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SNIPPETS The latest Feed(zone) column in which I ranted ad nauseum about the perceived demise of a competitive masters category and the pervasive nature of Feckless Weenies in our sport created quite a buzz. Anthony from Florida wrote: "Druber, James from Missouri wrote: "Druber, T-Rex from Central Florida wrote: "Druber, William from Indiana wrote: "Druber, Jeff Schroetlin - after being congratulated for having one heck of a weekend at the huge Winfield, IL criterium weekend by taking second in both races behind an Endeavor pro team rider and winning the IL District crit championship out of a 3 rider break said: "I was just trying to avoid being a Feckless Weenie." Thanks for the feedback. I can't imagine why anyone would waste the time it takes to read the drivel I serve up, much less take time to send me an e mail to respond. I worry for the condition of mankind. THE TRACK The USCF Masters Track Nationals are being held August 23-28 at the Major Taylor Velodrome in Indianapolis, IN. The event is sponsored in the main by The Delta Faucet Company, which also sponsors the fine team I ride for. Being a team player, I've taken it upon myself to risk complete and utter embarrassment and register for the 3K time trial on Friday the 26th. When I look at the list of registered riders I see names of current and former state and national champions on the track. I'm filled with a sense of dread at the shellacking that I will take. I have discovered that just as road cycling has "clubbers", track cycling has the like. Trackie clubbers are plumpish people who show up at the Velodrome after work, stuffed to the point of seam rupture into Lycra skin suits or cycling kits. They speak a technical language about seat tube angles, gear ratios, chain lengths and tire widths. When the conversation lulls, they will get on their bikes, generally very nice and clean, and take a few slow turns around the Velodrome being careful to stop just as they begin to sweat. After about 20 minutes or so of riding, they will return to the infield picnic tables and leisurely change either the chain ring or a cog - sometimes both - which will in turn spawn a wistful conversation about the beauty and functionality of Campagnolo parts and tools. I rather enjoy the scene. It's quite a bit less edgy than the crit scene, where I hear bikes are now being tossed by riders at other riders who have offended in word or deed. I've ridden on the track exactly 3 times, one of those being last October. I don't know a chain inch from an inchworm. Track cycling just as well be Cricket for all I know about it. However, I am always game to learn new things. With the help of my team mate and track devotee Wun Tun and the esteemed Dr. Nowakowski PhD in Velodromology, I have undertaken the task of riding a basic single speed bicycle with no brakes and no coasting mechanism as fast as I possibly can for 9 laps of the 333.3 meter banked oval on the North side of the capital city of Hooterville. Wun Tun has agreed to hold my bike for standing starts and time my efforts, calling out lap times as I flail past. "25 seconds. That's good, and you managed to stay below the blue line on that lap!" Dr. Nowakowski has offered technical tips in the area of positioning and generally how not to kill myself. Dr
N: "What's the plumb on your saddle?"
The reader with at least basic short term memory will recall that I won a silver medal at the USCF Masters time trial in Utah this June. That time trial was 36 kilometers. "How hard could it be to do a 3 kilometer TT?" I asked myself naively. I've found out. Aside from the enormously menacing task of piloting a machine that once put into motion, only comes to rest by coasting for roughly 500 meters or by crashing into something, I have found that one must be a mathematician just to select which gear to ride. Oh yes, I have discovered that along with rational equations, actuarial sciences and statistics, a form of higher math exists called "chain length calculation". Chain length is number derived from tossing together a recipe of crank arm length, number of teeth in both the chain ring and rear cog and the diameter of your wheels. With the variables entered into a scientific calculator or worked out on a slide rule, a rider is free to ascertain whether or not he is properly geared and if racing is even worth his while. It all adds up to either you won't be able to get your bike rolling forward or if you can, you will become "spun out" once you get up to speed. I spend most of my time when I'm up to speed on the track slapping the right side of my handlebars trying to shift into the 11. This too amuses the pudgy picnic table clubbers. If Lance or Miguel or Eddy is the name of the prototypical road cyclist and Tinker is the name of the prototypical mountain biker, then the name of the prototypical track cyclist might easily be Poindexter.
After Arlington Heights the suburban Chicago criterium traveling freak show moved to Elgin for a $5000 crit on an isosceles triangle shaped course with a chicane in the long leg. The ABD club, who is most likely the tightest run amateur club in the country now that Snow Valley and Endeavor have moved to Pro status dominated the race taking nearly all of the $100 dollar primes offered up every 5 laps and taking 5 of the top 10 spots in addition to winning the race. Not three laps into the race, an Endeavor rider dashed up the right gutter in the chicane and of course when every other rider ahead of him was moving back to the right for the second half of the chicane he took out several riders and made one of the Subway kids bleed. Also of note in the race was the inordinate number of crashes in the final 120 degree corner and the fact that the race finished with less than 25 of the original field of 60 or so. I finished 20th for the last money spot. Sean Metz broke his hand and continued to race and TatooSMACK made a most spectacular attempt at flight after T-boning a rider who had fallen off his bike just in front of him while dashing for a $100 prime. The following weekend, the ABD club hosted the Winfield Crits. Big money, two days and the IL state crit championship to boot. Saturday late afternoon is a 1 mile course with a respectable rise in the road. The course is in and around a park and residential area. The smell of burgers and brats was as thick as the blue smoke coming off the grills cooking them. Residents had friends and families over to watch the races and the crowd was good for the most part about keeping their empties off the course. About 35 minutes into the race I saw a break form with Wes Hartman from Endeavor, Bryce Meade from ABD and Jeff Schroetlin. I knew I wanted to go there but was boxed in for about a half a lap. When I got free, I was able to close the 10 second gap down to as close as 2. Ultimately I was reminded that I'm an old man playing a younger mans game as I failed to bridge the gap to the 3 kids. For what seemed like an eternity in Hell I was 7 seconds behind the break and 7 seconds ahead of the field which was being driven by the Grand Performance guys. Ultimately I was caught by the field with 2 laps to go. Had I been more faithful in going to the track for Pursuit training I might have been able to show a bit more speed or lactate threshold to bridge the gap to the break, but as it stands I've wasted most of my summer afternoons leisurely riding through the cornfields of Central IL building neither speed nor lactate threshold. I did manage to hang in the main group for the last two laps but that's about it. The next day the race was too fast for me to do anything but suffer mightily for an hour and 23 minutes. Garret Peltonen from Endeavor won and Schroetlin got second to claim the IL crit gold medal over ABD rider Reid Mumford. For the second race in a row, John Puffy Combes won the field sprint. I'll let you know how things go on the track. Flail On, Druber
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