Training with Power

The powertap has been in use for about a month now. At first I hated the thing. It was expensive; doesn't fit on my cross bike; shouldn't be used in the rain.

Then I really hated it when I noticed that according to the powertap, I had the power of an untrained cyclist.

The thing with the powertap is that it is absolutely relentless with it's honesty. It is the Simon Cowell of bike computers. The speedometer says "wow, you went fast, 38 miles in 2 hours, that's an average of 19 miles per hour, with traffic that's pretty good." The heart rate monitor says "wow, you kept your average heart rate above 140, with all of the stopping at intersections that's a good aerobic workout".

On the other hand the powertap says "You averaged 175 watts. You are a fucking pussy. Small undernourished children in 3rd world countries put out that kind of wattage when they haven't ate anything but a package of peanut butter crackers in the past 3 weeks. Fabian Cancellera puts power out like that while pissing off the bike. Steevo puts out that kind of power while making videos about bike racing at home."

Then you start to figure the thing out. You figure out that the hill that you thought was a good workout, really isn't a good workout unless you attack the shit out of that mother. That Dirty Dozen hills might be hard, but you actually can go easy up them, and if your eyeballs aren't ready to pop out of your skull, you are going easy, no matter how many fat men you beat up the hills.

You find out that going for an easy "endurance" ride, isn't really supposed to be that easy. That you are probably spending more time in the fabled no-mans land of so-called junk miles.

Then there is the strange ritual that powertap/srm/whatever-overpriced-gadget users go through about once a month. Instead of just going out for a ride, or doing a "workout" with intervals and such, they perform "testing". As if racing isn't enough of a test.

Supposedly, Testing is where you truly find out what you are made of. Or, if you are in my boat, you find out that you apparently have no idea how to sprint, nor how to really race a bike because your numbers say you are ridiculously strong even after putting in countless hours of junk miles.

So what do my numbers say...after testing, and comparison to some silly charts found in books, I have the 5 second sprint of a cat-5, a 1 minute sprint of a fast cat-4 (which is code for a cat-5 who has done enough races to break the expensive carbon fiber wunderbike they used to have), but the 5 minute power of a cat-1 and the threshold power of a fast cat-2/slow cat-1. Then you go ride a century, put a half hearted sprint in for a town sign, and turn in a new 5-second record that puts you up in the cat-3 range.

Put simply the numbers still say "you suck", just in a different, more intimate way. They really say I don't know how to turn myself inside out, dig deep, enter the "pain cave", to go beyond the rivet. Put simply, to compete. Last weekend at the cross race Steevo yelled out "pain cave" as Jake and I passed by him on the sidelines, and I was thinking "I'm just sitting in man, then I'm gonna outsprint him", then I crashed. Maybe this weekend will be different.

Mud

It gets over everything. It seeps into any opening in on the bike. It soaks through your clothes. If you wear waterproof clothes, it only becomes trapped inside the waterproof membranes instead of staying on the outside.

If you're a pure roadie, you never really have to deal with it.

If you're a mountain biker, you can avoid it.

If you race cross, you live in it, and you better love it.

Racing in the mud is a completely different experience. The dry dirt crits favor those racers with a lot of fast twitch fibers who can power out of every corner quickly. The mud favors those racers who are ultra smooth, who can rail through a corner without even tapping the brakes, and who float above the bike as though it's not there.

I love racing in the mud. I used to hate it. Continually slipping off the bike, trying to clip back in, running up hills, sliding sideways back down them was just so frustrating. Until I realized that everyone else is doing the same. And really when it comes down to it, we're just racing bikes.

Power

While a power meter is certainly an important tool for a professional cyclist, the bulk of them are of course sold to amateurs who misinterpret their amateur status and poor results as signs that they need to spend a huge amount of money on a power meter when in fact their amateur status and poor results are actually the very reasons they don't need a power meter. If you're an amateur, buying a power meter to train is like hiring an accountant to tell you how broke you are or like buying an iPhone just to check your Cannondale stock. Yet amateurs not only buy power meters, but they think $1,000 for a power meter is actually cheap. Clearly then, I will make a fortune when I introduce my own power meter at next year's Interbike, since it will be the cheapest and most accurate one ever. Yes, for $5 you'll get an LCD display which constantly flashes the message, "You suck."

Those kind words are from the BikeSnob. I just bought a powertap. I still have to figure out what kind of rim to build it with.

Cross is here

Cross season is kicking off all over. Most people are a few weeks deep into the season. At least a few races. Most people do a local race first. Or maybe a race in a series with maybe 30 or 40 racers per field. For me, racing started last weekend, by jumping right into the deep end of the Mid-Atlantic Cyclocross series.

