ABD Multisport had a couple impressive performances at this weekends
8th Annual Tinley Park Duathlon.
In the individual Age Group competion, Scott Pahl took 1st place in
the 50-54 Age Group competion. He seems to be in pretty good early
season running shape, comming off a recent good Half-Marathon. Scott
also placed 15th overall....in a field of over 500 competitors.
Good Job Scott!
In the Male Team competition Rob Jungels & I (Bob Marshall), secured
2nd place. Having to start in the 4th wave....9 minutes after after
1st wave start, made for a lot of wieving-in-and-out for the both of
us, especially Rob's bike leg, which could have been,just plain dangerous.
I got off to a slowish, sub-par 1st run leg...2 miles in 12:53, held
back too way too much....about 25-30 seconds slower than anticipated.
I guess 3 runs per week just doesn't cut it!
Rob's bike leg, however was the talk of the day. His bike split was
24:48, which not only was the fastest bike split of the day, but also
beat Scott Pearson's "All-Time" previous Course Record of 25:13 in
2006. That's an outstanding 26.6 mph average, not to mention the
extra distance he did, having to wieve, in-and-out of quite a few people.
Rob stayed calm & focused, just like he always does when "Time Trailing".
Wow, Rob...."You-The-Man"!
Finally, the transition to second run was good, and my second run
12:49...however, the 1st place Male Team runner, just plain ran me
down...ran a very fast 2nd run...I think 11:08. We did however, seem
to put over two minutes on
the 3rd place Male Team.
All for now,
Bob Marshall
6/23/2008
6/22/2008
Carter and the ABD/GEARGRINDER Team take back to back wins in Wisconsin
Josh Carter sprinted to back-to-back victories at this weekend's Grafton
and Sheboygan Criteriums, besting strong Midwest fields with the help of
his teammates.
and Sheboygan Criteriums, besting strong Midwest fields with the help of
his teammates.
Both races were fast and aggressive, but the team shared the workload
amongst themselves, with Rob White, Ryan White, and Jeff Schroetlin all
taking turns covering and initiating moves in Saturday night's event.
Professional rider Garrett Peltonen took a flyer with three to go and
almost everyone thought he'd created enough real estate between himself
and the field to hold on for the win. However, strong pulls from
Schroetlin and Texas Roadhouse's Adam Bergman reeled him in just enough
that Carter was able to jump with 400 meters to go and catch him by the
line, the only rider from the field to pass him.
In Sunday's race the team gained the strength of John Meyers, who drove
straight to Sheboygan after finishing the five-stage Tour of Ohio. Again
the riders all took turns making moves throughout the day, but when it
was all together with two laps to go the team massed at the front to
string it out for Carter. He again took the sprint from a long way out,
which bodes well for the team as they make their final preparations for
Superweek.
This weekend's races also marked the "call-up" for ABD Cat. 2 rider Andy
Skeen, who donned the ABD/GEARGRINDER kit and did an admirable job of
helping his teammates move around in the field and be in a position
where they were always ready for the attack.
More Masters Weekend and Winfield Criterium Pics
Thanks to the John Wrycza, Donovan Davis and George Barthel for taking some great photos of our events earlier this month! Click through to their galleries below:
George Barthel's Picassa album of the Batavia Criterium:
http://picasaweb.google.com/geobarthel/BataviaCrit2008
John Wrycza's Picassa album of the Winfield Twilight Criterium Men's 2/3 and Women's events:
http://picasaweb.google.com/john.wrycza/WinfieldTwilightCriteriumMenCat23
http://picasaweb.google.com/john.wrycza/WinfieldTwilightCriteriumWomen
Donovan Davis's picture from the ABR National Criterium Championship:
http://www.actionpicsinc.printroom.com/
George Barthel's Picassa album of the Batavia Criterium:
http://picasaweb.google.com/geobarthel/BataviaCrit2008
John Wrycza's Picassa album of the Winfield Twilight Criterium Men's 2/3 and Women's events:
http://picasaweb.google.com/john.wrycza/WinfieldTwilightCriteriumMenCat23
http://picasaweb.google.com/john.wrycza/WinfieldTwilightCriteriumWomen
Donovan Davis's picture from the ABR National Criterium Championship:
http://www.actionpicsinc.printroom.com/
6/19/2008
Prinner Report: Wisconsin RR and Carrol County
Hello ABD,
The race options for the weekend of the 7^th were indeed quite sparse, so I settled on the Wisconsin State Championship RR seeing as though it was the only race that was remotely close. If I could have foreseen the tragic outcome of this race, though, I would have definitely not gone at all.
The entirety of the women's cat. 1,2,3 race was 39 miles; six laps, each totaling 6.5 miles each, with a long and severely steep climb to the finish line. On arrival, I had expected to complete the entire six laps, but little did I know that I would end up doing only about 1.5 laps total, roughly adding up to a whopping 10 miles.
As I stood at the staging area of the course with the other 15 or so ladies, the USCF official clearly explained to us the rules and guidelines for our race. And just as she asked, "So, are there any questions?" a very loud crack of lightening light the sky, and one lady immediately inquired, "What do we do if it starts to thunderstorm?". The USCF official replied that they would stop the race at the start/finish line if deemed necessary. And, of course, being the teenager I am, I scoffed at such a thought, because I happened to know that USCF wouldn't stop a race even if a tornado came down and chucked the entire women's field off to the land of Oz. They'd just put a lap counter on the yellow brick road and tell us to keep racing.
So the race started out quite fine with a neutral start to the line, and the race commenced as soon as we topped the hill. The field pretty much stayed together for the first lap and as we began our second lap it started to rain on us. Normally I don't mind rain at all whether it be on a ride or in a race, but I soon started to question my indifference as the rain quickly turned to fast, pelting drops, with qualities similar to that of hail. And not only that, but by that time lightening was crashing across the sky, officially making it a thunderstorm. Nonetheless the women continued racing seemingly unbothered by the abhorrent wind and rain, that is, until a colossal bolt of lightening crashed not farther than a mile away followed by a tremendous boom of thunder that literally shook the peloton. And in perfect unison we all synchronically slammed on our brakes and came to a screeching halt, refusing to race a second longer under the "conditions". The pacecar, not knowing that t he women had quite suddenly stopped their race, drove away.
After a quick discussion on the situation at hand, the majority vote was to go back to registration/staging and huddle under the nearest tent we could find, so, indeed, we all turned around and peddled back to registration and engaged in some serious huddling.
Roughly 45 minutes later, after we had plenty of time to stand freezing in the pelting rain, and after about a third of the women's field left to go home, the race officials finally decided to start the race again, this time with only two laps to go. So we set off again into the harsh, darkening clouds, like the lone survivors of a natural disaster. Not more than two miles into the race, just as my legs were beginning to warm up, I began to feel a distinguished bounciness with my bicycle that makes every cycling veteran cringe, and knew I had a flat even before I looked down to see my tire deflating like a sad balloon. So, for the second time this year I got off my bike and stood by the side of the road looking very much like a scrappy teenager, and weighing the option of whether or not to knock on someone's door and ask to use their phone. Luckily, a generous rider let me use his phone as he happened by so I could call my dad and sadly abandon the race. And, to this day, I wond er if some higher power such as God or Buddha was trying to send me a message at the race, something like, "DON'T DO THE WISCONSIN STATE ROAD RACE". I just wish they could have given me the flat in the first place and saved me all the trouble.
