Copenhagen

This is the title of a fantastic play by English playwright Michael Frayn, written in 1998, which I saw recently at Theatre Inconnu, located across the street from the Belfry in the community of Fernwood. Theatre Inconnu is a small theatre, and the seating was arranged roughly in a circle around the level floor staging area.

Being my first time at Theatre Inconnu, at first I didn’t think this seating arrangement would work, especially with two wooden pillars located 15 feet apart in the centre of the staging area partially obscuring the view. Much to my delight, however, I discovered quickly that the intimate setting increased the sense of audience/actor interaction.

In my view, plays are such a wonderful experience largely because there is frequently genuine interaction between the audience and the actors, and in this case the setting at Theatre Inconnu intensified this interaction and the sense that we, as audience members, were part of the play. Indeed there were times when, from where I sat, I had to move my feet out of the way as the actors moved about the floor, encirling one another in a variety of configurations, much like the electrons of atoms that were of such critical importance to the play’s subject matter. Occasionally one is aware that the actors make eye contact with the audience members and similarly, being seated in a circle, all audience members can see each other in the background of the play, their attentions continuously shifting from actor to actor, to audience members briefly perhaps, then back to actor and actor, and then perhaps, for some, briefly to question their own presence as raised by the characters themselves: “the one person, among all, whom you cannot see is yourself” said Neils Bohr, or Margretta Bohr, or Werner Heisenberg in the play, I cannot remember which, or perhaps all three.

This interaction between audience and actors was all the more palpable in the context of the intricate interplay among the characters themselves: Niels Bohr, his wife Margretta, and Werner Heisenberg. Margretta, having typed the physics manuscripts of Neils Bohr tirelessly, has come to understand much of Bohr’s physics and the wartime politics of which Niels and Werner were embroiled: she is both an observer of and participant in the tensions between Neils and Werner who were at once wonderful friends, but doomed to mutual mistrust for representing opposing efforts during World War II, and a meeting of the two in Copenhagen during which it became clear to both that each represented opposing sides: Heisenberg for Germany, and Bohr, living in occupied Denmark and whose mother was Jewish, for the allies. Their efforts were each to understand the effects of nuclear fission - those effects that could lead to the creation of an atomic bomb and all of its attendant implications - and the precise quantities of certain substances that would allow for the efficient production of such a bomb.

But the interplay was yet more subtle, revealing the genius of Michael Frayn in his appreciation and application of basic principles of quantum theory. Heisenberg, German and staunchly nationalistic, proved by rigorous mathematics that certain sub-atomic, quantum, events cannot both be measured for their location and speed simultaneously - to know one with certainty is to lose information about the other. You can know one, he said, but never both at the same time - Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle. Heisenberg developed his principle in the context of contemporaneous findings that electrons must be viewed as both particles and waves; that the distribution of electrons is understandable according only to probabilities, and that the act of observation has a direct effect on electron trajectories.

Frayn deftly weaves these principles, and others of quantum physics, into the fabric of his play. Niels Bohr and Heisenberg, at once friends and yet diametrically opposed, each can affect the outcome of the war: whichever side first develops the nuclear bomb wins it with catastrophic consequences. There are two possible outcomes - the outcome is particle or wave, dead or alive, victory for the allies or victory for Germany; their trajectories uncertain, perhaps measurable according to the choices made by each, perhaps by the observer Margretta, and if one of two coordinates is known that might allow for certainty of action, the other becomes elusive.

In the end, did Heisenberg, by his own choice, provide false information to the Nazi authorities about the proper quantities required to produce a nuclear bomb, or was he simply wrong in his calculations? Despite his German nationalism, did his own self-observation trigger the collapse of probabilities into one certainty - victory for the allies?

These are the questions that Frayn supremely grapples with, set among the multi-layered interactions of the three characters encircling one another, sometimes around Margretta, who watches them both; sometimes Bohr and Heisenberg together, sometimes colliding and repulsed to opposite ends of the stage.

This was a tour de force of playwriting genius, staged brilliantly by Director Clayton Jevne and Victoria actors, Naomi Simpson as Margretta, Eric Holmgren as Werner Heisenberg and Richard Patterson as Neils Bohr. Each had an immense amount of dialogue to remember, set in the intimacy and immediacy of their audience, heightening the acting challenge and concentration required.

