Breaking from the routine

Every weekend on Saturday and Sunday, Bobby Mac leads a group of members of the team as well as a large number of charity riders and others that come to join us on a loop that's 62 miles at its longest. The loop is known to all, starting in Arlington and going out to Bedford via the bike path before going in a set of circles around Concord, Carlisle, and Billerica. It's a great loop as it leaves people conveniently near the end of the bike path at all points and so if they feel they can't go further, it's easy to go back.

Those of us who have been doing the loop for a few years, though, start to look for a little something different. But the group which breaks off and heads in different directions is without fail the fast group and as fast groups do, they are willing to drop you. Therefore, Kate and I have been talking for months about leading a no-drop ride for anyone that wanted to come along out to Harvard, MA. Further west than people usually go with a little bit more climbing and a lot more pretty.

This Sunday, that ride happened and we took twenty-eight (!) Quaddies for a 70 mile ride out to Harvard returning via Bolton and Stow. The weather was perfect as we got sun and highs in the upper 70s. Thanks to a few suggestions, we managed to not lose anyone and I think that everyone had a great time. For the most part, we kept to small backroads and I made sure that the route had a few good climbs for everyone to feel like they got to work enough. Regroups were frequent, but relatively short and mostly to ensure that no one missed an important turn even though we did have cue sheets.

The group assembled outside of the Harvard General Store

Thanks to everyone who came out and made the ride a success. One thing I learned is that it gets a lot harder to lead a ride once you get past the point of 6-8 people. And also, having arrows could have been helpful in terms of needing less regroup points. But having the regroup points helped everyone to get to know each other a little bit better and build up a bit more of the sense of team for beyond those who come out and race. So we'll likely be doing another similar ride before the end of the season -- suggestions for other destinations welcome.

Twilight Crit - Women's 3/4 Race

Jen Zeuli and Kate Leppanen went to Connecticut last Saturday to race the Twilight Crit to benefit Cystic Fibrosis. The rain held off and they got in a good race. Here is what Jen had to say about how the race played out.

The Twilight Crit: Why It Pays To Be A Parasite
By Jen Zeuli

My goal in this race: a pack finish, something to offset my less-than-stellar 27th place (out of 30) at Sterling back in May. But I tried to be realistic; just staying upright would be an improvement. The field was small, only nine women, which made me less nervous, but it was a combination 3/4 race, which made me more nervous. There wouldn’t be enough of us to split into two groups, I reasoned. The threes would set the pace and I would just have to try to hold on.

I’d never set foot on a Nascar track before, so warmup consisted of me testing out the banked turns and fighting off the usual pre-race why-am-I-doing-this jitters. As we lined up, Kate told me, “Stay upright, and stay on my wheel unless you can find something better.” Okay. A strategy. The bell rang and we were off on our first of twenty-five laps.

Immediately things were more organized than I’d expected. There were two women from CVC who were working really well together, and people were generally in neat, reasonably civil lines. I was clinging to Kate, as instructed. We did things I would never have done if left to my own devices. She’d suddenly break off from a formerly steady pace to surge ahead. She’d shoot through gaps that didn’t look like gaps at all, not to me. She’d ride so close to the edge of the track that I was absolutely certain we’d both skid off. Watching her at one point, early on, I thought, “I can’t do that!” Then I switched that part of my brain off and concentrated on defending her wheel.

Around and around we went. There were three primes; I only vaguely remember two of them and was entirely unaware of the third. Kate pulled a lot. I hardly pulled at all. No one was pushing me to take a turn because my teammate was doing so much work. At some point a break formed; we chased them but didn’t quite catch them. But I was feeling good, really good. The pace was fine, and unlike my three earlier races, at no point did I want to die. It occurred to me vaguely, while fighting a girl with a Salem jersey off of Kate’s wheel, that I was having a positive experience.

