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Elite
Racing Due to the fact that the Elite National Cycling Championships were held in Park City, UT this year - same venue as the Old Fart Nationals- I determined that I'd extend my time in Utah by a week and participate in the Elite Nationals in addition to the Old Fart racing. The Elite Road Race promised to be grueling what with the race being 200k, in high temperatures and at over 7000 feet of altitude in Park City. Additionally, the time trial course is tough due to the 4000 feet of altitude and heat in The Salt Lake. Given these circumstance, I decided to spend the pre nationals period of my training regimen planting rose bushes in the back yard and watching the US Grand Prix Formula One races at the nearby Hooterville International Raceway. It's very important to go into peak events in peak condition, or so I'm told by the e mail coaches. With this in mind, I spent 4 days in Hooterville walking miles and miles around the raceway park and imbibing the contents of too many 25.4 ounce cans of Fosters Lager to count. Formula One racing is the pinnacle of the automobile racing world. F1 drivers are the most talented; the cars are the most technologically advanced powerful and agile machines in the racing world. I'd venture to make the bold statement that the most skilled of the oval track racers would not make a suitable chauffer for the least of the F1 drivers. Comparing the best - Jeff Gordon couldn't make a pimple on Michael Schumacher's ass.
My older brother decided last year that a fitting Father's Day present for he and I to give The Old Man in 2005 would be the Full Monty for the US Grand Prix. 3 tickets for 4 days with parking, pit walk through day, all access passes for the practice days and reserved grandstand seating at the start/finish line for the Sunday race. The Old Man used to take my brother and me to the old TransAm, CanAm and Formula 5000 series races at Elkhart Lake, Mid Ohio and Brainerd each year. We grew up race fans, never having been subjected to the tedium of 500 miles of oval track racing which would have most assuredly caused us to lose interest in automobile racing as a monotonous sport of for unidirectional simpletons. Due to attending the F1 event I would miss the Peoria race weekend, but big deal. I've already won both of those races. With team allegiance being an integral part of F1, I began to do some research on the current dealings of the F1 circuit in order to pick a favorite team. Ferrari is the New York Yankees. Ferrari is dominant and able to continue to buy that domination by virtue of an egomaniacal billionaire owner willing to fund his toy beyond the means of his competition. My brother is a Ferrari fan. I could not be as well. This year, the McLeran team is threatening to put an end to the recent domination of the Schumacher led Ferrari team. McLeran used to dominate the sport of F1 racing. They were the Oakland A's of the 1970's. Flashy, well funded and in possession of the best drivers. The team has fallen on lean times of late but this year is experiencing revitalization with the success of Finnish driver Kimmi Raikonnen and the Columbian Juan Pablo Montoya as the most able "second" in the business. I'd been a McLeran fan back in the CanAm days when Bruce McLeran and Dennis Hulm used to dominate that circuit. On the other hand, the Williams-BMW team is partially sponsored by Allianz, a financial services company with wonderful annuity and long term care insurance products, which I use to great extent in my business. Because cash trumps sentiment, I opted to side with Williams. I bought a crew shirt upon arriving at the tack for the pit walk about and was ready to throw my support behind their drivers when I noticed the other fans sporting Williams-BMW team wear were in the main, obese men and women, who had they been sporting a red Dale Jr. Budweiser cap and T-shirt would have appeared less out of place. I drew the conclusion that these fans favor of the Williams team evolved from the fact that the team sponsor was the only "American" sounding name among the 10 teams present. Consequently, I once again became a McLeran fan. If you don't know what happened on Sunday at the US Grand Prix, I'll provide a brief synopsis. Toyota had two drivers who crashed in practice coming off the oval turn into the straight at 230 per due to tire failure. Toyota and 6 other teams drive Michelin tires. Despite F1 rules clearly stating the equipment providers and teams should have alternate fail proof tires on hand, the Michelin sponsored teams had none. Michelin determined that they could not guarantee the safety of the team drivers using their product, and petitioned F1 to change their rules. F1 did not, noting that teams with inferior equipment generally don't win in F1, advising the teams driving Michelin to simply drive turn 13 at a speed in which the tires would not fail. Instead, the Michelin sponsored teams did not start the race. Given that the race was in Hooterville, upon completion of the race the teams were told by the organizers that since