For a layperson afficionado of basic quantum theory and a lover of theatre, I feel privileged to have seen such a brilliant play and performance.

Enamoured of the World Community Grid

www.worldcommunitygrid.org

Victoria Half marathon

After a full bike racing season, consisting of some 25+ races (counting individual stages of stage races as single races), it was interesting to make the mental shift to running in such a short period of time since I dislocated my shoulder at the Bastion Square criterium on September 21.

Cycling is a sport of small numbers, at least in comparison to the thousands of participants who come out to run a marathon and other distances, and there is a distinctive switch that one must undergo from the intense competitiveness of the relatively small peloton, to the massive crowds of runners who participate for a variety of different reasons.

I love both bicycle races and running races. It is interesting that I think I actually have a purer, less egotistical, love for the dynamics of bike racing than I do for running. For me bike racing is so much about generating dynamics, of being a part of the unique experience that is a peloton as it emerges in its multifaceted configurations from the interaction of its parts. As much as placing well is a thrill in bike racing, I find intense satisfaction in simply competing among the collective and knowing that I can be a factor in the outcome of the race.

By contrast, oddly, sometimes I find competitive running to be more about assuaging my ego than it is about the pure enjoyment of the sport. The interesting fact is that I frequently achieve better placings in running races than I do in bike races. Granted I’m not running against fields of solely elite runners, as I do when I am competing in Pro/cat. 1,2 bike races, in which case I would not be able to place very highly at all. Nevertheless, because I can often place high up in the standings among sheer large numbers of runners, there is certainly an ego inflation factor involved. I don’t want to overstate the case, since I expect most people would not describe me as one of the most egotistical people they know (or maybe they would, I’m not entirely sure!), but my point is only that for me there is a very different kind of benefit derived from each discipline.

For me there is certainly ego involved in cycling - of that there is no question - but it is largely derived by demonstrating strength rather than by beating others or by placing well. Running, for me, is not so much about demonstrating strength, as it is about achieving a particular time, but that time standard is also connected with a certain pleasurable satisfaction that comes with placing well, and which in turn entails a different kind of egotistical response.

Many cyclists would question my motivation to exhibit strength at the expense of the best possible placing - brownie points count for nothing, they say - all that matters is where you are at the finish. For me that is not true - in a sense, for me, brownie points count for everything - but yet that is not what it is about either. For me the greatest pleasure is derived from the continuous dynamical interaction of all the cyclists, their movements within the organic peloton; the constant vigilance as to their positions; the imperative to remain near the front, the attacks, the counter-attacks; the cooperation, the deception; the risks taken and lost or won; the relief of survival; the transient microcosm of life that is the peloton.

True, there is a level of vanity in bike racing that is perhaps not as prevalent in running, accompanied by an odd sort of homo-eroticism that comes with staring at men’s asses. Not that we are all necessarily aroused by the sight of mens butts in tight shorts, but you can’t help but notice certain shapes and wonder if women would find that guy’s butt to be hot or not. Regardless, the vanity and such curiosities vanish when you are cross-eyed with suffering, and at that point you really can’t distinguish the shape of one man’s ass from another.

But this was not intended to be an essay about the differences between the respective ego derivatives of cycling and running. Perhaps my primary point is that I found the half marathon experience to be rather like new, allowing me to see my involvement in the activity from a slightly alterered perspective, set against the backdrop of a season of bike racing which I enjoyed immensely.

I’d trained for less than three weeks on a schedule of tempo runs every second day, increasing in length. After about six tempo runs, and easy spins on the exercise bike and light weights on intervening days, I was able to take last week fairly easily and do a couple of easy preparation runs before the half, resulting in being in 1:17 shape. Of course I had an enormous aerobic base to rely on from a season of bike racing, but it was still an interesting experiment to see how quickly I could get into respectable running shape (by my standards).

In summary, I was happy with the outcome.

