Brompton US Championship 2013 - Minneapolis by Calhoun Cycle

Last year, I participated in an incredibly quirky, yet intensely rewarding series of events at the 2012 Brompton US Championship. In the actual race, I placed 3rd, and I took home the prizes for Best-Dressed male and Fastest Folder. I watched from the bottom step of the podium as a worthy racer, Mr. Wallace Alexander, earned his spot in the Brompton World Championship events in London. I had replayed the details of the race over and over in my mind over the past year, questioning what I could have done differently to have taken the top spot on the podium. Clearly I have issues.

Last year's event was INCREDIBLE, and I expected nothing less this year with the experienced and savvy staff at Calhoun Cycle coordinating the event once again. Seriously, they're amazing. My preparations this year consisted of the following:

• Daily 22-mile (35km) commute from Eden Prairie to Richfield. This is no small feat for a 200lb guy on a 25+lb bike loaded with panniers, especially in the Minnesota winters (I don't commute this distance on the Brompton). 
• An enhanced diet that shed 10lbs or so of body weight from the prior year.
• Lighter-weight attire for the event itself.
• YouTube bike training videos.
• Leg shaving. Took forever:

Sasquatch was here

Smooth and ready to race

My wife & kids were there to cheer me on, as well as my dad, brother, and his fiancée who were visiting from Utah. My dad was traveling with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir as the lighting designer on their Midwest tour, and the last stop happened to be in Minneapolis on the same weekend as the race! Bonus!

The Prerace

Calhoun prepared a plethora of weekend events for Bromptooneers, but, with family in town, I was unable to participate. The weekend featured a multi-modal 30-mile group ride, and an urban, infrastructure-focused ride around Minneapolis. The race itself was held in conjunction with a Minneapolis event known as Open Streets, where a large portion of Lyndale Ave is shut down to motorized traffic. 

My darling wife & kids. Kate (in white) had her 8th birthday!

Chatting with pops, with Martha from Calhoun surveying the crowd.

Semi-nervous smile.

My brother's lady Anneli with my fam. 

Arriving at 34th & Lyndale, I surveyed fellow folding bike aficionados, looking for last year's winners, the aforementioned Wallace & Pedro. Sure enough, there they were. Drat, methought. My strategy this year was to let others set the pace and/or set a sustainable pace, whichever is faster (a little "if" statement). Details to come on how that strategy worked out. 

The Race

After the rules were once again explained, we staged the bikes in grid-like fashion on Lyndale Avenue. 100 yards or so down the Avenue we lined up for the Le Mans-style start.

Setting up the bike

Receiving final instructions.

Run! I'm in the blue shorts, behind the fashionable Susan Todzy.

Working the unfold.

And we're off!

And the lead pack heads out.

Off to set the pace at the front.

During the first lap, I was comfortable at the pace I had set (my "if" statement returned = set the pace).

#s 2 & 3 were working to catch up.

The gentleman in the light-colored jacket, Scott Berger, was racing at a 3-lap pace instead of a 6-lap pace, and pulled Gear Junkie editor Stephen Regenold to create a lead pack of three riders. Once they caught up, my "if" statement returned = follow along. 

Aaaand 3 laps = halfway. Scott has great GoPro footage (linked below).

The race continued with Stephen and me pedaling at the front. By this time, we had started lapping riders, so I was unclear about who was in the #3 spot and how far back they were, which ended up confusing my strategy of setting pace vs. following pace. The last three laps were a bit of back and forth. 

Finishing lap 4

Finishing lap 5, 1 lap to go!

Approaching the final turn

Stephen taking the sprint finish

A hard-fought battle landed a 2nd place finish. A handful of strategic mistakes put me 30 feet off the top spot of the podium. I took the last turn too wide, and Stephen, rightfully so, took the inside and had more sprint speed to pull out the W. Here's his recap (link1, link2). DISAPPOINTED! I worked hard, though, and had great support from family, Calhoun, fellow riders, and spectators alike. THANK YOU ALL!

It's sinking in....not going to London!

A full podium shot. Great work everyone!

I am now the proud owner of a fantastic S-bag from Brompton and Calhoun Cycle for finishing in 2nd place. I look forward to using this gem of a bag!

Folding Contest

Surely I'd have better luck in the folding contest, right? After all, I won the competition last year, and I had worked to decrease the time of my fold a bit. I experienced mixed results in this event as well, however! In this elimination-style contest, the two slowest are eliminated until the victor of each heat of ~10 folders moves to the finals. In this contest, the pedal fold is omitted, as many folks race with clipless pedals. 

The fold begins.

Dual knob approach.

Last step, the seatpost.

First fold complete. Sweatpit and all.

Melissa, from Atlanta, either admiring the fold speed or one of my calves. The former?

Fold #2

Fold #3

The final fold of the heat, with Ross representing, you guessed it, BROMPTON! Nerves, blasted nerves.

He removes the jacket

The shake

And I flubbed a knob turn, out of the competition!

Congrats to the winners who scored Schwalbe Kojaks! Nice work! Alas, I didn't outrightly win any of the competitions, and, although I did well, fell short of my own expectations. In the words of the great (?) Jim Carrey:

But Wait....