The next weekend I showed up at the Carroll County Road Race with brand-new, heavy-duty-thick, hard-case tires. Take THAT God/Buddha. I wanna see you try to give me a flat NOW.
As we waited for the race to start at staging, the five other women and me planned everything out. Since there was only one women in each category, and we'd all technically won already, we decided we would stop at Dairy Queen during the race, then perhaps go shopping a bit (maybe get a new outfit), and then just before we reached the finish line we'd pull over and apply our make-up so that we could look our best for the finishing photo. That, of course, was all curbed when the race officials decided to make us race with the 50+ men, because we all know that Jessi Prinner switches into her beat-the-snot-out-of-everybody mode as soon as any mention of competition arises. Not that I'm trying to demote the women in any way, but racing really loses its competitive edge when you've already won your category just by showing up.
The race started out fast and fierce with all the steep hills at the beginning of the race, but it's exactly the kind of meat I feed on. The 50+ men's pack diminished quickly and all the other women but one soon disappeared. The hills seemed to be the perfect spot for attacks, and one break of two riders got away early on one of the climbs, leaving the pack to be torn by several counterattacks that were all in attempt to bridge the gap. One so rider who attacked about 45543214645646 times was Richard Adamczckcksk (a Polish LOT rider who has one of those polish last names that are impossible to spell, much less pronounce). In his last attempt at a chase, he attacked again off the front, and because everyone was so sick of chasing him down, they pretty much just let him go. In seeing some potential at this break, I bridged up to Adamczkzczszk, and our gap quickly grew from the field. Then, looking back one more time to see how much ground we'd gained, I practically fell off my sad dle at what I saw; the field was gone.
Now I know what you're all thinking, you're all asking, "How is it possible to completely lose the field in just a matter of seconds?!?". Well, it's actually quite simple. We missed a turn.
As soon as I noticed some stragglers off the back turning a few hundred meters behind us I slammed on the breaks (cursing at such a misfortune) and starting screaming at Adamzsckszszk to turn around. Later, as I found out, there was actually no sign at the corner where we were supposed to turn, and only the riders who had pre-driven the course knew to turn there.
So by the time I got turned around and back on track I had already lost sight of the pack, and soon lost Adamzcszkzk's wheel as he rode off like a maniac determined to win the Tour de France. And so I pretty much rode the last 40 miles by myself, battling mentally to keep going as I fought with a fierce, relentless headwind. I could feel my beat-the-snot-out-of-everyone mode quickly waning with every mile because of the fact that there really wasn't anyone to beat the snot out of. In one flat section near the end I was literally on the verge of tears and was contemplating the option of pulling over and chucking my bike in a ditch and calling for a ride. Frustrated and pissed off, I screamed curses at the gusting winds as I inched along at 14 mph. The end seemed impossibly far away as my legs and back cramped up to the point where I could hardly shift in the saddle.
Finally, I rounded a turn and right smack dab before my eyes was the finish line, sitting there so calm and intent as if it were just as happy to greet me as I was to greet it. And better yet I didn't get a flat tire. And it didn't thunderstorm. And I won my category and got this super-cool looking trophy.
After I crossed the finish line I stopped and laid under a tree and drooled all over the place like a scrappy teenager. Hey, not everything in life is coated in gold.
'till next time,
-Jessi Prinner
The race options for the weekend of the 7^th were indeed quite sparse, so I settled on the Wisconsin State Championship RR seeing as though it was the only race that was remotely close. If I could have foreseen the tragic outcome of this race, though, I would have definitely not gone at all.
The entirety of the women's cat. 1,2,3 race was 39 miles; six laps, each totaling 6.5 miles each, with a long and severely steep climb to the finish line. On arrival, I had expected to complete the entire six laps, but little did I know that I would end up doing only about 1.5 laps total, roughly adding up to a whopping 10 miles.
As I stood at the staging area of the course with the other 15 or so ladies, the USCF official clearly explained to us the rules and guidelines for our race. And just as she asked, "So, are there any questions?" a very loud crack of lightening light the sky, and one lady immediately inquired, "What do we do if it starts to thunderstorm?". The USCF official replied that they would stop the race at the start/finish line if deemed necessary. And, of course, being the teenager I am, I scoffed at such a thought, because I happened to know that USCF wouldn't stop a race even if a tornado came down and chucked the entire women's field off to the land of Oz. They'd just put a lap counter on the yellow brick road and tell us to keep racing.
So the race started out quite fine with a neutral start to the line, and the race commenced as soon as we topped the hill. The field pretty much stayed together for the first lap and as we began our second lap it started to rain on us. Normally I don't mind rain at all whether it be on a ride or in a race, but I soon started to question my indifference as the rain quickly turned to fast, pelting drops, with qualities similar to that of hail. And not only that, but by that time lightening was crashing across the sky, officially making it a thunderstorm. Nonetheless the women continued racing seemingly unbothered by the abhorrent wind and rain, that is, until a colossal bolt of lightening crashed not farther than a mile away followed by a tremendous boom of thunder that literally shook the peloton. And in perfect unison we all synchronically slammed on our brakes and came to a screeching halt, refusing to race a second longer under the "conditions". The pacecar, not knowing that t he women had quite suddenly stopped their race, drove away.
After a quick discussion on the situation at hand, the majority vote was to go back to registration/staging and huddle under the nearest tent we could find, so, indeed, we all turned around and peddled back to registration and engaged in some serious huddling.
Roughly 45 minutes later, after we had plenty of time to stand freezing in the pelting rain, and after about a third of the women's field left to go home, the race officials finally decided to start the race again, this time with only two laps to go. So we set off again into the harsh, darkening clouds, like the lone survivors of a natural disaster. Not more than two miles into the race, just as my legs were beginning to warm up, I began to feel a distinguished bounciness with my bicycle that makes every cycling veteran cringe, and knew I had a flat even before I looked down to see my tire deflating like a sad balloon. So, for the second time this year I got off my bike and stood by the side of the road looking very much like a scrappy teenager, and weighing the option of whether or not to knock on someone's door and ask to use their phone. Luckily, a generous rider let me use his phone as he happened by so I could call my dad and sadly abandon the race. And, to this day, I wond er if some higher power such as God or Buddha was trying to send me a message at the race, something like, "DON'T DO THE WISCONSIN STATE ROAD RACE". I just wish they could have given me the flat in the first place and saved me all the trouble.
The next weekend I showed up at the Carroll County Road Race with brand-new, heavy-duty-thick, hard-case tires. Take THAT God/Buddha. I wanna see you try to give me a flat NOW.
As we waited for the race to start at staging, the five other women and me planned everything out. Since there was only one women in each category, and we'd all technically won already, we decided we would stop at Dairy Queen during the race, then perhaps go shopping a bit (maybe get a new outfit), and then just before we reached the finish line we'd pull over and apply our make-up so that we could look our best for the finishing photo. That, of course, was all curbed when the race officials decided to make us race with the 50+ men, because we all know that Jessi Prinner switches into her beat-the-snot-out-of-everybody mode as soon as any mention of competition arises. Not that I'm trying to demote the women in any way, but racing really loses its competitive edge when you've already won your category just by showing up.
