Monthly Archives: February 2012

I’m embarrassed.

Not only am I embarrassed that it’s been over two weeks since I posted, but also because during that two weeks I’ve been summarily trounced in bike races.

Here’s a Venn diagram that describes the entirety of my life:

And here’s a list of what has taken place in that tiny sliver of an intersection between “Me” and “Bike Racing” since we last talked.

1. A few local crits in which I sucked hard (Folsom Crit and Early Bird Crit).
2. Cal Giant Team Camp (This did not suck)
3. A local Road Race in which I sucked harder (Snelling RR).
4. A local Crit in which I sucked (Merced Crit).

That’s a lot of suckage in bike races, but it’s been noted by countless readers that I tend to write more entertaining posts when I fail at bike races, so hopefully this portends a few good posts at the very least.

Believe it or not, I’ve also been summoned to write an official Cal Giant Team Camp writeup for the team website, which I’ll self-plagiarize here for your entertainment sometime later this week. [Cue cringes from Cal Giant's lawyers]. It’s likely I’ll be banned from both the team and from the internet pretty soon thereafter. Until then, here comes my usual drivel.

Somehow, I ended up registering for the traditional NCNCA crosswind throwdown, the Snelling Road Race — rather, I was registered by my team. Those of you who are familiar with “my style” know that it does not typically involve road races, but the Cal Giant team management was eager to enrage the entire district by entering as many riders as possible.

Hence, I found myself raging to the far side of the Central Valley with an always amped-up Phil Mooney (Jamis - Sutter Home PRO Cycling), who was dancing to his own personal Spice Girls mix for a warmup while I remained stoic as always.

Mooney, while a professional cyclist, is also an incredibly intense carpooler.

After I cooled down from the Katy Perry Dance Party that ensued in the parking lot, I picked up my number and did a few laps of the venue, talking shit to all my competitors, most of the W/1/2/3 racers, and a few hapless Juniors. Then it was game time. My team and I got kitted up in our new, rather fluorescent, almost flamingo-colored kits and headed to the start line.

(Photo Credit: Alex Chiu)

So, in case the twelve Cal Giant riders registered wasn’t enough of a hint: our team plan was to put all our riders on the front on the first straightaway of the race, which is nearly always buffeted by a strong left-to-right crosswind. This year, however, the wind was an absurd headwind coming slightly from the right, but which was not angular enough to wreak havoc.

(Photo Credit: Alex Chiu)

Now, I’ve already received a lot of flak from local riders for our team’s actions: for registering 12 riders, for putting our riders on the front, for not putting them on the front enough, for putting them on the front in the wrong places, etc., etc., etc. Now I know why Steve Reaney was grouchy all the time.

Look, haters gonna hate. However, sometimes the haters is right: as a team, we did not adapt to the unexpected conditions as well as we should, and as a consequence we did not shred the field like we had hoped.

Furthermore, I’ve received a lot of flak personally for doing exactly what people ought to have expected from me: cracking 2/3 of the way into a road race and DNFing. Max Jenkins (Competitive Cyclist Fred Squad) even blamed my blowing up in the crosswinds for his failure to make the winning move, though the true failure on Max’s part was being behind me in a ROAD RACE. Ever.

Yeah, I did as much work as I could, then cracked early in the 5th lap.

Nevertheless, our team placed two of our strongest riders in a break of about ten. One of these riders was Nate Wilson, a CU Boulder college kid who I respect for several reasons: 1. he’s one of the best climbers I know, 2. he’s one of the few climbers I know who races crits like a man, 3. he looks good on a bike, and 4. he can eat an absurd amount of food for a climber.

(Left photo credit: Alex Chiu)

Nate did a ridiculous amount of work to keep the four Mike’s Bikes riders present the break in check, kept the break strung out for most of the closing km, and helped our strongest rider on the day, Chris “Staz” Stastny, finish 2nd. Barely. Just barely.

(Photo Credit: Fiona Winder)

He was narrowly beaten by a savvy and strong effort by Christiaan Kriek of the Simple Green - Bike Religion team, and finished ahead of Tyler Brandt (Mike’s Bikes), Chuck Hutcheson (McGuire), and my former teammate Joel Robertson (Webcor). If Chuck hadn’t been so busy swinging his metaphorical…uh…54t chainring around for the first four laps, he might have won the race. Alas, true to my prediction, he remains the guy who gets beat up by the bigger local teams. I have to hand it to the Simple Green guys, they raced really well this weekend, particularly given how few of them were present.

