Author

Luke Seemann on May 27, 2006

Race name: Wapello-Burlington Road Race and Snake Alley Criterium Race date: Saturday, May 27, 2006

Wapello-Burlington Road Race

I have a rule about bike racing: All races are fun, no matter how well I do. Even if I crash or get dropped, it's bike racing, and bike racing is fun. Ergo, every race is fun.

My rule took a holiday Friday with my first race that wasn't fun at all.

It's a flat 31-mile course from Wapello, Iowa, to Burlington, a point-to-point course that caused no end of logistical headaches for out-of-towners like the large xXx contingent: me, Bob Willems, Tammie, Carlos, Sean, Jeff Wat, Ken and Terry.

The 110-strong field stuck together the entire course, even the dude wearing the Camel Bak. A tailwind kept us going between 24 and 30 mph. It was the 24 mph that was the killer, because it sent a ripple of "Slowing! Slowing!" through the pack. The air was thick with the smell of burning brake pads.

I never got closer to the front than the 10th or so row. It was too darn congested to do anything. As soon as you moved up a few slots up the side, the middle would surge forward. As soon as you moved up a few slots up the middle, the sides would surge. And then we would slow. It was incredibly frustrating. If I could have gotten to the top I would have happily hammered it just to string this out, but there was no room.

The first crash happened with five miles to go. I don't know what caused it, but I was surprised by how calmly the pack glided around it, perhaps because we could anticipate it from 20 miles back. Crashing was so obviously inevitable.

The pace picked up a bit with 2 miles to go. With 1 mile to go, I swerved to avoid a chunk of asphalt the size of a shoe. Unfortunately, Terry wasn't so lucky and hit it square on. He went over his bike and slammed into a rock face. It sounded like a gunshot. Miraculously he walked away from it with only a bump to the head and a stapled-shut wound on his elbow. Not only would he race another day, but he'd race the next day with Snake Alley.

With half a mile to go we were dumped into Burlington with a straight descent to the finish line. Finally the course spread out. I was able to make steady advancement, hopping from train to train. I topped out at 41 mph, which I think is my PR for a sprint. Then even more crashing. All around me were the sounds of violence being done to bikes and bodies. It was too much. It sucked away my will to race. I had plenty of gas to crank up my sprint even more, but I no longer cared. I just wanted this to be done with.

This was no race. This was no test of endurance or strength or tactics or handling. This was merely a gumball machine, with victory going to whomever got spit out first. (Which doesn't mean success wasn't possible or well-earned. Ken and Jeff both put in smart, hard efforts and unlike me didn't wither at the sound of crushed carbon fiber. They came in 15th and 16th, respectively.)

I think I may have ended up in the top 15, but I didn't bother to contest the results. Instead I rolled around to make sure we were all accounted for and doubled back to look for Terry. Somewhere along the way I crossed the finish line a second time, so my official result is 76th. Whatever.

I've never worked less in a race. QED, I'm never doing this one again. I hate to badmouth any bike event, but I honestly can't recommend it to anyone. It's dangerous and unfun. On the other hand, it's great press for us. For the second year in a row, a crashed xXxer got his picture in the local newspaper. Last year it was Julian. This year it was Carlos looking up from the pavement in the homestretch, his bike still bouncing up and down behind him.

Snake Alley

And then the Snake!

Snake alley is perhaps the most notorious criterium course in the United States. Its main feature is an incredibly steep, brick switchback. The rest is no picnic either, with a climb that softens you before the Snake and then technical descents to get you back around again.

Even pros throw in the towel. In the morning, I saw several juniors fall over trying to ascend. They'd get halfway to the top and then their eyes would roll back and they'd lean over and fall to the grass. It reminded me of the scene in "Empire Strikes Back" when Luke's ton-ton collapses beneath him on the frozen planet of Hoth.

Eric Goodwin was a big fan of the Snake and left some great advice for us in the forum, and Andy Daley gave us a graduate-level seminar when we saw him Friday night. Most important, Bob and I had won the "race before the race": By registering early, we both were entitled to start in the first two rows of the field. Getting to the Snake first is crucial. If you get bogged down behind slower riders or crashes, you're done for.

Bob and I both did fine sprinting to the Snake, but he got tied up behind a crash. I, however, was able to hump it up in good standing and didn't feel too shabby. The field was already spread out over several blocks, which was a blessing because I did not want to be descending in company.

And then I had to do it 11 more times. Each time to the top I wanted to throw up. It topped 90 degrees and even though I'd been hydrating all day, I was overheating. I briefly wondered where the safest point would be to vomit -- the start/finish area sounded good -- and whether I could do it on the go and be able to find water to rinse my mouth out. Luckily, lunch stayed where it belonged.

Beyond the Snake, it's important to have a routine for getting around the course. Your brain is too fried to think of anything -- on the last lap, the rider in front of me lost concentration and took a turn too wide, crashing into hay bales at 30 mph; I myself bounced a pedal on a turn but managed to stay up -- so you need to eliminate the need to think. Instead, just remember the cues. Shift here, swing wide here, tuck here, drink here.

I learned that a good aero tuck was important on the descents. I got just as fast as if I were putting effort into pedaling, but it gave me important time to recover.

I took each climb in my 39x25. I'd sit and spin up the preliminary climb, then stand all the way up the Snake. Seated may have been more efficient, but I didn't feel I had enough maneuverability that way, and it was important to be able to dodge other riders and sketchy parts of the brick.

Gradually I picked people off. During one climb I actually snarled "Get out of my way!" at a rider who was losing the fight against gravity.

This was a good lesson in what Randy calls "staying within yourself." There was only a short stretch where drafting would have been beneficial, so I didn't kill myself trying to bridge forward. Instead I stayed within my means and let the people ahead of me crack first. Often I'd be able to suck someone's wheel in the flat headwind section, and then as they started to quiver in the homestretch I'd attack around them and ruthlessly leave them behind. (Once I did this just as the announcer was saying, "Look at these two riders working together!")

Thank goodness for all the great spectators on the Snake. I could see nothing but brick in my field of vision, but I could mark my progress based on who I was hearing cheer me on. clif Bar guys at the bottom, Alvarado in the middle, Gigi near the top. As soon as I could hear Phil near the top I knew I was almost home.

Matt O'Keefe was also there and tossed some much-needed water on me at the top. Just as important as water was information. Around Lap 6 these people told me I was somewhere around the top 15. Had I not known this, I very easily could have given up. I've broken ribs in races and not given up, but this was too much.

Then another saving grace: The leader lapped me on Lap 10. This meant I had only 1 to go. I pushed it as best I could on the descent to pick off one last rider and came very close to picking off a second, but my throw came a half-second too late.

I crossed the finish line in 13th and wanted to die. I found an unattended bottle of water at Turn 1 and helped myself, then crashed to the ground.

I've never suffered so much in a race. QED, I can't wait to do it again next year.