500!!!

Oops... blink and you miss it.

Nearly two weeks ago, I had my 500th post! It occurred sometime around when I was writing about mountain biker Missy Giove getting busted with 500 pounds of weed, I pressed "publish" for the 500th time. (For the record, today's post is 512.)

500 posts. That's quite a lot of writing. Some if it has been good, some of it excellent, and all of it enthralling and well read. (Hey, a guy can dream, can't he?)

But truly, I really love my blog, and get comfort from the fact that there is a small-but-growing contingent of dedicated readers following along as I race my bike and learn to be a person in this crazy-mixed-up-world. It's fun to write here, and I look forward to sitting down and reflecting each evening.

It's been nearly two full years since I started this blog, and in that time, in a strange way, it has come to define me. I think a key moment in adopting Good Bye Blue Mondays as a part of my identity came in the 2008 Capital Region Road Race. I was rolling in a three-man breakaway, but was about to get booted out the back of that three-man breakaway after 40 miles of pain and suffering.

A course marshal at an intersection saw us coming, and, having ridden with me at a century nearly a year prior, cheered for me: "Go Blue Mondays!" I think being recognized -- and reassured that people do read this blog -- gave me the strength to stay in the break for another mile or two...

By the way, that marshal was Jennifer Clunie, executive director of the New York Bicycle Coalition.

So, it's been a strange, fun, long trip. I'm looking forward to the next 500, 5,000, 50,000, 500,000(?) posts. Thanks for reading!

Tops from the week:
1) Fitchburg. Sure, why not.
2) The kindness of strangers. Francis Morison and family put me and a host of others up for Fitchburg. I am forever in their debt, and will open my apartment to them any time!
3) Post Fitchburg form coming on -- watch out for these legs!
4) Gear Works Cyclery. Getting me going after my mechanical meltdown.
5) Rain! I love the rain. I wish it would rain more. It doesn't rain nearly enough. Maybe if I put rain in my top 5, it will stay forever.

Bottoms from the week:
1) Rain. Seriously, what the fuck?
2) Mechanical meltdown. A near crash, flat tire, broken handlebar -- all in one race?!!
3) 10 vacation days is not enough. We should all switch to the European system.
4) Coming back to work after vacation -- it's hard to get the ball rolling again, and perhaps that's why we don't have more vacation time...
5) UPS -- the saga of Eric's bike continues. Now it's lost.

Drive time musings, and more sailing

Over the weekend, in addition to racing 165ish miles, I also drove about 750 -- from Saratoga to Fitchburg, to various spots, locations, and venues within and around Fitchburg, then to Cape Cod, then back to Saratoga, while spending the requisite amount of time lost between destinations.

This allowed me to getting better acquainted with my steering wheel and captain's seat, solidifying my already-well worn ass print into the chair. After leaving a trail of burnt rubber, exhaust, used windshield wiper fluid and shattered dreams all across New York and Massachusetts, I am relieved that this weekend will only see me drive 250ish miles, to and from Union Vale, for a race there.

As much as driving can sometimes be fun, it does also wear on you from time to time. To break it up, you have to start looking for interesting things along the road:


This bumper sticker was probably the most interesting thing I saw. It reads "My friend was abused by a Catholic priest."

Now, I'm not sure if "my friend" is being used in the sincere way, or if it's being used in the "Hi doctor, my 'friend' has a rash he wanted me to ask you about..." kind of way, but in either case, it really stopped to make me think.

The sticker isn't crying out against the Catholic church, it wasn't blaming inattentive parents or anyone else, it didn't ask for sympathy, it didn't even say the priest was a bad guy for abusing the victim. The sticker merely stated that an event occurred, leaving you to take from it what you will.

Unfortunately, I spotted this sticker close to the end of my trip, so I didn't have long to think about it. I decided to draw the conclusion that one should use care when spending time with Catholic priests.


Another thing that tends to happen when you're driving around with three bikes on the roof and 4,000 wheels in the backseat is that people on the highway take notice. I got a lot of "What's up with that guy?" stares this weekend as a result. At one point -- I think it was when I was leaving Fitchburg -- some people were taking photos of the car.

