Boone Roubaix 2013

Crazy Dan Boone and Dr. Pain's Lessons of Dirt

April 20th 2013

When Mike Robinson's (AKA Dr. Pain) wheels hit dirt he morphs into a Lycenthrope or shape shifter.  His aero position drops four inches, leg speed increases 20%, pupils dilate to improve hazard handling, and heart rate and wattage spike. His usual mild personality devolves into an ill-mannered terra-planing competitive S.O.B..

"Never stop pedaling when you hit a sand trap" he advises. "It only slows you down and you'll stop or crash. Bomb all descents at top speed. You need the speed to vault the potholes of death."

I have learned to never let him get ahead of me in deep sand. Somehow he just always floats away leaving you flailing the bike in shin-deep sugar sand unable to get going again. But I am grateful for his negative tutelage for it has proved invaluable in recent Roubaix events.

Being uncomfortable descending smooth pavement switchbacks at 50+ mph, I now rely on my new ability to turn it loose on the dirt and put time on timid rivals. There were several dirt sectors in this race that allowed me to do just that and end in overall victory for my age group. (50-59)

Our 250+ mass start race began in 38 degrees and ended in the mid forties. Hiding in the van huddled over the heater proved a poor strategy. We were told there would be a neutral lead out across the cold, rain saturated field but nobody told the lead car which immediately  took off out of sight. This left all 250 people struggling to stay up front on the twisty, hilly potholed course.
The carnage was unbelievable. No crashes, but within 2 miles the lead group was down to 25. My legs felt like lifeless turkey bones kept in the fridge too long. It was a painful struggle just to keep in the draft near the back.

Mike and Jayson were nowhere in sight.  So strange for the Mudd brothers to vanish this early.
Eventually pavement appeared, the pack slowed slightly and It felt like a grand fondo.
With a super-human effort a red-faced Jayson managed to get across the gap and latched on to the very back where I had pitched my tent.  "Oi!" he breathed. "I made it. Bloody hell I'm knackerd!"
"Welcome back dude!" I congratulated his effort slapping him on the back. A few seconds later we started one of the longest steepest climbs of the whole race. An un recovered Jayson began to slide backwards. "Bollocks!" he cried.  "See ya later mate........" and he was gone. I felt bad and considered giving him a push......but only for an instant because the 20-40 year-old riders were now climbing away from us single file and because he is not sponsored by Bike Works/Cycle Logic. Maybe next year he will be orange not blue and I will help him. Maybe.

Eventually I came off too. This climb was steeper than Hogpen at 6-Gap but not as long.

A few miles later I was joined by two younger guys from Team Pittsburgh and we started sharing the load. Me on the uphills and dirt, they on the fast paved downhills. Everytime we hit dirt I thought of Dr. Pain. What would he do?  Keep the pressure on, never hit the brakes and bomb the descents and potholes. A pattern set itself up......climb just hard enough to retain Team Pittsburgh.....descend fast enough not to lose them......then imagine chasing Dr. Pain on the next dirt sector. When my buddies came off I couldn't help a feral Robinson grin.

At one point a strong but nutty local rider bridged up. I think he was on drugs. He was way too animated. Every hilltop or hard effort he gave a rebel yell at the top of his lungs.  "Yee-ow!!!, feel that BURN!!!  C'mon boys!  Let's ROCK!!!  Hoo whee!!!"

I think he rode bandit.  Everybody had a three digit race number.  His was folded up to reveal  "6."   But he was strong and we let him help us like the Woody Allen joke:

A man visits a psychiatrist.
"My brother thinks he's a chicken."
"Have you told him he is not a chicken?" says the psychiatrist.
"No because we really need the eggs" the man replied. 

Later he started whistling the sag truck to take his vest.  They politely ignored him.  They knew something.......maybe he was the crazy side of the Daniel Boone clan. We kept the eggs though.

Finally we turned onto the final gravel parking lot loop and under the finishing banner. Team Pittsburgh raced itself hard for 15th place. Crazy Daniel ignored the banner and headed for the free beer. I rolled under the banner in about 2 hours 41 minutes.

Jayson came in 9 minutes later and Mike a scant 5 minutes after that. We all had the same basic tale.  We got dropped by the youngsters then rallied by forming small chase groups the rest of the race.
Few riders seemed to have road skills and required lectures on efficient rotations and echelons. There must be more mountain bike riders in these kinds of races.