The race started out fast and fierce with all the steep hills at the beginning of the race, but it's exactly the kind of meat I feed on. The 50+ men's pack diminished quickly and all the other women but one soon disappeared. The hills seemed to be the perfect spot for attacks, and one break of two riders got away early on one of the climbs, leaving the pack to be torn by several counterattacks that were all in attempt to bridge the gap. One so rider who attacked about 45543214645646 times was Richard Adamczckcksk (a Polish LOT rider who has one of those polish last names that are impossible to spell, much less pronounce). In his last attempt at a chase, he attacked again off the front, and because everyone was so sick of chasing him down, they pretty much just let him go. In seeing some potential at this break, I bridged up to Adamczkzczszk, and our gap quickly grew from the field. Then, looking back one more time to see how much ground we'd gained, I practically fell off my sad dle at what I saw; the field was gone.
Now I know what you're all thinking, you're all asking, "How is it possible to completely lose the field in just a matter of seconds?!?". Well, it's actually quite simple. We missed a turn.
As soon as I noticed some stragglers off the back turning a few hundred meters behind us I slammed on the breaks (cursing at such a misfortune) and starting screaming at Adamzsckszszk to turn around. Later, as I found out, there was actually no sign at the corner where we were supposed to turn, and only the riders who had pre-driven the course knew to turn there.
So by the time I got turned around and back on track I had already lost sight of the pack, and soon lost Adamzcszkzk's wheel as he rode off like a maniac determined to win the Tour de France. And so I pretty much rode the last 40 miles by myself, battling mentally to keep going as I fought with a fierce, relentless headwind. I could feel my beat-the-snot-out-of-everyone mode quickly waning with every mile because of the fact that there really wasn't anyone to beat the snot out of. In one flat section near the end I was literally on the verge of tears and was contemplating the option of pulling over and chucking my bike in a ditch and calling for a ride. Frustrated and pissed off, I screamed curses at the gusting winds as I inched along at 14 mph. The end seemed impossibly far away as my legs and back cramped up to the point where I could hardly shift in the saddle.
Finally, I rounded a turn and right smack dab before my eyes was the finish line, sitting there so calm and intent as if it were just as happy to greet me as I was to greet it. And better yet I didn't get a flat tire. And it didn't thunderstorm. And I won my category and got this super-cool looking trophy.
After I crossed the finish line I stopped and laid under a tree and drooled all over the place like a scrappy teenager. Hey, not everything in life is coated in gold.
'till next time,
-Jessi Prinner
6/16/2008
Parrish Report: Carrol County Cat 3's
The past three years, Theo and I have finished 2nd twice, 3rd and 4th but never first. With 10 miles or so to go, this looked to be our year. The 3's were whittled down to four with Theo and myself in the group with some remnants of the Masters 30 and Masters 40 field. The other two 3's were on different teams, so Theo and I should have managed at least a first right? There was some confusion as to how far out we were from the finish, my computer read 55 and they had said that the distance would be 60 miles. I was running on fumes and I knew if we went too early I wouldn't make it. So we waited. As it turns out, we rotated off the front of the paceline right before the finish and were not in good position as the actual finish approached. Theo managed to jump, I managed to explode and we finished 3rd and 4th. Bridesmaids again. Despite my annual announcement that 'this is my last year at this race', we'll be back next year to try again. Maybe they'll have that gravel fixed by next year.
All of the fields were awash in ABD colors, so it would be great to hear some of the other results....
All of the fields were awash in ABD colors, so it would be great to hear some of the other results....
6/11/2008
Spencer Report: Tour de Winghaven
Winghaven Race Report:
The team headed down to just west of St. Louis to do the Tour of Winghaven this past weekend. This is a large payout and the team was keen to do well. Rob White and I drove down on Sunday morning as the challenges of balancing family, work and racing can prove tough at times. We decided to compromise by being gone all day on Sunday. I think it is fair to say that both of us married VERY understanding women who clearly don't know how much better they could have had it. But, I digress...
While the sun appears to be in the sky each day, it actually lives just west of St. Louis and our race was held on it. It was roughly 100 degrees at the start, but at least it was crazy windy. We were to do 75 miles over 25 laps at a 2:30pm start. The scheduling of this event is interesting in that it is held the same day as Philly, so with one exception there were zero pros in attendance. This is good and bad. Good because we stand a nice chance to make some money, bad because we are good and marked accordingly. Essentially, this is a regional race with a huge prize list and extra motivation to make a little money.
Jeff S. got into an early move of 6 which proved the winner. The heat and wind helped temper the chase a bit and they rolled on and on to get a good gap. Unfortunately a second group noodled away with no ABD/Geargrinder representation. I will say however, that there were a couple of other teams that put nobody in either move which meant they were now racing for 12th at best. Again, maybe the heat and wind played a factor, but I was quite surprised by the lack of cohesive response. I asked one leader of these teams what gives and was told where I could go and how I could go there. While I don't think it is physically possible to do the things he suggested, I understood this to mean he was disappointed in the proceedings. Jeff's group and the second group rolled away quite quickly never to be seen again.
The remainder of the field beat up on each other for what seemed like two days and finally we got some guys into some field splits. Fortunately for everyone the laps were dwindling. Jeff S. and his group actually caught my pitiful little band and we were given a reprimand by the officials that we could not help our teammates and to stay out of the mix. This was disappointing because at that point, it was the sole reason I was still pedaling around this crazy course and no one else in my group had a rider in Jeff's group. While I am not sure this is an accurate ruling, I was not in a position to argue and/or ignore it and hope we were not disqualified. So, we stayed out of the way and I pulled out with 2 to go.
I find that Karma has a way of being kind sometimes. As a team, we respect our competitors and all associated with any event we attend. We have had a couple instances this year where the result may have suffered, but the team felt we did things the right way. It is my feeling that this paid huge dividends as with 1.5 laps to go Jeff crashed. John Meyers happened to be right by him and was able to give his wheel to Jeff to prevent what could have been a disaster (Reason one why I am not convinced on the above ruling). Amazingly, Jeff was able to catch his group and still beat two of the guys in it. I am quite certain that had Jeff not crashed, he would have pummelled the lot for the win. The only pro in the field won the race and the subsequent large check while Jeff ended 4th. Rob and Ryan rounded out the placings for cash and that was that.
Overall I think the team is coming together nicely. We have a good balance between young (John, Brett and Andy), mid (Josh, Rob, Ryan and Jeff) and old (me). Thanks goes especially to Julie Carter who fed the whole bunch of us all by herself in addition to "communicating" (read: yelling) at us over the radio. I think she likes bossing us around, but she did not have to provide such diligent feeds when we missed that second group.
Thanks for reading.
Steve
The team headed down to just west of St. Louis to do the Tour of Winghaven this past weekend. This is a large payout and the team was keen to do well. Rob White and I drove down on Sunday morning as the challenges of balancing family, work and racing can prove tough at times. We decided to compromise by being gone all day on Sunday. I think it is fair to say that both of us married VERY understanding women who clearly don't know how much better they could have had it. But, I digress...