I had no idea what to expect, but thought I'd be able to do well based on how I've been doing at cross practices both in Pittsburgh, and one in NYC. Saturday was the smaller of two races, with Nittany Lion Cross. Sixty Seven entrants were part of the Men's 2/3/4 field. I definitely didn't bring the A-game. Started horribly, and never really got into the race. Finished up right in the mid point, 30th out of 67. One minute 30 separated me from 20th.



These races aren't like smaller races. In a field of 40, you can move up if you're aggressive. If there is a small wreck or gap that opens, you can usually jump across to another group. Here it is more like a road race. If a gap opens, you've gotta close that thing down, or else you're going to be left in a no-mans land with no room to move up. Brett Rothmeyer had a good start, probably near 5th, definitely top-10. The entire race we were about the same distance apart. Until he wrecked and I thought I was catching him.



Sunday was an entirely different story, but before the race, while warming up, there was the coolest thing I've ever seen while racing. A little girl, maybe 8 years old, racing cross on a bicycle that was almost as big as she was. The barriers on the planter box were almost as tall as her. She was crawling up on the box, then pulling the bike up over it. Behind her were probably 50 guys warming up. And here was this girl, racing for 40-minutes plus a lap.




ONE HUNDRED TWENTY FIVE guys showed for the men's 2/3/4 race. Brett beat me the day before. So did this guy Sam from Danny's Cycles in Mount Vernon, NY. I was totally gunning for both of them, but Brett in particular. Blood was in the water, and I was on it. From the pavement start line I was on. A good start and I kept moving up while the red was on the line. More than any other cycling discipline, Cross is about pushing yourself as hard as you can for as long as you can, and I was dead set on doing just that.

The Charm City Cross course is everything you think of when you think of a cross course. You've got a planter box that has barriers maybe 30 inches tall with a 180 bend, followed by a little kicker hill into 180-degree barrier turn.



On the first lap, in between the planter and the barriers, Brett passed me. My legs felt spent for the moment. And I didn't close the gap down. A little wreck occurred, but didn't really slow me down. A little later, a killer sand pit puts you into the red after running through it. It's rideable, if no one else is slowing you down in front and you've got the skills. I rode it the last two laps.



In addition to that you've got off camber sections that have your tires begging for more traction, screaming downhill chicanes with just enough room to sneak by someone, and many kicker uphills to power past people. Finally, the finish is awesomely fast on the pavement setting up sprint battles to the line. My race was awesome. I was on the limit, but had enough to attack here and there. I was really getting into the rhythm by the end of the race. In the end, Brett stayed away, and kept moving a little farther up the road each lap. He finished 20th, to my 35th. With the front row call up, recent cat-2 upgrade Mayhew raced a super smooth race to finish 3rd, and then donned an appropriately tagged t-shirt to announce the race.

I have a bone to pick with photographers at races. After having been away for the past week and a half, my camera battery was dead. The images from Cycling Captured are decent. There's a mix of single racer images, and some that capture the race. The images from MLKimages are all vanity shots of one racer. These are the type of pictures that are taken at most races. Portraits with a single racer in the view. I guess these photographs sell. While so few photographers take pictures that actually capture the essence of the race. Charm City was an awesome venue for that. You've got places where you could capture the sand churning and flying as 100+ guys come running through it. Other places where multiple people are hurdling the barriers at once. Crashes galore. And many images of pain filled faces passing faces filled with even more pain. My camera is going to be totally charged for future races.

Cross just started. My fitness and strength are on an upward bound curve. I'm looking forward to local races for the next few weeks, and the second big MAC weekend in October at Granogue and Wissahickon.

Upgrades

At the start of the season I set upgrading to cat-3 on the road as one of my goals.

Last night I found out about an upgrade criteria of simply finishing in the top-10 in 10 mass start races. This is something I've done. Although most of those finishes have been 7th, 8th, 9th, and one or two 10th place finishes. Other than that I have two 3rd place finishes in crits, and a 5th place in a road race.

I thought about this, and I'm against it. Other people have previously written many of the reasons why.

Beyond this, if I upgrade I never get to really race. I didn't spend this year winning road races. I spent it finishing with the pack. I also still don't think I have the hang of it as far as tactically outmaneuvering my opponents.

Sure there are some people who have a pretty good handle on road racing, but are lacking the sprint to really go for it.

I, on the other hand, would upgrade to cat-3, and then end up sitting-in for 1/2/3 races and would spend the next year trying to perfect a lack luster sprint against guys who have a phenomenal sprint.

I won't upgrade to cat-3 based upon this rule, and I expect everyone who knows me to not let me upgrade to cat-3 until I'm really winning races.

Until then I'm chasing the cat-2 and cat-1 cross upgrades.