At first, I was pissed off about it, but then I realized that I do the same thing all the time, so I really had no right. Then I realized that I'd missed lunch, and was probably just hangry -- for anyone who doesn't know, that's when you get cranky and easily perturbed as a result of not eating enough.

Still, I would have liked to have asked what exactly they found so interesting.

The same can be said for the people in the photo above. The blue Nissan in the foreground had an older, balding man behind the wheel, who stared up at the bikes as he drove past. Later, we had switched lanes, and he checked out the other bikes while I passed him. He was off the highway shortly thereafter.

The black Mercedes in the photo, a little farther up the road, drove along with me for miles. When we first came upon each other, the driver, an older balding man, gave me a thumbs up. I glanced over and saw a bike in the back seat. I couldn't make out what type of bike it was, but I'm pretty sure I saw a Campy Super Record shifter.

Judging by the man, the car, and the Super Record, I'd say that shifter was probably bolted to a Serotta, or possibly a Seven.

Anyhow, when I wasn't driving, I did have a little time to relax this weekend. Sort of. By way of relaxing, I helped my Dad launch is other sailboat, a 19-foot O'Day Mariner, which lives on Cape Cod. I was very little when we bought this boat, and we had many fun times sailing it around the bay, going to various beaches and picnicking, swimming, and generally horsing around.

Here is Arielle on the mooring
It stately-looking boat if I ever saw one
And surely happy to be off the trailer

This boat hasn't been in the water in a few years, which was sad, as I really do enjoy the little boat more than Dad's 37-foot J-Boat. The O'Day, named Arielle, is the boat that I learned to sail on, which gives it a special place in my memories.

The Commodore returns to his first command
Arielle has been in the yard for several years,
and needed a good cleaning

Although the wind wasn't great, we did manage to get out for a little sail, before putting the boat on the mooring, to await our return to Cape Cod later this summer.

Dad, facing the camera,
and neighbor Andy (back turned)
discuss the finer points of mast lubrication

Arielle in the driveway, prior to launch
Some of the mast stays were rusty after years of neglect
Dad is oiling one

Fitchburg pics

I haven't yet found any official-looking race photos, but I did bring my trusty Canon Powershot along to the race, to capture a few choice moments. Here is a sampling:

All loaded and ready to go

I drove to Fitchburg with Michael
Between us, we had three bikes and about 4,000 wheels.

It rained the whole way to Fitchburg,
and during the stage one TT, shown here
SRAM provided neutral support, of which I availed myself twice

Stage two brought the sun
Here is Anthem rider Bryna riding out of the frame
My host for the weekend, Francis, is in the blue kit in the center of the shot

Here is Anthem rider Jenny
also taken during stage two
Francis is in the shot for a second time

Here is the aftermath of stage two
Note, I'm one drop short of a handlebar
Fortunately, this did not result in a crash

Here's the missing drop
Bet you didn't know that sweat kills aluminum, did you?
I will admit that this is an argument for carbon bars

Here is Jenny in the stage 4 crit
My photo-taking time seemed to coincide with the women's 3/4 races
During later races I was too busy getting ready to bother with photos.

Here is Bryna on the front in the crit
The weather improved throughout the race
Then I got poured on while driving home

I'm back in Saratoga now, and will sadly be heading back to work tomorrow. I've got a few more photos from the weekend that I'll be posting in due course. The only thing that I should have taken a photo of, but didn't, was my wrecked shin. When it happened, the injury looked fairly gruesome, smeared with grease, and streaming blood down the front of my leg into my sock.

Unfortunately, I did the prudent thing and had it cleaned up and bandaged before I had the opportunity to point a camera at it. I am now left with a series of small punctures in a swooping spiral pattern. It's sort of cool looking, but not at all gruesome. So it goes. Maybe I'll put a photo up tomorrow anyway.

So, that's all for now.

Glimmer of hope

I'm still on vacation -- for at least one more day, and to that end I will be half-assing tonight's post. I promise I'll get back on track with real updates (and photos from Fitchburg) upon my return to Saratoga tomorrow.

