7/24/09 - Race 7: Ronde Vlaams-Brabant Stage 3, 11 km

Not a whole lot to report today… A nice break for sure! It was a fun little time trial, just under 11 km long. Got on my TT bike out here for the first time ever on the trainer an hour before my start. Needless to say I could have used a little extra time to get accustomed to the setup. But that’s kind of how it goes out here - you get what you need, everything is taken care of… but like everything else in cycling, timeliness is a rare bonus.

Warming up with Will Tehan

The course was super windy and dry, thankfully, but I was blown around quite a bit in the first kilometers and big, sweeping farm roads. The race was basically flat until the last 2 kilometers, which very gradually began to point upwards. By 500 meters to go, the pitch was quite steep, easily six or seven percent gradient. The course was moderately technical, with eight turns, two of which were chicanes. Yet another reason to have had a bit more practice on the bike!

Ben Juzwin, 20th overall, warms up under the super-pro tent-extension

I had a good go. I felt very satisfied with my effort. I was a bit over a minute down on the winner, though not sure about my exact time or place - under 16 minutes and somewhere in the middle of the pack. Our two GC leaders both placed in the top 50, one in the top 20, with both in the top 25 overall after the stage. We have a lot to ride for over the next couple days, should be fun! Tomorrow and Sunday I will race for a stage result, so hopefully I will have an interesting report to go with it!

Job done, the TT bikes get to rest

And... A couple more pics just for fun... Didn't get nearly as geeky as I meant to, but I tried with the one below.

Rebranded Zipp

Wheels and bottles

7/23/09 - Race 6: Ronde Vlaams-Brabant Stage 2, 145 km

Before I jump into today's race, I thought some of you might appreciate a picture of our soigneur, Noel, whom I mentioned yesterday... A gentle giant indeed:

Noel (L) and Ben Juzwin

The guy is awesome and incredibly comfortable in his own skin. And I must admit, there was something strangely comforting about his large belly holding my feet in place for the massage.

Anyways, the race today was much hillier than yesterday, with four GPM's and four unrated climbs for each lap of 36 kilometers. Much hillier and much, much wetter.

Okay, so its just a wall, not a road, but you get the point!

Not what I wanted to see in the team van on the way to the start.

The race started as basically a carbon copy of yesterday. By kilometer five I was off the front in a small group that was quickly brought back, but just as quickly I was off with another group. Things reformed a few times, but by kilometer 12 I was just being brought back into the fold. I should have remembered that kilometer 13 means GPM - just like last time - but I didn’t. Unlucky #13. I had a one of those “it seemed like a good idea at the time…” moments and attacked since the pack hadn’t completely closed. I went solo hoping to be on the right side of the split that seemed imminent. But, as luck would have it, I took a right-hander and started to motor with what gap I had and looked up to see a steep SOB of a climb looming. It would not have been a big issue if I hadn’t been riding hard for 20 minutes already… I got swallowed up quickly. I would have been spat out, too, if it weren’t for the fact that there are 200 dudes in the pack! I lost a ton of spots, probably 100 before I could hold my position. Deja vu.

From that point on I worked my way steadily back to the front. I got back well after the move of the day had made tracks, around 35 km into the race. The next hour of the race was relatively easy. I had a pretty major break-through in really learning to surf the front of the race and conserve energy. For the next 65 minutes the average speed was 27 mph and my average HR was 163 - for me that is fairly low, just above endurance - over some steep hills, too! I really found a great zone to work in. Basically start in a good position, around 10-20 wheels back and constantly be moving to the outside and hop in the moves going up the side of the pointy peloton. It was really efficient. Sometimes you have to break to find a line to the outside, but you need to get out there or else you are boxed in and moving backwards.