Not to be overly analytical about this, but given that Staz has finished 2nd twice already this year, it looks like he’s contracted the deadly Randmillis secondplaceus infection, an affliction which has plagued my racing career for half a decade. Don’t ask how he got it — you really don’t want to know what we do in team hotel rooms.

Having been cured of R. secondplaceus myself, however, I have come nowhere near a 2nd place finish this season, much less a win. Infection free, I am now relegated to finishing approximately dead last in every race I enter, should I manage to finish at all.

I’ll work on that.

The following day my teammates and I decided to race the Merced Crit.

Now, I like the Merced Crit. It’s got a few nasty right-hand corners and what is best described as a Tunnel of Doom behind the Merced Courthouse, wherein riders fling themselves through a less-than-one lane alley lined on both sides by stuccoed walls and floored with singularly awful pavement. It’s not just technical, it’s almost adventurous.

Just before our race started, I sat down and watched the ladies race. For about 90% of the day, Moriah McGregor (Colavita) destroyed herself off the front solo. It crushed my soul a bit to see her caught, but at least I got to watch my friend Marissa Axell (Touchstone) finish a close second to the previous day’s winner Rhae Shaw (Exergy Women’s PRO), while my female NCNCA Crit Champion counterpart Vanessa Drigo (Vanderkitten) came in a respectable third.

(Photo Credit: Mark Sasser)

After heckling the Stevens - Pactimo girls (the name-heavy duo of Mary Ellen Ash and Heather Drake Lipana) for not winning, it was game time yet again for the P/1/2 men.

I should note that my teammate Staz and I are very similar. We’re similar enough that I’ve wondered whether we might be brothers or something. One of the things we both have in common is our love of a laid-back, lighthearted, jovial attitude about bike racing. This is then quickly followed by an irrational and fierce intensity about bike racing. The dichotomy was captured brilliantly by local photographer Alex Chiu on the start line of the Merced Crit.

(Photo Credit: Alex Chiu)

What were Staz and I making gooney faces about in the laid-back, lighthearted, jovial frame of that animated .gif? Oh, just the fact that perennial shit-talker Rob Evans (McGuire Cycling) was in the process of missing the start of the race. Yep, Rob spent so much time talking about how badly he was going to beat me, he forgot to show up to the start line. Well done, sir. DNS.

Each of the past two years at the Merced Crit, I’ve managed to get myself into a breakaway that stayed away to the finish, and my teammates (Nate Wilson, John Hunt, Staz, and Evan Huffman) were intent on a similar arrangement this year.

The Mike’s Bikes team, the two Simple Green - Bike Religion guys, and Brandon Trafton (Full Circle Cycling Team, winner of this race last year) made it very difficult to acheive that goal. Every time a break went up the road, Trafton would spearhead the “I’m gonna bridge that gap halfway then blow up” effort, and the Simple Green guys would finish off his handiwork. The Mike’s Bikes guys were just there to ensure that every breakaway was loaded in their favor. F*&k. Tactical bike racing is hard work. You gotta like, think hard and pedal hard, at the same time.

With about 4 laps go go, my team engineered the perfect scenario: Tyler Brandt (Mike’s Bikes) against my teammate Evan and I in a promising break of three. Evan was doing a large portion of the work, Brandt was wisely watching us both with wary eyes, and I was preparing my super-aero Specialized S-Works Venge for an intense finish. Alas, we were brought back heading into the last lap.

Here’s a video delineating about the same thing, courtesy of the ever-present Mike’s Bikes GoAm Cam.

At this point, I’m never quite sure which of the ~7 Mike’s Bikes sprinters is intending to lead out who. Perhaps that’s their game plan. To date, their poly-sprinter approach has netted them a few 2nds, 3rds, 4ths, and 5ths. This time, it was Eric Riggs sprinting to 2nd place behind recent upgrade Matt Chatalong (Team Sacramento), who raced conservatively all day for obvious reasons: he’s got a really good finishing kick. Congrats to Matt for beating two separate teams of >5 riders and a few SoCal ringers.