We entered the final lap. Four women in the break were about a quarter-lap ahead of us. Kate was pulling the main pack, and I was happily riding along behind her, basking in my immanent victory. The glorious pack finish was almost mine. Then I looked at the break up ahead, and out of nowhere a thought popped into my head: I can totally get there. So I pulled around Kate and sprinted towards them. I honestly thought I was helping; Kate was probably tired, and I assumed she’d jump on my wheel. But when I reached the break and glanced back, no one at all was behind me. Strange. But there was no time to contemplate it; this group was really moving. I stayed right with them, and finished fifth. I couldn’t even believe it.

Talk about teamwork. Turns out, no one chased me in the final lap because when I sprinted for the break, Kate sat up, slowed down, and blocked for me. So I’d stayed upright, I’d exceeded my pack-finish ambitions, and I’d actually had a good time. My new goal: learn to reciprocate.

Houstaonic Hills race report

A couple of Quaddies braved the forecast of rain for last Sunday and headed to Connecticut to race in the Housatonic Hills Road Race. Here's Charles Wescott's report from the race.

Housatonic Hills Road Race, June 21, 2009: Two laps of hill-climbing bliss along the scenic PCB-laden banks of the Housatonic river.

Results:
Nancy Labbé-Giguère: 10th of 24 Cat 4 starters
Charles Wescott: 73rd of 102 Cat 3/4 starters

Although I missed out on registration for the Cat 4s, Kate kindly pointed out that there were still open spots in the 3/4 race. Having no more excuses, I signed up and immediately got to work on the most difficult part of the race: convincing someone to drive me 2.5 hours to darkest Connecticut to race 54 miles with 5000 feet of climbing ... in the rain. Fortunately, Nancy was up to the challenge; and I was chauffeured to the waters of the Housatonic in comfort and style. The rain stopped just as we arrived, and miraculously held off until the end of the race.

The 3/4 race rolled out with an immediate 2-mile climb on grades in the 8-12% range. Fortunately, this climb was neutral, so I had a chance to warm up a bit. The pace car accelerated and we descended for the next 3 miles as the racing began. By the time we hit the bottom, a 100 m gap had opened up about half way through the pack. From my position in the very back, I panicked and crossed the yellow line to sprint to the front group as we began to climb the next hill. I caught on, but I just couldn't catch my breath on the climb. Near the top, around mile 7, I found myself in a 5-man breakaway ... off the back of the pack.

I tried to organize a smooth paceline, but it was not to be. One guy refused to do any work, and the others just couldn't, so I set out on my own until I caught up to Gary from Cambridge Bicycles. We rode together for a while in complete silence, except for a wheezing sound coming from my left lung. The sound reminded me of the "squeal like a pig" scene from "Deliverance", and I began to notice the beautiful, yet frighteningly rural landscape. This inspired me to pedal faster, and I left Gary to fend for himself.

Shortly thereafter, I was caught by the Cat 4s, who started 5 minutes behind my race. I was tempted to just slip into the pack, but didn't. Once I was out of the draft, the Cat 4 peloton disappeared into the distance.

On the next hill, I caught up with two guys from NY teams who had been shed from the Cat-4 pack. We worked together well, taking 45-second pulls and concentrating on staying together. By the end of lap 1 we closed in on the Cat 4 peloton faster than Tom Boonen bearing down on a coke dealer, and my ersatz teammates re-integrated with their pack.

Lap 2 consisted of a series of short cooperative efforts with others who had been dropped. I would catch people on the hills, work with them until the next hill, then take off and find someone else. The course was now littered with riders from the other races, some of whom were still on their first lap. Some were walking their bikes up the hills. One guy was vomiting, but he assured me he was enjoying the experience, so I pressed on. Geoff Martin of NEBC eventually rolled up behind me with about 5 miles to go. I think we were both tired of racing, because we chatted until we were caught by a group of about 6 who were decidedly more serious. This group stuck together and we raced the last few miles to the finish. At 200 m out I started to sprint. At 50 m out I went into a full-body cramp and slowly convulsed across the finish line like an epileptic tortoise on wheels.

Shortly thereafter, Nancy sprinted under the banner to take 10th in the Women's Cat 4 race.

We stuck around for about an hour chatting and eating the excellent fruit and cookies provided by the race promoter. As we loaded the bikes onto the car, the rain resumed and we headed back to Arlington. I look forward to returning next year with more of my Quad Brethren.

