There wasn’t much strategy to be discussed. It’s a simple stage: a big climb that starts at mile 25 and crests at 30, then a second kicker for maybe 2k at mile 32. Then it’s mostly just a long drag to East Mountain road, which is a total bitch; I’d say it probably averages 6-8% but it undulates with steep section after steep section, including some well above 10%. Then it gives you some rollers that allow a bit of a reprieve until you cross a parking lot and make a hard left for the final km or so drag uphill to the finish at the ski lift parking lot.

So we just waited for the first climb. About 20 miles in Norm and a Pawling rider teamed up for some hard chasing of a two-man move that started making us a bit nervous, and that basically delivered us there.

The selection happened fast – we were down to 10 guys or so pretty quickly. I was there. Jules was there. I felt awesome on this climb, which skyrocketed my confidence because last year in this race I suffered mightily in this spot. I never felt in difficulty at all. I tried to study the faces and form of the other guys to assess who to worry about later. During this climb I went from nervous to “holy shit, I can win this fucking race.”

The kid in the KOM jersey got away and I decided not to chase, not wanting to end up in a two man move trying to cross no man’s land just to get to East Mountain road. We got over the intermediate climb. A bunch of guys caught back on but I really didn’t care – anybody who got dropped on the first climb was going to be OTB immediately on the next one. And, it ensured that KOM kid would get to hang in the wind solo for a bit before he would almost certainly be caught.

For the final 5-10k before the finishing climb, Norm set tempo at the front with Jules second wheel and me third. Norm led us into the hard left-hander onto East Mountain. We saw Jeff and Joe, which was awesome, and I tossed off all my extra weight and immediately stood up and attacked, figuring it would be smart to use my momentum and make the guys further back close.

Jules and Norm both said something like, “go do it,” and I settled in to the lead group. About halfway up I felt myself being ground down and got gapped a bit. I was really hurting and I faced a choice. I could bury myself and stay on the leaders’ wheels but risk blowing entirely and losing gobs of time, or I could back it off a bit, stay within myself, and see what happens. I did the latter.

I ended up in a four-man group with Ben Turrell (the beast of Battenkill) and two others from teams I didn’t recognize. Me and one of the unrecognized gapped Ben and the other coming over the final kicker onto the rollers section. He kept giving me the “pull through” elbow, but I was really suffering now so I mostly refused that request. He didn’t want our two chasers to get back, but my strategy was to recover a bit and if Ben and the other guy closed the gap back down I’d immediately attack them when they got back on, using the time I’d had to recover while they had to suffer their way back to my advantage.

But the gap kind of held overt the rollers, and the two of us made the hard left-hander onto the finishing drag. I attacked my dude near the bottom and he pretty much crumbled, and I was alone.

I wasn’t sure how many guys were ahead of me. There were stragglers from the masters and 3 races that we were passing, and it was so hard that I just lost count. I was pretty certain however that if I could stay away from my 3 chasers I’d have a top ten and maybe get back into the top 10 GC.

What followed was, and I don’t say this to embellish, the worst pain I have ever felt on the bike. It was that awful situation where I’m all alone and there’s three strong guys that I should normally be able to stay away from with a 30 second gap over only a km or so – but I had nothing left. I mean, I was dying. I was counting pedal strokes in my head. “Just do ten pedal strokes. One, two, three…” and when I got to ten I started again. I could see the finishing banner. 100 meters has never looked so intimidating. I crossed the line having maintained the gap and it was as if my body and mind just said “okay we can stop, so we have to, immediately.” I unclipped and slumped over my bike the minute I had cleared the finish line. An official ran over to me and helped me off and I slumped down against the guardrail. Joe and Lisa came over with water asking if I was okay. I waved to let them know that I was, but it was a few minutes before I could stand up and talk.

All that for 8th, and 11th in the GC.