As is customary of late, I finished pretty much last. Get used to it.

At this point, it’s time to start thinking about nemeses again. As you may recall, I’m constantly in need of a nemesis in order to race effectively. For the past several seasons, while I was racing for the Webcor Cycling Team, Steve Reaney (Ex-Cal Giant) was my nemesis on the road. Last ‘cross season, by virtue of an internet poll and his general shitshowness, Derek Yarra (Ibis - BuyCell.com) was designated my ‘cross nemesis.

In both previous cases, the presence of a nemesis heightened the drama of any race, no matter the size or prestige.

However, with the retirement of 2010 National Criterium Champion Steve Reaney — and his status as Teammate Emeritus at Cal Giant — I am in need of a new road season nemesis. I encourage nominations via the comments section, and I’ll be setting up a provisional poll soon.

Please keep in mind the International Nemesis Committee’s “Rules for Selection of an Appropriate Nemesis, 2011 Edition”:

• Must be beatable (though not without significant dedication).
• Must be charismatic.
• Must want to beat you in return.
• Must do humorous, bloggable shit.

For now, I think Chuck Hutcheson (McGuire), Tyler Brandt (Mike’s Bikes) and Roman Kilun (Kenda PRO Cycling) are solidly in the running for this position. I’d love to see my ‘cross season nemesis runner-up Keith Hillier (Marc Pro - Strava) race a few more crits, because he’d be a good choice as well.

Readers, please let me know who you think would be a good 2012 Road Season Nemesis. Until I get one, I doubt I’ll get anywhere near the podium.

See y’all soon!

[Editor's note: I know it's Friday night, and that this shit is wicked late. Alas, it's better to post it now rather than after the new race weekend has commenced. I hope it makes for some light Saturday morning pump-up reading over a nice Mimosa or Bloody Mary.]

Earlier this week, it was brought to my attention that Maxim Jenkins (Competitive Fred PRO Cycling) had been featured on Slam That Stem, a Tumblr account dedicated to the narcissistic, euphemistic practice of photographing your bike’s overcompensatorily long stem as it teabags the headtube*.

In fact, it’s the second time Maxim’s low-slung cockpit has been featured on the site, making him something of a Ron Jeremy in the bike porn industry.

However, this time my custom Clean Bottle could be seen cradled softly in his bottle cage.

In the ‘online bike nerd niche’ world, that’s like accidentally having your arm show up in the background of a Playboy photoshoot. Max is all about the stem-slamming; in fact, there are even photographs of Max caught in the act of getting his stem slammed by his team mechanic.

Euphemistic nonsense aside, ladies and gentlemen, there is the proof: real PRO bike racers ride CounterattackingReality.com Clean Bottles. Thanks for the publicity, Max**! If any of you readers want in on the action, I’ll have oodles of bottles tomorrow in Folsom!

Anyway, this talk of slamming stems has got me all excited about the theme of this post: leadouts and bicycle technology.

It seems that everyone is talking about leadouts these days. I wrote about leadouts last week. Tyler Farrar (Garmin – Catfish PRO Cycling) has been letting loose some tirades regarding his team’s inability to lead him out, though I fail to see the correlation between a team’s leadout capacity and his ass’s pinch-flat propensity. Finally, NorCalCyclingNews.com recently lauded the local Mike’s Bikes Cream Puff Team leadout attempt at the Cherry Pie Crit.

What’s all the hullabaloo about leadouts for? As it turns out, every W/1/2/3 and P/1/2 crit in the NCNCA this season (all four of them) has come down to a bunch sprint. What is this, SoCal?

I’m not innocent, of course, having led out my teammate Sam Bassetti for the season-opening Cal Aggie Crit win two weeks ago. This is notable because I’m a breakaway guy. Everyone who races with me knows it: I have no tactical skills and I have no sprint. My only hope for a win is to get off the front of a bike race, something that has proven hard to do because frankly, I have little athletic talent. Rather than requesting that I train harder and become a better athlete, Cal Giant, Specialized, and Zipp have simply outfitted me with what amounts to a solid wing of carbon fiber that propels itself forward at startling speed: my Breakaway Bike, a 2012 S-Works Venge with Zipp 808s and a stem that’s fully slammed against the badass, faired top cap.