Thanks to Charles for the report.

Nutmeg Criterium Cat4 Race Report - 6/13/09

Andy is new to the team but not new to racing and contributed this report from the Cat 4 field at last weekend's Nutmeg Criterium down in Connecticut.

Nutmeg Criterium Cat4 Race Report 6/13/09
Andy Tucker

The Nutmeg Criterium was my second race with my new QuadCycles team. The course was a 1 mile or so loop on a wide paved pedestrian path in Walnut Hill Park, in New Britain CT. The course was smooth with several gentle turns, a slight uphill on the back stretch, and a sharper turn before the finish. The course was made a bit more interesting with the bumpers of several parked cars jutting out into the path of the field, and the occasional fitness walker making use of the multi-use path.

Quad was represented in the cat4 race by myself, Nessim Mezrahi, John Buchheit, Kenton Eash, and Jim Gomez. We rolled off at a moderate pace, with nothing special happening for the first few laps – everyone just getting a feel for the course. After that the pace picked up a bit with folks testing their legs out, but nothing more than that. There were no significant attacks at all for the entire race. I took a turn pulling around the course for a lap and tried for a few primes, with Nessim helping me out for one. Unfortunately, my competitors had a bit more umph and were able to just snatch the primes from me.

With a few laps to go John B came around me and I stuck on his wheel. He brought us up towards the front and kept the pace high. On the last lap I was able to stay up near the front, before I got engulfed on the back stretch. I thought that was it for me when a hole opened up and I shot through it to jump on a line. We barreled around the last corner and I came around the wheel in front of me to sprint for a third place finish.

Overall the race was fun and safe. Thanks to my new team for the lead outs - especially John for sacrificing himself on the last few laps. Well done! And to Nessim - it was great racing with you and I wish we could have done more! Good luck in DC!

Results:
Andy T 3
Nessim M 50
Jim G 54
Kenton E 56
John B 62

Ride Report from Team in Training Lake Tahoe

In addition to racing, one of the things we encourage members of the team to participate in is charity rides. A week ago one of our cat 4 women, Jen Zeuli took part in the Team in Training ride out at Lake Tahoe. Here's her report from that ride.

Everyone’s first century should be like mine. There should be balloons and cowbells and people waving signs that match your jersey. There should be a finish line and a medal and a wide selection of giant cookies. And there should be a purpose for it, something more momentous than, “I feel like riding 100 miles today.”

On June 7, I did America’s Most Beautiful Bike Ride, a century around Lake Tahoe. I rode with Team in Training, which raises money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. The fundraising minimum per person was $4,300. Of the 3000 people who did the ride, 1,700 of them were with TNT, and together we raised over 6.8 million dollars to fund cancer research and other programs that benefit patients and their families.

The ride started, for us, at 6:15 AM. Each group had an assigned start time, and we went in 5-minute intervals. I should explain that TNT mostly gets new riders, people who aren’t athletes and—in most cases, at least on my team—don’t even have bikes at the start of the season. They train together from February through May and then do the ride. I went to four or five of the training sessions so I could get to know people and found them, well, frustrating. People were really nice, but sixty miles should not take six hours. Hence, I found myself on Saturday morning with a small group our coach called the “Dream Team.” On the Quad rides I’m medium-fast, and I’m a neophyte racer who wobbles in a pack, but with TNT I’m a total rock star.

At about Mile 12 we came to a series of switchbacks leading up to Emerald Bay. I’d been hearing about these switchbacks for months—so hard, so steep, you stand on your pedals and nothing happens, etc.. As it turned out, though, I had been somewhat…overprepared. Thank you, Kate and Jeremy, for that one. When I got to the top I attracted some stares by shouting, “That’s all you GOT?”

At Mile 40 the six of us in my group were on a long, straight road, doing 20 or 21. While I was taking my turn in front, seven or eight guys from LA whipped past us. “They’re going much faster than we are,” I thought. “I should just let them go.” But when they pulled in in front of us, I decided, “The hell with this; I’m going for it!” I sped up and latched us onto the back of their line. Then other people jumped in behind us. Before long, we were rocketing along at 26 or 27 in a paceline of maybe 30 people, and the LA group didn’t even want to take turns. They pulled for seven or eight miles, until the rest stop, and I think I pedaled maybe four times.

