Today, another tired Monday, offers a chance to reflect on a long, tough weekend of racing.

Ever since I began thinking about realistically taking up bike racing, I dreamed of racing on the track. Two years ago, as a stocky, 210 lb college student, I thought that the banking of a velodrome should be the biggest climb I could ever tackle. A couple year and a successful road season later, I finally made the trek out to Kissena to try out the pista. It was fun, and suddenly I had a new goal: NYS championships. The only catch was that they took place on same weekend as Mengoni.

Since Fitchburg, my eyes had been focused on this past weekend as the major landmark race of the last half of my first road racing season. Mengoni was a major goal of mine, as well as pretty much every fast twitch NYC rider as it crowns the defacto Central Park world champion title. So, when the Saturday morning debacle was through rocking my world, I was a bit shaken. I was also short a front wheel (sorry Bob!). I was too mad and distraught to even think about filing a protest or behaving in any way resembling cool composure. There was a silver lining, however.

After the very fast, tough Mengoni race, I had 2 hours to refuel and then head out to Queens for my first day at the weekend-long track event. Thanks to my Dad’s zeal for cycling, I was able to get a ride out to the track. I would be racing in the Cat4 field after just upgrading from (track) Cat5 on Wednesday.

Our first event on Saturday, the Kilo, would be a new experience for me. I had always loved the Kilo since first watching Chris Hoy smash the world in Athens, completing the sweep of the Commonwealth, World and Olympic titles. I put up my best effort with no ability to gauge my ride. When I returned to the staging area, it seemed that many were impressed by my time. It clearly won the Cat4 title and after watching rider after rider take their turn wound up being the third best time of the day including the 123 field. I missed 2nd overall by less than 1/10th of a second. Based on that result, I actually qualified for elite nationals in the Kilo.

The second event was a 20 lap points race. In this race, the full effect of doubling-up on the day was felt. I died a thousand tiny deaths during the ride and could barely turn the pedals over the last two laps. However, I managed to score some points before an endurance-type guy went on a break and wound up third (but got the silver in the state championship since one guy ahead of me is not a NYS resident).

On Sunday, the program would be very long, as match sprints required qualifiers, heats, reps, semis and finals. We also had a scratch race and a Keirin.

Qualifying for match sprint was a flying 200 meter TT. I wound up qualifying third.

After match sprint qualifiers, was the 15 lap scratch race. We were able to pull back an early break away and countered after a prime lap. Four or five of us gained a separation and were able to build a lead over the last 6 or 7 laps by rotating smoothly in a paceline. I took the front with a lap to go, went high on the banking between turns 1 and 2, and dove down to launch my sprint from 300 meters out. I got a gap and held it for gold in the scratch race.

Next was the semifinals for match sprints. I was up against a beast of a sprinter, Chris Barbaria. He ended up pipping me by about 4 inches, to send me to the bronze level final.

The Keirin was very cool. 5 laps behind a motor scooter, building up to 30 mph, before getting let go on the bell lap. I didn’t get a great position behind the moto from the start, but was able to barely miss the win for second to an MIT rider for second on the photo-finish.

In the end, I was able to win the match sprint bronze to secure the overall win in the Cat4 omnium and state omnium championship.

By the end, My legs were more depleted than I’ve ever felt. I was a bit sun-toasted from two days sitting out for 5 hours on the infield. Most important, thought, was the satisfaction that I was able to prove something to myself. After the disappointment of Mengoni, qualifying for Nationals in the Kilo was a major lift to my morale. This is especially true since I raced the whole weekend on a noodly entry level steel bike and 36 spoke box-section wheels. With practice in the standing starts and a proper bike and training there is room for improvement. As for the mass start races, I have a long way to go before I can really challenge the track IQ of Cat123 guys.

I ascend from below ground at Main Street, Flushing from the 7 Train to find a New York unfamiliar to me. Anxiously I scan the surroundings for Kissena Blvd. Upon finding it, I hop on my track bike and slowly pedal down the road, hoping to avoid the evening rush traffic barrage. I also ride carefully, as I don’t want to get lost in this unfamiliar borough. I am finally doing it; after all the excuses, I’m finally heading to the famed ‘Track of Dreams’ to try my hand at real velodrome racing. I’m not even in sight of the track and my heart is bounding in anticipation of what I might find. Finally, after a mile or so, I see a car pulling into an unmarked driveway with a track bike on its roof. I am here.

