Rouge Roubaix Redux (again)

Cycling bloggers say it again and again every year, but it's true: I can't believe the road season is back again. It seems like just yesterday that I was running all over Staten Island so that people could jump over barriers and run along the beach with their bikes on their backs. Since then there's been a whole off-season full of behavior that would make my coach cringe (Sorry, Roger) A few pigs worth of pork had been consumed, and I've lined the pockets of far too many Trappist monks this season.

When I speak to my fellow cyclists it seems that many of them have had a bit of a hard time kicking off training this year. Should we blame the weather? Sure- let's do that. The 12+inch dumps (I'm talking snow here) kill weekend rides, which are the bread and butter of base training. A winter full of wine, food, and regrettable decisions is hard to give up, but as the scale tips farther and farther away from your ideal and delusional race weight, reality must rear its ugly head. Before you know it, its time to give up your Friday nights in hopes of 6 am central park cycling glory. So how does one prepare for a return to the life of a spandex-clad monk?

For me, two words: Rouge Roubaix. For the past three years, I've made the hilariously stupid decision of having the hardest race of the season be the first race of the season. My teammate Tim and I can't stay away from this hidden gem of a Spring Classic: 101 miles, 30 of which feature offensive, minefield-like unpaved sections that make Battenkill's "un-pave" feel like a track velodrome. Oh, and by the way, even though this race is in Louisiana, it's quite hilly. Myriad short, punchy, unpaved climbs result in almost 4,000 feet of climbing. And what's not to love about an obscenely unpaved 18% grade at mile 85?

We got in two days before the race and stayed with a mutual friend in Baton Rouge. The most eventful part of the flight was realizing that I paid more to get to the airport and get my bike on the plane than i did for my ticket. Even though JetBlue's $50 bike box fee is relatively reasonable, I'm still infuriated by the fact that I'm charged for a sub-50 lb piece of luggage just because it's a bicycle. However, on the way back I discovered a fantastic way to bypass paying to get your bike on the plane: Simply say that your bike box is a massage table. There you go. Maybe I’ll have business cards made: “CJ’s love-you-long-time massage service. Where every ending is happy.”

We got suited up in our brand-spankin-new kits and went for a spin by the Mississippi Levee. It had been so long since i had ridden in warm weather- I couldn't have been happier. As we sprinted for telephone poles, a pressing questions was mulling around in the back of my head; Am I actually going to survive this race again?

Last year's Rouge Roubaix completely tore me up. Every part of my body was shredded, and I (like many) had been bonking by the end of the ride. I managed 18th place last year, but that was also with a week of Roger's Tucson cycling camp under my belt.

This time around I didn't have much confidence in my training up until 2 weeks before the race. Sure, I did a few reluctant 2+hr sessions on the trainer and got out for longer rides when I could, but I wasn't hungry for it like I was hungry for any number of delicacies I had been consuming all winter. I'd say my biggest obstacle as a bike racer is my torrid love affair with pork and foie gras products.

The night of the race we had two dinners. Sushi at 4PM and Pasta before bed. A small ocean's worth of water was consumed, and we slammed some endurolytes in preparation for the upcoming pain fest. A laid out the buffet spread for the race. I decided to bring an extra bottle of water, 'cuz bonking at a Roubaix is about as fun as carnal relations with This.

We woke up early and zoomed over to St. Francisville in our rock racing-esque SUV. We got to the hotel and registered. right by the registration tables was a course map with a lovely elevation profile that resembled tiger woods taking a lie detector test about his business trips.

The air was a bit cold and clammy and we spent about an hour debating wardrobe selection. I decided to be a little cold at the start and go short sleeves. it would later warm up to the mid-60's range, so it was a good call. After pinning on the number and slathering on a metric ton of Sportique, we were ready to go.

the first twenty miles of the race are relatively tame. our pack of about 60 cat 4's rode in a rather un-excited fashion. My biggest priority of the first 25 miles of the race was to initiate a tinkle-stop before the first dirt section. It's long been speculated that i have the bladder of a newborn infant, and I didn't want that to be an issue later on in the race. Tim and I informed the field we should take a pee break, and a few along with us pulled off to whizz. the rest of the field, though, kept going. after about 5 minutes of riding at threshold, I finally caught back on. Hilariously enough, that's when THE REST OF THE @#$!% FIELD DECIDED TO STOP FOR A BREAK. not being one to waste energy (lazy) I was a bit riled up. Tim calmed me down and we kept going.

photo by Allen Richard

The first unpaved section was around mile 25 and is an 8 mile-long, sandy, pebbly mess. it's also where a violent acceleration happens, and the entire field gets strung out and eventually disintegrates. I would say about 10-15 people rode away from where I was in that dirt section.

I was able to organize a chase group with about 5 or so other riders and we quickly started chasing upon exiting the dirt section. We had 20 mi or so till the next dirt section, and everyone worked together quite nicely. short, sweet pulls were the name of the game.