The thought of the day comes courtesy of my friend Aaron Pool, a JBCA veteran. “You have to be pushing forward all the time.” Now, I have heard “if you’re not moving up you’re moving back” and all that jazz as much as the next guy, but for some reason these words just crystallized something for me. I found the nerve to shoot small gaps and really assert myself in a tight peloton - what a great feeling! Not to be too dramatic but there was something very liberating that happened out there on the road today. Definitely my first “AHA” moment over here.

With 50 kilometers to go I was still sitting pretty in the top 15 wheels when some attacks started to fly - pretty heavy attacks. I covered them and joined a group of eight riders with a gap over the field. We stayed away for a bit, but didn’t succeed in getting anywhere. But after a flurry of shots and a couple hours of high pace, it seemed like the moment for a split. It was status quo through the middle of the last lap and with about 20 km to go the race was really heating up. I was starting to feel pretty shot after my early efforts. I used my last bullet to move my team leader up from about 60th wheel to the front of the group before the second to last GPM. Great timing for him, not so much for me. After the GPM I was near the back of about 100 dudes, and I popped off from there at 5 km to go over the next hill… Job done!

I used my big ring for the entire race, which in retrospect seems like a mistake. If you shift down I things feel a bit harder and like the other guys are riding much stronger. It’s more comfortable to just muscle over. But at kilometer 140 it is so much better to be using your big-gear-pushing muscles to make the selection of the day… Even if it means you feel like you don’t have the gas earlier in the race. A tactic for another day!

Tomorrow is an 11 km TT. Not the typical US out-and-back. This stuff is technical over here. Should be new and fun! Maybe some geek pics?

7/22/09 - Race 5: Ronde Vlaams-Brabant Stage 1, 145 km

Team bikes

My first Belgian UCI stage race! So, I found out at the last minute that I was going to be going (7 am before a 1:30 pm start), which meant I came with a little less of a mental edge than I might like. But I was really glad to be there. The race is five days long, four road stages of 140-160 km apiece on rollers and power climbs, split in the middle by an 11-kilometer time trial. There were 200 starters.

Main sponsor's banner

One of the cars from the caravan in front of the race - think a mini-parade.

Another caravan car

The race today was 145 kilometers and designed to be a stage for the sprinters. There were three large loops of 35 km each before we went into town for five local laps of 8.5 km apiece. The large loop featured two GPM’s (King of the Mountains competition points sprints) at 13.5 km and 25 km.

The guys pinning up before a pre-race chat.

I was in a mix of moves for a bit, but nothing really got too far away. I bridged to a promising looking group as it was forming at about 10 km and we stayed away for a couple minutes, getting caught just as we hit the bottom of the first GPM. The hill wasn’t incredibly steep, but it seemed like everyone wanted points. And I was at my limit. I gave up about 50 spots on the climb, knowing full well that each wheel that past me was one I would have to pass back ASAP. I took a few minutes to recover, using the time to try and pick-off spots where I could. I was able to get back to the front and burnt some more matches in moves that didn’t get anywhere. And that is about when we reached the next GPM, which was just as miserable as the first!

The move of the day was gone at that point, so I just decided to shut it down and conserve. It was hot today, 29 degrees Celsius (so, like… 85 F?) and I lost a bottle on a short cobble section at the start of the second lap… To cut straight to the chase, I never saw the front of the race again. I did my best to hydrate and refuel, but didn’t have great luck with feeds. I made it through to the local laps on three bottles and was dying to get a feed on the local circuit. Our guys were not there yet! In the process though I stayed to the right to try to get a feed and ended up all the way at the back. I made it through the first local lap fine, moving back up the whole way, but had to repeat the process on the second lap. I did get the feed, but it left me in horrible position. I got stuck behind a big split and that was it. “Grupetto!” and we just cruised in, getting pulled with 20 km to go. I think I should get to start no problem tomorrow… But we’ll see!

In any event, I just got a wonderful post-race massage from Noel, quite the gentle giant. I could get used to this!

Some post-race shots of me (after wiping gobs of salt from my face) and the rest of the guys...

