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Rogers Park Cheetos

Winfield, Take Two

Jared and I drove back out to Winfield the next morning to race yet another challenging course. ABR’s championship course is straightforward rectangle, with a much shorter, therefore steeper hill ending at turn 3. Turn 4 was at high speed into a downhill sprint to the line over very rough road.

With Jared and me were Seegs, Parker, and Liam. Early, we’d marked a couple riders – a guy in a Guinness kit that Mike knew from dirtbaggin’, and the IS Corp rider who’d won our 4s race at both Quad Cities and last night at the Twilight race.

Liam said he was feeling much better, and took a couple of early fliers but there was a headwind on the hill so he came back both times. He did manage to stay off for about three laps, and the rest of us had our hands full chasing down threats. Seegs worked hard on another move, and we all stayed on that IS Corp kid like super glue.

(Liam off the front)

2 laps to go, Parker kills it up the hill, keeping it strung out all the way up and then over, then coming through turn 4 so fast he had bail out on the side walk. Coming up on the bell, Liam hits the front, barks at me, and lights the second stage of the rocket. I am on his wheel but get pinched off like a turd by a Proctor guy and maybe an unattached rider. More on him later. They were both wearing blue, that’s all I remember.

Strung out to the base with Liam still in front, the crowd grows at the first stair step. I kick it up on the outside to get around the swarm coming up inside, led by you-know-who, IS Corp. It works, pinching all those guys off. But somehow I get passed by one or two other, and now I’m 6th wheel coming down to turn 4. I curse to myself.

On the final stretch, I suck on another unattached’s wheel – this one in yellow. He dies quickly, and I come around and bridge the gap to 4 other riders…two more peel off like fighter planes from formation…I’m gaining, gaining, gaining, and finally throw hard for what I swear to God is 3rd. There’s no line – just cones, and the winner had a bike length – the unattached rider in blue.

I tell myself to immediately check the results because that placing could be dicey. I ask the official whose number he had for third, not even thinking they had scored me higher. He responds with a number that isn’t mine, and I immediately start protesting, asking to look at the film.

Standing with that official reviewing the tape, I see the first rider come by, followed by three of us. It is so close you could nearly draw a straight line through side by side hubs, but it is definitive.

“See! I’m ahead of that guy.”

“Yeah, you are. For second.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t want to protest that, then.”

(Podium FAIL...winner raises BOTH hands...we raise one hand. Seriously. Raise your hand.)

I had a couple of hours to change my number for the 3s race with Kirby and Matt, but I may as well have not raced it at all, save for the training. I was out of it mentally. It was much faster, and the riders around you also vying to control the front are so much more aggressive.

A couple of points for comparison:

Mid-race in the 4s we hit the top of the hill, with maybe six wheels in front of me. They all sit up and look at each other. I yelled a few choice words, came around and drilled it to the turn. In the 3s, it was gap city – either by me or two wheels in front at that turn every time up.

Conversely, back in the 4s, after Liam was brought back in from his flyer, I counter-attacked just as the announcer threw out a prime. I looked back and the entire field was absolutely glued to me. But in the 3s, I came to the front before turn 1 just to take the turn more safely for once – and didn’t realize I had a sizeable gap until another rider came around me and I looked back. That turned into a three rider breakaway that didn’t include me. As I got absorbed at the top of the hill, I tried to make up for my rookie blunder and chased it down.

Other than that I was nothing more than pack fodder. I was gapped at turn 4 almost every lap. All on his own, Kirby got the front with three to go and absolutely killed it for Moran – almost DFLing himself, and Moran managed 13th in a tough and aggressive field. The headwind on the hill kept things together and it was crazy at the top. I was actually right there at the end – I climbed really well, but the swarm was there, and I just said to myself, not today. I finished 24th just off the back of the sprint after another gap opened on the last turn.