Not as well as I’d hoped. A 5th or better would have completed my 4-3 upgrade and that’s something I’d really like to accomplish. At the same time, I thought “well, fucking shit – if dropping Ben Turrell and riding myself into complete and total submission only gets me 8th then so be it.” The competition in this race is beastly. There are a lot of juniors and collegiate guys, many of them on super high-end bikes, and they’ve been doing this shit since they were 12. I’m a 35-year-old Cat 4 with limited natural ability, a wife, and a job in his 4th season of racing.

I left it all on the course. Maybe I could have conserved a little more at a couple of key spots, but I don’t know that it would have made any difference. I could not possibly have ridden any harder.

One final shout out to Norm: he knew he didn’t have the form he needed to really contend this time around. So, rather than do what 90% of these cat 4 sallies do - which is ride conservatively to limit their suffering later on, despite knowing full well they won’t make the final selection on the climb anyway – he sat on the front, chased breaks, kept his teammates safe, and delivered us to the final climb. Even without his best fitness, he made a huge impact on the race.

That’s how we do in Kissena.

Posted By: Ryan JOne final shout out to Norm: he knew he didn’t have the form he needed to really contend this time around. So, rather than do what 90% of these cat 4 sallies do - which is ride conservatively to limit their suffering later on, despite knowing full well they won’t make the final selection on the climb anyway – he sat on the front, chased breaks, kept his teammates safe, and delivered us to the final climb. Even without his best fitness, he made a huge impact on the race.

And apparently that got us on the front page of the local paper! Awesome!!

@ Joe - what happened?

whappened to Diamond Joe?

i didn't see his name in the 3rd stage results - am i buggin'?

really nice work, all.

norm: you are the MAN! un domestique formidable!

Norm once again proving that the un-written policy of No Dicks pays off! Strong riders putting out everything they've got for team results. This weekend we had epic work by teammates for no personal glory but putting it all on the line for the team.

Stage 2: The Time Trial

Last year at the I sucked at the Time Trial at the Tour of the Catskills. I didn't practice enough on my TT bike beforehand and a a result put in a poor performance. This year I wanted to do well and KSR was part of that plan.

A week prior I'd done a very "spirited" workout at FBF (as my coach Max would say) with Eric and Ryan and I felt that I was comfortable enough to shoot for a podium spot this day. Last year's times told me that it would take close to 27 mph to do the job though; and any way you slice it that is a lot of speed.

I was NERVOUS before this stage. A ninety minute warmup was called for but in reality I only got sixty "real" minutes - first we spun around the local roads, checked my gears, handlebars, skewers, shoes, everything 3 times. We set up trainers next to the car but quickly realized that the race had twenty trainers at the start line under tents no less - so we migrated there. I left Jeff Owens with a curt "I gotta go" and sped off to begin my detailed warmup plan. Once I was bolted in at the start line, looking at the countdown clock I could relax. My legs felt good, not great but good - I began to spin happily through my drills as Ryan and Norm "Normanzo" set up next to me.

Soon sweat was dripping off my nose and my legs were burning - a little TOO much burning but that was what it was supposed to feel like I told myself. We traded the icepack back and forth and I sipped my drink diligently. Ryan could see how stressed I was and offered some words of encouragement, "The numbers don't lie man, you're gonna Smash this"

Having done a lot of Time Trials by myself in the past I can't tell you what a difference it makes to have a teammate encourage you beforehand. It was awesome.

With ten minutes to the start I unclipped my bike, checked the new skewer, and set out to check the gears, brakes, shoes, etc one more time.

I rolled up to the line just as they were calling my name. Perfect. The official waved his hand in front of me: 3...2...1...BOOM I was off...

"Stay cool, stay cool, stay cool" I said to myself out loud.

Cool I stayed, the first two minutes I averaged 320 watts, a bit higher than I wanted but nothing to be too concerned about. I knew that big disk wheel wanted to spin so I did my best to stay on top of the gear and keep my head as low as possible. Power started to wane pretty quickly but I kept it steady, aiming to do the second half faster than the first. Watts read 300...295...290... I was fading!

