Saturday, April 11, 2009
Maaskant On Form
Martijn Maskaant is undoubtedly on form for this years spring classics campaign finishing just off of the podium at Flanders behind heavy hitters Devolder(QuickStep), Haussler(Cervelo) and Gilbert(FDJ) while unfortunately missing the break at Ghent. The Garmin-Chipotle team has gone all in for the 2nd year PRO for this years Paris-Roubaix after he finished 4th in his Hell of the North debut last year.
Team Garmin-Slipstream will have no less than 6 bikes available to the 26 year ol
d, as well asmechanics and soigneurs offering up wheels at various points including the treacherous Forest of Arrenberg which offers up some of the worst pave' of the 259km parcours. The 107th edition of the race will serve up nearly 53kms of the slippery granite cobbles in 27 sectors along the route from Compiegne to the industrial town turned mecca of hardmen, Roubaix. While he may be young, he more than makes up for it with courage and guts beyond his years, and if his performance at Flanders last week in the horrible conditions is any indication, look for Maskaant to surprise the elder statesmen of the classics.
With teams like Quick Step packing a 1-2-3 punch of Boonen, Devolder and Chavanel, it seems as though Lefevre may have a lock on the race, but I wouldn't discount the fact that Boonen and Devolder will be marked men. Last weekend Pipo Pozzato(Katusha) never let Boonen leave his sight, and in fact sat on his wheel for the last 50-60kms. While Slipstream may not be as deep a team as Quick Step or Columbia, look for them to make the right moves when necessary, and let the work fall on the shoulders of the other teams. If they play their cards right JV and team may just find themselves standing on one of the steps of the podium, if not the top most, hoisting a cobble into the air.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
We Are Hardmen
In most things we do, the biggest battles come from within.
The above statement holds no truer meaning than to the cyclist. The ability to push ourselves whether in racing or training, to push beyond what is comfortable, to battle with our bodies telling us to stop while our brain tells us to push even farther and harder and for longer, that is what makes us hardmen.
This time of year always brings to the forefront the hardmen of our sport. In races like the Ronde van Vlaanderen, or Ghent-Wevelgem and of course the queen of them all, Paris-Roubaix, we hear words like epic, and fierce and battle thrown around to describe race conditions and we love it. To hear the descriptions from writers and commentators of the atrocious conditions in which these men race is humbling, yet we can all empathize with them because we have all been there at one point. We are all hardmen. All of us who put a leg over their machine and set out to conquer the local "classics" or grind their way up a 20% grade to see if they can beat their own best time, or simply push the pace for no other reason than to test their own mettle, we are hardmen. To ride in the weather that we call spring with the gusting cross and head winds that never seem to be at our back, we are hardmen. When the radar says rain, yet you head out to put in the time, we are hardmen. When the clock only reads 5:30, and your family still sleeps, we are hardmen. When you push your body and mind to the breaking point, and you can only think about quiting, but you don't, we are hardmen.
Most of us will never fulfill our cycling dreams because of age, or ability, or family or for a million other reasons, yet each time we dress and head out the door we are one step closer. And each step closer to realizing your potential is a mile closer than you were the day before. Every time we conquer our fears and push the pace harder and faster than we ever had before, we become stronger. What makes us hardmen is that we are passionate about what we do. Cycling consumes our thoughts and emotions and desires. It takes over our lives and gives us more than we could ever measure. It is when we surrender ourselves to this lifestyle that we truly become hardmen. When we wake and think about what the plan is for today, or train for the next race, or work on the bike, not because we have to but because we need to, we are driven from within by a desire to succeed. That is when we become hardmen.
Hardmen are no longer only the PRO's who race the Northern Classics in horrible weather, on horrible roads, but also those of us who also put in the time and the effort and the sacrifice for our own glory. Often times we sacrifice more than the PRO's do, we give up time with those around us that often need us the most, yet we find a way to make it all work. We spend more money than we know we should in an effort to push ourselves up the ladder of cycling's hierarchy, all so that we may one day live up to our expectations of ourselves. And there is no greater motivator than the fire that burns within each of us, the fire that pushes us out of bed, and onto the road when commonsense says not to. We do this because it makes us stronger, it makes us faster, but most of all it makes us harder. The training and the racing make us fit, the mental battles that we fight on the bike and against our selves is what makes us hard.
The next time you have to decide what to do, whether to back down or stand up and fight against the weather or the road or yourself, choose the fight, because every victory is one worth fighting for.
The above statement holds no truer meaning than to the cyclist. The ability to push ourselves whether in racing or training, to push beyond what is comfortable, to battle with our bodies telling us to stop while our brain tells us to push even farther and harder and for longer, that is what makes us hardmen.
This time of year always brings to the forefront the hardmen of our sport. In races like the Ronde van Vlaanderen, or Ghent-Wevelgem and of course the queen of them all, Paris-Roubaix, we hear words like epic, and fierce and battle thrown around to describe race conditions and we love it. To hear the descriptions from writers and commentators of the atrocious conditions in which these men race is humbling, yet we can all empathize with them because we have all been there at one point. We are all hardmen. All of us who put a leg over their machine and set out to conquer the local "classics" or grind their way up a 20% grade to see if they can beat their own best time, or simply push the pace for no other reason than to test their own mettle, we are hardmen. To ride in the weather that we call spring with the gusting cross and head winds that never seem to be at our back, we are hardmen. When the radar says rain, yet you head out to put in the time, we are hardmen. When the clock only reads 5:30, and your family still sleeps, we are hardmen. When you push your body and mind to the breaking point, and you can only think about quiting, but you don't, we are hardmen.
