were a teen or maybe a young twenty something. Remember how you used to skip stairs, or bounce down them? Sometimes you’d take them 3 at a time, and with a good rhythm seek to skip and reach for the 4th stair? Remember sprinting all out to chase the dog or a Frisbee or having the control while running to leap high in the air off a stump or curb? Remember that confidence, quickness and coordination? (And lack of fear?)
I turned 40 in August. I’ve been a cyclist for 32 seasons. Today I skipped 3 steps (and considered a reach for the 4th) on my way chasing my 7 year old daughter up the stairs. Sometimes in the winter, when work overwhelms and riding in the gym or on trainer becomes a bit boring and lags, I’ll start to feel my age, walking flat-footed, clearing the cobwebs from my back when bringing things up from the basement – but I’ll tell you this: with the cycling season back in full swing and being back outside riding and enjoying the spring air almost every day – my youth is still here. I pad lightly around the house on the balls of my feet with a spring to my step no different than when I was 19, and when I tense my leg muscles to chase my daughter or my dog out in the lawn – it is still with a burst of furious speed that pursue her giggles and flailing tresses.
It’s hard to describe, but after a good hard ride, you’ll never feel more alive: THAT’s why cycling is the single best sport in the world – because you can experience runner’s high without running – and see the world around you while doing it.
Volume 5: The Sprinter’s Guide to Bike Maintenance
“It’s the rider not the bike” – Mike Walden
Roadies obsess over their equipment and view it as an ally in their route to success. Sprinters view the bike as a necessary evil. A great roadie finish includes references to how the bike and rider have “become one” – Lance Armstrong’s famous quote – “no chain man – no chain.”
Roadies and sprinters part ways when it comes to bicycle maintenance, sprinters win despite their equipment. Before a race, the toolio roadie is waxing his chain, rebuilding his bottom bracket and putting ceramic bearings in his derailleur wheelies. The sprinter hopes he remembers to put air in his tires.
A quick inventory of my own equipment proves my genetics – below was the current state of my bike (upon this writing), and some typical sprinter solutions:
Issue #1: Rust. Recently I noticed a squeaking sound than intruded over the volume of my ipod headphones. To my chagrin I noticed after the ride that my chain, and cog were rusty after a winter of disuse.
Solution #1: Lube. I didn’t have any expensive “roadie lube” handy, but figured oil is oil so I dumped some 10W40 motor oil from my car onto my chain. Problem solved – look, you can barely see the rust in the “after” picture (sadly my Blackberry self destructed and I lost this wonderful archive of photos of dumping a quart of motor oil on my chain in a Target parking lot in South Barrington)
Issue #2: Brakes. Again, a foreign sound recently intruded over my headphones (I usually ride on a bike path w/ no cars and hence can listen to music) – this time it was the grating of metal on metal. Sure enough my front brakes had managed to wear themselves out.
Solution #2:Adjust. Right hand = rear brakes. Enough said. (Hear is a picture of the offending pads)
Issue #3: Cracked Seat. I didn’t even notice this problem until someone pointed it out to me. My immediate thought was, “what’s all that extra material on the back part of the seat for? – clearly not necessary” However, over the past weeks, the crack has continued to grow…
Solution #3:Adjust. Sit a little more forward – a typical sprinter move – in a match sprint on the track you end up riding the nose of the saddle anyway…
Issue #4:Threadbare Tires: I only noticed this one because I was taking off my rear wheel to put it in the trunk of my car – apparently if you ride them enough, tires wear out.
Solution #4: Keep riding back to the car – I ride “run flat” heavy tubes on my training wheels, so no big deal if I get a flat.
Issue #5: A month or two ago I received an email from Ray Dybowski about inspecting your bike, and in particular, your cleats. A month later and in putting together this inventory, I actually looked at the bottom of my shoes and discovered this – half a cleat.
Solution #5: In this case, I was forced to admit that actual maintenance was required and I replaced this cleat. (As an aside, during the mid 90’s one of my shoes had a slightly loose cleat with stripped screws, and like a good sprinter I kept my pedal tension very tight.) The solution here was to leave my left shoe clipped to the pedal – in fact it stayed on the bike for a 4 year period – until I replaced the bike.
Issue #6: Lately, when I’m in the big ring, but using a smaller gear, if I get out of the saddle, my chain will drop to the small ring without shifting. I used to think this was my bike flexing, but now, after experience with this, I realize it means my chain is worn out. Last season I broke two chains – one during a race.
Solution #6: I’ll have to replace the chain soon… and likely that will require a new cassette as well… instead, considering all these issues stacking up, there really is only one solution: a new bike.
My new Trek Madone 6.5 arrived a few weeks after I wrote this (last spring): complete with a new chain, cogs, seat, brakepads, and whatever else was about to go bad on my 5 year old Colnago. Problem solved.
Next Up: The Sprinter’s Guide to “Kits” (that’s Roadie for bike shorts/jerseys)
Volume 4: The Sprinter’s Guide to Cold Weather Riding
“I love to ride – as long as it is sunny, downhill and with a tailwind” – anonymous sprinter
Today in Chicago it was 53 degrees when I left work… and windy… and cloudy. Despite my bike being in the trunk and a reasonable departure time from work, I went straight home. No ride.