Enraged I spun my feet and held my body low and relaxed, promising to kick it up after twelve minutes (what I imagined would be the halfway point)

Warnings about the course were fair; it's all uphill (but just a tad) and into the wind. So even though it *looks* like you are going flat you are really climbing. The speed I got from the bike and the wheel and the position kept me from feeling slow; it was just my power numbers that had me worried.

And so it went. I saw someone, passed him. Saw another, passed him. Passed another. At some point I saw a yellow sign 1km to go! It was early but maybe I was flying? One km is about two minutes in the park so I opened the throttle wide 350...375...360... wait, there was no finishing banner, no people anywhere... what was going on...?

I dialed back the power in despair with lactate flooding everywhere... another yellow sign "3km" it read. What?!? Three km to go? A string of totally unprintable words flooded my brain.

...

The fury and despair I felt were channeled into my low position, fast spinning and relaxed upper body.

"Just roll" I said, over and over again.

The burn... The burn... The burn...

Gasping I threw every image I could in front of my protesting brain "Do it for LOVE!" I thought. Images of my loved ones - some here and some not - images of my future grandchildren, anything - I was in agony but I was fast - I could feel it.

The "2 km" sign came up; there was a hill... some other stuff I don't really remember. I tried to stay aero on the hill but I was too slow so I jumped out of the saddle and punished my screaming legs, then over the top and back into the tuck.

"1 km" sign! THAT one was real and I opened up and hit out with whatever I had left... 500 meters to go... I could see the timing booth... I stayed low and aero through the finish and then... I was done.

I waited around for Ryan, then Norm and we compared notes.

My effort was good enough for 7th. Ryan amazingly got the *exact same* place he did last year, and Norm got 16th.

Looking at the data later my averages are within ONE watt any way you slice it: first half, second half, normalized or regular average. That tells me that I gave everything I had; I didn't go out too hard, and I didn't hold back. I think with some practice I can put out more power in that position by the time the Catskills roll around.

We did a little warmdown and headed back to the "Chalet" The Queen stage awaited us.

damn - i liked reading that. extremely badass.

Stage 3: The Queen Stage

I awoke feeling good. Not fresh, but not nervous. Today's stage had two big climbs; one in the middle and a BEAST at the end. We'd driven the Beast the night before as Jeff Owens chuckled at the wheel like a pirate recounting stories of fearsome sea-monsters and seaborne amputations.

The hill just kept coming and coming; five percent, ten percent, five percent... a flat section then ten percent. This was a stage for the 120 pound flyweights, not forty somethings with two kids. Just when you thought it was over it threw you into a flat parking lot, around a corner and then up a nine percent hill for the final third of a mile to the SKI LIFT.

Despite the fearsome finale I wasn't so worried; I can do a 30 minute Time Trial uphill I thought - the strongest guy is going to win. I'll just ride my own tempo and see what comes of it.

Ryan on the other hand who was usually the picture of nonchalance was pacing about the house... something was amis!

He looked at me in shock and declared "I'm nervous! I'm never nervous."

I reminded him that it was just a 30 minute race to the top of a hill; the days in LA when I'd smash myself for 30 minutes only to see him sail away despite my best efforts - and that he was stronger now than he was then. We all ate our oatmeal (steel cut, if you must know) and scrambled eggs.

I fretted a bit about nutrition; it was hot the last couple of days, and going to be hotter again today. I opted to go heavy on the 'enduralytes' and bring a few extra in my pocket. They'd served me well this year at Battenkill.

Soon enough we were riding around in circles warming up. I sipped on my pre-race bottle dutifully in the hour beforehand and when the whistle blew I was happy to toss my empty bottle at the startline. I think of nutrition as a task to be accomplished so one less chore was a bit relaxing.

...

Ryan, Norm and I rode well together again; opening gaps for one another and conversing. I'd written the numbers of the people ahead of me on my forearm that morning so as I spotted them I'd tell Ryan who he should worry about when it came to the Beast Hill. We had no illusions about who was going to be first amongst Kissena's to the top; Ryan was going with the lead group for sure so he needed to know who he could afford to let get away.