The clicking, the clacking

A most untoward experience: with progress unabated the left shoulder is now in such a state that I did 50 pushups on my knees yesterday; but perhaps I pushed it just a tiny bit far, since today, after an easy 30 minute run, my arm found itself in an awkward position in the process of exiting my car, which in turn resulted in an uncomfortable click and wee spot of a dull ache afterwards.

Well, tomorrow I go for an ultrasound examination. Perhaps they will find fresh damage and a slight set-back. Maybe I should take a less cavalier approach to my injuries. Ah well whatevah - it will heal I have no doubt!

Bastion Sq- a few great photos from Duane Martindale

Borrowed from www.duanebc.com. All of these taken, of course, before I went down for the second time, about 3/4 of the way to end, and out with a dislocated shoulder.

I note that I’ve decided not to go to Tobago at all. Apparently the medical system there is third world, and with my shoulder in a very delicate state at the moment, it doesn’t seem worth both the risk of further complications and the absence of good medical care if there are any such complications and the discomfort of travelling with one game arm. I’ve decided to use the time off to catch up on some coursework and other projects. I’ve got a flight credit for my cancellation, and there will be plenty of chances in the future to travel for interesting activities. It’s too bad this happened for this race, but it’s life - there are a certain number of disappointments along the way.

Some pics:

Later in the race - Bob Cameron, Chris Worsfold, me, Maurice Worsfold, Mike Korb

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Kirk Obee, 2007 USPro Criterium Champ on my wheel, early in the race. Likely one of my favourite photos ever.

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Bridging to the first chase group with Will Routley on my wheel. The leading trio, whom we were chasing, was about 5 seconds ahead of us here.

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Nic Hamilton (l to r), me, Tyler Trace, Rob Britton (I believe)

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Tyler Trace, Rob Britton (2007 BC Cup champion) me, Max Plaxton (Olympic Mountain biker)

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The Carnage

I’ve been extolling an adage this afternoon, “I pushed my luck, and luck pushed back.” Yesterday I was fortunate not to have gone down in a crash at the Oak Bay criterium, but today at the Bastion Square Grand Prix I was not so lucky.

All the other categories of riders were fortunate to have missed the rain, but during my warm up I could see a few blackies hovering menacingly nearby in the skies overhead. I was hoping their wet promises would not be kept, and indeed, the start of the race at 1pm was dry for the men’s elite field.

There were only 30 of us on the line, but it was a strong field with the likes of Andrew Pinfold, Will Routley (both Symmetrics), Kirk O’bee (Health Net and 2007 U.S. Criterium Champion), Zach Garland (Kona Adobe and winner of the Oak Bay Crit), Max Plaxton, Olympic Mountain biker, and of course all the local strongmen from Victoria.

The race was scheduled for 70 laps of the 900m circuit. The pace was quickly dominated by Symmetrics and Obee, and strung out immediately. After about 10 laps, those three, I believe slipped off the front. I managed to get from near the back, essentially, into a chase group of four or five with Nic Hamilton, Max Plaxton, and Zach Garland and another. We had pulled quite far ahead of the rest of the group and dangled a few seconds behind the breakaway. At one point, Garland, I believe, attacked full out to attempt a bridge and Nic Hamilton and I lost the wheels in front.

Stuck in no-mans land at that point, I rode around for about 4 more laps until the next chase group with Bob Cameron, Mike Korb and the Worsfold twins caught me up.

Changing tenses: then the carnage begins. The rain pelts the course, just lightly enough to liberate the oils from the pavement. A couple of more laps pass, and with our group turning left up onto the corner past the start line, a rider slides out. Another follows, and I have no where to go but into the back of him. This is a soft landing, luckily. I land on top of someone, but get back up, fix my chain and head for the wheel pit for a free lap. But that was where my luck ran out.

With the roads still slick I consider “ok, that’s it, I’m out - I’ve gotten off lucky and I don’t need to jeapardize Tobago anymore.” But still I roll down toward the start line for a free lap (I think we actually had two free laps), and the twins are waiting to rejoin after they had gone down - “c’mon Hugh, let’s go,” Chris says.

Against all rational judgment, I ride back onto the course and as Bob’s group rolls around again, we rejoin and are right back in. The rain stops momentarily, but then it commences yet again - just lightly enough to slick the roads.

