Fitchburg Longsjo Classic Stage Race Report

by Mike Arena

July 3, 2008
Stage One: Individual Time Trial

The time trial course was 6.9 miles long, and fairly steadily uphill for the first 5 miles, followed by a fairly quick descent to the finish. I had a chance to ride the course the night before, so I knew what to expect. I had an early start the next morning (8:38:30), and got plenty of sleep, but not quite enough of a warmup. I opted not to borrow any clip-on aero bars, as I hadn’t trained with them at all, and was running a regular road setup. This might have been a mistake, in hindsight.

When I got to the starting ramp, there were gaps all over the place in starters – I didn’t have a 30 second man, and my one minute man was missing two people in front of him. I walked my bike up and tried to breathe deeply. The holder started squirming, and I nearly ate it before I even started.

The launch went smoothly though, and I quickly accelerated up to speed after, of course, posing for the five cameras lining the road just past the ramp. I hit the first hill entirely too hot, and nearly blew up before I reached the top. I dialed it back a bit (kept the heart rate down to 186) and kept going. I caught my one-minute man about 2.3 miles into it. I caught sight of my 2:30 man at about mile four. By the time we crossed the line, he was about 100 meters in front of me. I had closed in a bit closer by the top of the climb, but his aero bars and disc wheel (and legs too, I suppose) let him open it back up on the descent.

I kept it in the big ring the whole time, which definitely saved some hassle, but found myself out of the saddle twice, barely turning over 53x25 (I refused to dump it to the 27). All in all, I came in with a time of 19:46.08, good enough for 19th place, and I think possibly the best time for a non-aero setup. It felt good, and was a blast. Time trials are definitely in my future.


July 4, 2008
Stage Two: Road Race

The road race was only 46 miles long, but with a fairly large amount of elevation change. The staging area was in the parking lot of a ski resort, and went down a quick descent (started halfway down) into a hard right, which then rolled for a few miles, before turning and heading straight up a wall into the town of Princeton, taking a hard right, and continuing straight up out of the town for about another quarter mile or so. The road then climbed steadily up before rolling slightly and reaching the King of the Mountain points line (and also the turnoff for the mountain finish). I’m not sure about the exact elevation numbers (somewhere around 900 feet per lap), but my ears popped twice – once on the way up, and once on the way down.

I’ve never started with such a huge field of riders. I believe there were 130 or so. Straight off the bat, the race hit 40mph heading down the second half of the descent with a huge pack of nervous folks. By the time we got the first corner, I was on the outside and managed to keep my speed through the turn and make up about 20-30 spots to put me toward the front of the field, but still about 40 riders back.

The beginning of the race was fairly uneventful – lots of dropped chains, a few flat tires, but no major hang-ups. The first time up the wall, some guys at the front decided to push it and see who was there to race. It was a tad nerve-wracking having 130 guys all out of the saddle and rocking their bike at the same time, but everything ended well enough. The pace picked up as people were gunning it for the KOM points, which I gladly sat in and watched them rack up – conserve, conserve, conserve. The first time down the hill was fierce, easily hitting 57-60mph. I was tucked fairly well and trying not to touch the brakes. Thankfully, they’d opened up the entire road for this part of the course, so there was plenty of room to move around.

I stayed toward the front for the next lap, and found myself sitting about three back for the second time up the climb. A friend on Cambridge Bicycle’s team (and the race leader at the time) was out in the wind, so I offered him a wheel to follow and paced him up the climb.

The third lap read much the same; surges everywhere, faster on the ups than the downs, a few chain drops, a few flats. The wall was starting to hurt a bit (as if it didn’t on the first lap…) but it was still manageable and I was still feeling incredibly good. That is, until we got to the descent.

I’m not quite sure as to the cause, but my chain popped off the ring to the outside just as I was getting up to speed down the hill. I tried not to panic (difficult when things are going wrong at 55mph) and attempted to shift it back on. Somehow it became jammed between the small ring and the chainstay, and my cranks locked up. Uh-oh. I managed to barely come to a stop safely (of course just at the bottom of the hill) and quickly jump off and fix it as the field absolutely flew by me.

I hopped back on and used the little that was left of the hill to get back to about 45mph, but with the field still flying, it was useless. I made the decision to give it everything to try to get back on, as the first few rollers were generally recovery time in the pack. The smart thing to do would have probably been to ride tempo to the finish, climb the mountain, make the time cut, and race the next day. I’ve never said I’m a smart rider. I kept seeing lines of stalled traffic at the top of every hill, giving me hope that the pack was just over the next roller, and I’d be back on in a few minutes. Not the case. After about six miles of chasing at my absolute limit, I hit the wall and quickly realized the folly of my ways.

Never before in my life have I hated the sound of clapping and cowbells so much. I barely struggled up the hill, nearly falling just before the corner. By the time I got to the KOM points line, I was toast. There was a delightful rock pit on the side of the road where I single handedly won a cookie-tossing contest. With only two miles and 700 feet of climbing left, I was finished.

Given another chance, I’m sure I’d make the same mistake again and try to chase back on with everything I had. If I’m not racing to win, I’m not really racing.