Early on I found the GC leader; a hugemtime trialling beast of a man. I saw him and smiled. Definitely not a threat today. He was 180lbs if he was an ounce. When I reconnected with Ryan I pointed him out encouragingly *that's one less guy to worry about - just don't let him go out there on his own."

Early on there was a sharp, steep hill; I stayed close to the front where the GC leader was; I didn't want his extra weight and monster TT engine getting out ahead of us on a downhill. Once at the top I promptly got my nose into the wind and started pushing on the downhill. "Always safest on the front," I thought.

I had no idea what I'd signed up for.

For the next HOUR I was on the front, going downhill. We averaged 25 mph for 50 minutes and I averaged 190 watts. Once we were on the flat I encouraged GC to take his turn but he said, "I am here with no teammates, I cannot pull" in a thick eastern bloc accent. Full points for candor on his part.

Across the flat we rolled and Ryan reminded me that the middle climb was fiercely contested last year, "Don't let anyone get away there" he admonished me.

Soon enough we were on it and the scene was pretty intense - people out of the saddle working really hard - I was on my limit. I turned myself inside & out to stay by Ryan and when we got close to the top we looked at each other and shared a grin; we were both there! Toward the top the road turned into dirt and I soon found myself next to Ben Turrell - the guy who won our field at Battenkill. I felt like we were in our element and it cheered me up. I reminded Ryan to keep turning over a big gear when the surface was sketchy - as we neared the top I could hear cursing behind us as people's wheels began to spin & skip.

Rolling over the top Ryan asked if I could do one of "my tempos" (he was referring to my 30 minute intervals I'd done in LA) but I shook my head ruefully.

I was cooked, and we had miles to go before we slept. I needed to recover.

...

Over the top two guys whose numbers weren't on my arm got away but before we could really organize it was time for the downhill again.

This time I was third wheel and the road was dirt. The jerk on the front decided his tactic would be to ride really close to big potholes and not call them out to those behind him. We shouted and cursed at him with fury and eventually we got in front of him and the descent became infinitely safer.

Once onto the valley floor we got organized. Bill Rigler (2nd in the first stage) of Sids Bikes sent one of his guys to the front. Marc from Velocity went up to the front and one of the Sidds guys looked at me (still third wheel) and asked, "Do you guys have anybody in GC?"

I answered (a little shocked) "Uh, me?"

He laughed and didn't ask me to pull again.

Out of nowhere Norm came cruising up - between Norm, Marc, the guy from Sidds they set up to chase the two guys who were still away. Bill was in the running for sprinting points so the Sids guy did the bulk of the work chasing and as we approached the intermediate sprint line the pack went into full sprint mode and then coasted... I rolled up from the back past Bill and asked, "Did you get it?" He shook his head sadly.

That final sprint had given us the momentum or speed we needed and we soon caught the two escapees... or perhaps they sat up; spent from sprinting against one another for the intermediate points.

From here on out it was an almost straight road to the belly or "foot" of the Beast. Norm stayed on the front with the guy from Sids and the two of them proceded to string it out.

We had no idea how many had made it over the intermediate climb with us; I'd asked around a bit and gotten answers ranging from "twenty" to "forty" to "everyone."

By my best guess we had 15 or 20 km more to go before the bottom of the hill. We'd been in the saddle for two hours at this point.

I'd felt a twinge of a cramp in my calf so I'd been gobbling my enduralyte pills and drinking dutifully; my gut was not happy but I knew I needed to get the food & drink in me before it was showtime.

Norm put down one of the classiest efforts I've ever seen in person; he took us for over 35 minutes at 22, 23 mph up a half to one percent incline. I had no idea what it was like further back than 3rd wheel (where I was parked like a lamprey) but I was doing 215 watts just hanging on and my back was beginning to ache.

Finally, oh so finally, we saw the building at the bottom of the ski hill the "Starship"

We made the turn and I saw Jeff Owens and Joe standing ready to feed us; I wasn't sure what was going on (the plan had been for just Jeff to be there) but Joe had my specially mixed bottle and I gratefully took it from him and dumped my extra bottles.