While the sun appears to be in the sky each day, it actually lives just west of St. Louis and our race was held on it. It was roughly 100 degrees at the start, but at least it was crazy windy. We were to do 75 miles over 25 laps at a 2:30pm start. The scheduling of this event is interesting in that it is held the same day as Philly, so with one exception there were zero pros in attendance. This is good and bad. Good because we stand a nice chance to make some money, bad because we are good and marked accordingly. Essentially, this is a regional race with a huge prize list and extra motivation to make a little money.
Jeff S. got into an early move of 6 which proved the winner. The heat and wind helped temper the chase a bit and they rolled on and on to get a good gap. Unfortunately a second group noodled away with no ABD/Geargrinder representation. I will say however, that there were a couple of other teams that put nobody in either move which meant they were now racing for 12th at best. Again, maybe the heat and wind played a factor, but I was quite surprised by the lack of cohesive response. I asked one leader of these teams what gives and was told where I could go and how I could go there. While I don't think it is physically possible to do the things he suggested, I understood this to mean he was disappointed in the proceedings. Jeff's group and the second group rolled away quite quickly never to be seen again.
The remainder of the field beat up on each other for what seemed like two days and finally we got some guys into some field splits. Fortunately for everyone the laps were dwindling. Jeff S. and his group actually caught my pitiful little band and we were given a reprimand by the officials that we could not help our teammates and to stay out of the mix. This was disappointing because at that point, it was the sole reason I was still pedaling around this crazy course and no one else in my group had a rider in Jeff's group. While I am not sure this is an accurate ruling, I was not in a position to argue and/or ignore it and hope we were not disqualified. So, we stayed out of the way and I pulled out with 2 to go.
I find that Karma has a way of being kind sometimes. As a team, we respect our competitors and all associated with any event we attend. We have had a couple instances this year where the result may have suffered, but the team felt we did things the right way. It is my feeling that this paid huge dividends as with 1.5 laps to go Jeff crashed. John Meyers happened to be right by him and was able to give his wheel to Jeff to prevent what could have been a disaster (Reason one why I am not convinced on the above ruling). Amazingly, Jeff was able to catch his group and still beat two of the guys in it. I am quite certain that had Jeff not crashed, he would have pummelled the lot for the win. The only pro in the field won the race and the subsequent large check while Jeff ended 4th. Rob and Ryan rounded out the placings for cash and that was that.
Overall I think the team is coming together nicely. We have a good balance between young (John, Brett and Andy), mid (Josh, Rob, Ryan and Jeff) and old (me). Thanks goes especially to Julie Carter who fed the whole bunch of us all by herself in addition to "communicating" (read: yelling) at us over the radio. I think she likes bossing us around, but she did not have to provide such diligent feeds when we missed that second group.
Thanks for reading.
Steve
6/10/2008
ABD Shines at the Batavia Triathlon & Duathlon
ABD Multisport shined in Batavia despite overcast skies, oppressive
humidity, wind, and wet roads.
*
Kim Malmquist* was the first female duathlete across the line,
triathlete *Rob Fortelka* flew on the bike at 23 mph, the second fastest
ride of the day, and triathlete *Gretchen DeMong* smoked the run at a
blistering pace of 6:22 per mile!
ABD put 3 in the top 12 overall in the Duathlon with Kim in 8th, *Scott Pahl* in 10th, and *Keith Borkowicz* in 12th. Rob, Keith and *Cathy Webb* all snagged 4th in very competitive age groups, Gretchen finished 2nd in her class, and Scott grabbed 1st in the over-50 field.
Congratulations to all!
humidity, wind, and wet roads.
*
Kim Malmquist* was the first female duathlete across the line,
triathlete *Rob Fortelka* flew on the bike at 23 mph, the second fastest
ride of the day, and triathlete *Gretchen DeMong* smoked the run at a
blistering pace of 6:22 per mile!
ABD put 3 in the top 12 overall in the Duathlon with Kim in 8th, *Scott Pahl* in 10th, and *Keith Borkowicz* in 12th. Rob, Keith and *Cathy Webb* all snagged 4th in very competitive age groups, Gretchen finished 2nd in her class, and Scott grabbed 1st in the over-50 field.
Congratulations to all!
6/08/2008
Prinner Report: Joe Martin Stage Race
Hi y'all,
Yeah, I know the Joe Martin was, like, so four weeks ago, but due to excessive homework and bicycle riding I was unable to write it earlier. I definitely feel, though, that I absolutely must write this report because I need to pay Sue S. some tribute for driving me down. By the way, Sue is not a Susan, she is a Suzanna.
After 10ish hours of driving on the interstate, Sue and I were tired and hungry as we finally arrived at our destination. If the drive had been only an hour or so longer, I probably would have had to resort to killing and eating my travel companion, but luckily we pulled into Fayetteville, Arkansas just in time. Knowing that the combination of road race and time trial would be hard the next day, we decided to eat at a cozy little hole in the wall Italian restaurant. We plunged into our food like rabid hungry wolves and not 30 minutes later, we were practically passed out on the table in our empty dishes.
The next day we made sure to show up bright and early to the first event of the weekend; the road race. The start and finish of this 34- mile road race were 11 miles apart, so Sue and I blithely decided to park at the start line and just ride the 11 miles back after we finished. After completing a good warm-up, I sat down in some weeds to stretch and not 2 minutes later I looked down only to find a giant red tick marching up my arm. I screamed, swatted the tick away, and bolted out of the grass. God, I never knew pavement could be so comforting.
As the road race started off, I felt antsy and ready to charge up the first hill I could find. As soon as the grade rose, I was at the front pushing the pace, and doing a great job of burning myself out. I only expected for there to be one or two hills to start, but the hills kept coming and the grade got steeper and steeper and I eventually regretted going so soon because my legs were starting to die. Then, just as I had feared, an attack struck and shattered the field instantly. I was left struggling to chase the front group that quickly pulled away, but I soon realized my effort was meaningless, and waited up to jump in the second chase group of 7 or so riders. We pacelined for most of the race until the main field caught us at the end, but lucky for me another lady attacked and we formed a smaller group of five and managed to stay away to the finish, where I placed 13th. The front breakaway had obtained over 5 minutes on us, and I knew by then that my conquest for victory would be fruitless. Then again, the possibility of pulling a "Landis" was always a chance as well, and then I could be cycing's newest scandal.