But at last I am there. I’ve had two podiums and four top-10s in my last four races. I’ve been there all along physically, but the learning curve for me has been quite the hump. Quad Cities was truly the event horizon, however. Mike Sequin showed me how to get it done, and that was all I needed.

It’s now time to get my head screwed on straight for the upgrade to the 3s I now have in sight.

We stuck around to watch the finale of the P/1/2 race for all the marbles, and the jersey. A break of four got off midway through, which turned to three, and increased it's lead to a seemingly insurmountable minute plus. Yet with two laps to, the pack racing for 4th and 5th place cut into the lead at an amazing rate. As the break rounded the corner for the last time, the gap was less than 15 seconds, and ABD's Josh Carter won the sprint over Mike Sheer, and a Panther rider, Chris Uberti, I believe.

Twilight Delight

(Josh Carter wins the P/1/2 Twilight Criterium)

I have never done the Winfield Twilight or ABR National Championship Criteriums before this year, always opting to head north to Wisconsin for the Spring Prairie Road Race. It is the State Championship event, and the fields are so large, they actually split them into local and non-Wisconsin groups. However, this year the non-Wisconsin group was not slated to start until 5:05 pm, and the idea of not getting home until after 11 was very discouraging.

As well, XXX Racing – AthletiCo’s increased partnership with the Active Transportation Alliance has motivated me to race closer to home this year, in the spirit of promoting a more car-free culture. Winfield is much closer and both races were within a mile of the Metra station – Sunday’s championships were in fact only a block away.

Finally, I’ve heard so much about these courses from friends who have raced them. They’ve absolutely raved about them, and I’ve even read that Saturday’s Twilight Criterium is one of the top crits in the country.

We did indeed take the Metra out on Saturday, walking the mile from the Winfield station to course at Oakwood Park, just a mile north. A huge and lush green expanse, the start/finish line was on the park’s east side. The course then took a soft left and went uphill into the neighborhood, topping out after maybe 200 yards with a small stairstep in the middle to a prime line, followed by a 90 degree left turn.

From here, the next three turns would see the probably the most fun I’ve ever had in a criterium: a screaming descent, promising to be a single-file line, going right, then two lefts back to the line. I was nervous right up until the whistle that the threatened rain would finally arrive, turning these turns treacherously slick, slowing us down, and causing utter chaos.

And then we were off. No time to worry about anything except getting up front.

And upfront we stayed, fast and dry. As I’ve said before my descending has improved light-years over last year, and Liam’s confident wheel was like the driver’s seat of a Ferrari. No brakes, we swept wide and cut hard through the apex of the turns, keeping it single-file to the bottom every time. The squealing of brakes on carbon rims followed us through every turn except one on lap. Liam and I were in the middle of that mess only once – from then on we decided taking a little wind through the start line was the far better choice.

You definitely had enough momentum to keep your recovery before hill started again. I imagine the speed of the turns there did as much to shell guys off the back as the actual hill: getting gapped on the descent made you expend precious energy to close that you needed going back up.

(the Irish Resistance)

And so it went until just one lap to go, with the exception of Liam’s one early flyer. Knackered legs from Friday’s omnium win, plus a headwind on the hill brought him back before the top. At the bell there was a moderate jump, which became the huge jump I anticipated at the middle of the hill. I just a bit late in reacting, and my timing and panic cost me good form, acceleration, and about 3 wheels.

Approaching the first turn of the descent I hear behind and the left, “outside!” There was maybe six inches between and the curb. I saw a helmet in my peripheral vision, and replied, “don’t you $%*@ing DARE!” and cut right into the heart of the descent.

Speed picking up…wheel to wheel through the next turn…false flat descent to the last turn before the line. I’m setting up my turn and plotting my sprint for the win, when Mr. Outside, an ABD rider, goes inside on me and takes away my line. Dammit. I should’ve been going faster, not to mention taken a more aggressive and shallower turn. Right there my podium was gone.

I had to alter my line, slowed, and suddenly was gapped trying to catch 5th place. I put my head down to close, and threw at the line but was just a couple inches too late. I was pissed about the last turn but it was my own damn fault for not being aggressive enough and protecting my line. It was that exact move I had used at Quad Cities to position myself at turn 7 of that race, two weeks ago – so how could I really complain? That’s racing.

(Luke and SMITTY in the 2/3s)

We stayed to watch a blistering 2/3s race featuring Luke and Kirby, won by ABD’s phenom Ryan Freund, and then the main event of the Pro/1/2 field. It was blazing fast with several serious breaks getting off, but still coming down to a pack sprint at the end.

Thursday Hate

Mandatory password resets.

Starers.

Women with beards.

Kashi. Or it's aftermath.

Parents who feed toddlers Doritos. With soda. At 9am.

SHUT THE FUCK UP CAN'T YOU SEE I HAVE EARBUDS IN?!?

Hipsters on the bike path.

Runners on the bike path.

Volleyball players on the bike path.

Your kids on the bike path.

Those four person bike cars on the bike path.

EVERYONE ON THE BIKE PATH.

Ninja brownies.

The 1990s.

Panama Disease.

Dirty dishes.

No delivery after 9pm.

Assholes who take random pictures with a shitty camera ALL THE FUCKING TIME.

Hump Day

My friends Jeff and Debi lost someone very important in their lives. Have a toast for Grace when you get a chance.

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Chicago Cycling Examiner promotes the Sherman Park Criterium all this week! Register, dudes.

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Ordered some new shoes on eBay on Monday. Got them today. The return address on the box was 50something North Ashland. Ha. They fit perfectly...I felt like I had 50 extra watts tonight on the Gem.



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Speaking of which, they didn't even make me buy any beer tonight!

Sherman Park Criterium!

Please preregister for Sherman Park on June 13th! Download the flyer and spread the word! Help XXX Racing - AthletiCo make Sherman Park 2009 the best yet!

Chicago Cycling Examiner offers a profile of the races today.

Sitting against a big stack of pillows...

Wishing the rain would go away.

I certainly enjoyed yesterday - nay, the entire weekend - but one can enjoy such epically beautiful weather with just a 12-pack of Old Style, a Weber grill, and 10 great friends only so much. I did miss the bike yesterday. And a harder ride on Saturday, as well.

But I am a good grasshopper. And racing five times in one weekend does take it's toll. So does day drinking.

So I lie here looking at the weather, hoping it will stay south of here tomorrow so I can ride north to work and then back to the city for a sprint practice with the XXX Big Dawgs. I want to be hard, and to be a good grasshopper.

But that's an awful lot of green on the radar. It stretches all the way west to California. Clouding the days and hopes of rides of all those who made my stay out there in March so wonderful. It's an awful lot of green to deal with to find out everyone else has stayed home and I am doing the workout alone.

But if left with no alternative, I will just ask myself, "would would Jens do?" And if it were hailing and lightening, Jens would HTFU and ride to work.

There's always Metra.

And there's always the chance that weather.com is wrong. Because, now I ask you, what the fuck have they done to their website? Would someone tell me what I am missing, and why I can't figure out how to get the radar screen in motion anymore?

I guess if not, it's wunderground.com for me now. I've been looking for just this type of excuse to switch my bookmark, anyways. The big guys get complacent, lose sight of the customer, and let some key features go by the wayside.

Like GM. Bankrupt. General Motors. What were they - the 12th biggest economy on the planet? Now less than a dollar a share, and not many people are betting on them being able to successfully reorganize. I've always said, "fuck them." They've never cared for what the customer wanted, because for so long the customer didn't know what they wanted. GM could tell customers what it was they wanted. And that was - through planned obsolescence and shitty workmanship in favor of the marketing department - a new car every other year.

