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Get Ready To Party
CBRC is holding it’s premier Season Opener Dinner on Friday, April 4. CBRC members, sponsors, their families, and friends are invited to get together and launch the season in style.
The dinner will be held at Casa Mia Restaurant in Glenmont. A cash bar will open at 5:00 and dinner is at 6:00. The dinner buffet will include eggplant parmigiana, lasagna, baked ziti, salad, and garlic bread. You can attack the buffet all you want without having to worry about getting dropped.
New team apparel will be passed out at the dinner. The big contest will be trying to fit into it after the buffet. Don’t forget your checkbook for any pre-ordered clothing you haven’t paid for.
Cost is $10 per adult and $5 for children 6-12. Children under 6 are free. This field size for this event is 60, so get your entry in early. RSVP to either messysum@aol.com or butlet2@empiresite.com.
Casa Mia is approximately two miles south of exit 23 on Route 9W. Start training now for this extravaganza.
CBRC: Now and Later
The present and future of our club were discussed at last month’s meeting held at the Guilderland Library February 5. In the present was the new clothing design and order, which has now taken place. This was most club members first look at this year’s design. Members also had a chance to pre-order clothing at the meeting. Everyone seemed pleased with the new look, although a couple of geezers were overheard grumbling about blue shorts.
After the clothing presentation, came a report that the club was in good financial shape, and a report by Ian that spinning classes have been “incredible,” with 20 or more participants each night. Talk then turned to the future, more specifically, where our club is headed.
This question has been raised before and brings many different responses. Dave McLeod attempted to synthesize ideas club members had sent him. He came up with a very ambitious mission statement that included things such as promoting racing, comraderie, teamwork, fitness, junior development and cycling in general. All worthwhile goals that some people present thought our club already does well.
However, the one area where most everyone agreed we could do better is attracting junior riders. (How ironic that two juniors showed up at this meeting, expressing an interest in racing.) Many ideas were discussed about how to attract young riders, including subsidizing maintenance or entry fees, recruiting at local high schools, and having experienced riders mentor new riders. This last idea is especially important because if new riders do show up and then get dropped, they aren’t likely to come back. A couple of members expressed interest in serving as a mentor to new junior riders.
Going one step further, some members expressed interest in having team coordinators, who would try to organize CBRC riders attending certain events into a team. The idea is to have a coordinator for each category.
When the meeting ended, the future still seemed cloudy, but at least there were a few new ideas to think about. These ideas and others will most likely be discussed at this month’s meeting, which will be held at the Guilderland Library Wednesday, March 12. Other topics such as the TT series and the beginning of the race season are also certain to be on the agenda.
A Raging 1st Edition
By: QDaddy
The Tour de Donut has launched in properly epic fashion. A hardy bunch of souls answered the call of the cruller. Tom Butler, Steve Hanes, Dave McLeod, Bill Raleigh, Andy Ruiz, Dave Spore, Mark Sumner & Qdaddy came out for CBRC. Todd Crisafulli, Willem Heydendael and two good-natured Boston crossers named Dave came out & showed North Atlantic Velo can be as Belgian as anyone. Most of us went with cross rigs. Left to choose between speed & traction, Bill Raleigh & Dave McLeod wisely showed up with their mountain bikes. Andy opted for a road bike. This did not make any of us wonder whether we ought to do the same.
We headed out Font Grove to Voorheesville to 85A, crossed New Scotland & made our way out to Rock Hill Rd. On the steep part each of us privately noted our rear wheels slipping in the sand. Out Flatrock, across 443 to Groesbeck. Plenty of sand & that tasty winter treat, icy mud. We regrouped then doglegged onto Tarrytown Rd. Now, anyone who's ventured out with me knows I have no sense of direction. Or maybe a friend was right when she said many years ago, "You have an excellent sense of direction. You just don't give a shit where you're going." Anyway at this point our route was up for grabs. Luckily Andy was there to make up for my indifference. We hung a left onto Bennett Hill Rd. & enjoyed another delicious drizzle of mud.