After the race, Sue and I, both delirious, began our long ride back to the car. As soon as we hit the first hill Sue and I decided that since our coach wasn't there we would get off and just walk the hill. And, as if that didn't make us look unprofessional enough, at that very moment it started to rain. I guess one lady in her car took one look at us and felt sorry for the poor buffoons walking up the hill in the rain and decided to stop and give one of us a ride. Her car was jammed with bikes and people, so she agreed to drive Sue back the 11 miles to her car while I stood there and held the bikes waiting. Well, at least she gave me her rain jacket, which happened to be bright red; very unnoticeable. So they drove away and I walked on until I found a mail box to prop the bikes up against, and then, looking for a place to sit away from the road and the grass, I finally resorted to sitting on the mail box to avoid the ticks, which I'm sure were eyeing me in my bright red raincoat . And so I sat there, not for the first time in my life, on a mail box in lycra and a bright red raincoat in a thunderstorm looking very much like a scrappy teenager. Yes, folks, I said thunderstorm, because not long after planting my behind on that mailbox a bright golden flash crashed across the sky and happened to catch my attention. Just when I was pondering whether it was such a good idea to be sitting on a mailbox as it was lightening, a small, sporty red car pulled up and a nice looking lady asked if I wanted to sit in her car until Sue returned. Normally, I might be a tad bit cautious of this situation, but considering the circumstances at the moment I figured, "Well, at least she didn't offer me candy" and hopped into her small, sporty red car. As thunder crashed outside, I found out that this lady was quite old and was the wife of one of the race organizers, so I figured she must be going through a mid-life crisis with her small, sporty red car. A few minutes later Sue ar rived and I thankfully waved that small, sporty red car away and proceeded to chuck our bicycles haphazardly into the Jeep as it monsooned on us. And just as I hopped into the passenger seat of the car it started to hail, and I'm not talkin' about little ice chips of hail, I'm talkin' about marble sized chunks of hail. "Was the perfect timing pure luck?", you ask. Naw, we're just that good. And we happily floated our jeep back to the hotel on a river that was once a road only to find that there was a severe tornado warning in effect.
Now cycling is quite a unique sport in that it will continue in pretty much all conditions. Despite the fact that there had been a severe tornado warning just and hour or two ago, the time trial still went on as schedule just a few hours after the road race had ended. The entire geography of the course was really quite interesting; the whole TT was 2.5 mile uphill climb out of a valley with an average grade of 6.8% and steep switchbacks with a plunging drop on one side. And the name of the park it was in was just as fitting: Devil's Den State Park. And the ironic part of it all was that I used to go climbing in Devil's Den when we vacationed to Arkansas many years ago. Little did I know of how I would painfully suffer my way up that same climb years later.
So after changing in the woods (yeah, that was pretty cool) I hopped on my bike and began my long spin to warm up my sore legs. Then I trekked up to the start line just in time to be let off and begin my long, tedious climb up to Devil's Den. During the whole ordeal I passed two riders and ended up in 4th place.
The next day Sue and I were forced to wake up early to make it to the final stage of the day: the criterium. The course proved to be very tricky, with two quick downhill turns and a super steep uphill finish, not to mention that it was absolutely freezing out and I was wearing just about every article of clothing I owned at the start line. Of course, from the gun there was an attack that split the field almost instantly and I managed to cling on for dear life long enough to catch my breath as soon as they slowed down. I guess due to the fact that it was a women's race, it was only 25 minutes long because USCF officials apparently think that we'll all fall over dead or something if we have to ride farther than 12 miles. It was for this reason that the main field remained at about 20-30 riders for the finishing sprint. I finally felt blessed that it was an uphill finish, because that's just about all I can do in my junior gears, so I happily managed to take 3rd and grab a time bonus to slide into 10th place overall.
And with all that being done and accomplished Sue and I, both tired and gleeful, sailed our way home to Illinois. Sure, I know my weekend in Arkansas wasn't anything like stage racing in Tokyo or France, but it sure was a heck of a lot of fun, and besides, I gotta start somewhere, don't I?
-Jessi Prinner
Yeah, I know the Joe Martin was, like, so four weeks ago, but due to excessive homework and bicycle riding I was unable to write it earlier. I definitely feel, though, that I absolutely must write this report because I need to pay Sue S. some tribute for driving me down. By the way, Sue is not a Susan, she is a Suzanna.
After 10ish hours of driving on the interstate, Sue and I were tired and hungry as we finally arrived at our destination. If the drive had been only an hour or so longer, I probably would have had to resort to killing and eating my travel companion, but luckily we pulled into Fayetteville, Arkansas just in time. Knowing that the combination of road race and time trial would be hard the next day, we decided to eat at a cozy little hole in the wall Italian restaurant. We plunged into our food like rabid hungry wolves and not 30 minutes later, we were practically passed out on the table in our empty dishes.
The next day we made sure to show up bright and early to the first event of the weekend; the road race. The start and finish of this 34- mile road race were 11 miles apart, so Sue and I blithely decided to park at the start line and just ride the 11 miles back after we finished. After completing a good warm-up, I sat down in some weeds to stretch and not 2 minutes later I looked down only to find a giant red tick marching up my arm. I screamed, swatted the tick away, and bolted out of the grass. God, I never knew pavement could be so comforting.
As the road race started off, I felt antsy and ready to charge up the first hill I could find. As soon as the grade rose, I was at the front pushing the pace, and doing a great job of burning myself out. I only expected for there to be one or two hills to start, but the hills kept coming and the grade got steeper and steeper and I eventually regretted going so soon because my legs were starting to die. Then, just as I had feared, an attack struck and shattered the field instantly. I was left struggling to chase the front group that quickly pulled away, but I soon realized my effort was meaningless, and waited up to jump in the second chase group of 7 or so riders. We pacelined for most of the race until the main field caught us at the end, but lucky for me another lady attacked and we formed a smaller group of five and managed to stay away to the finish, where I placed 13th. The front breakaway had obtained over 5 minutes on us, and I knew by then that my conquest for victory would be fruitless. Then again, the possibility of pulling a "Landis" was always a chance as well, and then I could be cycing's newest scandal.
After the race, Sue and I, both delirious, began our long ride back to the car. As soon as we hit the first hill Sue and I decided that since our coach wasn't there we would get off and just walk the hill. And, as if that didn't make us look unprofessional enough, at that very moment it started to rain. I guess one lady in her car took one look at us and felt sorry for the poor buffoons walking up the hill in the rain and decided to stop and give one of us a ride. Her car was jammed with bikes and people, so she agreed to drive Sue back the 11 miles to her car while I stood there and held the bikes waiting. Well, at least she gave me her rain jacket, which happened to be bright red; very unnoticeable. So they drove away and I walked on until I found a mail box to prop the bikes up against, and then, looking for a place to sit away from the road and the grass, I finally resorted to sitting on the mail box to avoid the ticks, which I'm sure were eyeing me in my bright red raincoat . And so I sat there, not for the first time in my life, on a mail box in lycra and a bright red raincoat in a thunderstorm looking very much like a scrappy teenager. Yes, folks, I said thunderstorm, because not long after planting my behind on that mailbox a bright golden flash crashed across the sky and happened to catch my attention. Just when I was pondering whether it was such a good idea to be sitting on a mailbox as it was lightening, a small, sporty red car pulled up and a nice looking lady asked if I wanted to sit in her car until Sue returned. Normally, I might be a tad bit cautious of this situation, but considering the circumstances at the moment I figured, "Well, at least she didn't offer me candy" and hopped into her small, sporty red car. As thunder crashed outside, I found out that this lady was quite old and was the wife of one of the race organizers, so I figured she must be going through a mid-life crisis with her small, sporty red car. A few minutes later Sue ar rived and I thankfully waved that small, sporty red car away and proceeded to chuck our bicycles haphazardly into the Jeep as it monsooned on us. And just as I hopped into the passenger seat of the car it started to hail, and I'm not talkin' about little ice chips of hail, I'm talkin' about marble sized chunks of hail. "Was the perfect timing pure luck?", you ask. Naw, we're just that good. And we happily floated our jeep back to the hotel on a river that was once a road only to find that there was a severe tornado warning in effect.