Now, my ability to draft behind my own stem is great and all, but the Cal Giant team directors did not bring me onto the team because they love breakaways; after all, it’s common knowledge that such nonsense hardly ever works.

Therefore the team has invested heavily in large, meatheaded sprinters like Sam Bassetti, Eamon Lucas, and Benny Swedberg. Eamon is depicted here attempting to draft off me in Breakaway Mode.

Clearly my usual approach fails here.

Following my attempt at a leadout at the Cal Aggie Crit, I was castigated by several of my teammates for being “too small,” ” really tiny,” and even “f*&king midgety.” Apparently I don’t make much of a leadout guy, and a super-aero bike isn’t going to make things better. I mean, look at the size difference between Eamon and I in real life.

(Photo Credit: Veronika Lenzi)

See, my photoshopped Eamon is actually smaller than the real-life one. At best, I’d be leading out one of his shins.

In order to combat this problem, when it becomes clear that a bunch sprint is imminent, I have been instructed to fake a mechanical (or ride full-speed directly into a square-edged curb to generate a real one) and switch into “Leadout Mode” aboard my 2012 Specialized Allez Fred Edition.

Eamon now fits nicely into my slipstream thanks to my exceedingly upright position.

Given that I try to do everything in my power to be the opposite of Maxim Jenkins, this bike conveniently has its stem anti-slammed. Screw stem-slamming: being counterculture is hip these days, so I imagine this is the next big trend you’ll see on Valencia St. in San Francisco.

So let’s get back to bike racing here, shall we? All this technical jargon comes to bear on last weekend’s Cherry Pie Crit, an inexplicably hotly-contested event every season. It’s got a small hill, it’s got a hairpin turn, it’s got a chicane, and it’s got wind. I’m a sucker for hairpins and crosswinds, so I was pretty amped up to race.

I was so stoked, I decided to go for a bit of a pre-race warmup ride with my friends Gino Zahnd (a Chico transplant and strong beer drinker, like myself), Starla Teddergreen (injured reserve Vanderkitten sprinter extraordinaire and all-around badass) and Maura Kinsella (my Vanderkitten kindred spirit: a loud, amped up, attention-whoring attacker). There were muffins and a quiche involved, so my level of stoke just kept skyrocketing. It was on this muffin ride that we randomly happened across Derek Yarra, my ‘cross season nemesis, who was out for an incognito road bike training ride.

Yarra, who has been hinting on Twitter about his intentions to become a card-carrying, power meter-sporting roadie, seems to be trying to sneak in some secret training. However, the presence of deep-section carbon wheels on his bike highlight his inner Tri-dork, and undermine any credence his “training plan” might have had. I assume he had a 10-mile run planned post-ride.

Stick to ‘cross, Yarra. At least in ‘cross they can’t tell that you stole those baby blue Oakley Jawbones from some poor, unsuspecting Team TIBCO II girl.

Once the pre-race ride was over, Maura and I loaded bikes on her Corolla and raged over to the race course in Napa.

Apparently that’s what it looks like to “rage” to a bike race in a Corolla: a dude with absolutely no facial expression whatsoever, and a chick with way too much of one. Jesus. We look like we’re driving to Napa to commit a heinous crime or a massive bank heist or something.

OK, back to the action. The women’s P/1/2/3 race was pretty solid. The field was full of top-level talent and the race looked pretty fast. I was particularly stoked when local youngster Ruth Winder (Vanderkitten) went out for a solo attack midway through the race.

“Solo breakaways are doomed to FAILURE,” I screamed in my best heckling voice. Sure enough, she was brought back. Told ya’!

She must have sensed my smugness, because she subsequently won the race from a bunch sprint. It was a formality after the beautiful leadout from her teammates, but it was also one of the fiercest sprints I’ve seen in a while.

(Photo Credit: Tim Westmore)

Nicely done, Ruth. Go beat Beth Newell now, eh?