Machismo aside, lets face it, when it comes to riding in poor weather, sprinters are pansies. Here’s one sprinter’s guide to riding in less-than-optimal weather organized by temperature:
<20 degrees = no riding. I hate balaclavas and other than using chemical heating pads I’ve not found shoe insulators that would keep my toes warm below 20… in the sun. Spin bike in the basement here I come. Clothes: bike shorts, no shirt in the 50 degree basement
20-32 degrees: Must be both of the following: sunny and no wind
Clothes: two cycling caps – one w/ ear covers, warm “3 finger” gloves, wicking t-shirt, thin under-armour type long underwear – tops and bottoms, full heavy bibs and heavy long sleeve jersey. Start w/ windbreaker and remove after 20 minutes.
32 – 43 degrees: Must be at least one of the following – either sunny, or no wind
Clothes: Same as above if either cloudy or windy. If sunny and calm, same as above but no vest, only one hat, and no t-shirt.
44 – 55 degrees: Can be cloudy and windy but I won’t like itClothes: Same as above if both cloudy or windy. If sunny and calm, knickers and long sleeve jersey, hat and light gloves. Remove hat after 20 minutes.
55+ degrees: Riding in most conditions… except rain
Rain Rules: Never start a ride when it is raining. Turn around if it rains in the first 5 minutes. However, once warmed up, continue riding regardless of conditions (even thunderstorms, hail, tornados). For racing, if rain is 100% assured, just don’t go. If traveling less than 45 minutes, don’t register if it starts raining – go home. Otherwise, if you’ve traveled more than 45 minutes, or if it starts after you’ve registered, (grudgingly) race in the rain and complain bitterly after…
Deep down though is the unspoken truth: jealousy is at the heart of the contempt…. But, being a sprinter is more than fast twitch muscles, podiums, and podium girls – it is a lifestyle, with a clear set of unspoken rules and traditions – most of which are in direct contrast to the majority roadie rule. In these next few volumes I’ll attempt capture some of them.
Volume 3: The Sprinter’s Guide to Sign Sprints
Sign sprints are a common element of group rides that create a love/hate relationship with roadies. On one hand roadies design the routes for most group rides, and attend them religiously – hence they have insider knowledge of where and when the key sign sprints are. If you see a roadie suddenly pop out of his saddle and accelerate out of the peleton in the middle of nowhere (when it is not a hill or false flat)– then you can be assured a sign sprint is in the making.
That said, sign sprints are… sprints. And hence, in the absence of an element of surprise, will ultimately lend themselves to the fast-twitch group.
Rules: The rules of sign sprints are fairly simple: group rides will abandon the traditional rules of steady pacelines, pulling through, accelerating only on inclines, if, and only if certain street signs are within a reasonable distance on low traffic roads with ample time to slow & regroup.
Typical Sign sprints – in order of ‘importance’:
“Yellow signs” – any yellow sign is potentially fair game, though it is usually specific to the ride and sprinting for an “undesignated” yellow sign can look foolish.
“Stop Ahead” – these signs, depending on locale, are ubiquitous, and are generally “legitimate” as long as there is ample distance before the actual stop sign. They are convenient in that the looming Stop sign also creates the natural opportunity for the group to re-form
“Tractor crossing” – in the Midwest these are premo destinations. Rare, usually very rural, and typically requiring insider knowledge, these signs will tend to have a ¾ mile ramp up.
“Town line” – these are the kings of sign sprints – these matter most as they indicate a true change of venue.
“The final sign” – at best a “town line” sign, but perhaps merely a “stop ahead” sign, the final sign of the day features the greatest effort, and the most glory. Win this one, and you’ve won them all…
Below is a great set of posts I found on a forum from a “Newbie” rider who is clearly a sprinter and feeling some guilt about it. He was getting hassled for not pulling enough for some sign sprints. I love his final post – no way to argue with that…
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Newbie Sprinter: Is the cyclist wrong by sprinting at the end if he did not pull “during” the sprint? In most cases during these sprints, several strong riders try to up the pace as much as possible, but these same riders usually do not engage in the final sprint. But often times I hear riders condemn the rider who did not pull “during” the sprint, with comments like ” he was never in the wind” etc. And if it matters, the prize is just a beer for the winner of the zone. My feeling is someone who doesn’t work with the group or do his/her share during the ride shouldn’t sprint, but in the actual sprint zone it’s every man for himself and no one’s forcing anyone to push the pace at the front. For instance I’ve not seen Cavendish “take a turn at the front” before he sprints to the finish.
Roadie Response:In my experience, the guys who sprint for county line signs, etc., are usually the ones who do the least pulling during the actual rides. The same guys tend to crank it up in the last mile or so of a long recreational ride — like they are actually proving something by “winning” the sprint or being the first one back to the parking lot after sitting in at the back of the paceline for most of the ride.
Newbie Sprinter: I’m willing to pull, just can’t sustain a long (mile or more) pull at the speed of the best pullers. Is that my fault?
Roadie1 Response:Yes! You should be working on your weaknesses rather than showboating your “talent”.
Roadie2 Response: If you’re this concerned about sprinting, you should save it for an actual race.
Newbie Sprinter: I have… and I won the race…
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Next up: The Sprinter’s Guide to cold weather riding