We are being extremely careful around every corner, but even that was not enough. Perhaps six laps later, still we are proceeding down Yates through to the notorious Crash Corner, taking it cautiously onto the icy, off camber, descending turn.

Then in the blink of an eye there are riders all over the road: Bam, one goes down; bam, Bob goes down, and bam, I’m down with direct impact on my left elbow. Someone is down behind me.

I realize I can’t move my left arm and there’s no way on god’s green earth I’m getting up. I’m shouting out in pain, and St. John’s is there. The other riders are up. I’m still in the middle of the road, and riders coming around are cautioned to slow down completely as the attendants hoist me onto a stretcher. I’m wincing in agony, my eyes are clenched closed, while voices around me pepper me with questions that I can hardly answer. Chris Paul is there with Rhonda Callender, and Chris lends a hand and assists the attendants with rolling me onto a stretcher. Ben Cotter, who was watching at that corner, comes by to help, Dr. Walker is nearby, and Trevor Connor stops by, after wisely retiring from the race, to lend some moral support. Michelle and Ryan Calbick graciously offer to take my bike.

While I have had a few health scares in my life, as have we all, there is nothing more frightening than being alone in agony. And, as much as one often takes for granted what he believes is his strength in being alone, it is surprising how much you really need to have a friend nearby in a crisis, and I can’t thank Ben enough for sitting with me in the St Johns ambulance while waiting for the ambulance, and to Chris and Rhonda for helping, and to Trevor for stopping by and for Wayne’s concern, for Ryan and Michelle offering to take my bike, and everyone else who gave me a word of encouragement, and of course to the St John’s and ambulance attendants.

I’ve never been in such intense pain before - moving me from one stretcher to the next was certainly a new experience in the searing mind numbing pain that has one howling out in pain, and while I am far from a religious person, in such situations you can clearly see, like a piercing ray of sunlight, a little piece of God in everyone who says a kind word or offers a kind gesture. For every ounce of pain you feel, that perception of God in everyone around is at least as strong, clear and poignant. It is a strange and beautiful experience.

(toggling between tenses) In the ambulance I was given nitrous oxide, which dulled the pain somewhat, but the sensation of hyperventilating on it was heightening my discomfort and I withdrew from the laughing gas. The attendant kept telling me I would become forgetful on the gas, light headed and not know where I was. He kept peppering me with questions: “what’s your name” a. “Hugh Trenchard”; “how do you spell that”; I spell it while sucking gas. “Where are we?” a. “somewhere in Esquimalt”. I wanted to explain to him that my mind is a steel trap in such situations. “Do you remember how the accident occured?” I provide him times, and minutiae of detail - much more than I would had I not been on the gas. Needless to say, I had no trouble remembering anything.

Finally in the hospital, after waiting for a while to be admitted but with the ambulance attendants nearby, and me aching with thirst and being allowed only some ice to quench it lest surgery was required (apparently you need an empty stomach for it), I was attended to by physicians, who gave me morphine initially and then put me under with something much more potent.

I am somewhat wary of sedation, as I’ve had a history of waking up early before sedation was scheduled to wear off (once as a child in the hospital I awoke about 12 hours before a sedative was scheduled to wear off and was determined to escape from the hospital; once when I had my wisdom teeth out I awoke part way through the operation to the uncomfortable wrenching and bashing of my jaw). Explaining this to the doctor, he reassured me “we have much better drugs now and you won’t remember a thing”. So, as the mask was donned, I kept saying “I’m not asleep yet. Nope, not asleep yet….ummm, ok noww, I’m starting…to…feel…something….”

So a few zzz’s and some blissful dreams later, I begin to awake, and seem to believe I still hadn’t fallen asleep. I remember saying “while I might be whistling dixie soon, but you might need to play it for me first.” Someone replied, “Yeah, good.” I open my eyes, and lo and behold there’s a sling on my arm and I’m not feeling any pain. Guess those drugs really do work! Ben, the beautiful man, arrived shortly afterward to pick me up.