This track has been a white whale for me for some time, but I could never manage to muster the motivation on the Wednesday nights to head an hour away on MTA, but now I’m here. I’m so excited as I take my first laps on a real velodrome that I forget how nervous I am for a moment. Its fun. But what would racing be like? I have been told for some time now, that a guy of my size would be perfect for the track. For this reason, I am filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation. I managed to arrive so early, that hardly anydody is here. But slowly, they arrive, trickling in from all areas of New York, Jersey, and even Connecticut. Its a whole new scene. Hardly anybody is familiar to me, despite having raced nearly every weekend in NYC since early March.

Anthony Slokar, of Jonathen Adler, is one of the few people who I do know. In my self-conscious paranoia, I annoy him with all my stupid questions about race format, gearing, upgrades, nutrition, whatever…He assures me it will be ok.

The great thing about Kissena becomes quickly apparent to even a first timer. It is fun, it is relaxed, and it feels like Summer League lacrosse that I used to play on local sandlots in Pennsylvania with guys who liked competing and hanging out equally. Since races are run as an omnium, there is plenty of time to watch other riders scream around the asphalt loop while I get to know some of the guys and gals who appear to be regulars at the track.

My first omnium (7.26) didn’t go as well as some had expected of me. I found out quickly that my 48-16 gearing gave me little to bite into when winding up a sprint and I found myself spunout pretty quickly in every race. I did manage, however, to win one race by working with JP, a strong Cat2 road racer and fellow beginner on the track, trading pulls and gaining a sizable gap on the field in the ‘miss and out.’ I was barely able to sneak by him in the sprint. That was my most memorable moment of the first week. I wound up 4th in the final omnium. I wanted more, but was told by more than a few guys that I would need a substantially larger gearing.

Fast forward one week. I arrive with a 48-14 and a weeks worth of experience. The turnout in the Cat5’s is big enough that we are split into two groups. JP, to my delight, has upgraded, so I’ll be the sole roadie in the group tonight. This week, in addition to Tony Slokar, is Ken Harris, sporting his National Champion’s jersey. I am excited to watch them in the Cat1/2/3 race.

With the bigger gear, the track becomes a lot smaller. I am able to sprint longer, and hold a constant acceleration to the line without topping out. It serves me well and I am able to easily win the first race, a 5 lap scratch. In the second event, a Chariot (one lap, all out), we are split into 3 heats with the top 2 going to a final. I place second in my heat after shutting down my sprint when a big fast new guy by the name of Jon and I are clear of the pack. Thanks to a good hold and push by Tony in the final, I am able to cleanly take the Chariot as well. In the final event, a six lap Tempo, each lap nets 2 and 1 points for 1st and 2nd place. I go for it from the gun, winning the first sprint with enough gap to take the second lap with a large lead. I ease off to let a rider catch up and use his wheel to launch my sprint on third lap. I continue this tactic for the rest of the 3 laps, taking 2 points on every one. “Now this is more like it!” I think to myself. I finish the omnium with a total of 21 points (out of 21 possible) from the night’s three events. With only a flicker of light left in the sky, we have the ‘B’ feature race to do. It will be a 9 lap scratch race. With several keen eyes trained on my sprint I patiently wait for the final lap. To my chagrin, I tactical move comes early, and I wait just too long to bring it back. In the end, I missed winning by inches, and would have won had the line been 15 yards further, but thats racing. On the track, any tactical mistake is payed for quickly, and I can only imagine how tough it is to race with the wise veterans in the 1/2/3 field. To that note, it was a privilege to watch Tony and Ken clean up several events and take 1st and 2nd in there omnium.