All I need is some gel in my hair and maybe a little make-up and I would be true Belgian!

Post-race

Canals

Here's a little teaser from my ride this afternoon:

Schipdonkvaart - Zuid (South Schipdonk Canal Rd)

Today I went on a nice steady endurance cruise along for about 85 kilometers. I am probably doing a five-day UCI stage race, Ronde Vlaams Brabant, which starts on Wednesday and runs through Sunday. The plan was for this to be my last real volume for the week after all the intensity I got in last week. Being a city-boy, I am used to a short (or sometimes long) commute to pretty OK riding and usually lots of traffic. Already I am getting spoiled out here. Granted, there is little variation in terrain - most rides are pancake-flat. However, the rides start straight from the door and within minutes you can forget that you are even around any kind of city/town. The roads are so quite and the drivers are so polite!

As I mentioned before, even riding on a busier road there are wonderful accommodations for cyclists. The most common is a bike path that is separated from the road or clearly painted on the side, often in red paint or with red bricks. This makes even the "worst" parts of rides so much more tolerable than back home.

Bike path - clearly marked and amply separated from the road!

The kicker is that not only are these bike paths clearly marked on the sides of roads, but also straight through intersections! Maybe it is the bright red paint, or maybe it's just some sort of European sensibility, but drivers actually take note! When turning right, across a lane - hold your breath - they yield to bikes! Amazing! It actually makes quite a big difference in the quality of life as a cyclist... Or at least quality life on the bike (is there a difference?).

Yes, this bike path was painted straight through an intersection.

But maybe the greatest pleasure of riding in Belgium is to take the canal roads that meander along miles and miles of scenic waterways with no traffic and only a few bikes and pedestrians. And by a few, I mean a few - nothing like the Westside bike path for those that are familiar!

From the house it is only 2 kilometers to the closest canal, which you can cross via drawbridge to get to the city of Brugge.

The drawbridge to Brugge

A little further north you can hook up with a pretty canal called Schipdonkvaart, which you can ride east for miles (or kilometers, whichever your preference). I have a couple more pics of this canal below:

More from the Schipdonkvaart - Zuid

So for the entire ride today, except for maybe four minutes on each end of the ride, I was on quite canal roads like this one. The towering trees keep the road shaded and cool. This is really one of the most enjoyable loops I have been on in a long time, both because of the scenery and the privateness. And, in the event you actually run into someone else using the same road, the custom is to yell "Pas op!" as you approach (Watch out!) and the politely move to the side... "Dank u!" Very civilized! I wish it worked that easily in the city. Usually calling "On your left," or "Heads up" causes them to swerve further in your direction. Anyways, I am sure my little Belgian infatuation will slowly begin to wear off - but for now I am completely smitten!

7/18/09 - Race 4: Gistel Kermis, 112.5 km

The racing is coming fast and furious now. I went to the kermis in Waardamme still feeling trashed from the race on Thursday. My arms still ached, shoulders, and chest were all still aching from yanking on the handlebars during almost three hours of sprints and my abdomen was still quite sore from the wipeout. My legs felt like lead and I went to the race with a little bit of dread, but fully caffeinated, and accompanied by some mates from JBCA (American Trevor Johnson, and Aussies Ben Juzwin, and Will Tehan).

At registration I started to recognize some of the stronger guys and definitely had picked out the teams to watch - an important first step in getting used to the racing over here. The course was super-exposed; the entire lap wound through narrow farm roads with little protection from the wind. There was a lot of wind. The laps were only 3.75 kilometers long. Essentially, the loop was a long triangle. The first long side was a heavy cross-wind, then a short head/cross-wind section, then a heavy tailwind back along the long finishing straight. The wind was vicious.