This led us back out to 443 in Clarksville for the first of two heavy parts of the day. We hooked left onto Cass Hill & up we went. On the hard right-hand switchback on the lower slope I reached for the 39x28 and muttered my climbing mantra. Little while, this'll go away. Andy took off with the Boston Daves in determined pursuit. Mark Sumner and Tom Butler dug deep & went after them, cross tires leaving clear tracks in the sand. I wished them well & enjoyed the view. Just as I was envying Bill Raleigh's mtb gearing, something in his drivetrain flubbed & forced him to dismount. At the crest of the big climb Andy pulled a U and said farewell; he'd promised to meet another group in Vooville & had about 10 minutes to get there. Tom Butler, suffering from anoxia, abruptly decided chasing Andy to Vooville seemed like a swell idea. I caught up with the Daves and Mark and we made our way up through the last two pitches.
We regrouped. Our grupetto guys came gamely over the top & I admired their fortitude. Out of respect for their courage we gave them no chance to rest & drove onward. Willem was starting to prove that 0% body fat is overrated. With no blubber to draw on he was starting to ask where the donuts were. I made a mental note to pull the reins in later & make sure we didn't death-march anyone. Lot of good it did our guys then but everyone was still grinning & I knew we were headed for better things.
With Andy gone I was navigator again. The Boston Daves and Todd, enthused over our nice fat roads, put a squeeze on just as I noticed we were blowing by our right turn for 85 East. I put in a half-fast bridge effort, reeled them in after only two miles or so & managed to turn everyone around just as Mark Sumner started his own move for the horizon. After coming about we made a left onto Joslyn Hill Rd. Nice rolling cruise over to 443 E. At the top of Letter S hill we hung a left over to the backside of Pinnacle. We hung out at the peak to admire the view & regroup. Heavy sand on Pinnacle meant we all had sore forearms from clutching brakes on the way down. Left onto Beaver Dam, then down to the Thatcher trail access for our second heavy bit.
There was a guy by his car putting away his snowshoes & grimly warning that his golden retriever might lick us to death. I hoisted the bike, clambered into the woods & immediately wished for a camera. A dozen skinny guys loping into a snowy forest single file with bikes on their shoulders is just something you don't see every day. The snowshoe guy stood there shaking his head with that look. "You guys are fahhked."
The forest was packed down well enough that we could struggle along on top of the snow. Mostly. I heard about plenty more Kodak moments. I had one mild endo but caught no air. As I followed Todd along the edge of a 75' deep ravine he began losing it and I held my breath. "Left. Left." Luckily he plopped nicely to the left & avoided an ugly tree-clutching tumble.
We emerged in the Paint Mine picnic area, where Todd almost wrecked himself again crossing the little wooden footbridge. Todd: "My brakes are gone. I can't control my bike." Dave #1: "Probably you should stop riding your bike." A couple of our pilgrims, I realized, had never ridden through anything like this before. They came out of the woods in great shape & ready to testify. I would have tipped my helmet but my noggin was too cold.
I figured we'd descend 157 & 85, hook left onto 85A & make our way home through New Salem & Vooville. Looking around I realized everyone looked as gray & hungry as I felt. I suggested we shoot for home straight down 85. There was much rejoicing. We all made it back to the Q house safely. Someone said we did between 40-45 miles, apprx. 3½ hrs., 3000+ feet of climbing. With nobody offering to sell a bike cheap I called the day a success. Jeni loaded us up with much ballyhooed donuts, water & coffee. Somehow she persuaded the kids not to attack & beat the crap out of dad's friends the way they usually do. Boston Dave #1 fell asleep on the floor. Dave Spore almost faded away in the Dad Chair but his lovely wife came to reclaim him.
This was good. If CBRC & the USCF will let me, I'll lay claim to the 1st Saturday in March next year. See you there.
Junior Development
By: Mark Sumner
Given the recent discussions over how to get kids more involved with cycling, I thought this story relevant.
