Skyfall...Ka-froooooome!

   Not that I really have anything against any individual cyclist on Team Sky, I just don’t like the way their tactics take the racing aspect out of pro cycling. Using power meters to gauge effort as team members relay on the front of the pack to keep the pace high and discourage breakaways is just plain boring. Sure, you can argue they are the strongest team, and (most of the time) it works, so the other teams need to get better - but won’t the other teams just try the same thing as they improve? Yuck. 

   To combat this pattern, team managers have to be creative and not be afraid to try strategies that may seem risky in order to break up the “grind-away” mentality that is becoming too familiar. I admire the management at Garmin-Sharp for throwing everything at a race in order to win, not just occasionally finish on the podium behind the favorites. Trying a break at a strange part in a race will sometimes fail, but at least you are trying something, and it just might pay off with a victory!

   In this year’s Critérium du Dauphiné, a prestigious pre-Tour de France stage race that is often run over the same roads as its “big brother”, Chris Froome (Sky’s team leader) and Alberto Contador tried to knock each other out with devastating attacks late in the mountain stages, while other contenders limped across the finish line each day, limiting their losses. Froome had worn the race leader’s jersey since the first stage until Contador took back enough time during Saturday’s mountain stage to move into the overall lead.

   During Sunday’s final stage an early split occurred involving 23 riders, several of which were in the top ten, including Romain Bardet (7th), Jurgen Van Den Broeck (5th) and American Andrew Talansky (3rd). At the time, Contador and Froome were too concerned with each other and shrugged off the situation. With plenty of firepower still remaining in the peloton to chase the break down, they probably thought it was just another one of those foolish moves that always fail.

   The Garmin-Sharp squad decided to shake things up. Former Giro d’Italia winner Ryder Hesjedal sacrificed himself by expending all his energy to help make the break stick - his teammate Talansky started the day just 39 seconds down on the leader. Contador had exhausted all of his teammates in the effort to keep the break close and was now by himself. Froome was looking to be at less than 100%, and with a couple of teammates still up in the break, he refused to work to bring down the gap.

   As the two favorites looked at each other and argued a bit about whose responsibility it was to chase, their deficit to Talansky’s group increased to well over two minutes! Contador became desperate and finally attacked the Sky team leader and his two remaining teammates. Froome cracked and had no response – even with teammates from the original break dropping back to help, he lost chunks of time and tumbled down the standings to twelfth overall!

   To his credit, Contador rocketed up the final hill and nearly closed on the break, but Talansky held off the late charge to steal the leader’s jersey and claim the biggest victory of his career. A daring strategy paid off by attempting to win the race, not just finish on the podium!

   On a different subject, a couple of weekends ago I rode a metric century (100 kilometers) during an event organized by the South Jersey Wheelmen. The event was run over a mostly flat course on the Delaware River side of the Garden State, generally around the areas of Salem and Alloway Township. I said mostly flat because there was a section around the midway point of the ride that contained a series of leg-sapping rises. Compared to the inclines I regularly ride near home, this type of terrain normally wouldn’t have been much of a challenge, but because of the distance that I still had left to ride, these hills really took a toll.

   I’ve done some rides in the 50 mile range around home, so I really wasn't expecting to be so weary. I was riding this event on my own, and I think I started off at too enthusiastic a pace. Without any “teammates” to draft behind – and there was a pretty consistent breeze of 5-8 mph – holding at around 18 or 19 mph for the first hour was probably unwise.

   I also ended up riding 120 kilometers because of some misdirection, which didn’t help with the fatigue factor.  My unfamiliarity with the area certainly contributed to my problems, but there were also some errors on the cue sheet that caused confusion, along with some missing street signs.

   The organizing committee had painted some direction arrows at the major intersections, which worked well on the whole on the larger roads. However, there were some streets with a lot of cinder and other debris from recent storms accumulated in the shoulder area, and I ended up backtracking a couple of times after missing the directional markings.

   The most humorous (well…looking back, it was funny) incident occurred on a road that had been recently repaved, right over the course markings! I was riding at that moment with some gentlemen from Keswick Cycles, a shop I knew well from when I lived in Ambler, PA. Someone was riding back towards us, looking very confused and waving at us to stop. He had recognized a road name at an intersection ahead and knew something was wrong. We had been enjoying this wonderfully smooth new road about 1½ miles past the necessary turn and had to backtrack once again!

   Naturally the last five mile stretch to the finish was into the wind, and at this point my legs were fairly howling! It was not a lack of energy, since I had brought along plenty of my own gluten-free energy supply (except for bananas, I know these events always have taboo contents for celiacs at the feed tables), and I had been very conscious about drinking enough. I had just been going too hard for too long – not a lot of coasting on flat roads.

  

   I have to laugh when I look at the routes taken by some of the “fun” rides that are organized in the area around my home. One particular event, The Iron Tour, circles around some of the historic iron furnace areas in northern Chester County and has some ridiculously long, steep climbs that the average cyclist would intentionally avoid. Although I’ve never entered this particular ride (why would I want to pay to punish myself that badly?), over the years I have seen riders out on the road with a face like he or she is (to coin a phrase from one of the EuroSport commentators) “hanging onto grim death”.

   Simply by judging some of the equipment choices and body types, there are some folks who look like they ride consistently and are wise enough to do these rides at a very sociable pace. They laugh a bit with each other as they face the difficulties of the hilly route and rest regularly along the way. I simply don’t get it when folks do events like this each year as their only exercise challenge. It makes me feel like they really don’t want to ride a bike.

   Cycling should be enjoyable, not excruciating! Wouldn’t some regular workouts of shorter rides over more manageable terrain be the wiser choice? I always try to encourage people to get out on the road, but paying an entrance fee just to completely suffer is something I’ll never understand.