...

The Belly of the Beast.

Ryan and the other climbers took off like greyhounds I did about a minute and a half at 380 trying to keep them close before I realized it was time for my own pace. From there on up it was a dogfight.

I clawed at the steeper sections and fought back & forth with the one guy whose number was on my arm (ahead of me on GC) and the few behind me who I recognized. Somehow Bryan Gunther from NYVelocity got ahead of me but I played a bit of time trial poker and when we got a flat stretch I did some work with my GC competitor and when it kicked up again I attacked, closing on Bryan and then recovered as best as I could when it was less stepp. It feels like the 5% grade I'm strong on and the 10% stuff is just devastating unless you are built like WDC or Tito.

The final climb is devilishly hard; 10%, then 5% then 10% then flat...then down then 10% again. I rolled through everything as hard as I could and tucked and dove when there were small downhills - each time attacking out of the bottom so the heavier guys would have to dig even harder to catch me. Before long my GC competitor was lost behind me and I could see number 600 or 606 (I can't remember up ahead - another GC competitor)

The debris from other fields was all around us; some guys were just sitting on the side of the road watching us, others were trudging up dejectedly. Occasionally we'd see some knucklehead from another field come sailing DOWNHILL on the far left.

As we approached the final parking lot before the one-third mile uphill to the finish I told Bryan in gasps, "I'm going for GC. If you pull for me. I'll give you. My spot. On the finish." Meaning if he helped me go faster overall I'd sit up and let him take one place ahead of me. People were screaming "Red flag is 500 meters!" and "Almost there!"

"I don't think I can even stay with you, Jules" he said. "But thanks, man"

...

So there it was; I was at the bottom of the final hill, with one guy whose number was written on my arm about 100 meters ahead of me. We passed the red flag and I opened the throttle as wide as I could. I attacked and attacked and attacked; I caught my target and went wide, wide to his left - no way I was giving up an ounce of draft to him. I kept the pressure on and when I looked back he was gone, broken. I still had - fifty - a hundred? meters to go and I kept going and going as hard as I could; gasping for air.

Arms raised, I crossed the finish and then began to wobble and heave. I stopped my bike, cocked my front wheel sideways as my stomach tried to empty itself. Out of nowhere arms supported me, straightened out my handlebars and I was rolling slowly towards the water tent. It was Joe - somehow (I didn't wonder at the time) he'd made it to the finish to see us and was guiding me - like such a pro - to the water tent.

Joe, Jeff, Lisa, my kids - everyone was there and we had enough cold water to pour on everyone's head. Such sweet bliss.

Overall I was 12th on the stage, 8th on GC.

Ryan was 8th on the stage - he'd taken almost a full minute out of me in (what for me) was just a 26 minute climb.

Overall it was a great trip; renting the house and staying with family & friends was a real treat. My only complaint was that we didn't have monday night to celebrate; everyone had to pack & go home in a hurry.

My family stopped for victory burgers but I was too tired to actually eat mine. I just drank water, nibbled onion rings and stared into the distance.

I'm so grateful to my family, my coach and this team. Ryan who talked me into this race and took care of me during it and Jeff who was soigner extraordinaire; helping us fix up bikes and swap parts - taking care of so many little things he made the stress of the race so much more manageable. Being able to put my kids to sleep at night with familiar stories and songs was fantastic; as was being able to share the day's exploits in person with Lisa - not in clipped text messages or tired phone calls.

Norm whose engine knows no bounds eagerly jumped to the front to slay himself and do real work ahead of the final climb. All along I was thinking "holy cow; if I'm hurting just hanging on what must being going on in the back?"

Thanks guys. It's no exaggeration to say I couldn't have done it without you.

As Ryan put it; that's how we roll on Kissena.

Fuck, I feel like I just read the goddamn CHRONICLES OF NARNIA. I have half a mind to jump on the bike right now, crank up my Phil mix on the iPhone, and do an hour of power in the park.