Mile 80: We began the 7.4-mile climb to Spooner Summit, average grade 5%. The scenery was spectacular; the lake was crystal-clear, like the Caribbean, and it was ringed with mountains that were capped with snow. But it was hard. Just to make things really fun, I was doing this on mostly flat back tire. I was riding up the outside of a line of people, gasping out, “On…left…on…left” for what felt like forever, and I was getting a little loopy. Two of my teammates had pulled ahead of me, and I passed one of them, Ray, walking his bike up the hill. I had a conversation with Ray. I asked Ray if he was okay. Ray said he had cramps. I rode on. At the summit, the teammate who had taken the lead asked me, “Where’s Ray?” My response? “I haven’t seen him.” The whole interaction had vanished from my mind, not to reappear until dinner.

Mile 92: Incredible adrenaline surge! After five miles of downhill from Spooner, I felt like I could go at least another three hours. I was all wound up, attacking on hills and laughing maniacally.

Mile 98.88: Crossed the finish line, three abreast with my two surviving teammates. It was the first century for all three of us. I signed in, got my medal, and then hopped back on the bike. I needed my computer to say 100 miles. One of the people I rode in with told me that hers said 101 and I should just go by that, but that was unacceptable. So I did a victory lap.

I’ve been doing group rides for almost a year and have loved every one of them, including the time I got caught in an ice storm and the day a couple of weeks ago when I bonked and Anke put a video of it on Facebook. But this felt really different, like I was part of something much bigger than myself. I’ll do it again next year. I’d do it again next week if I could….

Lake Auburn Road Race - June 6 2009

Team Quad sent up a contingent of riders for both the Men's and Women's cat 4 races in Auburn, Maine over the weekend. The weather was perfect -- sunny, upper 60s and little wind. Reports from Jeremy Katz and Kate Leppanen for the Men's and Women's races follow. Photos below courtesy of Charles Wescott. Overall results for the day were a 7th place finish for Andy Tucker and pack finishes for Nessim Mezrahi and Jeremy Katz in the Men's field and 5th for Nancy Labbe-Giguere and 6th for Kate Leppanen.

Jeremy's Report

We got to the course start with lots of time to spare and actually had the time to pre-ride a lap of the route. So we headed off as a team to recon the course and jog our memories from last year. It was good to do as little things like "landmark for the turn before the hill" doesn't stick with you for a year... but half an hour before the race start it certainly does.

The race itself was to be three laps of an 11.5 mile circuit. It started with a quick downhill followed by a little bump and then a steeper little climb. Then a few turns and a mile or so with a slight downward grade to the back half of the course which was about six miles and pretty much flat. This was thus a bit on the fast side. The course then took another turn and began going back up towards the finish with one steeper and then one longer and more shallow section to a bit of false flats for the final kilometer or so. Total of about 600 feet of climbing a lap. Pretty much good pavement for the entirety of it, well marshalled, etc. Honestly, it's a great course and I was looking forward to coming back and doing better.

In the Men's Cat 4 field, we had six people in the field out of a total of somewhere between fifty and sixty -- myself, Jim Gomez, Charles Wescott, Nessim Mezrahi, Kenton Eash and Andy Tucker. My personal goal was to finish with whatever the main pack ended up being and from a team perspective, we were hoping to get someone at least in the top ten. The race started on time and it started out pretty quick. I was at the front and was able to maintain my position through the fast descent in a nice improvement from last year. The first lap continued pretty quickly; I know I saw an average speed of above 25 mph at one point on the back stretch. When we hit the big hill up to the finish, that dropped a bit. We had definitely started to drop some riders off the back, though.

The second lap was much of the same and I realized that hanging on was really about all I was going to be good for. I did get in some good work with moving up in the pack and raising my comfort in doing so. It helped that the peloton for the field was pretty smooth overall. The exception was that for every corner, the speed dropped somewhat dramatically and then people accelerated like hell on the other side of the corner only to let up after 100-200 meters. A little annoying, but I kept with it. Andy and Nessim spent some time during the lap attacking and trying to weaken some of the stronger riders in the field. I was content to just sit in and let things happen.

