Wet, Stanky #quadcitiescrit Lazy Eyed Llama

Sitting in the front seat of the Toyota Sequoia on I-74 somewhere east of Moline, IL the process of collecting thoughts from a weekend of racing begins. These trips always bring new revelations to light, but none as poignant, or is that pungent (?) as how bad Sue the Llama smells after three days in non-stop rain.

After two days of continual rain, lightning, thunder, and wet socks the inside of Sue the Llama smells exactly how you would suspect a wet llama to smell. As first you can't really place that smell when you step inside, but after a few minutes you start to place the smells - wet socks stuck to the floor, damp wooden floor boards combined with wet food and coffee spills, and to top it all off, the smell of gasoline from refueling the generator to keep the lights and coffee pot going during the cold, damp days. Stepping in you aren't sure if you should clean it up or turn around and hurl out the door.

Why do we do this? Why do we continue to trudge around the race course with spares wheels in hand and sopping wet socks squishing heavily inside even wetter sneakers?

In the heat of the moment it is easy to miss the scores of other adults running around sporting a similar three day growth on their chin, mom's standing in the crosshairs at Quad Cities taking pictures of their young juniors carving a corner, and the dozens of kids asking what tire pressure they should run. If you don't take a moment to step back and watch exactly what is occurring around you the moment will be lost.

In the heat of the moment of cheering for Ian, Spencer, Gavin, Mackenzie, Rachel, Katherine, and the scores of other Red Zone and Lionheart racers from our region you will miss that IS Corp had scores of youth at these races - too many to count. You would miss that of the eight lead riders in the Juniors 15-18 at Snake Alley, seven of them were highly ranked CX juniors. You would miss the top six of the combined 15-18 group each day included two juniors that aren't old enough to get their driver's license.

Most of all you would miss the spirit of why these races are important. From juniors meeting the other members of their Rimouski international team to 10 year olds playing with sticks in puddles of water, you would miss seeing long distance cycling relationships blossoming. Cycling for kids is still a very rare choice, rare enough that the support network for the kids is often several states away. 

Snake Alley weekend is more than cycling, it serves a higher purpose. Bringing kids together, motivating kids to reach higher, and providing a support network wider than just mom and dad. Results you won't read about on the USA Cycling website.

#snakealley Slip'N'Slide

Every road racer knows how to check the weather report. Admit it, 99% of those signing up for a race at the very last minute are watching the weather report as the final decision points for the go/no-go. When the pre-race registration closed earlier this week the weather report looked pretty decent. Cooler temperatures with partly cloudy skies seemed pretty typical for Mermorial Day weekend.

Fast forward to the morning of the race - that weather report not only looked worse, I at first thought I was headed to a cross race. Mid-50s and almost constant rain in the forecast and I was ready to put on my mudders and claim my stand in the pits for bike swaps. I didn't have to muck to the pits, but I did have to think about tire pressure - something you rarely expect in crits. With the cobbles up the snake tire pressure had some impact - if you slipped, you walked. Suddenly I wasn't 'over-prepared' by bringing my battery powered CX pump with super-accurate gauge.

Snake Alley is one of the larger junior races in the Midwest, if not the country. Spencer, Kenz, and Nickzilla all met kids from other parts of the country last year. The boys 15-18 field in particular is a large and very competitive race - with over 50 kids registered to race. The kids have a huge interest in doing well. Having the skies open up prior to the race put some of them at ease - with a good CX background your mindset doesn't shift when a little rain comes to the game.

The focus of the race is on the snake, and the steep, cobbled turns. While many kids would slip, fall, and walk the snake, the descent was far more important. Traditional road hazards play havoc on this day - manhole covers, road paint, potholes filled with water. These traditional hazards could send someone sliding down the descent on the seat of their pants at speeds that impact recovery time.

Names familiar to the OVCX cyclocross scene dotted the front of the Juniors 15-18. The race selected 8 racers at the top of the field, 3 of those were 15-16s and those there were Haley, McShane, Petrov. Not only are our local juniors kicking our adult butts in OVCX, they are kicking butts at big events in the road scene.

#Juniors Tour De Lazy Eyed Llama Travel Day

Nothing warms the heart and cements the value of cycling in a teenager more than missing a day of school to race. Over the last few years I have certainly pushed my wonderful wife to the brink several times with the question, "Sure.  They can miss a few days of school.  Right?"

Teenager's have very few reservations about missing a day of school - but sitting in a car for 8 hours may push those limits. How do you make the car fun while driving through the flat, barren prairies of western Illinois and the rolling farmland that borders the Mississippi River in Iowa? You don't.

Old guys like myself remember traversing western Indiana into Illinois to visit relatives near Peoria, IL. If you have ever driven Interstate 74 you would swear there are no turns and that you can see the Rocky Mountains off in the distance. A couple of us have the experience of driving across Nebraska, so Iowa seems like driving the strip in Vegas by comparison, but the kids get the luxury of flying long distances while the dad's share a bed in the back of an SUV.

As you read this blog post on your iThing with your head down at the dinner table avoiding your vegetables, the realization should come to you that iThings are what make this all bearable - for both the teen and the parent. As long as 3G is strong enough the teen won't know what country they are in and couldn't care less if they are in Indiana, Illinois, or Iowa. They all start with "I" and look the same through the car window. Of course I am writing this blog entry on an iPad with cell service while sitting the passenger seat of a Toyota Sequoia midway through Illinois.

Signs that you travel with another family too often include not being able to remember which road trip you saw something peculiar. Several times someone would say "remember last year when we saw [insert silly memory]" which would quickly be rebutted with "no, that was on that other trip". We are going to have to start documeting these encounters better. Maybe in a blog or something.