We all agreed the promoter Andrew "Stack" Stackhouse is much friendlier and more approachable than all Florida road race promoters combined.  He was very interested in everybody having a good experience. He was MC and also drove the whole course filming and offering help and encouragement to all the racers he encountered. He walked the parking lot welcoming everybody one at a time.
We will definitely be back next year and will do as many of his upcoming races this year as possible.
K-Dogg

Here is the video that Jayson O'Mahoney put together...enjoy.


 

Rouge Roubaix video

Our good friend, former teammate and new GCC president, Jayson O'Mahoney, put together a great video highlighting portions of the 2013 Rouge Roubaix. Cycle Logic's own Scott Pfaff features multiple times throughout the footage. Enjoy.
You can see other video's from Jayson here
 

Rouge Roubaix #15

Five Mile Bridge

Bridge...........Must....be around.... NEXT corner......groan!......maybe NEXT corner......aaaagh!   Where the @#*% is that Fve Miles from the FREAKIN' End BRIDGE?!Keep going......turn that big gear. DON'T lose that wheel in front ... it just gets EVEN harder!  Hate my chain.......chain gang.....that's what I'm freakin' on - a chain gang - doing life without parole!  Out of GU, fuzzy thinking, on the verge of swooning.
Somebody make me stop!

This is what the last 20 miles of Rouge Roubaix the 15th feels like........somewhere just before the "Five Miles From the End" Bridge. Mile after mile of twisty, turny, rough chip seal road. Every corner looks the same. BANG through the pot holes, SLAM over two dozen wooden bridges and DODGE the dodgy bits. All on your skinny tire 10-speed bike. The only concession to conditions was to bleed tire pressure to 90.

Even before that there were 101 miles of big hills......big paved hills......big dirt hills.... with steep wheel-sucking sand patches and slippery marble-strewn, scary descents over and over.  When the hills flattened out Mr. Gusty Headwind showed up and spoiled the pack party. Keep going, keep going. Save a little punch for the dirt sections if you can. Eat another Double Shot if ya got it.

Scott, Justin, Ed and Kerry during their pre-ride.

Scott dropped the GU I gave him. The one he REALLY had counted on getting him home.  I had just rolled up to him and Jayson after chasing (with two other guys) for two hours due to an early  flat. Our boys were with the shattered remnants of the first chase group which failed to bring back 5 pro-elite masters. They were exhausted from the noble effort.  "I see you still have that GU I gave you this morning" I said.  It was sticking out of his left shorts leg. "Yeah, I really need it now" he groaned.
Then, like a bad dream, it suddenly fell to the ground and popped a few wheels back. His entire body slumped so hard there was a shock wave. "No soup for you"! said Chef Roubaix.

Jayson and I took a few pathetic pulls to help the pack out. Suddenly my two former buddies punched it up a hill. On the verge of fainting I managed to bridge up then looked back. Nothing back there. So sad.

The fourth and last dirt sector came and went bringing tears to our eyes.  My two younger companions (40 and 43) had mercy on their older shadow and didn't insist I match pull for pull. For a while. I was no threat to their race I kept teling them. They didn't seem to believe me but I kept clawing back from their increasingly unfriendly surges.
My goal was to stay with them to the bridge. To the Bridge.....the Bridge.  All will be fine after the Bridge. Eventually we hit the Five Miles To Go Bridge. Everything should be fine now. Two miles to go and my buddies left me struggling up one last hill. One mile to go and my front tire went flat. "You gotta be FREAKIN' kidding" I mumbled to no one. Luckily a wheel truck was right there.  Unluckily the only spare left had a CX tire so wide I barely could pound it on with brakes wide open. I spun it. Nothing happened. The tire was so tall it dragged on my fork crown.
Criminy!
This race cursed me to the very end!

One mile to go. I was afraid of capture any second. Nothing for it but to buck it home. Like a stuck pig it squealed every rotation. Squeal! Squeal! Squeal!
Burning rubber was a worry but soon the finish line rolled past. The tire survived but now sported a flat top. The crowd cheered wildly for every hollow faced racer that finished - mostly solo. I had never seen such a far-away look in Scott's weary face. But now we could sit down at least. Justin worried us coming in half an hour later, but he had two flats. Ed was in 4th position 2/3 into the race but somehow faded from there. The quiet man wasn't elaborating. Jayson was just "knackered".

Scott, Kerry, Ed and Jayson post-Roubaix

After showers, jambalaya and local beer Jayson and Ed lay horizontal in the room avoiding their painful "Roubaix Butts."  They swore they would never do this race again. Two hours later they couldn't wait to race it again. They must have spotted the Five Mile Bridge and hope was renewed.


K-Dogg




[editorial note: Kerry's effort earned him the top step on the Masters 55+ podium...he's just too modest to mention it in his own story. Congratulations Kerry!]