A few days later, I got a call from Luke at Calhoun. Turns out Stephen is unable to go to London, so I was asked to fill his spot in the BROMPTON WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! After a change of my shorts, I gladly accepted and am STOKED to be going to the main event. Sloppy seconds or not, I'll take it! 

My lovely lady. Thank you for all your support!

Soooooooooooo excited about heading to London and the adventures to be had there. I'll have to consider the use of the 3-piece tweed suit...

Please visit the links below for additional coverage, including video footage:

The Dirty Brompton by Fernando Ma (including video footage)

Scott Berger's video footage

Brompton US Champtionship 2013 Flickr pool

• Fave 1
• Fave 2
• Fave 3
• Fave 4
• Fave 5
• Fave 6
• Fave 7
• Fave 8
• Fave 9
• Fave 10
• Fave 11
• Fave 12
• Fave 13

Enjoy, and see you next year, wherever the race may be!

The Right Hook - 90's Suburbans and Hakeem Olajuwon

For the Houston Rockets in the '90's, Hakeem Olajuwon's right hook was championship material.



In the world of bicycling among motor vehicles, the right hook is dangerous, if not deadly. Unless, of course, you are pedaling in the UK or Japan, for example, then the danger is in the left hook.



Here is a video snippet from a recent commute:



Along this particular section of road, I am ascending a road that bridges I-494 northbound in Eden Prairie, and the right lane of the two-lane road splits into an on-ramp lane. I check over my shoulder, signal that I am continuing straight over the bridge, but this guy clearly can't wait for the red light or yield sign. Folks with the right-of-way are entering the on-ramp, and he stuffs his 90's pinstriped Suburban into their flow. At least the guy behind him, wearing a Livestrong bracelet, said, "that's unfortunate, sorry, man." Well said.

While this example is pretty benign, often times, when I'm not recording, I have to figure out how to reduce my velocity from 20 to 0 mph over a short distance to avoid being a hood ornament. I wouldn't mind being a hood ornament for a Bentley or Maserati, however. Those guys have insurance...

Wheelsuckers, How to Eliminate?

You know the type. Maybe you are the type. If so, I dislike you. I digress...pedaling my way home lately, at times a chump will do something lame like snake through the vehicles awaiting a green light, whilst I wait patiently in queue. After a block or two, I catch back up to the traffic-snaking chump and continue at my regular pace the rest of the way home. Right at the end of my commute is a short, but stiff climb, where the wheel suckers pop up their Meerkat heads, having sucked my wheel for the past 5 miles, and boldly exclaim, "thanks for the pull!" or "strong riding there."

 

Yeah, thanks. And that headwind? Pushed through it for you, you bet. Anything else I can get for you? Leg massage? Need my water bottle? Clif Bar? Can I make your car payment for you? Joke's on him, though, because I was extra gassy and I KNOW he was sucking wind to keep up, even in my draft.

Any tips out there for dealing with wheelsuckers? Four consecutive right-hand turns? Start talking Tea Party politics? Make blatantly racist comments? Brandish my firearm? I need ideas, because, clearly, my ideas are not healthy, and could get me into some trouble. 

We Cannot Get Out, They Are Coming!

Months have passed since my last entry. I fear that I have been left solitary in the desolation of the battlefield, absent human contact for as long as I can remember. The enemy continues closing in, relentlessly searching for its next victim; its icy, bony fingers constricting the trachea of this world. No one is safe. Nothing is safe. If you want to save our world, you must hurry. We don't know how much longer we can withstand the nothing.

I have developed methods to escape its frozen clutches and engage in stealthy combat, burying my skin beneath multiple layers of raiment. I believe that I am able to travel undetected for short periods of time. I must not remain exposed to this danger for long, as the all-searching eye will eventually detect my presence and reduce me to a hypothermic resemblance of the human form. My only hope is that my persistence will wear down my foe.

For five unbroken months, I have traveled along the East/West axis between my village and the commerce center. 11 miles I travel in each direction, at times with the wind as my ally, other times as my nemesis. Often, the clouds release their moisture in an attempt to reduce my ability to escape the Captain of Evil. I will not give in, however, I am afraid that I am losing the battle.

Bodies of water have developed a unique defense to the adversarial buffetings. Under constant attack, brave drops of the water tribes rush to the surface, sacrificing their ability to enjoy free motion. They attach with perfect rigidity to their fellow soldiers, creating an impermeable, thick skin of protection at the surface in order to protect their kinsfolk who lay quietly beneath. I am humbled by their selfless sacrifices.Their defenses seem to be holding.

But what is this? Who is this grand warrior, this luminescent orb shining from the heavens? Minions of the enemy's force flee before it. The blanched blanket of accumulated cloud droppings reduces form and flees into the underground rivers. The trees respond, attempting to bring forth blossoms, leaves, and life-giving sustenance. Humans, both young and old, exit their dwellings to witness the supposed victory. Smiles emerge upon their faces. But the enemy is strong. He whom I thought was our conqueror has, for unknown reasons, retreated. I fear he will not return. I fear I am slipping into madness. As I am huddled deep within the darkness of my protective abode, I can hear the sinister laugh of my enemy, relishing in his supposed victory. All hope seems to be lost.

It is as I feared. They have taken the bridge, and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out. The shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out, they are coming.

In spite of the loneliness that is inherent in my form of battle, I must continue. 

I share with you images from the wintry battlefield in hopes that you may be able to tell the story: