

Ramblings of a middle -of -the -pack bike racer and ditchdigger.



The best part of my day today, and it was not a nice day, full of hard feelings and ditchdigger bitchiness, was passing the half-mile of cars on the boulevard while the Musical Youth broke out in some "pass the dutchie".
The wind became my friend again.
I started to gutter imaginary foes on the Iron Horse Trail while peeking over my backpack.
I tucked my headlamp away, the one that makes people smile in their cars cuz I'm such a DAMN GEEK riding around with a headlamp, like Rick Moranis in Honey I Shrunk The Kids.
I hit the freeway bridge where the trail ends and I psuedo-crawl to the Pleasanton side under the ramps, but not before hitting the first full speed/ braking with the back wheel while threading the needle with the right foot/ grabbing the top tube/ dismount of 2007 and tossing that bad boy on my shoulder.
Geek-a-Rama.
Them cars can kiss my ass, though.

15 minutes of traffic lights on the Boulevard on the way home sux.
Fresh baked crescent rolls coming out of the oven as I rolled into the garage made it all better.

This is my tree.
But back to that later.
First up for me today was the elite 4/5 race, I got there early and it was pouring, but I kind of like the rain and actually the pavement was fairly grippy after raining all night.
Got a good warmup in and came to the line, a few mice, a strong 3rd Pillar contingent, and a few CVC, as well as a strong Berry. 47 starters made up the biggest field I saw today, and within 10 laps we shed half the bunch.
I saw some goofy riding by a couple of select riders, but for the most part 3rd Pillar rode hard to set up their sprinter and by keeping things decently fast we found ourselves on the last corner, myself in the 3 spot, can't ask for better position, well I needed one more cup of coffee or sumpthin'because somehow in my half frozen, half waterlogged state, I elected to start my sprint in a 12 cog, which only works if your cashing a check from a Protour team and are jumping @40+.
So eight was my number and I'm happy, just trying to get those top tens and stay alive, but I resolved to check the back cog before going the next time :-(
35 4/5 was up next with no break and I changed into another jersey with the new number at the car and we are off, I'm already feeling the fumes I have been running on for months and am getting a few crampy twinges, but thankfully we roll out at the grampa pace and slow from there.
A few attacks are attempted, but CVC being the only dominant team in the race is on them quickly, I joined a couple likely efforts when the blue and white were represented, but nothing was going good and getting separation, so I figured a bunch sprint was in our future, especially with every one of us having a fair amount of rest.
Typical 35+4/5 race, all negative racing and slow down and play chicken at the end, the last 5 laps got slower and slower, with more and more braking and absolutely stupid lines being taken.I attempted to do a little coaching with folks, we here on the spidey side of life are focusing hard on developing safe racers out of our sport team and womens bunch as well and have learned a couple of good lessons along the way, but it fell on deaf ears for the most part.
One to go and we enter corner 2 ( the one on the picture, which is sporting a drain grate roughly 3 feet off the apex but was fine all day), I'm in the 2 spot behind the CVC leadout when I hear the brakes being applied coming out of the apex, bad bad bad things are happening quickly, as his bike drifts out to the curb while coming back at me fast.
Options- You can set this to a little Digital Underground if ya like...
A- grab every brake I own, which are ridiculously wet since I wasn't finding the need to APPLY THEM ALL THE TIME and knock the whole bunch down behind me
B- Hit his back wheel and topple into the whole bunch behind me
C- as the curb/ bike gap closes, bunnyhop the island, brush tree A, slide around tree B, and hop off onto N street into open traffic
Well C is what I did, so yo listen up...
The damage- none. A tire track on Merceds' beeyutifull lawn and a scuff on the left shoulder. Now if I could have got back in from the far side of the island, now that would have been a real whalerider, as it was , I was too busy calling them all a whole lotta bad words and really in disbelief I made it out of that one alright.
No t-shirt for missing the trees, though.
Apology for the brake check, ummm, no.



Much Peets was drank , much bike talk wuz talked, and we all crashed out early for the big day.
Got lot's of 411 on the ride, what to look for, etc, by the Chico crew, but seeing 2- 300 folks on a little country road still gets quite interesting.
Soon we turned onto Lassen road(where the race blew up last year) and things got rolling a bit. Big difference from last year was the lack of wind, keeping things together and rolling at a nice clip.
A few early moves were made, but without all the teams represented, and goofballs chasing the bridges and dragging the pack, it was nothing doing till Corning, where I found myself easing off the front with a Spine fella. Easing, easing, easing and I'm not sure what's going to go down being my clueless Cat 4 self, but even my goofy ass knows that those guys are never up there without a good reason, so I hang in there and boom, things go quickly with spine and the spider, as well as a Davis guy, I believe.
I help for probably 5 rotations before I'm blown up and deeply outclassed by my company, and retreat to my customary position deep in the shelter of the herd, but they are outasight quickly in a interesting turn of events.
Nome and I try a simple handoff of clothing and somehow we BOTH drop his vest, causing me to have to ride back for it, drop it off, and get a quick lesson in holding onto cars at 30+ to get back on, and if anyone has some good pointers on this skill, I'm all ears.
Longest ride of the year for me has been probably 60 miles so far, and the first twinges come by Paskenta. I kept hearing about the "dirt is coming soon", like the frickin' grim reaper, but I have no idea where I am and somehow missed the turn for the 75 mile option , so I'm reasonably committed, but can't see through hills and so even with my efforts to stay well-positioned, hit the dirt road about 50-60 back.
Where all hell breaks loose.
All I can say if you ran a Michelin softie-race, or a Vredi-stank-in -the -dirt, I'm sorry. I hope the cornering prowess on those smooth roads was apparent. I ran Conti 4000's in the nice beefy 28 range and drove through every goddamn hole with no real worries. Pop-Pop- fizz-fizz was heard many times in the next 4 miles, but I was digging it big time, driving a big cookie over the gravel and trying to bridge the widening gap with a few like minded souls. We hit the asphalt and it was hero time for the 8 guys or so in my group, about a quarter mile to get back.
Many times in the lower ranks people panic and attack out of the bunch, killing the whole effort, but these guys hung with it and we got back on to the lead pack, where I languished attempting to eat salt pills and drink lots, as the hammie and right quad were getting pretty bejiggety.
Nobody told me about the rollers, the ones that on a normal ride would be a nice little effort, but today looked like the Mortirolo in front of me. I made it over two, but I could see the front guys hopping to it on the next one and I was 30 feet short, with a spectacular implosion driving into the gravel on the side.
I rode easy and looked at my map, resigning myself to a life of solitude, when the bus blew into town, and a nice, 23 mph bus it was. Tandems, racers, and some strong century guys, but just right for me for about 20 miles, until the strong roadies that had been dropped/flatted in the gravel arrived and began to attack each other at 28 mph for the dubious honors of, oh 45th or so.
My quad survived for a while, but soon it locked up and I had to small ring it back to the finish line and Chico's truck.
98.5 miles, 4:30 ride time.
Again, thanks to the Chico bunch for putting up with my requests and and Chico Velo for quasi-putting it on.
I'll be back and train a little the next time.
And I believe on the way out of town I saw a Petit hanging in a paceline going down 32, so good job finishing that monster!
Photo credit: VB








This pic was shot on a particular piece of road that apparently a certain PAB owns the CR for. I got to hear lots of Stanislaus/ Merlock stories(what is a merlock, anyway?) and eat many cookies.
and roll it home, with a fantastic chicken lunch after.