Mile 65 would mark the start of the really nasty stuff- a short, 15% unpaved climb known as “Big Bertha” awaited us- some members of the group got dropped in the 2nd dirt section, and most were forced to dismount due to a lovely sand pit right in the middle of one of the climbs.

Between the 2nd and 3rd dirt section is a stretch of rolling asphalt- probably about 20 miles long. Last year this was the stretch where i started to hurt. I don’t think i was drinking enough or being disciplined enough about eating. I know- of all people, how could forget when you eat? This year i refilled all my bottles at every feed zone, stuffing water bottles down my jersey like a cuckolded domestique. I also brought along Nuun tablets and made sure to eat something every half hour. up until the last 5 miles of the race i felt great and had no problems staying smooth.

the 3rd and final dirt section comes around mile 80-something and goes on for about 5 miles or so. within that final hilariously bad stretch of road, you’re greeted with short punchy climbs between 10-18% and descents that should be reserved for MTB’ers and CX’ers. Many a dude wiped out or had their tires go pop. This definitely wasn't a good race for tubulars or carbon wheels. I stuck with my Campy Eurus wheels and the never disappointing Vittoria Pave Clincher. Those tires are bulletproof and are without a doubt the best tires for any unpaved road race.

the worst part of the race is most certainly the last road section up to the finish. You’ve just gone through the last unpaved stretch and you and your taint are hoping for a little solace. No way, Jose- while the last 10 miles are technically “paved,” the road is mostly chip seal and littered with potholes that make you wonder if you’re riding through a minefield. At this point all but 3 people in the chase group were actually taking pulls. Myself, a kid from Arkansas, and a dude from Natchez who looked like a bumblebee. I couldn’t tell if the rest of the group was pulling the douche move of waiting to attack at the last bit or if they were truly shattered.

The final stretch to the finish line is quite ugly: about a 500 meter uphill with a dip in the middle. as we turned into the final stretch, Arkansas gave me a nice little leadout and I sprinted my fat ass uphill for half a kilometer. I got a nice gap between me and the other guys who decided to sprint, and churned to the finish line as my legs filled to the brim with lactic acid. Note to self- never sprint for 500 meters uphill ever again. I was about to vomit when I crossed the finish line, but had a good 5 bike lengths from the rest of the guys.

The minute I crossed the line I rolled over to the curb and collapsed on a patch of grass. I started hallucinating and could have sworn I saw an ethereal Phil Collins telling me to head towards the light.

I had no idea what place I came in, and frankly I didn't care. I had finished in about 5 hrs and 13 minutes, and Tim had come in about 3 minutes ahead of me. We drove back to the start and shoved food and beer down our gullets. Everyone had a glazed look in their eyes and they all moved with a drawl that would make a normal Southerner seem like a coked-out NYC I-banker.

once we got the results, I was pretty happy: Tim came in 12th and I nabbed 15th. the first year I raced Rouge I came in 20th. Last year I got 18th. As long as I beat myself year over year I’m happy.

The next day we drove over to New Orleans to reward myself and undo all the good I did by riding 100 miles. Giant gulf oysters and Po’ Boys. Hoo-rah.

Call me a masochist, but there’s no better way to kick off the road season. Once the hardest race is behind you, everything else is a relative cakewalk. This race has also brought back my desire to train. Hell, maybe I’ll try and upgrade to 3 sometime this season. Sometimes, though, It’s just fun being an excitable cat 4.

See you guys in the park.

CJ

weekend recap: brooklyn racing, training, gimbel's murder, and HAM!

yet another action packed episode of Alliwannadoisbicycle!

Let's try a blog bullet form. Hopefully it'll make things clean and easy. Although that's what they said about oxy clean, and that was a piece on as-seen-on-tv garbage. Billy Mayes, you should be ashamed of yourself.

-Raced in the Spring series race in prospect park on Saturday. it was the first time I've ridden, let alone raced in prospect, so it was quite an experience. I think the course suits me better than Central park, since it's flatter. However, I'm super familiar with central park, and have raced more there. PP is a bit narrow at times, and I really should go and scope out the strategic sprint locations 2 or 300 meters before the finish. it was SUPER cold Saturday morning- around 34 degrees, which is about as low as i'll go for road racing (cyclocross is a different story). Thank god for Greyhound juice. I decided to lay low for most of the race, but ended up wasting a bit of energy here and there. a 3 man break got away and stayed away. ah, well. I managed to come in the top 15 or so in a field of about 40. satisfactory. next PP race will be better, especially if we have more teammates out.



-Chad and I then went on a post-race training/suffering ride. Why we keep doing these, i don't know. We went up to Nyack and had our customary Muffins. by the way, the muffins are even better if you ask them to toast them on the pannini press first. Paris thinks that's hot.

-we met up with some of the NYVelocity Ladies and rode back with them. a sweet tailwind made our pace-lining all the swifter. it also warmed up a bit at the end of the ride, which was awesome.

