Barry-Roubaix 2011: My First (a Dirt Road Race Report)

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So I did a bike race. Haven’t done oneathose in forever. 6 years? Whups, I did my first cyclocross race over a year ago and that hurt, too, so it counts. My base was XC ski touring. This was a test of how well skiing works for biking. Then, too, I have my ancient brain-dead muscle memory of racing every which way.

It was the Barry-Roubaix, the “killer gravel road race.” And there was nothing like it back in the day. I’d always pined for a Paris-Roubaix commemorative event and thought I’d organize one near Stockbridge but it never happened. So I’ve enjoyed posting notices for this one for the past couple years, doing what I can to promote it. This year I even donated luggage and bike-inspirational reading material as raffle prizes.

I had a great drive over to Barry County from Ingham. It’s picturesque over there, hilly with creeks and swales, unlike the flatlands where we live. Half the houses have outdoor furnaces with truckloads of wood mounded outside ’em. Many others have no wires running to them, with horses in the yard and clothes freeze-drying on the line.

And it was sunny! …A real treat.

Dang, the race was hard. It doesn’t help if you haven’t ridden a bike since autumn. And it would REALLY help if, even more so, you kinda trained for bike racing, much less just rode a bike a bit. I did get in an hour of “training.” Hooo-eee!

And this isn’t just a dirt road race, it really is killer. There were hills and more hills. 1st-gear steep. You really should be able to ride up hills before trying a race like this. 40 of ’em, I’d guess. My hill-legs have been lame for a few years now.

Oh, and it was 20degF at the start. But I like the cold. Of course, I haven’t biked in the cold much less bike-raced in the cold so I didn’t really know how to dress. I tried. I got a bit overheated. My body hates that. Shuts down in suffocating misery. Oh well!

1000 people registered! Rick Plite runs fun events. BR started 2 years ago. First year, 200 riders, second year 700, now 1000. Whew! I suppose it being the first race of the season, either road or mtbike, brings everyone out. It’s WAY early, though. What are they all thinking? I’m still jonesin’ for XC skiing, so I have an excuse.

Maybe the free beer afterward had something to do with it. Founder’s Brewing was the title sponsor. Oh yeah!

We rolled out without fuss, filling our side of the road as far as I could see. Everyone the whole time was friendly and polite. The first few miles flowed swimmingly despite the hordes. Riders these days have skills. Passing was never a problem.

The narrow, scenic, slow-ish route is cheery and intimate. Bikes fit in nice with such terrain and conditions. No trouble at all with cars. It’s an open-course so everyone just hollered “Car up!” if one nosed out. Marshalls ran the big intersections perfectly. Thanks!

I tell ya, there were more kinds, types and styles of bikes at this race. Mtbike, ‘cross, SS, fixie, tandem. Brand-names and dozens of small shops. Colors galore. All kinds of wheels and tires — skinny, wide, slicks, knobs. All kinds of suspension. Some aerobars. All kinds of weird bars: dirt-drops, ‘stash bars.

Quite a few women in the race, too, riding all sorts of bikes as well. Got passed near the end by two gals on SS’s. My hunch is that “character” events bring ’em out — ladies have a nose for fun.

I even saw a BELT DRIVE. …Whoa.

One wiry little guy BLAZED on a 1920’s Iver Johnson (singlespeed, of course) with coaster brake (of course). …Wearing an army helmet. It was Jeff Jacobi of world famous Velocity Wheels, out of Grand Rapids.

I vote Jacobi as coolest of the day.

And it’s not like I’m biased to old stuff. That’s just cool. Simple, solid integrity and creativity can come in any stripe. The stripe of the day was Iver Johnson!

I used my 30-yr-old Trek 613 sport-touring bike and cyclocross wheels. It worked great and I like it and think it’s elegant, even though it’s a tank by today’s standards.

I saw maybe 4 other old lugged bikes out there. Maybe even a Gas Pipe Special. It emitted Varsity vibes from a distance.

I liked my 30-yr-old wool’n’knickers outfit — but Martha was shocked that I wore moth-eaten apparel. I figured the holes of one green jersey were hidden by the holes of the other green jersey layered below it.

My XC ski fitness let me keep moving up for 3/4’s of the race. I couldn’t really ride the steep hills, so I’d get out of the saddle and hork up ’em. Honking is jamming out of the saddle — fast and powerful. This was ugly horking. Horking uses less leg somehow, more all-body — so the ski fitness could help. Not that I even had much ski fitness.

I couldn’t draft much, though there were always plenty of other riders around, because my style was so different from a real rider’s. They’d pass me on the climbs — since they have leg power (ya know they’ve been lifting, riding rollers and bundling up for cold day outings) — or at least they can fake it. Then on the downs and flats I’d finesse it and get aero and pass em back. I’d also “power” over the top and get up to speed on the down before collapsing and attempting to recover.

The biggest thing I noticed, given my lonely mode, was the “silence of the lambs.” I didn’t get enough on-trail synchronizing going to say Hi. At the same time, I was near the same folks for most of the race — but it was either passing or being passed by.