By the third lap, I realized that the only Quaddies who were left were Nessim, Andy and myself. I talked briefly with Andy and he said that Nessim was going to try to set him up with a lead-out. I didn't really have anything to add to the effort, so just was going to keep my head down. I also noticed at this point (not far into the lap really), that there was a rider a little ways up the road and that the pace car seemed a little further away. Not that I was going to be able to do anything about it. As we started up the hill for the finish, though, the gap dropped -- by the time we were cresting the second hill up to the finishing flats, we passed the guy who had jumped off the front and this was when people really cranked it up a notch.

With a little more than a 1km ago, someone decided to start pushing for the sprint and I decided I had done enough to accomplish my goal. So I sat up and got passed by 6 or 8 people coming across the line about 26th although I did make it look like I was sprinting for something. Andy ended up with 7th and Nessim was somewhere in the pack between 15th and 20th. All in all, not a bad day

Kate's report

Another race, another couple of lessons learned on what turned out to be an exquisite day to ride the bike. As an improvement over last year, I got an early start and rode up to Maine with Jeremy rather than getting hammered in Maine with college friends. Also improved was the weather, the lack of pounding rain or oppressive humidity was quite nice. After putting in a warm up lap with what turned out to be a rather impressive turn-out of Quaddies and mentally marking how many times the final hill false flats and which is the turn before the hill, I cruised around near the start line to keep my legs warmed up. While I got to the start line a solid ten minutes early, I found that I was among the last person to line up which put me solidly at the back of the pack, not the place I wanted to be going down the first big hill.

Although we were ranked separately, the Women's 1/2/3 field started with the Women 4s.

We roll out down the hill and I rue my crappy position in the back of the pack as I watch the leaders flatten themself into an organized aerodynamic position and those of us in the back fiddle with our position and nervously tap brakes to avoid slamming into less aerodynamic riders. It did put me in a fabulous place to watch Talia slip herself from the absolute rear of the pack to the very front. Amazing pack handling skills.

We hit the little wall and I make the critical mistake of fumbling to get into the small chainring at the appropriate time. Chasing from the back of the pack, I yell at the riders that I pass that we need to work together, that we can catch the peloton rapidly speeding away. I fall in with a group of largely PVC riders and try to organize a chase. I take a pull at the front at a solid 25mph and flick my elbow to go to the back. The pace drops to 18mph. I yell more and move back up to take another pull. I pull off and the pace dips again. The wheel car pulls past us. This is not working. I move back and look at our group; Kim Z. of Green Line Velo is riding very steadily and seems very strong. Continuing my theme of yelling at people, I tell her that we've got to hammer if we have any hope of catching the leaders, I'm going to go and I hope that she follows my wheel. I go, watching the leaders now disappear distant over a hill. Together Kim and I chase. No one else from the group follows us.

As a two woman chase group up against a good sized peloton of very strong riders, a lot of them 1/2/3s, we do not make contact with the peloton again. We do not see the peloton again nor do we pick up any of the riders that inevitably fall off the back. Working rather well together, we trade off taking pulls for the remaining 35 miles. I slow up to keep Kim with me on the hills, she neutralizes when I drop my chain (again!) as we enter the 3rd lap. As is the nature of bike racing, the glorious partnership we've had for three laps dissolves as we reach the final climb. I'm pretty sure that Kim can outsprint me so I give every last thing I have on the climb and spin my way up the hill. I sprint to the finish line, although there is absolutely no one around me. I find out later that the main field finished an intimidating 16 minutes ahead of me. Sixth place for the day, not too bad but I wish I'd actually maintained contact with the group for more than 1k. The big lesson learned (or rather the big lesson reiterated) is that you should never wait to close down a gap. Gaps just get bigger with time.