Well, to cut a long story short - there’s no hope of racing in Tobago. The plan is still to go, but I won’t even be able to take my bike with me. Looks like I’ll be riding in the team car, handing out water bottles to the team, shouting encouragement and snapping photos. Perhaps I will spend more time in the sun this way too.

Now it is bed time, leaving tomorrow.

Mt Doug HC, and the gypsy cyclist, in the flesh

Twenty-two riders showed for the Mt. Doug challenge, the second last race of the Victoria Cycling League series this year. I have always feared the Mt Doug hill climb. I fear it when I do it for interval training, which is rare, and I fear it even more when I do it as a race.

When I think of climbing that road, its gradient something around 16-18 percent for much of it, memories of a hazy curtain of suffering descend across my consciousness, and thoughts of it trigger a chain of physiological responses: increased heart rate, shallow breathing, increased muscle tone, hyper-alertness and sweat. Well, perhaps I exaggerate, but not by much.

So I set out to face this fear, the day after a Jordan River ride on Saturday, during which I felt somewhat bonky and during which I believe I actually met the gypsy cyclist in the living flesh. He was a slight man with piercing blue eyes and a short-cropped, slightly greying beard. He had stopped in Sooke near the store where I also stopped on my return from Jordan River. He sat at a little table eating Chinese food, it appeared, judging by the take out venue by which he sat. Nearby was his bicycle with paniers on.

As I stumbled out of the store, light-headed, with a can of Coke and two chocolate bars in hand and one half devoured before I was even out the door, he asked me how my ride was. He, like a man who lived for the solitary freedom of the open road and the exhilaration of continuous energy expenditure, explained that he had journeyed from Vancouver to ride from the ferry in Nanaimo through Duncan and across to Port Renfrew, and now was on the second leg of his journey from Port Renfrew to Victoria. He explained how most of the road from Mesachie Lake to Port Renfrew was actually paved, a fact most people don’t seem to know, he said.

It’s him, I thought. I’ve actually met the gypsy cyclist, although I have never really imagined him with a beard. But unlike the adventures of the imaginary gypsy cyclist, I, as the one whom he met, had no stories to offer him. Surely if he returned to tell stories of his Homeric two days of riding, there would be little to say of the cyclist in blue who stopped at the store in Sooke that Sunday afternoon.

But I digress!

The hill climb: in the end, that which I feared was overcome. My time was 5:25, good for third behind Marcel Aarden’s stellar time of 5:04 and Kenyon Campbell’s time of 5:10. Bob Cameron was a mere two seconds behind me, with a couple of times in the 5:30s, and some in the 5:40s and so on.

Ross Hooker still holds the VCL record of 5:02, while Roland Green has the outright record, of 4:39 (I believe), with a couple of other times under 5 minutes as well, set during B.C. Cup races.

Full results at www.duanebc.com

Cherry Point Masters 65km

Today was the last race of the Masters race series for 2008. We couldn’t have asked for a better day: 24 degrees under clear September skies in a beautiful region of the Island near Duncan, around the Cherry Point Winery, the starting place. The race consisted of seven laps of a 9.2km circuit, rolling.

I had not finally decided to do the race until yesterday, since, after taking last week fairly easily, I wasn’t sure a race this weekend was prudent. Plus, I felt I was fighting a slightly scratchy throat - perhaps just my body still recovering from some harder training the previous two weeks. Yesterday I rode just a couple of hours, mostly easy, hoping to ease my body away from any bugs that might have attempted to gain a foothold.

Nonetheless, in the end I thought I might as well do the race, wind-up the season and thought perhaps the hard effort would finally blow out any bugs that might be trying to multiply in my system.

At the start there were about 8 riders in our 40-49 year group, including Don Gillmore, Steve Bachop (who won the B.C. Masters Mountain Bike Championships last weekend), Aaron Dusseault (who was first in the 40s group last weekend) Casey Ryder, Tony Wakelin (third last week in our group) and others whose names I’m unsure of. Ahead were about 12 in the 50s group, and three or four in the 60s group (I believe). There were about 8 or so in the 30s group behind us. We had four minutes to make up on the 50s, and seven to make up on David Mercer’s group.