A couple of Saturdays ago, one where our temperatures were a balmy 10 degrees, I was down in my basement chamber of horrors, finishing up a grueling 1 1/2 hours on the rollers. My 2 youngest children where in their corner ignoring daddy’s huffing and puffing.
Suddenly a commotion broke out as the 2 year old (Lyndsay) started to drag her tricycle through the maze of donated exercise equipment (give it to Mark; he’s “athletic”) to where I was merrily spinning along. She had an air of determination about her and she would not be denied her quest. Making a very dramatic show of it, she placed her trike in front of the big box fan, next to me. As we both “rode” there, watching Lance Armstong in the 2000 TDF, she looked up at me with her hair flying back in the wind and said to me with a big toothy grin, “go fast Daddy, go fast”.
Yes, I was proud of her, and while she may not know daddy is not all that fast, she was ready to go. So look out for her in the next kid’s race, because she will be ready to rock.
The Tourawhat?
The Tughill Tourathon is a 50 or 25 km classic race that was held February 1. The Tourathon sits at the other end of the cross-country skiing world from the Lake Placid Loppet. While the Loppet draws world-class skiers from all over the U.S., the Tourathon is billed as a big party on skis where some people ski fast. You’re just as likely to see three-pin bindings and gaitors at the Tourathon as you are one-piece racing suits.
As you can guess from the name, the Tourathon takes place in the Tughill region of New York. The Tughill is a large, vaguely defined area north of Syracuse, east of the Adirondaks, and west of Lake Ontario. The Lake Ontario part is most important. This region routinely gets lake-effect snowstorms that dwarf the ones we have had this winter. It is not uncommon for more than 300 inches of snow to fall in this area. Once, parts of the Tughill received 90 inches in one storm.
Everything about the Tourathon is low tech. You register at the Sandy Creek School. You don’t have to worry about which school to go to. Sandy Creek has only one. In case you don’t know, Sandy Creek is just up the road from Pulaski, which is between Syracuse and Watertown, but a little closer to Watertown.
After registration, you climb on school buses, which serve as shuttles to the start. The race is held in Winona State Forest, about 15 minutes by school bus from Sandy Creek. There is little parking at the forest. Thus, the shuttle.
You’re best off taking care of all waxing before you arrive. You can wax at the school, but there is hired muscle around to make sure you don’t wax outside the official wax area, which consists of a few sheets of butcher paper thrown on the hallway floor. Apparently wax would mess up the school’s image, maybe make the floors shine.
Normally this isn’t a problem, since it is nearly always cold and snowing, but this year the race was held on the one warm day of the year, the day it rained. My carefully crafted wax strategy went right out the window. Although it was snowing at the forest, it was still a klister day. Klister is a wax that comes in a tube. It is best applied with heat. Fortunately I had brought my portable blowtorch to the start. One of the best parts about ski racing is you get to use a blowtorch. Luckily, the school bus driver did not do a terrorist check on my ski bag before I boarded the bus.
Even with the torch I had only one shot at getting the wax right. Klister is not quickly (or neatly) applied, and by the time I got to the forest, I had about 30 minutes to wax, test the wax, visit the outhouse, and get rid of my warm-ups. I chose yellow klister. I have only used this wax once before, on a day when it was warm and snowing fat, wet flakes, a day just like this one. That day was one of my best skiing days ever. And I believed I had the wax nailed for this race, a belief my short test ski affirmed.
My friends cringed when they saw my choice. “No one uses that wax,” said one. “It’s too soft,” said another. As it turns out we were both right, but more on that later.
The race is two laps of a 25 km course. The terrain is flat to rolling, with a few moderate hills about halfway around the loop. The first lap was about as fine a race as I have ever had. As predicted, my wax was right on. I had decent glide and great kick. I was climbing up hills while others were sliding all over the place. I controlled my urge to take off with the gun and skied a hard, maintainable pace. In the hill section, I was able to drop a lot of people. I finished the lap feeling great.
