July 2nd - 5th, 2004 by Phil Esempio
Over the July 4th holiday weekend every year, the city of Fitchburg, Massachusetts hosts a national-level stage race in honor of the late Olympian and native son Art Longsjo. The race is comprised of 4 stages: a 7.8 mile long individual time trial; a circuit race held over a 3.1-mile loop; a road race over a very hilly course with a true mountaintop finish; and a fast, downtown criterium on the final day. Scoring is based on overall time for G.C.; there is also a secondary points leader category awarded, based on a combined sprint and mountain climbing ability.
The opening ceremonies on Thursday night are very poignant; a number 1 bib is pinned to a leader's jersey by Art Longsjo's widow and sister, and the jersey is displayed at each day's event. There is also a great pasta feed that night, along with a silent auction of memorabilia, with proceeds going to charity. What is also nice is, when you pick up your race packet, you get your TT start time right then, so you don't have to stand around forever at the start the next day. There are a total of 8 races run: Pro/1/2 Men, Pro/1/2 Women, Men 3, Women 3, Men 4, Women 4, Juniors, and Masters 35+. Each category has a unique set of numbers, making it easy to identify the competition during races when multiple fields are on the same course. Distances for each stage except the ITT varied by category as well. As this was my first year doing this race, and it had been years since I had done anything similar, I opted to race in Men 4, hoping the competition would be a bit tamer than in the Masters 35+ category, and the distances were a bit shorter. I was right about it being a slower pace, but it certainly wasn't very tame!
Stage 1: Best Western Royal Plaza Individual Time Trial, 7.8 miles
The layout for the ITT was a bit unusual. It was an out-and-back course, except that on the return leg you actually went past the start line, did another 180° turn, returned to the start, and then turned up a steep hill into the hotel parking lot to the finish line. Most of the 3 mile out leg was a false flat, with a continuous uphill grade of about 1 to 3 percent. You wouldn't think this would be a big deal, but it was a major decider, as you had to maintain speed for about 8 minutes or so against the hill and, as it turned out, a headwind. I tried my best to stay seated and on the aero bars, but I simply wasn't maintaining the speed I wanted and was constantly standing for short bursts to get going. I felt horrible by the time I reached the turnaround; perhaps I didn't warm up enough, or perhaps I was still feeling the effects of Snowshoe. Whatever the case, I felt I needed to really pour it on during the downhill leg, and I did. Now I was in the bars all the time, pushing as hard as I could. My heart rate never dropped below 180, and my LT is around 175. When I got to the second turnaround, I knew I'd overdone it. Approaching the final hill, my legs were spent, and I had to dig into my bailout gear to get up the hill, even out of the saddle. I had been shooting for a time of under 20:00, which would translate to an average speed of about 23.5 mph; instead, I ended up with a 20:55, or about 22.4 mph, slower even than my average on the 21 mile course at the State Championships. This placed me about 3 minutes behind the leader, and didn't bode well for the rest of the race.
Stage 2: Aubuchon Hardware Circuit Race, 24.8 miles
I had driven over to this course after the ITT just to check it out, and was cautiously optimistic about this stage. The course starts atop a hill, goes through a quick set of 3 technical turns, then goes down a shaded backstretch with a slight (maybe 1 or 2 percent) false flat incline for about a mile. After a sharp right hand turn, the course goes into a mile long, 35 to 40 mph descent, then takes a hard right into the steep climb to the finish, which is short (maybe 500 meters) but pretty steep right to the top. I was surprised to hear the announcer mention that he considered this the toughest of all 4 stages - an exaggeration, as it turns out - but I took it as a warning that the pace would be quite brutal. I knew the climb to the finish line would be tough after 5 or 6 laps (we were doing 8), but I figured the turns coupled with the fast backstretch would allow me to get back on, and at least stay close in terms of time, so I wasn't worried overmuch.