For tonight, I wanted to briefly note that while I continue to feel beat down (in the healthy, competitive sense of the word) by my peers in the Cat 2 peloton, I did see a brief glimmer of hope in Saturday's stage three road race.

This event, the queen stage of the Longsjo Classic, is an 11-mile loop, which starts at the Mount Wachusett Ski Area. In the past, this stage ended on top of Mt. Wachusett, but after a severe ice storm left the summit road impassable, the finish was moved to Princeton Center, also the location of the feed zone.

The cat 2 race was 88 miles long, or there about. Although the course isn't the hardest in the world, but the steepish climb in Princeton was hard after repeated ascents, and a stiff headwind on a series of rollers heading away from Princeton was no fun either.

After my diasterous ride in stage 2, I was looking for some redemption in the road race. The glimmer of hope came about halfway through the second lap. In the fast, downwind section, and with one rider off the front, I took a flier. Looking back, no one reacted so I kept drilling it, bridging up to the lone leader, an NEBC racer.

With a sizable gap, but the field still in sight, we hit the climbs leading into Princeton. There was a three-man chase in pursuit, with the field falling farther behind. The NEBC guy took first place points on the line, with me grabbing second. Shortly after cruising through the feed zone, the chase caught up with us, bringing Matt Purdy (Spooky/Kenda), Jay Combs (Embrocation), and a Maetra rider.

With a group of five, we worked well together, slowly building our lead until we were out of sight. Our lead stretched, at its maximum, to two minutes, at which point the neutral support car came behind us and a moto official was giving splits, making me feel very pro.

Unfortunately for me, the pace in the break was high, and I burned a lot of matches to keep up and do my share of work, while entertaining delusions of grandeur associated with a Fitchburg stage win (or podium -- which would be just as good!). Although we were working well together, Jay and I were noticeably slower on the climbs, with Purdy picking up a lot of slack.

The high pace took it's toll on me, and as we started our third lap off the front, our gap still around two minutes, the field came to life, starting to bring us back. We hit the line with a minute gap to the field, and Purdy, most definitely the strongest rider in the break, realized it was time to cut the deadwood.

An acceleration up to the feed zone popped Jay and I like ballast being thrown off of a hot air balloon struggling to stay aloft. We each rode solo for a bit, until being swept up by the field, which was coming apart as the chase ramped up. I rode in the field for the remainder of the lap, then got dropped, having used all of my hill climbing matches while in the break. I (and Jay and the NEBC guy -- also dropped) all wound up in a group of pros dropped from their race, then got back into our field, only to get dropped again, eventually finishing the race about eight minutes behind Purdy, who won in dominating style, having dropped the rest of the break, and heading out on his own to hold off the field.

Damn dude, congrats. Wish I had those legs...

So, although I was never really anywhere close to any kind of a result, and my breakaway endurance is still closer to the cat 3 level than the cat 2 level, I feel pretty good about getting myself into the break, and being able to ride it out for as long as I did. That alone felt like a major accomplishment, and will certainly be something I can build upon going into the second half of the season.

During Sunday's near-four hour race I had lots of help. Thanks to Jessie, Steve and Andy for the feeds, and thanks to everyone who cheered for me, especially while I was in the break -- even if I can't acknowledge it in the moment, I hear every word, and I really appreciate it.

OK -- that's all for now.

Longsjo Classic -- Mechanical meltdown

With the 2009 Longsjo Classic now over and behind me, there is quite a bit to parse and recap here. I'll be doing that over the next few days, but I don't want to get too deeply into it tonight.

Why not? I've just arrived on Cape Cod after four days of hard racing, and would like to rest a bit. I think I've earned it.

For tonight, I just thought I'd share part of my stage 2 saga. Stage 2 at Fitchburg, for those who don't know, is a circuit race on a 3.1 mile loop around the Fitchburg State College Campus. The finish is near the top of a long, stepped power climb. After topping out on the climb, there is a quick right-left-right combination onto a gentle downhill. then a sharp right onto a steeper downhill to the base of the climb. Although some of the turns aren't easy, it is a stage on which I shouldn't have had any problems. I'm not sure of the total number of laps, but I think it was about 17.