It was a feeling that wouldn’t last long.
My watch was the beginning of the end. Last year, the course had been a sheet of ice. The promoter couldn’t groom the trails and the race was held on some flat roads. It was all double poling and fast. My time was just over three hours. I knew this year would be slower due to the conditions, but I felt fast. I figured it would take me 3:30. But when I looked at my watch at the end of lap one, it read 1:54. I knew the second lap would be slower. That meant I still had two hours or more to go. For me, the hardest part of any endurance event is the place where you are beginning to get tired, but still have a long way to go. Suddenly, my long way just got a lot longer, and my brain took the news badly.
The wax was the next to betray me. In the first lap I was in the top 15 or 20 skiers. The track was still covered with new, wet snow. By lap two, the 250 or so skiers behind me had made the track packed and glazed. My magical wax didn’t work on that. Now I was the one battling hills. I managed by getting out of the track and skiing in the softer snow on medium hills, and by muscling it up the smaller hills, but it wasn’t very efficient.
Fatigue came next, around two and a half hours in. And when you get tired skiing, especially classical skiing, your form goes into the dumper. One of my friends, one of the ones who offered wax advice, said he knew he was going to catch me because he could see from a long way back that my form was gone. I felt like a spastic jellyfish.
A slow but steady parade of skiers caught and passed me. I tried to ski with them for a while, but it was futile.
Eventually, I came to the bigger hills and they actually helped. For some reason I could get up these hills OK. I think the elevation was a bit higher on this part of the course and the snow was softer.
I don’t know why people get second winds, why you begin to feel good again after feeling lousy for so long. I only know I got one shortly after the last water station. Maybe it was the warm Gatorade they were handing out. I began to feel like a skier again. I was even gaining on some of the people who had passed me.
About this time, I also began to pass people who were doing the shorter race. Seeing people ahead gave me something to shoot for, took my mind off the pain. I made a point to say something encouraging to everyone I passed. I don’t know why. It just seemed like the thing to do. One woman told me I was the first “fast guy” to talk to her. Fast guy? Who did she think she was kidding? I had to be in 50th place by now.
The end came quicker than I thought it would. I felt OK again, but I certainly wasn’t up for another lap. In keeping with the low-tech nature of this race, everyone who crosses the finish line gets a medal – gold for 50 km and silver for 25. You also get a little card that gives you your unofficial place. My card said 22nd. How could that be? Where did all the people ahead of me go? Maybe I wasn’t the only one who had a long day.
Four hours, six minutes, and change is a long time to be out there. But after a baked ziti dinner at the school and confirmation of my placing, it didn’t seem so bad. I can’t wait until next year.
Results
CBRC members and friends of CBRC (Next month we’ll have some bike race results for this space. Send any results to me at thuneck@nycap.rr.com.
Tug Hill Tourathon, February 1
25k
18 - Gina Huneck 3:12:35 (No that’s not a typo. My lovely wife competed in her first athletic event, and had a blast. Her time was good enough for third place in her age group, which I won’t even think about revealing. I asked her to do a write-up of her experience for this newsletter, but she declined. She did, however, have this to say: “I don’t know why you guys kill yourselves. You spend all that time training and then go out and suffer, for what? I skied at my own pace, stopped at all the water stops, made some new friends, and still came in third place. What place did you come in?” she asked sarcastically.
50k
22 - Tim Huneck 4:06:59 (But only good for 8th in the 40-44 age group.)
Empire State Games
February 22 and 23, Mt Van Hoevenberg
40-44
3 T. Huneck 31:21 10k classical
2 T. Huneck 1:01:33 20k pursuit (classical and freestyle combined)
45-49
6 B. Maswick 31:35 10k classical
4 B. Maswick 1:00:53 20k pursuit (Mas had a smoking time in the freestyle race. Too bad he’s not younger, where the competition is easier. So much for graduating to an easier age group.)
35-39
2 Ed Lis 1:03:08 20k pursuit
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