Unfortunately, I never really found out. At the start, we lined up on the hill, all 134 cat 4 riders. I was about midway back, slightly to the right (the inside of the first turn); not ideal, but workable. Riders from sponsoring clubs and the two riders wearing leader jerseys got to line up on the front row automatically anyway, and with the course being closed, and no centerline rule in effect, moving up should have been easy. One nice thing I discovered about this race - you don't need spare wheels; Campagnolo provides neutral support for all 3 mass-start stages, including spare wheels or a complete bike (they turned out to be Klein Quantums, painted to match the Campy blue and white Volvos) if need be. But the guy I lined up behind didn't need either; he just needed new cleats (or perhaps lessons on how to use them)!
At the gun, everyone stood and clipped in to get up the hill, except the rider lined up in front of me. He either didn't clip in properly, or popped out of his pedals; either way, he fell flat down in front of me, leaving me nowhere to go. As I hunted for a hole to either side of me to jump into, he got up, and started forward again, so I followed him, hoping for the best. But after about 10 feet, he unclipped and fell again, this time hard, and this time I did run into him, fortunately remembering not to curse in front of the officials (although I was certainly thinking plenty of four letter words!). By now I was desperate to get back on in time, but the last of the field was rushing by me on either side at considerable speed, so I had to wait to go around the guy in front of me. By the time I was disentangled and rolling, the field had gapped me by about 100 meters. I didn't panic, figuring I could get back on during the backstretch. I entered the backstretch about 75 meters behind the field, got out of the saddle and started hammering in a dead sprint until I was moving at 31 mph. I looked up, and the gap was the same! The field was tearing down the road at 30 mph or more, and there was no way for me to sustain that pace alone for very long. Instead, I dropped back into the saddle, and figured I could get back on at the base of the climb, after the long descent. This worked, except for one thing: by the time I got back on, I was totally spent, and immediately got gapped going up the hill. Had I been able to move up front at the bottom of the descent, as had been my plan, I could have gotten back on, but starting at the back made it impossible to do so. I managed the same effect on the second lap, but by the time I reached the top of the climb on the second lap, I was effectively dropped, and nearly spent as well. I settled into TT mode, and waited for someone to work with to fall back my way.
Sure enough, a few masters (who had started 2 minutes before us) and some other 4's got dropped, and soon enough there were 4 of us working a nice paceline, trying to stay on the lead lap and beat the time cutoff. Surprisingly, we were able to keep up a nice pace; I would lead on the descent and by the top of the climb I could jump on the back and stay with them. We lost one of the masters on the sixth lap, but the 3 of us continued to pull through, keeping up a nice pace. In fact, in the end, we only lost a bit over 2 minutes to the field; they must have slowed down some at one point, and there was a large crash on the last lap. Even off the back, our average speed was over 25 mph. So now, at the end of 2 stages, I was about 5 and a half minutes off the leader, sitting at 103rd out of 129 riders who made the time cut. But the next day promised to put an end to any optimism I might have had.
Stage 3: Wachusett Mountain Road Race, 46.6 miles
This was, without a doubt, the single toughest road course I have ever raced on, even tougher than the Murrysville Classic which is known for brutal grades. The course consisted of a main loop of 11.4 miles, which started with a wicked mile long 45+-mph descent down a bumpy, frost-heaved road. This was followed by about 6 miles of gently rolling terrain with some non-technical turns, then a brutally steep 10 percent climb up into the center of the small town of Princeton (also the feed zone), followed by 3 more miles of climbing with grades ranging from about 6 to 8 percent. At the end of 4 laps of this suffering, the course made a sharp left and headed up the road to the summit of Wachusett Mountain, traversing grades as high as 19 percent in one spot! My sole goal for this day was simply to make the time cut, and I knew that the extra weight I was still carrying was going to make even this a tough sell.
At the start, the field spread out across both lanes of the descent; the majority of the climb and all of the descent were exempt from centerline rules as this part of the course was closed to traffic. At the bottom of the hill, the peloton reformed, and stayed together through the rollers, until we reached the feedzone. At this point the attacks started (green jersey points were awarded at the top each of the first 3 laps), and at this point I also was dropped.