I wish I knew who the guy was wearing the ski helmet — and rack and fenders. I felt like saying Hi to him — we went back’n’forth all day. I was gonna joke with him that when I last went skiing I wore a bike helmet… (I see from the results that he’s “Speedy Gonsalves” from Canada. Wanna see how cool a non-biker-looking biker can look? Here’s his pic from the event: tenmilemedia.smugmug.com/Sports/Road-Racing/2011-B-R-Road-Race-35-65/16369149_54nz7#1231245654_UfMfa-M-LB)

In the middle I caught up with a fast group of 5 ‘crossers and drafted ’em and was just getting happy when we hit a HUGE double hill-set. I think it was the one with the drummers on it. Or maybe it was the Eye of the Tiger hill. Got dropped. So I just never found a home.

I need to learn to kick it back a smidge. If I’d relaxed a bit, sure I woulda slid back a dozen, but so what? It’s a place or two in my age-group. Big deal. I coulda enjoyed the scenery. We were in gorgeous country. In racing I lose the bigger picture. I tend to throw the suffer-ometer into the red and keep it there, which may not be heart-smart in the long-run. “Always move up” is a LAME mantra that tends to backfire.

That’s why I prefer Big Tours these days. A big day outing tests you fully but lets you sing songs along the way. Share the work. Groups that go together go together. It sorts out naturally. What’s not to like?

But why not do a blend of Race and Tour? That is, make it a Rando. Traditionally, randonneurs set out in groups of expected paces. Then you try to keep to the plan. There’s challenge there, but also cooperation. …Just like in any race. If ya work together you do a LOT better. So you can do this in any race: just self-seed then work with who you’re with. I suppose most folks know this already. I was too rusty to remember. Also, if it’s not the Grand Finale, why not dial it back a click, from drooling to mumble-chat. — And not wreck the rest of your post-race day with exhaustion. I suppose this is what smart people do already. Of course, the hilarious thing is that you’ll likely finish higher than doing “move up, move up” and having the inevitable weak finishing-portion.

I suppose unfamiliarity is the problem. If you don’t know what you’re doing then it’s hard to know where your place is. Even with touring, if you’re new to a scene you might end up just one hill in front of, or behind, a group of folks you’d really enjoy being with.

It was nice catching up to Wendy, a friendly local biker/skier I know. She had bare-leg knickers! We did get to drool Hi’s to each other. I hadn’t found my place yet and went past. …She then blazed by me near the end. See?

I suppose having a 24-lb bike didn’t help on the climbs, and a lack of STI shifting complicated my out-of-saddle timing. But my main lack was power. I’m getting ever-lower on The Ratio, so a lighter bike helps me more than usual.

It also didn’t help that I didn’t know how far to go. But asking a neighbor solved that. And not knowing the course. Were the biggest hills at the end? I tried to keep a little “in hand,” but didn’t. I didn’t bother studying or asking about the course. Doh! Memo to self: knowledge is power.

Firm dirt routes like this like a smoothish tire. No need for hardly any tread. I think that Pasela 35mm touring tires at 65psi woulda been quite a bit faster for me than the Ritchey SpeedMax 35 ‘crossers I used (though they were nice). I need little boosts like that.

In the last 6 miles I had a little trouble. Died. Got passed more as I crept terribly up the hills and had less zoom on the flats. People I passed near the beginning paid me back. All’s fair. I kept my death within limits, losing only a few minutes. Of course, I was a few minutes up a few minutes earlier.

The finishing miles had me with pins’n’needles thighs. And the cramping abs — what’s up with that? Afterward, I sprawled in the sunny car for a few minutes to steady out.

Enroute I drank 2 big waterbottles of Gatorade. They were hot when we started. Never froze. At the start of the bad spell, with 6 miles to go, I ate a few apricots and had a bite of pizza. I have no idea if I managed the intake well, being so out of it for racing…a bike…in winter…on hills. A quadruple mystery.

The afterparty was fun. I said Hi to old and new pals. …Even one of my school classmates who I hadn’t seen or knew he rode bikes until our 30th reunion (Hi, Kevin!). Founder’s Centennial IPA is TASTY.

I got to finally meet Dan Clark, aka Clarkman. He’s the poster artist for this race. He also contributed to OYB back in the zine days. He was the cover artist for the Bent Rim Bugle, an early mtbike zine which was also the club rag for the MMBA, an early powerhouse of a mtbike club. He even remembered that I used some of his apropos work in VVA’s “Dirt Road Ride Trek Epic” book. Cool! Sometimes it takes decades to put a face to a name — it’s worth it.

Bummer about the taco-truck. I spent an hour in the line but gave up one group away from supposed food. Waited 15 minutes for the couple in front of us and they still hadn’t gotten anything so I lost faith and bailed. I missed out on some fun and saying Hi/Bye’s waiting in that line. Actually, the line was fun, too. Something like a huge pot of chili with a rapido-ladle was needed. People woulda thrown money at hot carbs if they were flowing.

The only other hitch was the park gate lady who didn’t get the word that everyone needed to be let in to park. She had 500 cars lined up for miles as she attempted to process each vehicle separately until someone clued her in. That woulda taken the whole day. Doh!

It was neat how the Big Pro 65-mile event finished after we were changed and ready to cheer. Superdudes from far away were there to trounce. Afterward they were friendly and skinny hanging out at the bonfire party.

Fun raffle action and schwag toss-outs followed.

I got 29th out of 62 in my age-group. Midpack. 2 hrs 14 mins for 35 miles. That’s a 15mph ave. I was only a few minutes behind most folks I knew. The superdude lifestylists did 65 miles. Winners of both distances averaged 20mph. Boggling.

The Iver Johnson guy did it in 2:01. 17mph. I’m impressed.

…And I’m hooked. See ya next year!