Now cycling is quite a unique sport in that it will continue in pretty much all conditions. Despite the fact that there had been a severe tornado warning just and hour or two ago, the time trial still went on as schedule just a few hours after the road race had ended. The entire geography of the course was really quite interesting; the whole TT was 2.5 mile uphill climb out of a valley with an average grade of 6.8% and steep switchbacks with a plunging drop on one side. And the name of the park it was in was just as fitting: Devil's Den State Park. And the ironic part of it all was that I used to go climbing in Devil's Den when we vacationed to Arkansas many years ago. Little did I know of how I would painfully suffer my way up that same climb years later.
So after changing in the woods (yeah, that was pretty cool) I hopped on my bike and began my long spin to warm up my sore legs. Then I trekked up to the start line just in time to be let off and begin my long, tedious climb up to Devil's Den. During the whole ordeal I passed two riders and ended up in 4th place.
The next day Sue and I were forced to wake up early to make it to the final stage of the day: the criterium. The course proved to be very tricky, with two quick downhill turns and a super steep uphill finish, not to mention that it was absolutely freezing out and I was wearing just about every article of clothing I owned at the start line. Of course, from the gun there was an attack that split the field almost instantly and I managed to cling on for dear life long enough to catch my breath as soon as they slowed down. I guess due to the fact that it was a women's race, it was only 25 minutes long because USCF officials apparently think that we'll all fall over dead or something if we have to ride farther than 12 miles. It was for this reason that the main field remained at about 20-30 riders for the finishing sprint. I finally felt blessed that it was an uphill finish, because that's just about all I can do in my junior gears, so I happily managed to take 3rd and grab a time bonus to slide into 10th place overall.
And with all that being done and accomplished Sue and I, both tired and gleeful, sailed our way home to Illinois. Sure, I know my weekend in Arkansas wasn't anything like stage racing in Tokyo or France, but it sure was a heck of a lot of fun, and besides, I gotta start somewhere, don't I?
-Jessi Prinner
Prinner Report: Joe Martin Stage Race
Hi y'all,
Yeah, I know the Joe Martin was, like, so four weeks ago, but due to excessive homework and bicycle riding I was unable to write it earlier. I definitely feel, though, that I absolutely must write this report because I need to pay Sue S. some tribute for driving me down. By the way, Sue is not a Susan, she is a Suzanna.
After 10ish hours of driving on the interstate, Sue and I were tired and hungry as we finally arrived at our destination. If the drive had been only an hour or so longer, I probably would have had to resort to killing and eating my travel companion, but luckily we pulled into Fayetteville, Arkansas just in time. Knowing that the combination of road race and time trial would be hard the next day, we decided to eat at a cozy little hole in the wall Italian restaurant. We plunged into our food like rabid hungry wolves and not 30 minutes later, we were practically passed out on the table in our empty dishes.
The next day we made sure to show up bright and early to the first event of the weekend; the road race. The start and finish of this 34- mile road race were 11 miles apart, so Sue and I blithely decided to park at the start line and just ride the 11 miles back after we finished. After completing a good warm-up, I sat down in some weeds to stretch and not 2 minutes later I looked down only to find a giant red tick marching up my arm. I screamed, swatted the tick away, and bolted out of the grass. God, I never knew pavement could be so comforting.
As the road race started off, I felt antsy and ready to charge up the first hill I could find. As soon as the grade rose, I was at the front pushing the pace, and doing a great job of burning myself out. I only expected for there to be one or two hills to start, but the hills kept coming and the grade got steeper and steeper and I eventually regretted going so soon because my legs were starting to die. Then, just as I had feared, an attack struck and shattered the field instantly. I was left struggling to chase the front group that quickly pulled away, but I soon realized my effort was meaningless, and waited up to jump in the second chase group of 7 or so riders. We pacelined for most of the race until the main field caught us at the end, but lucky for me another lady attacked and we formed a smaller group of five and managed to stay away to the finish, where I placed 13th. The front breakaway had obtained over 5 minutes on us, and I knew by then that my conquest for victory would be fruitless. Then again, the possibility of pulling a "Landis" was always a chance as well, and then I could be cycing's newest scandal.
After the race, Sue and I, both delirious, began our long ride back to the car. As soon as we hit the first hill Sue and I decided that since our coach wasn't there we would get off and just walk the hill. And, as if that didn't make us look unprofessional enough, at that very moment it started to rain. I guess one lady in her car took one look at us and felt sorry for the poor buffoons walking up the hill in the rain and decided to stop and give one of us a ride. Her car was jammed with bikes and people, so she agreed to drive Sue back the 11 miles to her car while I stood there and held the bikes waiting. Well, at least she gave me her rain jacket, which happened to be bright red; very unnoticeable. So they drove away and I walked on until I found a mail box to prop the bikes up against, and then, looking for a place to sit away from the road and the grass, I finally resorted to sitting on the mail box to avoid the ticks, which I'm sure were eyeing me in my bright red raincoat . And so I sat there, not for the first time in my life, on a mail box in lycra and a bright red raincoat in a thunderstorm looking very much like a scrappy teenager. Yes, folks, I said thunderstorm, because not long after planting my behind on that mailbox a bright golden flash crashed across the sky and happened to catch my attention. Just when I was pondering whether it was such a good idea to be sitting on a mailbox as it was lightening, a small, sporty red car pulled up and a nice looking lady asked if I wanted to sit in her car until Sue returned. Normally, I might be a tad bit cautious of this situation, but considering the circumstances at the moment I figured, "Well, at least she didn't offer me candy" and hopped into her small, sporty red car. As thunder crashed outside, I found out that this lady was quite old and was the wife of one of the race organizers, so I figured she must be going through a mid-life crisis with her small, sporty red car. A few minutes later Sue ar rived and I thankfully waved that small, sporty red car away and proceeded to chuck our bicycles haphazardly into the Jeep as it monsooned on us. And just as I hopped into the passenger seat of the car it started to hail, and I'm not talkin' about little ice chips of hail, I'm talkin' about marble sized chunks of hail. "Was the perfect timing pure luck?", you ask. Naw, we're just that good. And we happily floated our jeep back to the hotel on a river that was once a road only to find that there was a severe tornado warning in effect.
Now cycling is quite a unique sport in that it will continue in pretty much all conditions. Despite the fact that there had been a severe tornado warning just and hour or two ago, the time trial still went on as schedule just a few hours after the road race had ended. The entire geography of the course was really quite interesting; the whole TT was 2.5 mile uphill climb out of a valley with an average grade of 6.8% and steep switchbacks with a plunging drop on one side. And the name of the park it was in was just as fitting: Devil's Den State Park. And the ironic part of it all was that I used to go climbing in Devil's Den when we vacationed to Arkansas many years ago. Little did I know of how I would painfully suffer my way up that same climb years later.
So after changing in the woods (yeah, that was pretty cool) I hopped on my bike and began my long spin to warm up my sore legs. Then I trekked up to the start line just in time to be let off and begin my long, tedious climb up to Devil's Den. During the whole ordeal I passed two riders and ended up in 4th place.
