Days of Thunder

Texas Track Racing, and fun in (and out of) the sun.

Mike Barman and I traveled to Frisco, Texas for the last of this year’s three World Track Cup qualifiers, being held at the Superdrome. Super it is. Perhaps travailed would be a better word, as the four days were full of travails. The first day started with us at Nathan Rogut’s house putting together bikes, hustling to get to the track to get some riding in before race day. Some of you may remember Nathan, as he raced in the last Dick Lane Velodrome Grand Prix for the NARC / Trek / VW / FreeFlite team last September. Anyway, fast forward to the track, and come to find out, I left my shoes and shorts at the house, with no time to return. It’s not good when the week starts with rookie mistakes. All we needed was a crow saying “Nevermore.” Mike got a ride in to report that the new bike was totally stable, which made me feel a bit better. Mike also offered to loan me his shoes and shorts, so I could ride a bit, to which I responded “Ummm, we’re good friends, but not that good.” We’d just get up early and get a few extra laps in come morning.

Interlude thought: The post name comes from a movie by the same name, but also because, when racing on a wooden track, the group coming by sounds like thunder. It sounds like really loud thunder when the group crashes. More on this later.

Back to the track after a restless night’s sleep (I don’t travel well), and both the bike and the track prove to be as stable as Mike reported, so there were no pre-race jitters for the morning festivities. I was riding the kilo TT, and Mike was doing the 4k pursuit, proof that kilo riders are 4 times smarter than pursuit riders. Anyway, I rip off my new PB of 1:11.9, and Mike rides his PB in the 4k of 5:20. I finish tenth, and Mike finishes in Steve’s traditional time trial placing: Not Last. Good start. We hit out for lunch and a nap, then are back at the track for the “fun” event of the weekend – scratch racing. Mike is doing 2 scratch races, as the promoters have scheduled a Cat 3 scratch race in addition to the World Cup track race. I’m just doing the one. The hard one. Anyway, it’s about this time the weather starts getting pissy. Mike lines up at the rail to find out that it’s not a Cat 3 scratch race – they’re combining in the Cat 4 field as well. This immediately turns it from a Category 3/4 to a Crash-‘n-gory 3/4 race. And that cliché holds true: 15 laps in, two Frisco teammates decide to make cow eyes at each other, and get together for a little tussle. I’m sitting in the pits, making last minute adjustments to my new track bike with a file, when I here really loud thunder, and I turn to see people pointing at the place where the really loud thunder came from. And at first, because the weather was very rapidly going South, I thought that lightning had hit nearby, but no: The aforementioned Frisco riders meet and go down, and Mike, who’s riding below them, is submarined. Later, I also find out that after landing on one of the Frisco riders (and his handlebars, which pokes a nice hole in his hip), he gets torpedoed in the ribs by another riders front wheel. Mike would later look like his kids colored him with blue magic markers, but right then he was just pissed and wanting back in the race – Me? I just feel a nickname coming on. One of the race casualties, in addition to some of his skin, is his front wheel – now one cracked and dead Zipp 404. I look over at my dear, dear, Zipp 440, the one I have to ride sprints on the next day, and whimper “You want to ride my wheel, In a Crash-‘n-gory 3 / 4 race!?!?” He tells me he’ll “take good care of it.” Ten laps of racing left, and I can’t watch. To Mike’s credit, he goes to the front, and pretty much stays there for the rest of the race, getting third (and upgrade points, so that he’ll never have to ride anything but a Cat 2 race on the track ever again, right Mike?). 15 minutes later, the heavens open up, and racing is cancelled for the night as the big Texas T-Boomers roll through. This is great: the next day, I get to do the scratch race before I do my 200 for the sprints. I decide I’ll ride the scratch to warm up for the 200, meaning I won’t be able to finish it, as I have an early heat. I am not a happy camper.

To shorten this report, I won’t tell you about the trip in the early dawn hours to the track, only to find out that it takes the UCI commissars well over two hours to figure out that modern man has devices like radar, and The Weather Channel, to help with determining when it is possible to resume racing. The rain finishes at 10:30, and we’re racing by noon. Unfortunately, it’s as cold as Ft. Lauderdale in February. It’s not normally cold in Ft. Lauderdale in February, only at World Track Cup Qualification events, so tradition is holding, as it’s not usually cold in Texas in May. From now on, I’m only going to these things if they’re in San Diego. Anyway, the scratch race is fast, and Mike’s not going to well (not that I was either), so we’re both out after about 15 laps. I had done some good work, so I’m nice and warm for the 200, which is my only positive thought of the day so far. I do a slow 200, and barely qualify for the sprint finals (only top 12 ride the sprints). In the first round, I ride against Robert Lindstrom, a national and world champion BMX racer. He’s big fast, and wearing the loudest skinsuit that any of us have ever seen ever. Jame Carney immediately nicknames him “Goldfinger.” There was much hilarity in the infield. You‘ll note that in the picture of Goldfinger and I lining up, that I continue in my tradition of celebrity holders for sprints and keirins – this time I have Jame Carney, several time Olympian, holding me and giving me advice. “He’s faster than you, so you’ll have to jump him.” The part about “he’s faster than you,” would get to be a common refrain from Jame. The next picture shows Goldfinger and I coming through getting the bell – and I’m about to jump him. I got a good gap, but not enough, because he’s faster than me – lots faster (he would go on to get 2nd place after an epic three-ride battle with Gideon Massie), getting me by a wheel at the line, so it’s on to the reps for me.

In the reps, I ride against Adam Duvendek (National Team Guy), and Generic Local Guy (GLG). Jame holds me at the line again, and tells me (of course) “He’s faster than you, but he’ll make a mistake, and you have to take advantage of that.” With a lap and a quarter to go, Duvendek makes the promised mistake , riding over GLG turn three. GLG looks up at and turns into Duvendek, and when they are completely even, I jump as hard as I can. 325 meters is a long, long way to sprint. Duvendek beats me at the line by a tire, or maybe a tire-and-a-half. The only consolation I get is that I got to watch Andrzej Bek, the national team coach, yell at him for a while. A little later I twist the knife by telling Andrzej he needs to invite some of us old sneaky guys to sprint camp, so we can screw with their heads a little more. Andrzej is not amused.

In the meantime, Mike sits in the infield with his knee swelling. Mike is not a happy camper.

Later that evening, after a very short lunch break, we return for the finals: I have to race the 9-12th place final, and Mike has another Crash-‘n-gory 3/4 race. I ride a good race an win the sprint, getting 9th place, meaning I’m the fastest loser at the track. Mike survives his race (an admirable effort, considering his right knee looks like someone implanted half a softball), which has a strangely depleted field from the night before (I hear Frisco Police found two men in torn lycra with trying to kill each other the previous night), and we call it a night. The next day is the team events, which neither one of us are doing. We laze around in the morning, and go out in time to catch the Madison, after which we do a good hard 2 hour training session, and then go home to pack bikes. Then, out to dinner with our hosts. The last dinner of the trip is quite fun, thanks to Nathan and his lovely wife Erin, who are very engaging. Monday morning, and Delta gets us there, there being here in Atlanta, ending our little whirlwind trip.

All in all, not a weekend.

Comments

[Bruce]

You look just as fast as jaime in the picture