Post-race, we stayed around to the start of the Pro 1/2 men's race--I do so love the whoosh sound the pro race makes as they roll through. There were also post-race free massages and I enjoyed a glorious 12 hours without pain in my left shoulder for the first time in just about a year. Very briefly, I considered trying to convince someone to drive me to Auburn the next day for the crit. I tell myself that the legs could have probably endured it well enough but I was not mentally up for another 5 hour car trip.

Sunapee Road Race--Women's Cat 4 May 14, 2009

Sunapee was my sixth race of the year, including training races like Wells and Charge Pond, and my fifth straight race in a row. Looking back, I felt good but I mentally was not totally in it. I further now realize that I was *way* overtrained by the time that Sunapee rolled around.
For a women's 4 race, there was a pretty big showing of somewhere around 40 racers. All of the fields rolled out from the start/finish line within half an hour of one another and my field queued up behind the Pro/1/2/3 women. Despite my field having rather different bib numbers, I know of at least one Cat4 racer who went out with the 1/2/3 field by mistake. Aside from that rider's mistake, the race organizers did an amazing job getting everyone queued up and out on the road on time. Best organization I've experienced at a race.
But onto the race itself. The race organizer informed us before we rolled out that there would be a hard right hand turn after a fast descent and that we needed to watch out for the new traffic island (which wasn't there last year) and warned us that there would be a section of very broken up road. The other Massachusetts riders and I later discussed the matter and we're still unclear which section was 'bad'...by our standards those roads were in fine shape throughout.
We roll down the hill and through the traffic circle for a brief neutral rollout. The pack is somewhat sketchy but nothing too bad. NEBC sits comfortably and numerously at the front and I continue my stupid trend of sitting too far back. Although the yellow line rule is supposedly in effect, it is blatently ignored by many. This irritates me.
There's some initial sketchiness as some riders mid-pack abruptly swerve and bump each other. Someone either hit and killed a chipmunk or ran over some very fresh roadkill--I really don't want to know which it is but I'm pleased that no one crashes and that my crappy pack position keeps me clear of the carnage.
A crash, for unknown reason, goes down fairly early into the first section of flat road but I hear later that no one's badly hurt.
Then we hit the long climb. I'd looked at the profile online but I realize that the elevation profile didn't really translate well to actually anticipating how the hills would play out. One of my teammates referred to a Mt. Suffering and I incorrectly assume that the long climb is that. It is not.
I do my best to chase down the largely NEBC break that goes off the front but fail and end up working with a group of chasers from a whole bunch of different teams. On the downhills, I make up some ground on the lead group and attach myself to the wheels of those who've not been able to follow the break.
We go through a couple rolling hills, some tough and not too bad, and establish ourselves into a relatively decent paceline. The woman in front of me in the line fails to pull to the side when she blows her nose and I get her snot on my jersey and glasses. Again, I am irritated.
Then we hit a hill that my mind, at least, is going to call Mt. Suffering. I look at my GPS and it reads a 10% grade. My group and I slog up it together with no attacks. We hit the final rollers and are going into that aforementioned right hand turned when--crap.
My left contact, for reasons unclear to me, rolls back behind my eyeball. Trying to navigate the speedy descents, I jam my finger into my eye and attempt to locate the thing. I succeed in moving it into the corner of my eye, totally distorting my vision. I cannot see well and accordingly, drift to the back of our paceline, continuing to jam my finger into my eye. I really want to see. In addition to half-deaf, I am now half-blind...all on my left side. Going down the last big descent at 45mph, I realize that I am not going to get the contact out nor will I get it into a workable position in my eye to be able to see. I make the hard right run with a good deal less confidence than I'd like. There's a small break in my group and I try to close down the gap working with two other riders. Again, fail.
Then my chain drops. I watch the paceline I've been working with so long speed into the distance. Without having stop, I manage to coax my chain back onto my chainring and hammer home to the finish. Going up the final approach to the finish line, I give it every thing I have even though no racers are at all in sight. Following my finish, I gratefully manage to shift my contact to a location in my eyeball where I can sort of make out indistinct shapes on my left side once again.

Got 16th, as it turned out. For having done far too many races back-to-back so early in the season, I'm pretty satisfied. Two weeks off from racing before Lake Auburn Road Race!