With the setting sun, we slowly head out. Back to the train that will return us to Manhattan. Kissena has a beautiful magic to it. Racers ride till they puke, but always manage a smile and a high five afterwards. There seems to be a real fraternal affection that these ‘trackies’ have for one another. I can only hope to earn their respect and trust on the ‘drome. All my thanks go to Allen Atwood and John Campo for their tireless efforts to make track racing possible for New Yorkers. Without them, this humble Wednesday ritual could never take place.

I can’t believe that I’ve waited this long to race out here, but I won’t be missing many more of these races from here on out. I have been bitten by the bug that bites so many who head out on Wednesday nights with there track iron. I dare anybody else to try to survive Kissena without being bitten.

After just returning home from four intense days at the Fitchburg Longsjo Classic stage race, I’ve barely had time to get my thoughts together. Still, I felt like I should take note of some of my reflections from the long “weekend” while the memories and sensations are still fresh. Coming into the race, I knew there would be many firsts. It was my first race in a true Cat3-only field, my first stage race, my first time trial and my first experience taking part in an event of Fitchburg’s status. It was pretty intimidating rolling into the hotel amidst the neo-pro’s, pro’s and junior who would soon be pro. I did know, however, that I had moved to Cat3 for a reason and stood a good shot at results in the circuit race and crit on the 3rd and 4th stages, respectively.

Thursday’s stage 1 was the infamous Ringe Road TT, a 6.6 mile race against the clock on some of New England’s worst pavement, uphill for the first four and a half miles, and screaming downhill for the rest. I headed tentatively into the stage, having never ridden a time trial before, and only bolting clip-on aero bars to my road bike two days before to practice my position. Our Wednesday scouting of the course was also interrupted by thunderstorms and torrential downpour- my expectations were decidedly tempered. As I headed up the ramp to the start, I knew one thing- I would try to build slowly and not start out too hard and blow up before the top of the climb. Within two minutes, I was doubting myself. I just went as hard as I could, finding it agonizingly slow. I just kept my eyes forward, chin up (to keep the crazy aero helmet in proper alignment) and tried to keep my spirit up. When I crossed the line, I had barely missed catching my 30 second man, but otherwise had no idea how I did. I was bowled over when my time was shown: 18:23, good enough for 10th place on the day, about 30 seconds behind the leader.

Stage 2: the terrifying Wachusset Mountain Road race, with its finishing climb up the ski resort’s access road loomed ahead as I woke up to pouring rain on Friday. My dad and I arrived to the parking lot to ‘warm up’ in pouring rain. The only warming up anybody was doing was staying in their car with arm and leg warmers on. Fortunately, the rain eased slightly for the staging, and we could line up in less miserable conditions. Due to my top-10 GC placing, I was called to the front of the line (another first). It was very cool. Unfortunately, the 69 mile race to come was not as cool, as the weather made the first 60 miles downright awful. I seem to fair well in bad conditions, though, so I trudged on and bide my time, staying towards the front to try and limit my losses on the final climb. My dad was a comforting presence in the feed zone, handing bottles to me on 2 of the 6 laps (Thank you Dad!). The last time up the feed zone climb, a small gap opened up. I couldn’t make it to the group, as I was stuck in a bad place as riders slowed in the feed zone. I tried to bridge up, but nobody would work with my, so I sat in and waited for the final push. As we arrived at Wachusset mountain, I gave it all I had, in shear pain, and got up the climb, pulling steadily away from the main group and reeling in the small leading group. I passed several riders who couldn’t keep up the pace and managed to finish a respectable 9th, within visual contact of a celebrating 16 year-old Aussie from team Budget Forklifts out of Queensland. Thanks to my surprising (to me) place in the road stage, I moved up to 6th in the GC.

Saturday’s circuit race was one of my targets. It was a stage that many people insisted I focus on, that it favored my strengths. I had high hopes and matching expectations. There is little to be said about the race except that it was fast, painful and very sketchy with a lot of aggressive riding and near crashes. Fortunately, nobody hit the deck that I was aware of. I was able to stay in the front, but got bogged down in the final corner before the sprint up the finishing climb (really, a wall). Again, 9th on the day and held GC position. Another Aussie won, and their team domination continued. I was disappointed that I didn’t get a chance to really open up my legs and give it a go, but with my unexpectedly high GC placing to protect, I had to be somewhat pleased. A secondary goal to maintain position had materialized.