If I could drop 10 lbs. by this time next year ...

I'd also like to add that in the first three hours on the way home Norm quietly ate:

-A deli sandwich;
-A big piece of red velvet cake;
-A bag of chocolate covered pretzels; and,
-An entire 8-pack bag of Sausalito cookies.

It was EPIC

"Yeah but if it rains I'm not sure I want to be on the Carbon rims..."

Posted By: Ryan JI'd also like to add that in the first three hours on the way home Norm quietly ate:

-A deli sandwich;
-A big piece of red velvet cake;
-A bag of chocolate covered pretzels; and,
-An entire 8-pack bag of Sausalito cookies.

It was EPIC

You forgot to mention the only two moderately healthy items I consumed:
A banana
Yogurt & nut Kind bar.

awesome

Jules, that's the best bedtime reading I've had in a long while So epic.

Not my most stellar weekend of racing. In fact I'm walking away from this weekend feeling kinda fat (these dudes were like 16 and 125lbs) and bitter so I'll keep it short.

Day One:
Sit in and let the jr. hot tubes team just dominate the race. They were very well coached and in great shape. I sat in and waited for the last KOM to then try to snap the field on the downhill. When we went Al B, then Fred (from Finkraft), big ass gap, then me. But it didn't really matter because by the time I closed it we were neutralized. The break of 3 stayed away.

Also really bad crashes on the first day.

Day Two:
Jules hooked me up with his awesome wheel set and helmet. I felt pretty good with my performance but had a nasty head wind and 2 cars in the last 500 meters. Finished 21st over all. But still lost time.

Day Three:
Clawed my way over the first climb with the lead pack. Then hit the rollers and would catch back on during the down hills. We hit a turn with 25k to go and got gapped off the lead group. Soloed for a bit got caught by the first chase group. For some reason tried to pull and blew out the back. Sat up and called it a day.

don't you worry, diamond joe

a) everybody has their rough races

b) the cat 3 field up there was brutally tought

c) it sounds like you had some bad luck

Giro Del Cielo . . . we will go all HotTubesJrDevTeam on their asses!

Yeah, Joe's TT is more impressive than he'll take credit for. For starters, by the time he went the wind was brutal. Also, he got a 2 minute warmup. Finally, he had a huge equipment disadvantage on his aluminum road bike against guys with full on TT bikes and expensive gear.

@ Joe

take out some aggression this weekend with us!

The cat 3's were flying. Unlike when the 2's came through a long time after the pro/1's on that last climb, the 3's were right on the heels of the 2 "peloton". They had clearly been hammering all day. Once again, I took the opportunity to sip on my selzter and smile while they tortured themselves up that thing.

all i know is i've been reading all of these reports and i'm damned impressed. i thought i'd been in a pain cave till I read Jules' & Ryan's reports - and I'm in awe of Norm's team-first heroics. Chapeau, all! I think I may need to try me one of these stage races next summer....

Joe was TT'ing into a raging headwind, plus he was forced to eat food *without individual wrappers!*

I think that explains it all. Luckilly he and Leroy got some "quality time" together on the gravel...

In all seriousness though, it's a bummer but that field is absurdly strong.

Seventh place ahead of me was a 15 year old who has been racing since 2008 (and getting top tens)

Second place went to a 21 year old who was 12th overall last year

Third place went to Peter Vollers, Jr... presumably the son of this guy:

"The KMS Cycling Team is a comprehensive junior cycling development program. The team is coached by 1985 US Junior Worlds Team Member, 1989 US Collegiate National Champion, past pro racer and 30- year racing veteran, Peter Vollers"

etc.

And that was in the 4's

Methinks Joe's day of dominance is coming soon...

I would say one of the biggest handicaps is that it's next to impossible to simulate those kinds of climbs around here. Lots of the people/kids that did well live and ride in those mountains or ones like them. If breech is hanging on the back of the pack, Chabanov can only manage 11th, and bremer is OTB, you know it's harder than hell.

Don't worry, Breech won at Floyd last night. Fish out of water.....