After a dismal stage one TT, any GC ambitions I might have dreamed about were gone, so my evolving plans for the race was to sit in on stage two, and then try to make something happen in the stage 3 road race.

Unfortunately, sitting in proved much more difficult than I had anticipated due to a string of mechanicals.

First, before we'd even gone once around the course, on our first trip up the hill, a rider crashed next to me, having been taken out as someone behind him went down and swept out his rear wheel. I jinked to the left to avoid him and his bike, but the bouncing rig hit my right shin.

Although it hurt, I didn't think it was a big deal immediately, and kept racing, accelerating up the climb to get back to my spot in the field.

Part way through the second lap, I was getting harsher-than-usual ride from the front wheel, and looked down to realize it was going flat. I cursed my luck, threw my hand in the air, and pulled to the right. The SRAM guys were busy cleaning up from the earlier crash, so I was left standing on the side of the road waiting. While standing there, I noted that my shin, where the bike had hit me on the previous lap, was streaming blood, soaking my sock and shoe. Wonderful.

But, it wasn't that bad, and once I got a new wheel, I soldiered on, riding with Peter Smith, of Embrocation Cycling Team for a few laps, until we got lapped (there was no sense in wasting our efforts on a futuile chasing). At that point, I thought I'd be able to sit in and ride out the rest of the race once we got back in.

Not so, then came mechanical number 3:

Just after I'd got back into the field after being lapped, I suddenly felt my rear brake being applied, as if I was pulling the lever blade in a full panic-stop. The only problem? My hands, on the hoods at that point, were not squeezing the brakes.

Not sure what to do, I put my hand up again, now blatantly swearing out loud. I flagged the SRAM car down again, and could practically see the driver thinking "what's with this guy?"

Still, one of the mechanics came running at me with wheels. I tried to tell him it wasn't a wheel issue, and his response was to open the brake's quick release. It seemed to work, so I mounted and started to ride. I made it about 50 meters before the same thing happened. This time, I discovered the problem: my handlebar had broken, with the right drop failing completely and catastrophically right where the break lever mounts.

Fortunately, the SRAM car hadn't yet passed me, so I stopped them for the third time, told them what happened, and got to finish the race on one of SRAM's neutral support Specialized Tarmacs.

Under other circumstances, I might have been stoked to try out that kind of new equipment. As it was, I was mostly just bummed that my bike had fallen apart at the worst possible time. Worse still, I was worried about the time cut.

I wound up being lapped a second time, and then chilled at the back of the field for the remainder of the race, slipping further down GC, but easily making the time cut.

So, I've had a lot of bad days on my bike, but Friday's circuit race might have been the worse. Also fun was getting the grease cleaned out of my wound afterwards. I now have a series of five rectangular puncture wounds on my shin in a very distinctive chainring pattern.

Fortunately, Gearworks, in Leominster, was very generous in giving me a discount on a new handlebar, bar tape, and tire, and their expert mechanic glued my new tire on while I used their tools and workspace to mount my new handlebar -- all to get ready for the stage 3 road race. But more on that tomorrow.

Sailing the sound

I need a quick post tonight, as I'm in the midst of packing, organizing, and loading the car, ahead of the Longsjo -- for which I'll be leaving in the morning. At least my bikes are about as clean as they've been in months.

While in Fitchburg, I'll be the guest of some gracious hosts, whom I've never met, and whose names I don't even know (a friend hooked me up). Along the way tomorrow I'm planning on stopping to pick up a thank you gift of some sort to be determined.

During the race, I'm hoping to be able to post daily recaps of the stages, but just as I don't know my hosts' names, I don't know what the Internet situation will be. Therefore, if you don't hear from me until Sunday, don't panic, it's all good.

For tonight's quick post, I wanted to touch on the last facet of my last weekend's adventures downstate. This was an afternoon sailing with the family aboard Cool Fire, my Dad's boat. Here's what it looks like when the Bernstein's go sailing:

This is Brett.
He was injured, and trying to stay out of the sun
He wore the funny hat, but I have to admit to owning it.