only 6 of the 20 drivers participated, the purse would be cut from $1.5 million to the top 8 finishers to $45 to the top three. Mayhem ensued. On Saturday I woke up early before the practice session started and drove down from our hotel to Monrovia for a 40k TT which I completed in 53:39. It was a good final prep for the Elite TT on Tuesday the 21st. On Tuesday I participated in the Elite Men's Time Trial Championships on Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake. A bazillion mosquitoes, flies and gnat like bugs also participated, making open mouth breathing an activity with adverse health implications. I completely embarrassed myself, posting a time 1 minute and 13 seconds slower than I did at last years master's nationals on the same course and not as fast as the winning woman. I finished ahead of only a collection of reeks and wrecks - asthmatics, cripples or those who were forced to complete the race on flat tires. One of the Baldwin brothers won. Billy or Steven, I can't remember. Not Alec. On Wednesday, the Elite Road Race began at 7:00 in the morning Central Mountain Time. Having eaten a very rich Beef Stroganoff and 3 pints of Polygamy Porter for dinner, I was confident that I had at very least packed enough calories to deliver me through the first half of the race. The field of 120 entrants both young and old (Ned Overend was present) toed the line to some funky techno beat music. Anticipating a tough slog through the Wasatch Mountains, the field made its way slowly to the race course out of town under neutral start at close to 40 per. The tempo turned sane on the face of the first set of climbs, which seemed to last at least 20 minutes. Upon descending the opposite face of the mountain range to the loop which constituted the main part of the course for t he first of our 4 laps, a break of 3 riders took off and were never seen again. Someone from that group either won the race or they wandered off the trail and the Utah search and rescue will be looking to pull off another miracle mission. I'm not optimistic for the outcome. Elite cyclists possess less survival skills I suppose than 11 year old boy scouts. As the race progressed, it became clear that the climbing we were all anticipating was not to materialize. Beyond the climb over the mountain range, the main course was generally slightly rolling with false flats. Holy Hill of Superweek is a more demanding parcors. As a result, the race became a chase of the group off the front, who must have been absolutely hammering along. The somnambulant peloton had allowed them an initial 4 minute gap. After the pace in the pel heated up, we completed the first 90 miles of the race in 3:15. That's a nifty 27.7 average. At the 95th mile, the group was single file in a crosswind and I was paying for the several weeks of typical master training. I was stuck behind a group that was popping off the back and had to go around. I didn't make it. At 98 miles the caravan came around me and the group was gone. Eric Dekker won. I was officially a DNF since I finished my race at the 5 hour mark after the group had been in for some 35 minutes. To provide you with an idea of the pace of this race, even after completing the last 30 miles of the race on my own with heavy legs and a heart that was near bursting, my avg. speed was 24.5. It was a sick and impressive display of endurance and power by the entire field. The kids can go fast. Often times as a racer who is more and more competing in masters events and fewer and fewer national elite events, it is easy for me to convince myself that I can be competitive in an elite field, especially after showing well in a regional or local pro 1,2 event. As I was completing the last 30 miles of the race alone, as a victim of a pace that I was not able to keep, the grim realities hit me square on. The thought crossed my mind that this will be the last elite national event I do. No more Superweek Pro 1,2. No more Downers Grove Criterium. I can survive these races sitting in. However, like today, that is not my style. I don't like to sit in. I want to be a part of the action. I spent a fair amount of time today at the front of the race bridging to riders off the front or attempting to get a chase group instigated. The Healthy Choice team and the Broadmark Capital Team did excellent work squelching any such attempts within a mile or two. The reality is I am an old man. I'm 42 and I'm not Chris Walker or Steve Tilford or Mark Southard or Andy Applebee. Not even close. I guess that if I want to go to F1 races and travel the globe and build a successful financial planning business, I can't also train 20 hours a week. Excuse me for injecting serious thought into one of my articles. I realize that this year I've come to a change point in my cycling life and you know what? It's okay. I like my life. I'm not a COMPETITIVE elite cyclist any more. I'm a masters racer with a Lovely Kathy, 3 wonderful children in college and a growing financial practice. I'll get over it.
Next week…Masters Nationals. Flail
On,
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