Kensington Road Race '09

I don't think Scott Gifford has directed enough bike races. I stood at the top of the Maple Beach hill talking to Alex Keomany and Libby and Jacq Roberge, as Scott walked up all casual and relaxed. Maybe he'd just eaten too many of the overripe bananas lying around the registration area. Something was making him look liked he'd just drifted out of a pranayama meditation retreat. He was mellow. Maybe he hasn't had enough experience to realize just how hard race directing is. Let's hope he does a few more. He'll catch on.

I'm not a good spectator. I felt more keyed up than Scott as I stood there watching racers pedal wearily up and over the hill. Sure, there are social aspects of spectating that are nice, but given a choice I'd much rather be out there crackling a calf muscle or two. I get fidgety standing by the side of the road.

I've ridden Kensington a number of times. I'd like to say it suits me because I like hills, but there's this long stretch out to Martindale Beach that favors power riders, so the hills become more or less neutralized. But hey, it's southeast Michigan. This is about as good as it gets.

The Cat 1/2's had a fascinating moment as they reached Martindale Beach on their first lap. Someone forgot to lift the gate that leads into the turnaround. It brought them all to a standstill for a few minutes until that was sorted out. As a cyclocrosser, I happen to like obstacles, but many road racers expect the road to just lay out before them like a crossword puzzle with answers that are far too easy. They're a pampered lot. It must have something to do with sitting in someone else's draft too often.

If you ever want some peace and quiet during the race, go to the registration area once the racing is all underway. It was silent except for a couple of Wizard of Oz types behind some tent flaps at Command Central documenting the results as they were flown in by pigeon from the finish line. Things pick up again as the curious gather to see how everyone did.

But the most somber area of all was down at Maple Beach. It looked like a wake as a high school crew meet was scuttled by the cool, windy, rainy weather. Boy were they a downcast looking lot. Maybe they need to consider a new sport. Bike racing, perhaps? Better than sitting all morning with your butt on an overturned shell.

Contrast all that to the finish line. That's where Joe Lekovish was, microphone in hand. Joe doesn't allow for quiet. He keeps his eye out for safe passage and patters on to the racers about their lap count. He didn't act like he'd eaten too many bananas. No meditation retreat for him. But he's directed countless bike races. He knows how hard it is. Getting wound up is not a once in a while thing during a bike race. It is the bike race. "C'mon guys, harder, harder. One more lap! Pedal Harder! One more lap." If it were up to Joe, there's always one more lap.

More doctored up photos of the race can be found at: picasaweb.google.com/Pulcipher/KensingtonRoadRace09#

Lucas Wall's Cycling Skills Blog

I admit, sometimes there are interesting things in this world that I miss even though most of the rest of society is well aware of them. Well, even I stumble on to these interesting things now and then. And that's how I found Lucas Wall's blog, cyclingskills.blogspot.com.

It's been around since July of '08 from what I can tell. It would have been more helpful if it would have been around when I started racing on the road and riding in groups that like to crush legs. I needed this kind of helpful info. Instead, I worked hard at doing stupid things in order to give others someone to express their creative outrage toward.

Understand, unlike Things Bike, Cycling Skills is a sensible blog. You'll actually learn something there. It has one article after another that is well written. It clearly explains topics of interest to bike racers, particularly new bike racers getting into the scene: how to hand up a water bottle, the purpose of group rides (all this time I thought it was to hurt others while proving you dominate), how to perform a good lead out, where to place your race numbers, and so on. To many of us, these things are either learned after years of fumbling, or never learned at all, though we do pretend we know them ("Yeah, lead outs, man. Like, you know, you get out in front and like you lead...you know...like...out.")

Don't miss the very funny YouTube video of the guy who needed to learn bike handling skills before attempting the victory "V," (August 31, 2008).

Go there. There's a place for stupid, but a bike race isn't that place.

Cone Azalia '09

I had one of my easier years at Cone. Not sure what made it any better, but I felt real good, my seat was comfortable, and I didn't have any flats.

I did have to learn a few things that were different from last year. The two-way radio for instance. I was handed one like I knew what to do with it. It had buttons all over the place. Ben Caldwell and I worked it out to a degree, but there were still two small buttons that remained a mystery to me the whole day. I also had a choice of band 1 or band 2. I chose 1, though a whole world might have been chatting away on band 2. Who knows. I do know that sometimes people would hear my reports and sometimes not.

At the beginning someone was talking to Robert. My name is Robert. "Everything okay, Robert." "Yup," I said, "okay." "We're going to send a couple of contacts through, Robert, are you ready?" I was sitting out on the road in my chair. I had no clue what they were talking about. "Could you repeat that?" They did. "I don't know what that means," I said, feeling foolish, like I should know these things. Long pause. "Robert Linden, do you hear me?" Oh. My first name is Robert, but my last name is not Linden. I cleared that up and settled back into my chair. I still don't know who that person was who was talking.