-Sunday was quite the humbling experience. Chad and I met up with a few other hearty teammates and we went to go do the Gimbel's ride. Well, not to make excuses (ok, to totally make excuses), Saturday was rough on my legs, and Chad was even worse off after also having raced Sunday morning (crazy man). the gimbel's ride is a fast, fast ride. it starts in Yonkers and rolls through Greenwhich CT. I have no idea where it ends. it was all fine in the flats, but the ex pros and the cat 1's generally decide on the pace. the minute the short, punchy hills started, i knew i was in trouble. Chad and I ended up getting dropped. We courageously chased back the pack with 2 other guys, but the minute another hill hit, they were gone. we wasted so much energy catching up that we had nothing left once another climb hit. Ah, well.

-once we got dropped, we realized we were stuck in Greenwhich. and had no idea where we were. Then we both bonked. I bonked pretty hard, which was majorly sucky. we eventually found a Panera in Portchester and stuffed ourselves stupid. Then we took the metro north back. Ha.

-Proceeded to go home, pass out, and eat tons of Easter Ham. Salvatore Commesso would be proud.


-Big race is coming up next weekend. The Battenkill-Roubaix. the Hell of the North(east). Jay might be there as well. It's going to be huge. and epic. and I'm going to die.

-55 miles, half of which is unpaved. about 4,700 feet of vertical climbing.
I'm bringing my 13-26 cassette, my hincapie sunglasses, and a sixer of Chimay (as a post race reward/celebration/consolation prize), and holding on for dear life. I'll probably get dropped like Michael Jackson's baby. Ah well. Time to suffer!


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here's the elevation profile:



Oye Vei. Happy Passover. That's just not Kosher!

More TV Time, More Trainer time. Racing in T-5 days

And counting.

Well, kids, it looks like uncle Christophe was on TV again (thanks again to Jason for pointing it out) . looks like the VS network has taken a liking to the clip of me giving Floyd Landis one of my T-shirts (which can be found on sale HERE) . They've been selling pretty well, by the way. I've received a ton of positive comments about the "Free Floyd" shirts. I'm guessing they might be using this TV footage for some time (until the fiasco clears up). I'm really glad that VS has been making an effort to report on the situation in Pro-cycling in an even manner. That one network has provided more fair and balanced coverage on Floyd than any other major news source out there (although Trustbutverify could show everyone a thing or two). I find that comforting. Hopefully it's enough to bring more awareness to the true state of what's going on and how it's threatening the sport we all love. The more people know the true facts, the more public pressure there will be to do something about it.


I guess I should begin to reap the rewards of my fame and celebrity. Frankly, all I want is a lifetime supply of Assos Chamois cream and a flock of nude virgins to apply it. I'm sure that can be arranged for a Z-list celebrity such as myself...

Enough with my delusions.

The cold finally broke on Saturday, and by the "cold breaking," I mean it was a high of 53 degrees. I jumped out of bed, slapped on my early spring gear (base layer, short jersey, arm warmers, and knickers) as well as my obnoxious and commemorative Hincapie sunglasses, and off i went. I ended up riding 75 wonderful miles. some alone, some with my teammate Nate Follow the link for hit flickr site, he's a great photographer- and was the one that shot me for the Maxxis tire shoot- see below:



Anyway, enough of my narcissistic meanderings (wait, isn't the the whole point of having a blog?)

The ride was fantastic. I felt like a kid again (a kid with a $5000 racing bike and a heart rate monitor, but a kid nonetheless). I went across the GWB and headed up to Nyack via river road- doing a few hill repeats on the way. When I got to Piermont I met up with Nate. We met up at the Piermont bike shop and decided to extend our trip a little. we bikes out to Rockland State park and did a victory lap of it. as we were doing our lap, a cold front came in. Good job not remembering your wind vest, Christophe! It got colder, and my fingers started to numb a little. As we rode, though, we warmed up, and it was more than tolerable on the way back. I'm feeling pretty decent about my conditioning, although I won't really be able to tell until Saturday- my first road race of the season.

Hoo-rah. I can't wait to slap my race wheels back on my bike- my Eurus's have been sitting in their campy wheel bags waiting to go for a ride. Only 5 more days.

It's only a CRCA club race in central park, but it will be my 2nd road race yet. I'm planning on sticking with the pack and not trying anything stupid (unless I can find some accomplices to do so) The last thing i want is a broken collarbone or a snapped frame on the 1st race of the season.

I'm looking forward to it.

Am I ready? I don't know. I'm definitely in the best riding shape of my life, although I feel like I've slacked off the past week or so (although it was a rest week). I may just experiencing late term it's-been-a-long-trainer-season-and-I don't-want-to-see-that-godforsaken-thing-for-another-8-months-psychoses. (you can tell by the look on my face)


I also should quit eating like an ass hole.

The race is 4 park laps, about 25 mi. no biggie.

Here's to not coming in last!