Back to the Beginning

Normally by this time of the year I am into full swing of the racing season, however this year I have been busy with all thing educational (both teaching and learning). School got out wednesday, all my student's grades have been posted, my special education paper work has been submitted, and my student's medicaid paper work has been sent in. The Thursday night Flying Rhino race was a great way for me to blow off some steam and get the racing season underway and what a blast it was! It seemed like the whole Cadieux Bike Club was there to greet me, the "A" race 5 Cadieux riders in it and the "B" race had about 4 or 5 as well. The other local clubs also seemed to be at full strengh with great representation by the Wolverines, Team Giant, Lathrup Industries, Flying Rhinos, and MPI/Mainstreet, not mention a whole slew of independent riders. The great confluence of riders made for some fast racing. After numerous attacks and counter attacks, I decided to jump into the fray after 30 minutes of racing. I bridged up to, and then through a little group of riders who where off the front of the main field. I was pleased with my bridging effort, I hopped out of the field, quickly and cleanly, riding solo up to the breakaway. I rode past the breakaway members, and launched another dig to get me away by myself. I was soon joined by some serious hammer heads in the form of Danny Klein, Tim Sari, a Flying Rhino, a Giant racer, and latter Ray Dybowski. After about 1 1/2 laps, I was feeling the affect of my efforts and beginning to rethink my actions. After about 4-5 pulls, I knew I didn't have what was required to stay with these very fit riders, so I did the dishonorable thing and excused myself from the break. Normally in bike racing it is inexuseable to allow yourself to be dropped from a break away but in my current state of flubbiness and only a few hundred miles in the old legs, I pulled out of the break and waited for the catch. I told my team captain the situation and he grunted something intelligible and continued the chase the break I had set underway. Nothing worse than chasing a break you helped establish. We never did catch all of the break and 4 remenants of the break went on to win the race. To make up for my misdeed, I was determined to make a decent showing in the pack sprint for 5th, I followed all the right wheels and when Alan Zoltowski launched his sprint I was there to try to hold his wheel. I didn't quite hold Alan's wheel but I did maintain my position, much to the shagrin of Jim Bruce, who was trying to ride me off Zoltowski's wheel in the final turn. I pushed my elbows out to claim my spot as Bruce tried to squeeze underneath my arm on the inside of the turn. I sprinted to the finish with only the fastet sprinters coming around me. I crossed the line happy with my positioning and I am glad to be back to the beginning of what will be a long road to full fitness while everyone else is hitting it full throttle.

Some more Pictures from the 1st Waterford Race of 2010

Photos curteousy of unknown Canadian photographer

Saturday, March 27th, marked the beginning of the bike racing season for the metro Detroit area. The Flying Rhino Cycling Club once again hosted the first training race of the 2010 bike racing season. The race attendees were drawn from all over the region: Windsor, Ann Arbor, Detroit, Rochester, Macomb County and everywhere in between. There were young racers that have been honing their aerobic abilities all winter on turbo trainers and rollers, and then there was also the older guys, who all seemed as if they just awoke from long hibernations of sleeping on the couch, blurry-eyed, sleepy and disheveled, with their beards stained orange from numerous bags of Cheetos.

The bikes being ridden were equally diverse. Some bikes were of the finest Italian vintage (Wiliers and Colonagos ), a few were Belgian designed (Ridleys and Kuotas), but most were of the ubiquitous American brands (Trek, Cannondale, and Specialized). One desperate soul was even riding a classic steel frame from the late 80's, this frame was older than most of the racers present but still managed to hold together to finish the race. Some racers bikes were brand new, the owners ready to test their new machine and christen the burgeoning season with this latest spring contest.

The weather was brilliant, the sun showed promise, a pretense for summer's warmth, but the temperatures were clutched by the firm grasp of winter. The wind proved that the seasons were in transition and the brave racers became the victims of this age-old fight. The temperature hovered in the mid to upper forties but the wind berated any warmth the suns rays could promise. The riders were buffeted by the torments of spring, pushing the riders from side to side. Racers huddle behind each other as the peloton squirmed through the turns of the track. Each rider forming a wind block for those behind him, a fluid game of hide and seek from the wind, with those being caught being pushed off the back of the pace line, vanquished from the days racing. The numbers of entrants was those widdled down from 52 to closer to 30 by the races end.

The 90 minute race took its toll on those racers who entered without enough miles in their legs but many veteran racers withstood the torture of the winds and the pace of the strong stallions by a combination of skill, grit and mental fortitude that can only be gained from a deposit of seasons, withdrawn on days like Saturday. The inexperienced and meek were the first to retire, followed by the unlucky who could not find a wheel to hide behind. Still others were cast down by mechanical circumstance (a flat tire, a loose bolt or a misadjusted derailleur).

As the race ground down the racers, the energy of the young bucks was tempered by the gales that blew through the surrounding trees. The racers regrouped and a field sprint was beginning to percolate in the swarm that made up the peloton, but who would prevail? A wily master, with a pedigree of sprint palmares or a newbie, eager to satiate a desire to win. On the frantic last lap, the racers clamored for position, unyielding elbows guarded wheels, handle bars were bumped, and hands pushed rumps out of the way. Hands slid down from the hoods to the drops as water bottles were cast away. Heads slumped into more aerodynamic poses, hoping to cheat the wind of one more watt. On the final turn Nick Dwyer, opened up a gap with Paulo Eugeni firmly affixed to his rear wheel. The pair of Canadian buddies steamed toward the line, unbeknownst to the two veterans, a young interloper, Tony Wieczorek, was basking in the comfortable draft of Eugeni. At precisely the right moment, the fresh lad sprung, hurtling towards the line he rose to the front of field, slingshotting past the former winner of the Eerie street race. The wind in his face, Wieczorek maintained his speed and crossed the finish line. And like that the race was over, young bucks (1), old guys (0).

The 2010 season has started, polish up the chamois and remount those saddles boys its time log some race miles, yeha!!