This brings us to the final, exciting chapter of the 2008 Cat3 Fitchburg Longsjo Classic- the crit. Again, it was a major target for me, I wanted a sprint, badly. I had little to gain in GC. At best, a win could get me tied for 5th with a 10 second time bonus, but with a mishap, I could lose a lot. The crit was another hard, fast, painful stage. I was gaining confidence the whole race until, with 7 laps to go, another first. At the bottom of the loop are two fast 90 degree turns in quick succession. A wide line allowed me to glide through very fast without brakes. Unfortunately, some riders forgot, and wheels locked up. Suddenly, bikes were sliding at me, closing off my wide line. Somebody hit me as I tried to squeeze through and I got slammed into the hay bales. Spun around and on the ground, I got up and grabbed my bike as guys were still going down. About 20, in all, got taken out, and the mad dash to the pit began. Like many others, my bike was not rideable, and we just started running to the pit. It felt like the longest sprint in bike shoes I could imagine (it was a full 1/4 of the course). I had time to expect my GC fortune had slipped away. Fortunately, I made it and the Sram guys fixed me up in time to rejoin the field with my free lap. My nose was plugged with blood, I felt rub burn on my face. I took a hay bale straight to my kisser. With five laps to go I had to move up. I tried, but the remaining times through the ‘danger corner’ the field had lost its confidence, and momentum was lost. The race got very crazy in the final two laps, and I never got into the perfect position to launch myself. In the final stretch, I had to weave around riders. Even in a half-sprint I moved up on the field, and nobody got around me. I came in 10th for another consistent finish. Fortunately, as expected, the GC results remained unchanged. My emotion following the last stage was mixed. I was happy to have finished the race in the group. I was lucky to have been uninjured, and my beautiful bike seems unscathed. I was proud to be the top CRCA racer in the GC. Thanks are owed, again, to Bob for making this all possible, our incredible team mates for being such a supportive, encouraging group, and my dad, for making the long drive up to Fitchburg to hang out, cheer us on, and pass off water bottles!

So, final thoughts: I am an unflinchingly competitive person. I can’t help but feel hungry for what I know will eventually come. I just need to take these for the priceless learning opportunities they provide as eyes are once again focused forward. Had I achieved exactly what I had wanted so easily, there would be little to look forward too, and little value in seeking out the lessons that every race provides.

Saturday, June 8, will undoubtedly go down as one of my most memorable race experiences. Granted, in my short racing career, just about every race of any consequence makes that list, but this race will remain on that list for a long time to come. For starters, it was hot. The weatherman called for temperatures in the low to mid 90’s and even by the time we went to breakfast at 6:15am it was warm. The course was also hilly, in a punchy rolling kind of way with very steep little power climbs. The ‘big climb’ was not so big, but it was a WALL with a little flat section in the middle with neutral water and a feed zone. Oh yea, and there was one tiny dirt section- just enough to add to the memorableness of the day.

In the 3/4 field, we lined up with the same squad that tackled Jiminy Peak. Craig, Kurt and George joined me in the heat to battle the assortment of CRCA guys (not interested in ESG qualifiers) as well as upstate and New Englad teams. As we set out, nobody was in a particular rush to kill themselves and the smallish field of 58 riders was more than happy to allow the early breaks to go away. The race was pretty standard fare for the first lap and a half of three. There was the occasional puncture, the occasional yellow line infraction and one incident involving traffic on the course holding up our pace vehicle and the field almost stacking into its rear bumper.