Here is Dad, sitting behind the helm
The wind was promising from shore
But wasn't great once out on the sound

Here's Mom
She and Dad did not partake in the swimming
Not sure why

Here is me and Eric swimming in the sound
It was quite a warm day
The water was great

By the way, it continues to rain in Saratoga, so I was, again, on the rollers today, for my final pre-Longsjo spin. This time, however, I was able to successfully ride the rollers without inspecting the linoleum's cleanliness.

Rock Bottom: Bernstein goes down

My favorite pic from the '06 Longsjo
I'm at the front at 60 MPH --
evidence that I can descend, at least when pushed!

The post on sailing with the family that I planned for tonight has been delayed due to more pressing topics, namely this weekend's Fitchburg-Longsjo Classic.

I'll be heading to the four-day stage race on Thursday morning, bringing two bikes and a car load of other assorted crap. This will be my first stage race as a cat II, and probably the most-legit race that I've ever done.

The '06 Stage 1 TT
Ironically, I'll be using the same bike in this year's TT
albeit, with a more legit TT set up this time around (thanks Mark!)

I last raced Fitchburg in 2006 with BVF team mates Scott, Adam, and Chris. It was my last race as a 4, although I didn't have anything to show for it.

The '06 team's efforts placed Scott Demel on the points podium
I believe he was third, but it might be second,
hard to say

My fitness is most definitely well off-peak, and I'm starting to feel a bit of a mid-season burnout coming on. Truth be told, I nearly didn't register, especially when all but one of my team mates (Jesse, and he'll be doing the pro/1 event) decided not to race, but I opted in at the last minute. I'm racing, I guess, for the sake of gaining experience in a longer, harder race, and for truly earning that mid-season break, which will now come one week later, beginning with the end of Fitchburg, on Sunday afternoon. Also, this will probably be my only opportunity to do a cat II- only race this year.

I'm hoping that a short break will have me rested and excited to start training for some of my favorite events, which come later in the season.

As for Fitchburg, I was leafing through the tech manual yesterday, realizing that this will be the first race I've ever done where teams are expected to bring caravan vehicles. Needless to say, I will not have a vehicle in the caravan, and will be relying of SRAM Racing Services for spare wheels, in the event that I suffer a flat. But, that level of support is indicative of the level of racing at this event, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm feeling a little intimidated.

So, here I am without the best form, grasping at straws for motivation, and stressing about everything that I have to do to get ready to go. To make matters worse, we had a torrential thunderstorm blow through here this afternoon, which washed out the Tuesday night world championship ride, so I was at home riding my rollers, stewing about how tough the race was going to be, and how slim my chances for any kind of a result are.

I somehow managed to make it nearly to the end of a two hour roller session (the longest I've ridden inside since the weather got marginally nicer), when the movie I was watching finally started to get interesting. I'm not going to tell you what the film was, because it's embarrassing.

Suddenly, I heard a thud. It was my front wheel hitting the floor. I looked to down and to my right, realizing that I was about to become very intimate with the kitchen floor. Although I seemed to teeter there for ever, I somehow wasn't able to clip out from my pedal, and before I knew it, I landed on the ground with a second, louder, thud, my rear wheel still spinning furiously in the air. I've been riding rollers since I was 16, and this was a first for me.

I blinked, relieved to find that I was OK, and also relieved that no one had been around to see this disgraceful transgression -- I could just picture my room mate coming out of her room gasping "Oh my God, are you OK?" -- I got myself out from under the bike and stood up.
Best of all, I had wisely kept my hands on the handlebar, sparing myself a wrist injury.

"Well, that's it," I thought, "rock bottom." Surely, it couldn't possibly get any worse. Suddenly, I started to feel a little better about Fitchburg. After all, no matter what happens -- even if I get dropped in every single stage -- I know that I won't fall off my rollers.

How do I know? In the name of insurance, I'm leaving them at home.

P.S. This post was written from my sofa. After six long months, I finally have internet at home!