The next day Sue and I were forced to wake up early to make it to the final stage of the day: the criterium. The course proved to be very tricky, with two quick downhill turns and a super steep uphill finish, not to mention that it was absolutely freezing out and I was wearing just about every article of clothing I owned at the start line. Of course, from the gun there was an attack that split the field almost instantly and I managed to cling on for dear life long enough to catch my breath as soon as they slowed down. I guess due to the fact that it was a women's race, it was only 25 minutes long because USCF officials apparently think that we'll all fall over dead or something if we have to ride farther than 12 miles. It was for this reason that the main field remained at about 20-30 riders for the finishing sprint. I finally felt blessed that it was an uphill finish, because that's just about all I can do in my junior gears, so I happily managed to take 3rd and grab a time bonus to slide into 10th place overall.
And with all that being done and accomplished Sue and I, both tired and gleeful, sailed our way home to Illinois. Sure, I know my weekend in Arkansas wasn't anything like stage racing in Tokyo or France, but it sure was a heck of a lot of fun, and besides, I gotta start somewhere, don't I?
-Jessi Prinner
Yeah, I know the Joe Martin was, like, so four weeks ago, but due to excessive homework and bicycle riding I was unable to write it earlier. I definitely feel, though, that I absolutely must write this report because I need to pay Sue S. some tribute for driving me down. By the way, Sue is not a Susan, she is a Suzanna.
After 10ish hours of driving on the interstate, Sue and I were tired and hungry as we finally arrived at our destination. If the drive had been only an hour or so longer, I probably would have had to resort to killing and eating my travel companion, but luckily we pulled into Fayetteville, Arkansas just in time. Knowing that the combination of road race and time trial would be hard the next day, we decided to eat at a cozy little hole in the wall Italian restaurant. We plunged into our food like rabid hungry wolves and not 30 minutes later, we were practically passed out on the table in our empty dishes.
The next day we made sure to show up bright and early to the first event of the weekend; the road race. The start and finish of this 34- mile road race were 11 miles apart, so Sue and I blithely decided to park at the start line and just ride the 11 miles back after we finished. After completing a good warm-up, I sat down in some weeds to stretch and not 2 minutes later I looked down only to find a giant red tick marching up my arm. I screamed, swatted the tick away, and bolted out of the grass. God, I never knew pavement could be so comforting.
As the road race started off, I felt antsy and ready to charge up the first hill I could find. As soon as the grade rose, I was at the front pushing the pace, and doing a great job of burning myself out. I only expected for there to be one or two hills to start, but the hills kept coming and the grade got steeper and steeper and I eventually regretted going so soon because my legs were starting to die. Then, just as I had feared, an attack struck and shattered the field instantly. I was left struggling to chase the front group that quickly pulled away, but I soon realized my effort was meaningless, and waited up to jump in the second chase group of 7 or so riders. We pacelined for most of the race until the main field caught us at the end, but lucky for me another lady attacked and we formed a smaller group of five and managed to stay away to the finish, where I placed 13th. The front breakaway had obtained over 5 minutes on us, and I knew by then that my conquest for victory would be fruitless. Then again, the possibility of pulling a "Landis" was always a chance as well, and then I could be cycing's newest scandal.
After the race, Sue and I, both delirious, began our long ride back to the car. As soon as we hit the first hill Sue and I decided that since our coach wasn't there we would get off and just walk the hill. And, as if that didn't make us look unprofessional enough, at that very moment it started to rain. I guess one lady in her car took one look at us and felt sorry for the poor buffoons walking up the hill in the rain and decided to stop and give one of us a ride. Her car was jammed with bikes and people, so she agreed to drive Sue back the 11 miles to her car while I stood there and held the bikes waiting. Well, at least she gave me her rain jacket, which happened to be bright red; very unnoticeable. So they drove away and I walked on until I found a mail box to prop the bikes up against, and then, looking for a place to sit away from the road and the grass, I finally resorted to sitting on the mail box to avoid the ticks, which I'm sure were eyeing me in my bright red raincoat . And so I sat there, not for the first time in my life, on a mail box in lycra and a bright red raincoat in a thunderstorm looking very much like a scrappy teenager. Yes, folks, I said thunderstorm, because not long after planting my behind on that mailbox a bright golden flash crashed across the sky and happened to catch my attention. Just when I was pondering whether it was such a good idea to be sitting on a mailbox as it was lightening, a small, sporty red car pulled up and a nice looking lady asked if I wanted to sit in her car until Sue returned. Normally, I might be a tad bit cautious of this situation, but considering the circumstances at the moment I figured, "Well, at least she didn't offer me candy" and hopped into her small, sporty red car. As thunder crashed outside, I found out that this lady was quite old and was the wife of one of the race organizers, so I figured she must be going through a mid-life crisis with her small, sporty red car. A few minutes later Sue ar rived and I thankfully waved that small, sporty red car away and proceeded to chuck our bicycles haphazardly into the Jeep as it monsooned on us. And just as I hopped into the passenger seat of the car it started to hail, and I'm not talkin' about little ice chips of hail, I'm talkin' about marble sized chunks of hail. "Was the perfect timing pure luck?", you ask. Naw, we're just that good. And we happily floated our jeep back to the hotel on a river that was once a road only to find that there was a severe tornado warning in effect.
Now cycling is quite a unique sport in that it will continue in pretty much all conditions. Despite the fact that there had been a severe tornado warning just and hour or two ago, the time trial still went on as schedule just a few hours after the road race had ended. The entire geography of the course was really quite interesting; the whole TT was 2.5 mile uphill climb out of a valley with an average grade of 6.8% and steep switchbacks with a plunging drop on one side. And the name of the park it was in was just as fitting: Devil's Den State Park. And the ironic part of it all was that I used to go climbing in Devil's Den when we vacationed to Arkansas many years ago. Little did I know of how I would painfully suffer my way up that same climb years later.
So after changing in the woods (yeah, that was pretty cool) I hopped on my bike and began my long spin to warm up my sore legs. Then I trekked up to the start line just in time to be let off and begin my long, tedious climb up to Devil's Den. During the whole ordeal I passed two riders and ended up in 4th place.
The next day Sue and I were forced to wake up early to make it to the final stage of the day: the criterium. The course proved to be very tricky, with two quick downhill turns and a super steep uphill finish, not to mention that it was absolutely freezing out and I was wearing just about every article of clothing I owned at the start line. Of course, from the gun there was an attack that split the field almost instantly and I managed to cling on for dear life long enough to catch my breath as soon as they slowed down. I guess due to the fact that it was a women's race, it was only 25 minutes long because USCF officials apparently think that we'll all fall over dead or something if we have to ride farther than 12 miles. It was for this reason that the main field remained at about 20-30 riders for the finishing sprint. I finally felt blessed that it was an uphill finish, because that's just about all I can do in my junior gears, so I happily managed to take 3rd and grab a time bonus to slide into 10th place overall.
And with all that being done and accomplished Sue and I, both tired and gleeful, sailed our way home to Illinois. Sure, I know my weekend in Arkansas wasn't anything like stage racing in Tokyo or France, but it sure was a heck of a lot of fun, and besides, I gotta start somewhere, don't I?