Well, now that they and all our country's other industrial producers have shipped all their jobs overseas, no one can afford to buy the giant, gas-guzzling SUV's they only can seem to make. And suddenly the public has woken up - or been woken up, by their terrible credit scores (the author's included) - and knows what it wants.

And it's not what GM is making. They've ignored the market forces staring them in the face for so long, the only way they can retool their manufacturing base to make the cars the public has been increasingly asking for the last five years is to take over $50 billion from the government - and counting - and still make no promises.

So they deserve to go down. Right? But why is it really that they are getting so much assistance from the government then?

This country could very well be seriously fucked in the ass, at this pivotal moment in history. In times of great crisis when we've needed to suddenly drop everything and make serious firepower and the vehicles to deliver it - GM (and Chrysler) were there. They may not be, just there are serious conflicts brewing over oil, water, and food...while Iran is trying to get the bomb, and North Korea and a Pakistan that is losing control to Taliban already have it.

But let's get over the negative side of the collapse of the United States' industrial power and look at this from a global perspective. This is a sign that the world -at least our world - is driving less. Or using less fuel. The movement to mass-transit is growing, slowly but steadily. Ridership is up, on light rail and buses, as well as Amtrak. More and more opinion makers are calling for a larger national priority on rail, even high speed rail.

I find it atrocious that a country such as ours that was built on the back of long distance rail has gotten so far away from it's grand ethos, yet heartening that we still have not forgotten our egalitarian roots. I believe that national high speed rail could be our generation's Manhattan Project. That when fuel costs and lack of credit, material resources, and manufacturing capital have finally curbed our sense of entitlement to travel in such individual luxury, we - as a globe - and not just a nation, eventually, will construct a more economically and environmentally viable mode of getting around.

And the bikes. I know it's not just me who's noticed it, but we are everywhere over the last five years. When I moved to Chicago in 1997 I could never have imagined the number of people I would see regularly commuting to work, play, and life on two wheels with the wind in their face. Of all kinds - machines and people. Moms, suits, culture-warriors, nihilist hipsters on all-pink fixies, immigrants on beat-to-shit Walmart bikes. New bike racing teams being started every season.

Everyone is riding.

Saturday night I went to meet a friend at Do Division Fest in Wicker Park and was astounded at the number of bikes locked in every direction, in every conceivable way. As I am apt to do these days, I love comparing Wicker Park of today to the Lincoln Park I moved to from Texas back in 1997. And back then, there would have been maybe four bicycles parked up against the soon-to-be-closed Lounge Axe (bow your heads) as douchebags in cargo shorts, polo shirts, and visors scratched their heavily gelled hair with one hand while holding a cigarette and a beer in the other.

While Wicker Park - and Do Division Fest - today resemble the Lincoln Park of then in every way, the bikes are different. As much as I bitch about wanna-be hipsters riding brakeless fixies, or worse yet - brakeless free-wheels that LOOK like fixies - doing slow circles at a red light because they can't trackstand yet, at least they are riding, and not driving.



I hope it is the start of something, however small. Because we need a lot more.

This was the entrance/exit to Do Division Fest as I walked in to meet my friend:


That's maybe eight square feet, packed with fresh trash headed to the land fill. The fest stretched from curb to curb between Damen and Leavitt. As the cargo-shorts clad douches and summerdress-wearing trixies were swept out by the cops they left infinitely more of these mountains of useless, wasteful, trash. And will continue to do so throughout the summer festival season. In Chicago. Milwaukee. St. Louis. Minneapolis...

We're trying to rebuild society from the top down. Trying to repair a rotten structure over a cracked foundation. Fixing GM. Trying retrofit a high speed rail system over 50 years of neglected and misused rail right of way. The behavior like this - wasteful, pointless spending and frittering away precious resources will continue until the most uncaring and and unthinking of us has the incentive not to do so.

Those habits die hard. So hard in fact, that new habits may need to be started by those who've known no other way.

Maybe all of this has to come down, crashing suddenly and without warning, for it to happen.