Travel days do give you time to consider things you hadn't really thought about previously. We found ourselves wondering about our lazy eyed llama - did she have a name? We affectionately called her "llama", but that doesn't seem real personal. We decided that from now on we would call her Sue. Seems appropriate, though we aren't quite sure why.

Mission Control at #USACrits Hyde Park Blast

CAVEMAN AT CAPE CANAVERAL

I’m under a tent, under the Hyde Park Blast podium scaffolding in front of a bank of switches and red LCD clocks.  As an audio producer at a local radio station, I’m accustomed to banks of effects knobs and volume sliders.  Despite my alleged experience and University of Wisconsin degree in Buttonpushingology, I still feel like a caveman at Cape Canaveral mission control. 

The guy in charge of the lap timing at the Hyde Park Blast USA Crit Series Race stepped out for a soda, and asked me to man the controls.  His judgment has obviously been compromised by being inside this prison hot box all day.  Like every year at the Hyde Park Blast, It’s 90 degrees outside and 120 in the timing tent.  I remind myself, “Hit the red button when the leader comes through to reset the timer.  Hit the other red button as the pack rolls through.”  Race fans think the clock is run electronically with a bike sensor embedded in the start finish line.  Despite available technology, races are run by people at the root, in my case, a hot monkey in a tent with a 5 foot roof. 

The Timer Peers Between Podium Scaffolding Banners

Cowbells and cheers erupt.  I can see the rider from Patent It approach the start/finish line through the 3 inch slit in the tenting.  It’s like watching a pro bike race through a submarine periscope.  I hit the button, the lap clock starts.  Now 15 seconds later the pack storms down Erie Avenue into Hyde Park Square.  I hit the other button.  The split clock pauses at 00:15.04 while the lap clock continues.  “He’s got 15 seconds,” I hear someone shout.  Mission complete, and about one minute and 40 seconds till my next lap.

3 MATCHES SHORT OF A FULL BOX

Solo Breakaway Burning A Big Match

Just behind the timing tent is the pit.  I’m holding a rear wheel in my right hand.  The rules seem a bit loose, especially to the guy in the Hawaiian shirt nearby as he watches a rider stop in the pit and get a butt-push out.  It doesn’t seem fair.  He taps on my shoulder and asks, “Why do they get to stop?  Why do they get to skip a lap?”  I explain. 

At the official’s discretion, riders suffering a mechanical problem are allowed a chance to get back into the race.  At the Hyde Park Blast, with a lot of riders a U-turn choke point, again at an official’s discretion, riders who got tailed off the pace early in the race due to a poor starting position are sometimes granted a second chance.  I get a nod and an eyebrow.  Stopping in the pit isn’t an advantage.  Riders refer to every hard effort as burning a match.  When you move up in the bunch, sprint or try to get away from the peloton, you burn a match.  Once the box is empty, the fire goes out.  You’re done. 

A rider with a flat rolls in.  The official nods.  As the rider lifts the rear of his bike, my mechanic friend undoes the quick release and removes the flat wheel.  I whip the fresh one into the bikes drop-outs, finesse the cassette into the chain and close the quick release skewer.  With a hand on the rider’s lower back, my buddy escorts him to the pit exit lane.  The pack rounds the corner.  The official nods and the rider gets a turbo boost push back into the race.  I turn to Hawaiian Shirt Guy and pick up the conversation. 

Remember that match burning, I ask.  The stress of getting a flat at 28mph is burning a match.  Coming into the pit and hoping you get a good wheel change is burning a match.  Getting your bike back up to 28 miles an hour is burning a match.  That guy is 3 short of a full box now.   10 laps later the same rider makes the slice of the throat gesture to the official and exits the course, all burnt up.

Racing Snake Alley

Looking at all the pictures and listening to all the lore, Snake Alley's focus is on the fabled climb of the crookedest street. The climb certainly doesn't disappoint and watching racers through the day it certainly is a difference maker.

We saw more than one instance of racers getting cut off in corners, falling over and being forced to walk the uphill cobbles in road cleats. There were several instances of racers being weighted too far onto their front wheel, slipping the rear tire, losing all momentum and pretending to have Turrets Syndrome for a few moments. All caught by someone on camera to live in infamy on the internets over the next few days. If you kept track of riders you could also track guys that nailed the start, were first up the hill, and then got lapped about 4 laps later.

One of the unseen parts of the race, everyone is up on the hill to watch, is the cyclocross start. The first time through Snake Alley is less than 1/10th of a mile from the start with a 90 degree corner along the way. In crits you always want to be toward the front, but in this crit you HAVE to be up front immediately.

Having just completed Ault Park this past week you get a false sensation of what starts are like - no one seems to ever be in a hurry to get moving right away. At Snake Alley guys are sprinting off the line to get to the hill in the front ten as if they were OJ Simpson trying to get through an airport.

The climb is the evident focus of the crit, but as they say what goes up must come down. If you step back and think through the logic and do some calculations you realize half the course is about having the kajones to descend through four corners of a crit at break neck speed.

After climbing up a 21% grade, bringing your heart to near explosion, you have to take a right turn, stare down an 8%-10% grade, turn right, descend more, turn left, descend more, turn right, carry all your speed and turn right again. Doing this alone might be fun and interesting. You could Strava your downhill speed and brag to your neighbor. But here you have to do it with all your freshly minted racing friends, whom you have never raced with, surrounding you.

The climb at Snake Alley gets all the attention, but the descent is underrated.