At some point before the third lap, George was able to go off the front with a few guys. For a while, it looked promising and I was doing my best to sit in at the front and silently cheer them on. Eventually, the group got anxious and George’s break came back. Around this time (20 miles to go, or so) a group of five guys rolled off the front. They quickly established a substantial lead of about 1:30. Once again, despite some teams (including ours) prodding, the group would not chase. I found myself rotating with 3 other guys at the front, trying to make something happen. It was incredibly hard to get an organized effort moving. With about 13 miles to go, I pulled to the front and easily rolled off from the group- nobody would follow, except for Adam Zimmerman of Setanta. I asked how he felt and he insisted that he was not ready for a two man suffer fest. With about a mile to go before the dirt, I thought that I would at least get a nice line by being off the front. By the time the dirt section arrived, I had realized that the break was definitely sticking, and I might as well try a suicide mission to bridge solo. With my earlier observations about the fast line on the dirt road, I drilled it as hard as I could. The group seemed to close in on me, though, and by the end of the dirt road section, I thought that my fun was over. However, with a long descent, I was able to stretch the lead out again. For the next 35 minutes, I buried myself in the pain. I fought to distance myself further, imagining that I would at least finish clear of the field with a top 6 if I couldn’t catch the break. Every downhill was an exercise in aerodynamics and high cadence power. Every little climb was a sprint. By the time I got to the ‘big climb’ (at roughly 5 or 6 miles to go) I had caught some of the 30/40+ masters. As I sprinted up the hill, nauseous and delirious at the halfway point, I noticed a couple shattered 3/4’s. They were practically stopped. “This is good” I thought as I meekly called out for neutral water. Dumping the water over my back and head, I powered up the last steep section. “5 miles to go.” Another screaming descent and we were on the long straightaway into town on rt.22. I could finally see the red Miata pacecar in the distance. There were two guys left. “Third will be sweet, but I can’t let anybody catch me.” I continue to drive down 22. The gap was closing. I slowly reeled the break in over the next 10 minutes, catching them with a half-mile to go as we rolled into Cambridge. The last two turns came up fast and we hit 200 meters to go. I lit up my sprint and pulled ahead. As I hit the bouncy, rough pavement of Cambridge, I lost my traction. James Morrison was able to pull up even and get me by a rim width on the line. Needless to say, I have never been happier to earn 2nd place in anything. I was seeing stars as a kindly lady handed me a bottle. And I dropped my bike in the grass…

Back at the car, Bob was waiting for the most exotic beer money could buy in Cambridge, NY: a novelty sized Australian lager (Foster’s). Never tasted so good.

So, its been a while since my last post, and the racing has continued to progress. Due to success in the 3/4 races in Central Park, as well as the CRCA club races in the ‘B’ division, I am being bumped up to the ‘A’ group, despite my current status as a Cat4. My Cat3 upgrade will be coming soon. Anyway, last weekend was my first real out of town race with a field of NYC guys as well as talent from New England and New Jersey. The Jiminy Peak Road Race is a major spring highlight for many area racers and I was excited to tackle my first race on real open roads. The cat4 field raced 3 18mile laps on rural, Western MA roads with a mile-long power climb to reach the finish line. We even had a rolling neutral start for this race and a neutral wheel support van following the field. It was cold, rainy and very windy at the start for the 113 guys in my field. I had 4 team mates who had committed, most gallantly, to ride for me in the race due to my good form and recent successes. I was able to spend the majority of the race out of the wind, just watching for any splits in the group. On the last lap, my team started coming to the front to animate the race. With a couple of miles before the finish climb, Sanchez-Metro was in pretty good control of the situation, and I was able to hold perfect position. The final climb in not long, and rises in three short, steep steps with false-flats between. The key was to have patience and let the yahoos try to sprint from the bottom and let them die by the middle of the climb. By the time we reached the third and final steep section, I sat first or second wheel, where I patiently watched. Waiting, waiting, waiting, I finally upshifted, and popped the biggest acceleration I could find just as the finish line came into sight. Nobody could come with as we were pretty pegged coming up the hill. I crossed clear of any other riders by a good margin. The best feeling was standing at the top and watching my team mates react one-by-one as they realized that our careful planning over dinner the night before had worked to perfection. They were probably more pumped than me. After waiting in the finish area for the official results to be finalized and the protest period closed, I rode back to the start area, down the 50mph descent with my payout in my back pocket. I reached our car to find my team mates already celebrating. Photo, hugs, shower, hit the road to head home and go back to preparing for my Microbiology exam on bacterial pathogens… A great weekend, made even better by the support and encouragement of my wonderful team, to whom I owe a huge debt of gratitude.