The race started with the line-up, with people jockeying for position and latecomers snagging prime spots in the front of the peloton and everyone inching up around them. The actual start line was a good 10 meters behind the first riders by the time the race actually began. I was in the second row. I made sure to start in a good spot given the brutal crosswind in the first couple km’s - I wasn’t sure there would even be a full peloton by the time we came through the start finish after one lap!

After how hard the last race was for me, I really wasn’t sure I would be able to finish. I suffered more than I ever have in a bike race on Thursday. I knew I didn’t have the mental/emotional energy to push that deep again only two days later.

Sure enough, there were attacks from the gun, but the racing was a bit anxious as everyone seemed a bit respectful of the course, so the pace was a bit timid. We came through the finish completely strung out at almost 60 km/hr in the tailwind and in true Euro-style jammed on the breaks to about 15 km/hr into turn one. The race became more animated each time through the crosswind with small groups surging forward, but they were reabsorbed through the headwind section.

About five laps in a small group established a bit of a gap on the field, maybe 15 seconds, that held for a little bit. I went with the next move to go - there were about 6 of us - as the pack seemed to be reluctant to chase for whatever reason. We stayed away for a lap, closing on the leaders to about five seconds. On the next lap we were caught by an absolutely decimated peloton that was completely strung out and broken in to several smaller groups. Immediately a counter-attack came past us, then another. I felt like it was a make-or-break moment the race (yes, only about 25 km into the race) and so I tried to go with the second counter-move. My acceleration was somewhat lacking as I was already pretty well on the rivet. I got clear of the field though and tried to power up to the riders bridging. For a bit I closed on them, but then they started to pull away. I looked back to see that the field was a ways back and not chasing hard, so I continued my effort. The bridging riders made it up to the group and so the carrot in front of me was no moving slightly more slowly as the larger group began to get into a rhythm. I knew I had one last chance to bridge.

I didn’t make it. I came within maybe five seconds, but couldn’t close it. I was totally toasted. A group of about 10 riders was trying to bridge behind me and caught me. In short order our group was then caught by the peloton, at which point I searched for a comfortable draft to catch my breath. Reintegrating into a pack is very hard here. You have to immediately start matching accelerations or you open a gap - hard to do when you have gone into the red.

A couple smaller groups escaped during this time, leaving about 30 riders up the road. The selection of the day was done.

The rest of the race was bo-ring. About 30 riders ahead, 30 riders behind, and the rest were dropped. We didn’t really cooperate at all so the race wasn’t about to come back together. With about 18 laps left, there was a crash that split the field. Will and I were ahead of this crash and worked with a group of 10-12 riders to stay clear of the rest, which we did. The only problem was that the leaders were starting to catch up to us on such a short course, so we knew it would only be a matter of time before we got pulled. It was a funny situation - there was no real motivation to work for the group, but nobody knew when the race would end. There were a lot of little attacks and counter-attacks for a few laps as guys gambled, essentially trying to guess the finishing lap.

We got the bell at 13 laps to go to clear the course for the lead group. I attacked through a small gap at the front with 2 km to go and gave it full gas through the crosswind along the gutter. Nobody followed and Will helped disrupt the chase like a champ. I held on to the finish, which was good for 30th place, and 10 Euro! Will took third from the rest of the group for 33rd.

The biggest thing I took from today was confidence in getting a prize as well as being so close to the winning move. And maybe even more important than that I saw that the race at Gistel was an exceptionally hard kermis for various reasons (field, crash, course, etc) and that I won’t have to suffer through living hell each time I do one! Awesome.

7/16/09 - Race 3: Gistel Kermis, 116 km

So, kermis number two! Came to this race a lot more confident after having seen the competition at my first kermis… After I was dropped at the first race, I stuck around to watch and make sure there was no doping control (there wasn’t), which meant I got to see how the race broke up. At the end of that race, there were about 15 guys in various groups off the front with a battered looking peloton straggling behind about 30 riders strong. And since it always looks easier from the crowd, I had a goal to aim for coming into kermis version two: finish in the peloton!