Oh! I think I know why it was better for me this year. I got to sit by the side of the road as a course marshal, rather than pedal through gravel and grit for a couple of hours. I'll bet that's it.

I'd call down to someone--Paul Alman I think because he answered now and then--and let them know who was passing by a kilometer before the finish. It's quite a nice job. It had long moments of quiet when I could look out over the fields on each side of me and enjoy the serene beauty of the place. The blue sky was fantastic. And I didn't have to pay for anything.

A woman, whose name I never found out, was half way between myself and the finish line doing the same thing I was, because I'd call out things like "Cat. 6 just passed, Cat. 6 whole pack." I'd invent new categories and less than a minute later she'd uninvent them. But hey, the Cat. 4 were the 500 numbers and the Cat. 5 were the 600s. Easy screw up, especially with a brain like mine.

In those quiet moments, I sat there in my folding chair and thought about the breeze, which was easy to do and something hard to screw up. I knew that when the racers started, around 10AM or so, the breeze was light and coming from the south. By 11:20 it was light and coming from the southwest. By noon it was picking up a bit and it had shifted to the west. By 12:02 the wind quieted considerably. By 12:04 it stiffened up again. I know because I was standing up and my chair fell over. By 12:15 it was calm again. It was all very soothing. I'm not sure if the racers could say the same.

I also had time to take photos. I'd taken a bunch in an experiment before the race as the riders warmed up. I squatted in a ditch and shot tons of shots. I did so without automatic focus. Good idea in theory, but many of my photos were fuzzy. Sorry. Some of those that did work are shown.

But while the race was on and no one was passing by I took field photos and tree photos and cloud photos. It was such a beautiful setting. It may have been tough to grasp as a racer. There are other things to concern yourselves with.

I enjoyed listening to the groups as they passed. For the most part they were pretty civil. That is, until the 45+ group passed. My group, usually. They were really going at it. Some guy wasn't pulling through correctly or something. It was a big snit going on. They were pretty heated up out there. I do hope that was the only time in the race they had that kind of altercation. Kind of takes the fun out of things.

It was also interesting watching the disintegration of the groups on each lap. The first group in which I really noticed a change was the 45 plussers. It took only a lap or two and four guys were off the front and past the Cat 3's. Exciting stuff.

In the 1/2 race, the whole thing split into three groups pretty quickly, with about seven or eight riders in the first pack, a few more in the second, and about double that in the third. The Women's Cat 1/2/3 race was a real struggle of wills as well. Four were off and away somewhere during the second lap. They came by me cranking their hearts out. Not sure what the story was there, but it made for a good race. For the most part, Mens Cat 3 and Cat 4 stayed together, except for the strays dropped off the back. Cat 5 was a major free-for-all, as usual.

The stray riders were interesting. Some were kind of dejected looking, some shrugged, some covered their numbers like they were caught coming out of a joint they weren't proud of being seen in. It's a long lonely race if you flat or get dropped.

I hear Tony Bruley was off on a flyer in front of the 35+ group and got stopped by the train. Bummer. I also hear that the group tried to soft pedal and let Tony get away again after they caught him and the train passed, but someone else latched on to him and they weren't about to let two of them ride away. Tough luck twice, Tony. Cone is a cruel race. Very Paris-Roubaixish in that way. I'm also told that Tony took it all pretty well.

At one point Paul called down to ask me to keep him informed about the riders coming in. I'd been shoving in the talk button and telling them all kinds of things, but apparently they weren't hearing a word. That concerned me. I did wonder here and there if my walkie-talkie (#6) was transmitting. Other times they seemed to get things just fine. As the first of the Cat 1/2's passed me on the last lap headed toward the finish I was yelling into my set, "Cat 1/2s, about seven of them coming at you, Cat 1/2s!" Silence. "Anybody read me?" Silence. I repeated my news with new news, "more coming in!" I never did find out if they got my call. Hope they figured things out.

Lukas Wall, Jon Royal, Paul Alman, Robert Linden, and everyone else (volunteers) who put their effort into making this race work did a great job. If you're ever curious what it takes to pull one of these races together, check out Lucas's list of volunteers at www.aavc.org/cone/index.php?itemid=31#more. It's like looking at the credits after a Star Wars epic. It takes a lot of people's efforts for a lot of other people to enjoy ripping their legs apart in a pedaling frenzy.

It was a very fun race to be involved with. And you racer people did an okay job yourselves. Without you, we're just standing by the road with blank looks on our faces. Okay, some of us even do that with you there, but that's all right. Somehow a race took place and it was a good one.

Hangs Around Street Posts Late at Night

Take the glasses off, slap on a jersey and a helmet and you'll know who this guy is. He hangs around the hospital night and day. Sometimes he shows up at races.

First person who sends me the name of the mystery banner man, along with a Garmin Edge 705 GPS w/Heart Rate/Cadence/Data Card & Street Maps, and a short bio of him/herself gets their own special posting on ThingsBike.

Promise.

(What the heck is he looking at so intently?)