Immediately afterward, about 75 guys lined up for the ensuing P/1/2 event. The official told us we had to wait for the national anthem to be sung. That’s right, apparently they were planning on having someone sing the national anthem before our race, which is actually pretty cool and pseudoPRO for a local race.

However, our field was anxious to get going and so, without any kind of prompting, the entire P/1/2 field began singing the national anthem in unison. I’m serious. I’ve never seen anything like that. It didn’t totally suck, either. Does anyone have a video of that?

The official paused awkwardly, said, “OK, that was pretty cool,” and then he blew the whistle. The bike race was underway.

It’s been a really warm winter here in Northern California, and it shows. The entire P/1/2 field was racing like Cherry Pie was a mid-July NRC crit. People were destroying themselves off the front, and folks behind were mercilessly chasing them down. People were crashing their faces off for a taste of a pie they probably oughtn’t eat anyway. I dare say there’s a bit too much fitness in the NCNCA for February, but time will tell.

I did my best to go Breakaway Mode on the field, but it was not happening. Other notable breakaway folks were the likes of Phil Mooney (Jamis PRO Cycling), John Wilk (Webcor), a couple of the Full Circle guys, and some of my teammates.

After a late-race crash and a (unwise) neutralization of the race with 4 to go, the Mike’s Bikes team took to the front. I’m going to be completely honest and candid here: the first lap of their leadout was ungodly slow and it was rather dangerous. I assume they were going that slowly because they were too busy assembling for their rear-facing GoPro video op to pedal hard.

I would prefer if we all left the GoPro cameras out of the race dynamic from now on. It’s really cute that the Mike’s Bikes guys planned that — and yes, it’s obvious you planned it given the production of a YouTube video about it — but come on, it’s a bike race. Just race your bikes and look for sweet leadout photos afterwards. To be fair, no one in the field (myself included) did anything to wrestle control away from them at this point, so I guess I can’t complain too much.

After their team videoshoot shenanigans were over, the speed picked up significantly and it turned into a pretty damn decent leadout train.

If I’d had my Fred Edition Allez — and if my teammate Jared Barrilleaux hadn’t undone his quick release mid-race, rendering his bike terrifyingly useless — we would have tried to go “Leadout Mode” and help my sprinter Sam Bassetti. However, I didn’t have the bike set up yet, Jared was busy yanking his wheel out of his dropout at speed, and Sam was doing a fantastic job of surfing the back of the Mike’s Bikes train by himself. In fact, I moved up next to Sam to see if he wanted help, and he swiftly chopped me into a curb. Point taken.

I got out of the way, as did the rest of my teammates, and we let The Bassetti Hound sniff out the trail on his own. Just like that, Sam came off the right wheels and won his second consecutive race with a nice bike throw over Andy Goessling (Mike’s Bikes). Andy’s Mike’s Bikes teammates Dana Williams and James LaBerge came in behind, with Chuck Hutcheson (McGuire) rolling through for 5th. I get the feeling that Chuck is going to fill the void I left behind: the guy on a small team who is always in the mix, but consistently gets trounced by the big teams. He’s one of the fastest guys out there, and a feisty one at that, so I’m sure he’ll be just fine.

(Photo Credit: Tim Westmore)

I’d like to congratulate Sam for winning that sprint by virtue of his own instincts, with little help from his teammates, and I’d also like to say that Mike’s Bikes did a good job of controlling the front of the race in spite of coming up just a bit short. I’m not gonna lie, that kind of late-race organization should strike fear into the hearts of the local P/1/2 scene…and particularly into the hearts of late-race breakaway artists. Like me. F*&k.

But you know what? Screw breakaways. Having a teammate winning races is what really matters, so I’m happy for Sam and his ungodly, early-season sprinting ability. What an asset, that bASSETti.

See y’all this weekend in Folsom and Fremont for some flat, nearly cornerless criteriums! I’m slamming my stem as we speak in preparation for more failed breakaways!

*I am not going to explain the imagery to you, mom. Figure it out on your own.

**Just this afternoon, I was summoned to start a Max Jenkins Appreciation Day.

I’ll work on it. Stay tuned.

Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of writing about science. This is an excellent thing for my real, scientific career, of course. However, readers who have been with me for the duration of this blog’s existence will remember that the dry, concise, pristine world of scientific disclosure is what drove me to start this nonsensical, meandering, illogical, and factually iffy internet endeavor in the first place.