With Don and Aaron both being very good sprinters, Don also being a fantastic time-trialler, and Steve, fresh off a win at the B.C. Championships (Masters) last weekend, and not to mention that Tony was ahead of me last week as well, I thought this was unlikely to be a great day for me. I also doubted whether we had much chance of catching the 50s - they are a strong group, and 4 minutes is a lot of time to make up in 65km.

However, right away our group began pushing the pace. It was a little windy and slightly uphill past the start finish near the Winery to the first turnaround, and then gradual climbing for a couple of km, making it hard right off the start. On the first of the steeper (but short) climbs, although my legs were feeling a little tight, I could tell I was feeling strong. On the backside of the course up and the hardest of the climbs, our group was already down to four of us: me, Don, Steve and Aaron.

On the second lap, pulling hard past the finish along the headwind straightaway, I realized we had lost Aaron, so it was just three of us. Around the corner and onto the gradual climbs, Steve took a pull before a steeper section, I came through and then Don and I slipped away from Steve. This left Don and I, the Schwalbe duo, on our own maintaining a torrid pace.

Trading pulls evenly, Don and I caught the 50s on the third lap, and proceeded straight past them. One of them joined us for about a couple of minutes (Andrew, I’ve learned (unsure of last name)) before falling off our relentless pace. On the next lap we caught and passed David Mercer, meaning we had caught everyone and with three laps to go it was Don and I alone in front. At around that time Don was kind enough to offer me the win, as he thought I’d been taking the longer pulls (although I didn’t really think so). He is far and away a stronger sprinter than me, so this was a generous offer. Don noted that he had not trained much in August, had lost a little fitness, and mentioned that he was going to have some trouble holding the high pace to the finish.

So, I offered to take the lion’s share of the pulling on the last two laps. As we continued, we began to pass lapped riders, while Andrew managed to latch on for a few km after sustaining a flat. On the last of our laps up the last climb, we lapped the 30s riders, and went straight passed them as well.

Heading into the finishing straightaway, Don took the last pull and motioned for me to come up beside him. I put out my arm to clasp hands and he held my arm up in the air, and we crossed the line together, with me slightly ahead to take the win. A fantastic gesture of sportsmanship by Don, who could have easily dusted me in the sprint, and a great way to wind up the season! What fun! The manner in which Don and I dominated is certain to be a race I will always remember. One day I will remember this as one of my more glorious races (one of the few), I am sure, and I will always remember Don’s sportsmanship and generosity.

Steve held on to take third after also passing all the riders ahead. As I had to leave straight away, I didn’t find out exactly how the rest of the placings played out.

Masters 63km RR Cedar (Nanaimo)

In an effort to do a quasi-simulated stage race this weekend in order to prepare for the upcoming 5-stage race in Tobago, I capped off four quite hard days of training with the Masters race in Cedar, a few km south of Nanaimo.

Leading up to the Masters race, this was my week:

After the 50km TT last weekend, I did a couple of easy days Monday Tuesday, followed by:

Wed
2 hours - up Munns Road and area, but not pushing hard

Thurs
2 hours - Russ Hay’s group ride, where Mike Korb, Curtis Deardon (recently third at the Provincial TT champs) and I did a hard three-up tempo off the front of the group to Matticks farm, followed by a more relaxed pace and a sprint or two.

Friday (had the day off work)
4 hours, hard - Munns Rd, Finlayson Arm, Malahat, new subdivision climb/roads out of Shawnigan Lk, around Shawnigan Lk, and home. Legs felt good, but I definitely pushed them hard.

Saturday
3 hrs - Burnside group - a small group, but as usual for this ride, there was an airport sprint followed by tempo paceline around Landsend. After the airport, where the original group of about eight disintegrated, the paceline group consisted of Nick Rowe, Duane Martindale and me, after Andrew McCartney had to pull off due to some issues with a flaring IT band injury. We continued with some hard efforts past the ferry terminal. After Duane turned off at Broadmead, Nick and I did another sprint effort and some more medium paceline work around the waterfront. When Nick turned off, I did two more sprints.