Most of us will never fulfill our cycling dreams because of age, or ability, or family or for a million other reasons, yet each time we dress and head out the door we are one step closer. And each step closer to realizing your potential is a mile closer than you were the day before. Every time we conquer our fears and push the pace harder and faster than we ever had before, we become stronger. What makes us hardmen is that we are passionate about what we do. Cycling consumes our thoughts and emotions and desires. It takes over our lives and gives us more than we could ever measure. It is when we surrender ourselves to this lifestyle that we truly become hardmen. When we wake and think about what the plan is for today, or train for the next race, or work on the bike, not because we have to but because we need to, we are driven from within by a desire to succeed. That is when we become hardmen.
Hardmen are no longer only the PRO's who race the Northern Classics in horrible weather, on horrible roads, but also those of us who also put in the time and the effort and the sacrifice for our own glory. Often times we sacrifice more than the PRO's do, we give up time with those around us that often need us the most, yet we find a way to make it all work. We spend more money than we know we should in an effort to push ourselves up the ladder of cycling's hierarchy, all so that we may one day live up to our expectations of ourselves. And there is no greater motivator than the fire that burns within each of us, the fire that pushes us out of bed, and onto the road when commonsense says not to. We do this because it makes us stronger, it makes us faster, but most of all it makes us harder. The training and the racing make us fit, the mental battles that we fight on the bike and against our selves is what makes us hard.
The next time you have to decide what to do, whether to back down or stand up and fight against the weather or the road or yourself, choose the fight, because every victory is one worth fighting for.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Déjà vu
Everything seemed to be going great. The weather was fabulous sunny skies with temps in the mid 60’s. What more can you ask for? Well to answer my own question a fresh pair of legs would have come in handy… but wait I am getting ahead of my self.Joe, Nikki, my wife Lydia and I got up that day nice and early. The sun was already shinning brightly and was clear to us this was going to be great weather for racing. After going to local eatery for a quick breakfest, we got back to suit up for the race. The biggest problem for me was not to overdress which is a common problem for me. We (Joe and I) headed for the race to register which was only a mile away thanks to Lydia’s great hotel pick. On the way Joe and I were each caring a spare wheel for the race. As we rode on the pave or cobble section I noticed a skewer nut fall off what I thought was Joe’s bike. I immediately yelled to him”stop and get off that bike your skewer is going to come off”
Joe quickly pulled over and checked his bike. Luckily the nut belonged to the spare wheel he had and not to the bike he was riding. This was clearly an omen of sorts. The cycling gods were warning us. But we just shrugged it off and seemed to thumb our noses at them. As if to say “we are here and nothing can stop us.” Little did we know… little did we know.
Registration went fairly smoothly, kudos to Hillsboro they always run a tight ship.
As we lined up, the first thing I noticed was the size of our group. The cat 4 s had 100 max riders however I think only about 85 riders showed. As we started, the pace was very calm but as we made the second turn off the double lane road onto the one lane. The pace immediately kicked up to 26 mph. the peloton was tight and nerves were on edge. Being in the 2nd half of the peloton, riders were breaking and causing a snake-like effect. Within 5 miles I narrowly avoided two near crashes. I couldn’t even scratch my forehead for fear of crashing. The pace was steady and brisk. I felt comfortable and eager to move up the peloton. After about 15 miles, I decide to look back and check on Joe. To my amazement Joe was gone. I immediately realized something had gone wrong. My suspicions were realized afterwards when Joe told me that just like last year( déjà vu) he dropped his chain coming out of the turn. He told me by the time he got his chain back on, the peloton surge had put him too far behind. I wish he would have called out I would have waited for him. We could have both worked to get back. Unfortunately, Joe rode the rest of the race by himself, but he hung in there and finished. Way to go Joe!!!
As the pelaton was coming back to the start/finish, I knew from last year, two major climbs were coming up. The feed zone climb was very long and steep however the pelaton was pretty neutral. I looked down and noticed I was averaging about 170 bpm on the climb which was very reasonable. I figured get past this climb and recover on the other side and get ready for the final climb into the start/finish. As we were coming down, I felt the pelaton surging to the next climb; I knew I was in serious trouble my heartrate kept climbing instead of recovering for the next climb. By the time I hit the climb I was in the 180’s bpm I tried not to panic but there was not much I could do. I hit the wall on the climb and immediately saw flashbacks of last year (hence déjà vu) where I got dropped last year. I was on my own and thought if I can try to work with any body I could to get back to the pelaton. A couple of miles down I caught up to a XXXer and passed him by saying “jump on lets work together”. He was happy to see someone eager to catch up to the pack. I didn’t get his name but if your reading this “thanks brother” it was good riding with you. We kept trading off pulls and I could still see the pelaton about 1 mile away, but sadly it just got farther and farther and you could see riders just dropping off.
As I headed back in for my final climbs, the race had taken its toll on me. I could feel my legs cramp up, and my biggest fear was not finishing. On my way up the final climb I saw one racer walking his bike up inch by inch with the bike between his legs. I quickly thought it could always be worst. I thanked God he had given me the ability to finish. Afterwards I thanked my wife for supporting me even though she was ill. I will be back next year for my revenge stay tuned. Hopefully Joe can keep his chain on as well!
E
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