Writing about science is all about good form, smooth delivery, and few mistakes. Literarily speaking, it’s like taking a nice girl to a fancy restaurant, having a good glass of wine each and engaging in charming but appropriate conversation, all while listening to string quartet music. It’s something that would make a mother proud.

This blog, on the other hand, is the written equivalent of an all-night, sloppy, air-guitar on the dancefloor, greasy street-vendor sausage at 2am, wake up on a mattress in the closet of someone you don’t know, tequila-driven bender. Mothers do not approve.

Well, Mom, there’s a time and place for each. Tonight, it’s blog night.

Every year, the NCNCA collectively forgets that it ran a Hill Climb on January 1st — let’s be serious, that is not a real bike race, no matter what climbers tell you — and inaugurates the true racing season with the Cal Aggie Crit: a low-budget, family affair hosted by perennial collegiate powerhouse, the UC Davis Cycling Team.

This race is held in William Land Park in Sacramento, home of a zoo, one of my favorite crit courses of all time, and a relatively lowbrow golf course inhabited primarily by fratboys playing a game of “Dude, did you just see that? I bounced that shot off six trees and a stroller! HAW HAW HAW!” So, another zoo.

After I retrieved my race number from the multitude of cute college girls at registration — OK, let’s be honest, we all know I can’t talk to girls, so I had my teammate Sam get it for me instead — I had a cup of coffee with my parents and pinned my number to my fruit-covered spandex. Shortly thereafter, I was ready to roll around idly and scream vulgarities at the women’s race taking place directly before mine, which is the part of my pre-race routine I refer to as “warming up.”

My fellow bicyclogger Beth Newell (NOW/Novartis) was sitting on the back of the W/1/2/3 race, pretending to be cool with her National Champion stripes on her sleeves, while real bike racers like Emily Kachorek (Primal Wear), Maura Kinsella (Vanderkitten), and seemingly dozens of Stevens/Pactimo and UC Davis girls were attacking furiously and aimlessly like I prefer. I yelled at Emily — she glared. I yelled at Maura — she grimaced. I was striking out in the heckling department. Finally, I screamed “You’re racing like a little [expletive], Beth!” when the ladies passed through.

(Photo Credit: Dale Tapley)

Sure enough, the next lap she came by me, Beth was drilling it on the front with the whole field sitting idly on her wheel. I guess they don’t teach track sprinters how to “attack” in the criterium sense of the word.

Now I feel kind of guilty, because Beth ended up losing the finishing sprint — presumably, it’s because she wasted all that energy at the front trying to prove me wrong. I don’t know the exact finishing order, but I do know that Heather Lipana (Stevens/Pactimo) won convincingly over a pretty strong women’s field.

Congrats, Heather. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t beat Beth in a bike race; in fact, I chickened out when given the chance for a match sprint.

Sorry Beth, I won’t heckle quite so hard next time, and you know I have the utmost respect for you. Perhaps I should heckle more viciously? What would help you win better?

With the women’s race over, it was time for my first real race of the season, a 60 minute P/1/2/3 clusterf*&k of an affair.

I was pretty pumped up on the start line. So pumped up, in fact, that Jan Stastny (father of my teammate Chris) was overheard saying, in his thick Czech accent, “I am going to put a Valium or two into Rand’s bottles, because he is way too excited right now.”

I guess I just love bike racing, and I really enjoy the people involved. I don’t think I’m the only one — I just might be the loudest. I also caffeinate a lot.

I have to say, this race felt pretty fast. I no longer have any electronic devices on my bike: my speed sensor died several years ago, my HRM strap died shortly therafter, and finally the head unit of my Polar flickered and died in the middle of the 2011 season. Now it sits uselessly on my stem, an emblem of my former dedication to the sport, not willing to tell me how long I’ve been riding nor even what time it is. Thus, I have no metric by which to measure the 2012 Cal Aggie criterium — no “kJs,” no “watts,” no normalized bullshit whatsoever, not even an average speed.

But I can say this race felt pretty fast at the front end.

Now, not more than a few minutes ago, I called my blog “factually iffy,” but I feel as if I ought to set the record straight given that some well-read sources have been posting factually iffier things elsewhere.