Sunday - the Masters race

Feeling somewhat fatigued from the previous few days, but still wanting to push my body extensively, I decided to ride from home to Cedar (about 100km) before doing the race (63km). I’d arranged with Vaughn Marshall to drive my car while I rode up so we could return from the race together in the car. Vaughn was good enough to start his drive early and to stop twice along the way, once on the Malahat and once in Duncan, to see how I was doing. As I was doing well and on schedule, I continued on my way to the race start in Cedar.

A couple of people asked me why I would choose to do a long ride before the race rather than afterward and begin the race fresh. There are a few reasons: riding home after the race would mean a very long day, as the race started at 11:30; also I find the motivation to ride much after a race to be quite low and the potential quite high to say, after the race is over, “oh that was hard enough, I don’t need to do anything more”; but most importantly, if you are preparing for longer and more competitive races, there is enormous training benefit to doing a race following a fairly hard ride. Masters races are perfect for this because they are low-key and short enough that one can, if he has solid base fitness, do a hard ride first and still be able to race effectively, push very hard, but without the potential of being dropped as might be the case for a Category 1,2 race.

As it was, in the Australian pursuit, there were about 35 riders in total: 2 or 3 in the 60-64, going off first, and then about 10 or so in the 50-59 group, followed by my group, the 40-49 group, consisting of about 15 riders, and only two, I think, in the 30-39 group. I’m not sure of the time gaps between groups, but my group likely had to close a 4 minute gap on the 50’s, and another three on the 60’s (or vice versa, possibly). With only a couple of riders in the 30 group behind, we weren’t very worried they would catch the leading 40’s, but it was going to be difficult for us to catch the 50’s ahead, with strong riders like Derek Tripp and Mike Sevcov in the mix.

As my legs were tight from the ride up, I found the first 10km to be quite hard, but after a couple of accelerations, found my legs loosening up. Ryan Calbick was riding very strongly as were a couple of Vancouver guys, who started out immediately with a short breakaway - pulled back after about 5k. Aaron Dusseault was also looking strong, as were others in the group. We kept a fairly even paceline for the most part, but Ryan and a couple others were throwing in some hard accelerations over the short climbs of the 21km course (done 3X), causing the group to split and to yo-yo a fair amount. After two laps the group was down to about six or seven of us. On the third lap, Ryan put in a hard acceleration up the hardest of the climbs, with about 15km to go - I went with him and then accelerated again over the crest. I was hoping to take Ryan with me, but I discovered I was on my own. It was largely into a head wind and my legs were beginning to feel pretty sapped, but I decided I might as well go for it, and kept pushing hard. While I had about 20 seconds at one point, they were chasing hard behind me, and I could see on a couple of descents that they were taking the time back quickly and my little breakaway was over with about 5k to go.

With three to go, Ryan jumped. I followed. Aaron followed me. We had a sizeable gap, until misfortune occurred: on the last of the descents before a short climb to the straightaway to the finish, I took a pull and crouched into a tuck; Ryan was behind me and, as I tucked, I could feel Ryan’s front wheel contact my rear wheel, heard a scream, and a crash. Ryan went into the ditch and broke his collarbone in two places. The motivation to maintain a hard pace was lost and part of me wanted to stop to help Ryan. But the rest of what remained of our group came up and we continued on to contest the finish. In the end, Aaron took the sprint, with a Vancouver guy second, Tony Wakelin third, and me, half a wheel back of Tony. Ryan came in a few minutes later, bloodied and holding an arm against his chest - an unfortunate ending to a great race for Ryan and to his season.

For the overall, our group caught everyone ahead except for Mike Sevcov, Derek Tripp and David Mercer. We were barely 10 seconds back of David and Mike at the finish, and Derek had another great race to stay ahead of those two by about 20 seconds.

For me, I accomplished what I set out to do - had a fantastic training and racing day. I was tired, which was of course the intention, but with some recovery now these last two weeks will have been very good preparation for Tobago in three weeks. I haven’t quite figured out what the schedule will be from now until then - but it will start with this week being very easy.