In the Interclub UCI race last week the race finished with 4 laps of what was essentially a long-ish kermis course. The legs in the bunch were all pretty tired after 115 kilometers of racing so the accelerations were a bit more tame, but finishing with the group in that stacked peloton really helped me feel prepared to race at Gistel.

The Gistel kermis was held on a technical 6.85-kilometer course. It featured about 15 turns, one roundabout, about 500 meters of semi-paved cobbles and 100 meters of full-on Belgian cobbles just before a fast, false-flat finish.

The race started out well. I lined-up in the second row and got a good start, staying in the top 20-30 wheels. The good vibes lasted for, oh… about 5 km. Riding about tenth wheel through a crosswind on a narrow farm road I got squeezed into the ditch on the inside of a slight sweep in the road and before I knew it I was kissing the pavement. I did my best to take flight, but just ended up spread-eagle on the ground with the pack scuttling away. Without checking my bike at all (I knew it would be the end of my race if I did) I hopped straight on and made an all-out effort to get back onto the tail end of the pack. It took about three or four minutes of pouring on the gas, but I did make it. I really burned some valuable matches though.

Once I was back in the field I worked my way straight back to the front, finding a position about 20 spots deep to sit in and “recover” and take stock of bike and body (both were essentially fine). As an aside, my first impression is that recovering is something that you just don’t really get to do in these races. I think the best you can do is find a spot where you aren’t burning matches like crazy, but with so many turns there is never really a point where you can relax and settle in. I imagine someday I’ll look back and say “Aha! That was my problem - I didn’t know how to recover yet!” But for now it seems like a pretty tall order. Even sitting in the best place I could find, right near the head of the peloton, the accelerations were relentless. First, there were the jumps coming out of every corner, at least 15 per lap, none of which were easy. On top of that, in order to stay in a smart position, you have to jump several more times per lap to surf the waves of riders coming up the sides and match speeds with riders sailing off the front… If you don’t, you’re at the back in a heartbeat.

The race ended up being two hours and 40 minutes long, and huge portions of that time are a pure, blissful blur of suffering, accelerations, covering and countering, a feed, several missed feeds, and another feed inside the last 10 kilometers (that was the montage, in case you missed it). With about 30 kilometers to go I was severely dehydrated and fighting off some mighty cramps. I was lucky, having missed a few feeds, to know a couple Americans (Ross Berger and Martin Guess from Colorado) who were kind enough to share what they had with me. But it was a too little too late, I am afraid. I started to feel like I was going to keel over from exhaustion. Oh yeah and it was the hottest day since I have been here, probably in the low 80’s (so not that hot, but…) and I felt like I was going to have sun/heat stroke. My entire body erupted in goose bumps and I really was feeling faint. My lungs began to tighten and I bet my eyes were crossed and bleeding. Ah, sweet suffering!

Next week there is a big UCI stage race that I really want to be a part of (there are seven guys to fill six spots) and that prospect was dangling in front of my sorry, mashed ass as I struggled to find any source of motivation to push through. There was that and, of course, the fact that I came to Belgium to learn how to suffer - at a very high level! From 42 to 36 to 30 km to go all the way down to the bell lap I used every mind game in my arsenal to push through the agony. Once I reached two laps to go I knew I would make it. But shit, I really came close to packing it in.

In order to finish, however, I really had to sacrifice my pride. With 30 km remaining the group was together. The last laps would see over 25 guys jump away from the group in twos, threes, fours, and fives. These groups then join and recombine and were not to be seen again. I was absolutely keen on holding a good position to conserve as much as possible towards actually finishing, so I got to see the winning moves first hand. I held my tail between my legs as I watched guys jump away, knowing that if I tried to go with them, not only would I fail, but also the effort would shoot me straight out the back. But I had to keep reminding myself that today was for finishing, so I sucked up my pride and focused on that.