The rest of the race was pure survival. The Juniors and Women 3 and Women 4 were on the course with us, with the Juniors being right behind us. The prior day, the Juniors had been run with the Men 3, and the lead group of Juniors had actually caught and passed the Men 3 field! It turns out, this race is a qualifier for the Junior worlds, and the top junior racers were supremely motivated. As a result, soon the Junior field was past me, and I was able to work with a few stragglers to form a 5 man pace line, with one other 4 and 3 juniors. All of us were suffering; by the top of the second lap, we had lost the cat 4 rider, one of the juniors was fading, and two of them were pulling away from me. We regrouped at the bottom of the descent, which I was becoming more confident with; the worst bumps and holes were marked in green paint, and without the whole field around me, I could pick my line easily.
But the third lap found me fading, and fading badly. I was still hoping for a finish of under 2:30, but with my average speed falling each lap, this was looking doubtful, as was making the time cutoff. I made the last section of this climb all alone, passing a few riders here and there, but with no one to work with. At the top, I made a critical decision: I was going to save as much time as possible on the final descent. From the top, I flashed by the lodge a half-mile later at 45 mph; I never once touched my brakes on the descent, although flying through the bumpy section at over 50 was as nerve-wracking as it gets. I held off on braking until the last possible second before the corner, using the whole road up as I went past the marshal at over 30, hanging on for dear life. Around the backside, I pushed hard, but not past my limit; I needed to save something for the final ascent.
I went up through the last feed zone holding my own, passing some of the stragglers from the Junior field. The climb hurt, but I tried to sustain some speed through it. At the entrance to the mountaintop, I was just over my 2:30 goal with just over a mile to go, all of it uphill. The initial steep pitch of hit me hard, but I kept at it, grinding away in my 39x27, alternately standing, then sitting and spinning as the grade eased slightly. About 200 meters from the very top, the course made a sharp right, then pitched upwards again at about 10% to the finish; as I turned the corner, I saw another cat 4 struggling partway up, weaving back and forth across the road. Motivated at the chance to avoid being the absolute last finisher, I jumped out of the saddle and gave it everything I had left, passing him with about 100 meters to go to the finish. He gave me a baleful look as I surged up the hill; I looked back once before I crossed the line, but I still had about 40 meters on him, I was safely home, and not last!
At the top, there was plenty of water and food to allow us to refuel and rehydrate; we were warned that many crashes had happened after the race, on the way down, when riders didn't take the time to do so. The results wouldn't get posted until late that night due to a generator failure at the summit scoring center, but when they were, I would find that my official time was 2:45:46, and the second to last rider to make the time cutoff! The rider I had passed, bib 513, was listed with the same time as me, and six other riders had missed the cutoff. I would get to race in the final stage on Monday, meaningless though it might be at this point.
Stage 4: Workers' Credit Union Criterium
Monday dawned gray and rainy, which did not bode well for the conditions at the criterium in downtown Fitchburg. The crit was of an odd layout: relatively flat, with a sweeping left hand, 180° turn, a lazy high speed right hand curve, and then two tight technical lefts before the finish line, for a total of 0.9 miles. The course was covered with painted crosswalks, which when wet become quite slick. I decided right off the bat, not to take any chances. I had nothing to gain, and everything to lose, by trying to run with 120 or more riders on a wet technical course. The Chief Judge told us that if we made it halfway, or 10 laps out of 19, without being lapped, she would award us an adjusted time and count us as finishers; but she said because of the nature of the course and the weather, all lapped riders would be pulled before they were actually lapped. I made it 5 laps before I got yanked, my legs totally fried from the efforts of the road race. I could also feel my back wheel sliding out every time I crossed a painted crosswalk; it was downright treacherous. Getting pulled turned out to be a good thing; the very next lap, a major crash took out a bunch of riders in the final turn. In fact, of the 125 riders who made the cutoff, only 97 were awarded times for the final stage; all were either pulled like myself, crashed out, or never bothered to start the stage in the first place.
All in all, doing this race was a very satisfying experience; the venues are classic, the organization amazing, and the support of the locals at each venue better than I've seen for any local race here in Ohio. I will definitely be returning next year - with the intent of finishing all 4 stages, and perhaps setting some higher goals before the race itself.