For example, “Nor Cal Cycling News,” which is now curated by a fat, old man who lives in Wisconsin, made the following claim:

“In the Men’s race Sam Bassetti attacked late in the race for a solo win off the front.  It was a win stylistically approved by teammate Rand Miller who was monitoring the chase group on Bassetti’s heals (sic).”

False. I stylistically disapprove of solo victories, always. Here’s what actually happened.

My teammates (Nate Wilson, Robin Eckmann, Sam Bassetti, Jesse Moore, Chris Stastny) and I tried as hard as we could to force a breakaway — if you can imagine that. I think you can tell by the look on my face in this photograph that I was not happy with my inability to brute-force a move off the front of the anxious group behind.

(Photo Credit: Dale Tapley)

Time and time again, riders would attack with reckless abandon, only to find the field mere seconds behind. Even Max Jenkins Pro Bike Racer (who is racing for Competitive Cyclist this year, ironically making him a fred) became frustrated with the way others were racing. He was overheard saying,”Well, since I’m the only PRO in the race, I’m kind of obligated to yell at people.” Classic.

Allow me to illustrate why the breakaway contingent was so frustrated. Here is a graph plotting “Frequency of Attacks” vs. “Gap Over the Field.”

That is annoyingly flat.

Further analysis doesn’t make it any better. This time we’re plotting “How Much The Breakaway Hurt” vs. “Gap Over the Field.”

Clearly, I was confounded by the inability of a breakaway to get more than 5 seconds up on the field, but as the inimitable Susannah Breen (Stevens/Pactimo Sideline Squad) is fond of saying, “I guess you just had too many dicks on the dancefloor.” Tru dat.

And so, for pretty much the first time in my entire life, I helped force a bunch sprint to happen. Did you just read that? That’s right: Mr. F*&king Breakaway Guy purposely helped design and execute a bunch sprint. Yes, I have sold out entirely.

With a little under one lap remaining, and a late-race attack by my erstwhile Webcor teammate John Wilk and one other dangling off the front, I went to the front and drilled it, leadout style, with Staz on my wheel and our best sprinter, Sam Bassetti, on his.

Those of you who have been reading for a while can imagine what went through my mind at this point. How could it be that I — the long time Webcor rider, fond of late-race attacks against the Cal Giant behemoth — was now wearing the uniform of the enemy and chasing down my former Webcor teammate Wilk’s defiant, last lap attack?

There was a very brief moment of this:

But then I was just like, “$ $ $,” and I just got over it. Luke can keep his Jedi morals and whatnot — I kind of want a cool, shiny, black, weird-shaped helmet and a red lightsaber. Rumor has it that Emperor Guido is building a big spherical team car that blows up planets and pro teams and shit.

Anyway, there’s a video of the last two laps on YouTube, if you’re interested, but here’s the relevant screencap.

I think that’s the most fun I’ve ever had whilst cornering: at the front, going full-f*&king-gas, with no chance whatsoever of a good result for myself, safe in the knowledge that I had two of the best sprinters in the race on my wheel, and that they were both my teammates. Never mind that the next best sprinter in the race, Chuck Hutcheson (McGuire) was tagging along — if he had looked fresh enough, I would have chopped him when I pulled off.

I dropped off the Staz/Bassetti duo a little earlier than I’d hoped, a bit before the final corner on the course, just as we caught the dangling duo. Staz took over from there and delivered The Bassetti Hound to a solid victory with a clean set of wheels.

(Photo Credit: Alex Chiu)

And he’s got a pretty solid victory salute. I’m glad he won instead of Stastny, because that guy hasn’t quite gotten the victory salute thing down yet.

Don’t worry, we’ll work on that one at team camp this month, Staz.

After the race, we all headed to a team BBQ hosted by Lorry Huffman, the wonderful mom of my teammate Evan. It was pretty awesome because it involved about two different meat entrees and some Lagunitas IPA. Thanks, Lorry!

Racing season has begun, and with it comes blogging season. I’m pretty stoked about the whole gig, so I’ll see y’all at the Cherry Pie Crit this Sunday afternoon. Until then, may your mullet vectors always be horizontal!