I crossed the line near the front of the first peloton and was satisfied with that. My legs were completely shot and cramping and I could barely stand after the finish. I don’t know if I have ever pushed myself so hard. Just don’t remind me that around here these are training races. Please, don’t bring it up. My average HR for 2:40 was 183 beats per minute and I probably performed no fewer than 250 quick, intense jumps over that time… That’s good training, right? And that’s not to mention 30 km’s (each way) commuting to the race and back.

I felt like a train wreck all night and today has not been much better. As I fell asleep, I scared my roommate pretty bad when I violently spasmed and uttered some sort of loud exclamation of surprise. Twice. That had to be some sort of bizarre display of my absolute physical exhaustion. Soooo, it is time to do it again tomorrow (Saturday). Sweet!

It will be interesting to see how things go without a crash, hopefully getting feeds, and focusing much more on saving every possible ounce of energy for the key moves towards the end of the race. Unfortunately, my guess is that those differences will amount to… Not a whole lot.

Some thoughts about Belgian racing...

One of the most interesting things about the racing over here is the difference in mentality compared to American racing. The guys are super-aggressive, angry, rude racers. They’ll attack from the gun until the finish, yelling the whole way, accelerating full-gas out of every corner. There’s a seriously smash-mouth mindset about the whole thing - its strongman’s racing for sure. I think all Belgian racers feel a certain patriotic duty to be as impolite as possible to Americans racing over here. One time in my first kermis, I got gapped a bit out of a corner (ok, it happened more than once) and was met by a flurry of Flemish curses from the guy behind me as he came past to fill in the gap. His anger was justified, I guess, but you would think that the energy used for the cursing would have been better spent turning the pedals to close that gap. I suppose it was because he was using all his oxygen yelling at me that he didn’t have the energy to close the gap himself; naturally he grabbed my side and gave himself a hard hip-sling up to the wheel in front of him. It is much more important to stand your ground out here than back in the States. I have already gotten pretty good at: a) cursing, loudly, in English or Spanish (still working on Dutch and French); b) completely ignoring someone yelling at me; c) shaking my head in disdain; d) cutting people off to assert myself… I have found all translate pretty well despite the cultural and language barriers.

So like I mentioned, the racing is super-aggressive with attacks fired as relentlessly as anywhere in the States. The accelerations are pretty violent coming out of corners and the pace never really slackens at any point… But here’s the contradiction: going into a corner, turnaround, tight roundabout, or even a narrow bend, they grab brake and lots of it! Partly this is tactical, I guess, since it makes life at the back miserable as the accordion effect dishes out hearty helpings of suffering on those unfortunate souls at the back. But more it seems like guys over here are afraid of going down. Back in the States, if you don’t dive into every corner sans-brake, you’re getting gapped before even starting to sprint, then burning matches accelerating back up to speed in the wind. Here, it is easy to keep wheels through corners, but coming out you better be ready to sprint 100% or else you open a gap and when you open a gap and the dude at the front is giving full gas, it ain’t easy to close. Just a different style I guess, but I have yet to feel like I have to risk my arse just to be competitive. Back home either you lay it all on the line through the corners or you might as well just pack it in and call it a day.

Maybe the coolest thing about cornering here is that you don’t know a corner is coming because of the smell of roasting of carbon or the squeal of dirty brakes, but rather because of the whistles being blown on each corner. It really puts you at ease, sitting 20 riders back, not having to think about whether that road on the left is on the course or if you turn right at the intersection up ahead. You hear a whistle, you brake, you turn, you jump. It makes life pretty easy. Or at least it means you have to be less focused on trying to figure out where the course goes, which gives you more time to pick your gears and get yourself all set for the jump out of the corner. Once you get to the corner, if you aren’t at the very head of the pack, the pace is low enough that you can probably find some kind of sidewalk, bike path, or cobbled shortcut to sneak up a few extra spots. Guys ride over anything here and as they say if you aren’t moving up you’re moving back!