-Jessi Prinner
6/05/2008
Prinner Report: the snake and the melon--a fable
Hello Team,
Finally, for the first time ever I was granted permission to compete in the Snake Alley Criterium by my coach. Every year before that I was told no because "it was an extremely hard race and definitely NOT a race one does for pleasure". From all the stories I heard of Snake Alley through the years I pieced together a picture in my mind of a cobbled hill with a turn or two. Nothing in my racing career had prepared me for the real Snake Alley I came upon, though.
After arrival, I walked the course in search of this so called hill, and was skeptical at first because it was hard to imagine a cobblestone road in the middle of that severally urbanized city. Then, I turned the corner and my eyes popped out of their sockets. It was as if someone had cut out a picture of a rustic cobblestone switchback climb in Italy and pasted it in the middle of a modern day all- american city. I honestly had to pinch myself to finally believe it was real.
Not only was the "Snake" fully cobbled for maximum slipperyness, but it also boasted five or six hair-pin switchbacks as well. And, of course, since it was a hill it was set at a crazy steep grade, insuring plenty of lactic acid to go around. At the very bottom of the climb in enormous letters someone had written a statement in chalk which pretty much summed it all up; "THIS SNAKE WILL BITE".
Well, the one piece of advice everyone in the world and their cousin told me was to be at the front on the start line and the first into the snake because the first two laps would decide the outcome of the race. So I followed the advice of my fellow racers and went out of my way to make sure I was the first on that line. And just as I was enjoying my small victory the announcer had to shoot my efforts down and call, "staging!". So I grumbled in my most teenagerish way and rolled my eyes in my most exaggerated teenagerish way and clomped over to staging. And it was just my luck, of course, that riders were being called up by number and I happened to be plopped at the very back. All the while I thought, "Golly gee! Just where I wanted to be!".
Just as I had imagined the racers shot off the line like crazed shoppers frothing at the mouth to obtain their own Wii and fought with tooth and claw all the way up to the snake. It didn't help much that it also happened to be the largest women's field ever seen at Snake Alley, and the position of the riders at that moment were just about the same as their position at the finish. I pretty much battled my way throughout the race to pass only a few riders in front of me, and fortunately I only unclipped once going up the snake (yes, that is an accomplishment for me, though it was a major pain having to run up it in cleats like the scrappy teenager I was. I might as well have been running up a slip n' slide) and I ended up 27th out of 39. Yeah, I'd say that snake had one heck of a bite.
The next day as I sat at the line of the Melon City criterium I contemplated exactly how it was possible for there to be fifty 1,2,3 women today when just three years ago there was hardly half of that. And it was by far the largest women's field I've ever raced in. With the first three laps being blazing fast, it was no wonder that we were dropping women like flies on the giant uphill, and our field was quickly reduced to a mere size of about 30 women. The blistering downhill into the speedbump was still just as fun as ever; that is, until a rider screamed, "waterbottle!" and I looked down only to realized my cage had been recently emptied .oops
So then it came down to the final lap and the field surged as soon as the bell was rung. I jumped up the left and scrambled to make my way to the front up on the back stretch just as the pack fanned out and I was blocked out and forced to take a poor position nearer to the back. I received no such luck on the uphill either as the road was literally wall to wall with riders, and it definitely didn't help much that my foot came out of its pedal as I made the final sharp right hand turn. So I just managed to make 23rd, but despite my unfortunate positioning at the end, I was still just content to survive that wickedly tough race, which proved to be harder than ever this year.
And now that I've mastered the snake (ha ha) and learned the ways of the melon, I will definitely be back next year, and the ladies 1,2,3's will definitely have something to worry about
-Jessi
Finally, for the first time ever I was granted permission to compete in the Snake Alley Criterium by my coach. Every year before that I was told no because "it was an extremely hard race and definitely NOT a race one does for pleasure". From all the stories I heard of Snake Alley through the years I pieced together a picture in my mind of a cobbled hill with a turn or two. Nothing in my racing career had prepared me for the real Snake Alley I came upon, though.
After arrival, I walked the course in search of this so called hill, and was skeptical at first because it was hard to imagine a cobblestone road in the middle of that severally urbanized city. Then, I turned the corner and my eyes popped out of their sockets. It was as if someone had cut out a picture of a rustic cobblestone switchback climb in Italy and pasted it in the middle of a modern day all- american city. I honestly had to pinch myself to finally believe it was real.
Not only was the "Snake" fully cobbled for maximum slipperyness, but it also boasted five or six hair-pin switchbacks as well. And, of course, since it was a hill it was set at a crazy steep grade, insuring plenty of lactic acid to go around. At the very bottom of the climb in enormous letters someone had written a statement in chalk which pretty much summed it all up; "THIS SNAKE WILL BITE".
Well, the one piece of advice everyone in the world and their cousin told me was to be at the front on the start line and the first into the snake because the first two laps would decide the outcome of the race. So I followed the advice of my fellow racers and went out of my way to make sure I was the first on that line. And just as I was enjoying my small victory the announcer had to shoot my efforts down and call, "staging!". So I grumbled in my most teenagerish way and rolled my eyes in my most exaggerated teenagerish way and clomped over to staging. And it was just my luck, of course, that riders were being called up by number and I happened to be plopped at the very back. All the while I thought, "Golly gee! Just where I wanted to be!".
Just as I had imagined the racers shot off the line like crazed shoppers frothing at the mouth to obtain their own Wii and fought with tooth and claw all the way up to the snake. It didn't help much that it also happened to be the largest women's field ever seen at Snake Alley, and the position of the riders at that moment were just about the same as their position at the finish. I pretty much battled my way throughout the race to pass only a few riders in front of me, and fortunately I only unclipped once going up the snake (yes, that is an accomplishment for me, though it was a major pain having to run up it in cleats like the scrappy teenager I was. I might as well have been running up a slip n' slide) and I ended up 27th out of 39. Yeah, I'd say that snake had one heck of a bite.
The next day as I sat at the line of the Melon City criterium I contemplated exactly how it was possible for there to be fifty 1,2,3 women today when just three years ago there was hardly half of that. And it was by far the largest women's field I've ever raced in. With the first three laps being blazing fast, it was no wonder that we were dropping women like flies on the giant uphill, and our field was quickly reduced to a mere size of about 30 women. The blistering downhill into the speedbump was still just as fun as ever; that is, until a rider screamed, "waterbottle!" and I looked down only to realized my cage had been recently emptied .oops
So then it came down to the final lap and the field surged as soon as the bell was rung. I jumped up the left and scrambled to make my way to the front up on the back stretch just as the pack fanned out and I was blocked out and forced to take a poor position nearer to the back. I received no such luck on the uphill either as the road was literally wall to wall with riders, and it definitely didn't help much that my foot came out of its pedal as I made the final sharp right hand turn. So I just managed to make 23rd, but despite my unfortunate positioning at the end, I was still just content to survive that wickedly tough race, which proved to be harder than ever this year.
And now that I've mastered the snake (ha ha) and learned the ways of the melon, I will definitely be back next year, and the ladies 1,2,3's will definitely have something to worry about
-Jessi
6/01/2008
ABR National Championship Crit Pictures
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Ken Glinka
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