The Hammer

No matter where you go, what the intentions of the ride were, or who you ride with; there is always at least one person who becomes the hammer. This person always has to race. They always want to push it to the limit.

I've been mostly riding with myself lately. Sometimes I'll invite someone along that I know is faster than me or just about as fast whenever I need some extra initiative to push the interval just that much harder.

I've also been traveling way more than is usual. This weekend was my first back, and I had an email early in the week about a 60-mile "easy" ride. The email warned that it wasn't a training ride, and that no one was to put the hammer down. Sounded like just the right thing for me to spin my legs out and get back in the swing of riding.

I brought ONE water bottle, ONE clif bar, and THREE dollars. Figuring 60-miles is easy: a.) why do I need more water than that. b.) I definitely don't need any food. And c.) we can stop for some sugary drinks. I also didn't eat my normal breakfast, and stayed out at a party til 2am the night before.

The pace started chill, and there was a good mix of racers, cycling entusiasts, and a couple of casual riders. I could handle this for 60-miles easily.

But Lo and Behold the hammer had shown up. In fact two had shown up. After about 5 miles, they went to the front and proceeded to drop anyone but the racers. This was annoying, and I wasn't about waiting up for the casual folks everytime. Plus this was supposed to be a chill group ride. So I stayed back with them and let the hammers fight it out.

The funny part is that I'm familiar with these two. They show up to a few of the faster paced rides and always leave after about an hour.

Mile 40: I'm annoyed by the hammers, and proceed to up the pace a bit up a hill. I'm rewarded by Doug Reigner grabbing my jersey as I really begin to pull away. The true reward awaited, one of the most awesome flowy road downhills around. We wait for a good 5 minutes for the hammers. My plan didn't have the desired effect, and they continue to push it.

Fast forward to mile 45 and the casual riders call for a ride home. Smart plan. After this the pace is upped. We've just stopped for food, so I'm thinking we're good, although I'm a little tired.

Mile 55: the hammers turn off, missing the epic-ness that awaits.

Mile 57: A bridge has been removed, leaving us to cross an unstable ladder in clickity clack shoes.

Mile 57.5: The skys open up and drop the Atlantic ocean on us.

We proceed to watch a truck, then an SUV barrel down the road at 50mph+ around the bend at the removed bridge. Apparently the Road Closed signs don't apply to them. Sadly, catastrophe is narrowly avoided.

Mile 60: We are still in Washington County. Far from home. I begin regretting my decision to not bring a second bottle, or eat breakfast, and to drink the night before.

Mile 70: We crest a hill. My legs are cramping. My hamstrings on one leg seize. Simultaneously, my quads on the other leg seize. I'm stuck attached to my bike, unable to pedal and I'm emitting the death moan. I somehow drift to the edge of the road and fall into a yard, still attached to the bike. The lady that owns the yard was super nice and gave us water, even after we made fun of her Philly Eagles paraphernalia.

Mile 80: We have to hop a guardrail and make non-rideable crossing number 2 for the day. I unclip, and my legs seize again. Next to the guardrail on a skinny one-lane, busy highway. 2 minutes and 30 cars later I'm able to cross the guard rail.

Mile 90: I make it home from my "easy" 60 mile ride, after drinking only 2 bottles, having consumed 2 clif bars all day, and having slept less than 5 hours.

No one who finished was a hammer. Another funny thing was the cool enthusiast guys who kept saying they were sorry for holding us up, and the one asked for his phone back from my plastic bag "in case he couldn't keep up". Meanwhile I was just laying in yard 30 seconds before that.

training, travel, and the tragedy of a self-centered post

The super serious training has been coming along well. Last weekend I took an easy long day and was shown the Rachel Carson trail by Brad at Urban Velo w/ Scott of Bike PGH and Eric Lundgren of Iron City Bikes. Those trails are an awesome way to link North Park and Hartwood Acres.

This past weekend, and this week have been the first time this summer that I've actually been seriously sore after workouts. Like barely able to walk up stairs sore. Kinda crazy, hopefully I start to see it pay off.

My 10 mile TT time dropped 15 seconds, although I could have gone even faster this last time, but miscalculated my time by a minute.

My role at work has been changing a little lately though, and it looks like I'll be traveling a lot more. Some of that will be by car, so taking a bike will be easy. Some will be by plane, making bike travel tough. I was planning on a new road bike for the next year, but all of this travel has me contemplating a bike that can travel well.


Maybe a Ritchey Breakaway bike


or maybe something with S&S couplers.

The thing is, is it worth it to spend a lot on a bike with S&S couplers if you are typically traveling for an entire week every 2 months?



On the IndyFab forums it seems the people with their S&S coupler bikes actually ride them all the time, instead of just as travel bikes.