Masters 50k TT Lk Cowichan

After a short, but very hard time-trial effort up Munns Rd on Friday, followed by a hard 2.5+ hour Burnside group ride on Saturday with some solid paceline work and a number of sprint efforts, I was uncertain whether a 50km time trial would be the best thing for me. I have also been feeling residual fatigue from last weekend’s two longer, hilly rides and Tuesday’s sprint session that was followed by a hard weight training session. In short, despite a couple of weeks off prior to last weekend, this last week has been fairly hard, and I’ve been feeling fatigued. I am wondering if I’ve started in a little too quickly with higher-intensity workouts after my break, but one presumes the body is ready for it.

Nonetheless, I had concluded that a good threshold effort today was indeed a good idea, keeping in mind the current objective, the 5-stage international race, the Tobago Classic at the end of September. So, I made the drive up past Duncan with Vaughn Marshall in the pouring rain for the race. The rain was not in the least encouraging, but it was reasonably mild, about 16 degrees, so the worry of severe muscle tightness due to cold was somewhat lessened. For me the threshold for significant and detrimental muscle tightness is around 12 degrees and, if it is raining, even tights will do little to ameliorate this because cold rain will penetrate straight through to the skin. However at 16 degrees, a slathering of Tiger Balm over the legs as a protective coating from the rain is sufficient to keep the legs warm.

The 50km course from the north end of Duncan to Cowichan Lake, and back, is a challenging road of continuous undulations, but overall it is gradually ascending on the way out. I registered as the first rider off, as I simply wanted to get it over with with minimal waiting. Behind me were 16 other registered riders starting off at 1 minute intervals - a small field, likely somewhat reduced by the less-than-ideal riding conditions.

After over-cooking the first corner a few hundred metres into the race onto Cowichan Lk road, I skidded with brakes on hard into the oncoming traffic lane and found myself staring precariously eyeballs to eyeballs, straight-on, with a driver in the oncoming lane. Fortunately the driver slowed and I managed to avert a collision. Duane Martindale later went down on that corner and did not finish the race, but was not badly hurt. The organizers have promised to make adjustments to the course next year to make it safer.

On a course that seemed to be continuously uphill, punctuated by a few short-lived flats or slight descents, a steady rhythm was not to be found. In such a case one must simply adjust to grunting out the pace as best as possible and to the experience of varying degrees of pain and pain-plus-extra-pain.

The turnaround could not come soon enough, but eventually it appeared in the distance after nearly 25km of lung busting. About half a km before the turn, two vehicles passed me only to slow down to a crawl and force me to decelerate considerably, well before the turnaround, accompanied by my overshooting the turn by a significant distance.

By the time I was on my way in the opposite direction for home, I realized there were riders behind whom I had not gained time upon or whom had gained time on me. One of these was Derek Tripp. I learned afterward he took two minutes out of me on the first half.

For the return I felt I could sustain a rhythm that was both hard and focussed, and by the end I had not lost additional time to Derek. I actually thought I would have lost more time in the second half due to my absence of aero helmet, aero-wheels or specific TT bike/set up (I did use aero bars though) and because there was more descending in the second half. So at least that aspect of my ride was encouraging.

In the end Derek (57 yrs old, and an amazing talent) had the fastest time on the day at 1:12.28, Shane Savage (33) from Vancouver was second in 1:13.45 (who was forced to stop near the beginning to adjust his brakes to accommodate a broken spoke), while I was third in 1:14.30. Don Gillmore has the course record in about 1:09, I understand.

I was happy with my day, and was glad for the sustained threshold effort. I have actually done only a couple of time trials this year, and so it was good to get a full-dose reminder of the kind of pain one must endure at that sustained output. Most of my races this year, being road races or criteriums, have required the ability to recover rapidly from continual high intensity, over-the-threshold attacks, and so I have developed that ability quite well. Little of my racing, however, has involved the steady threshold effort of time trialing, and I would do well to do a few more of that sort of effort before Tobago, which will entail a ton of very difficult climbs.

My travel companion, Vaughn, was in at 1:26, which was good enough for the fastest time of two riders in his age category (45-49) but after age-grading he was second to the older rider. His time was roughly the same as his time last year when he completed the race as a two-up with another rider and in better conditions, so his overall ride was better this year.