 |
2002 Philadelphia Spring Classic by Allan Z. Rodzinski |
|
| Back to News and Rumors
|
Classic
Riders start writing in............
Ben Swartz, Philadelphia, PA, wrote in last week after reading the Spring Classic write-up in News and Rumors - "My first Classic was about 13 years ago on an Al-less year, snowy, scary and by the time we got to Forbidden drive quite beautiful day. These days I ride to survive and the Classic always seems to be a turning point in my year. BC (before Classic) AC (after Classic)." Here's Ben's letter in full: Its hard to capture the spirit of the classic in a few articles. The forces of good vs. darkness, human vs. weather, indeed earth vs. the flying saucers sans hats on strings. Over the years how many classics have you witnessed? Indeed how many have I witnessed? Crashes, lost riders, baffled pedestrians in the nether regions of the city witnessing a pack of mostly lycra clad, squires, knights, kings, serfs and confused traveling through their neighberhood, hot dog vendors wondering why sales were so good even if the weather was not. Broken bikes, broken spirits swallowed by a cobblestone, steep climb, blown legs, or strange conveyance descending from on high. The Koppenburg fits so well with the spirit of the classic but not its intended mileage. Which cruel soul decided to change this most revered of courses. If the ending can change, does that mean that at somepoint the begining, middle and whatever else may change at the behest of mortal. Perhaps an exalted designee of the Knights of the Order of the Classic should be permitted to change the course after the requisite period of ascetic training. No less than 300 miles a week on a diet of roadkill. Perhaps.... And what of the classic poaster? Electronic media seems ignoble for such an important event. See ya next year. Maybee
From the Editor - Al's trusty steed for all the stages of the Classic continues to be his custom Bilenky Tourace - a concept bike (Al's concept) designed in collaboration with Stephen Bilenky. The Tourace is actually pictured at the top of the Singles page of the Image Gallery, and was the precursor to the new 2002 Tourlite, Bilenky's light, fast, and fun bike for touring, club rides, or just pure pleasure. Stages read from the most current, final
stage, backwards to Al's pre-race story. Stage III, the Final Stage of the Philadelphia Spring Classic or "Tour de Philly" by Al, 3/21/02
I awake and put on the tea water. It is early - 5:30. The two-lap people said they would come get me at my door so I think I'd better be ready for 6:30, the annointed hour of their arrival. Now, two laps equals 110 miles in this last stage. I never suggested we do it, but by golly if a cyclist is coming to my door to ride, well, I don't care who shows up - I'm as game as the next fellow, especially when it comes to the Spring Classic. George is at my door. He needs to fill his water bottle. Wow, George is going to do two laps. George goes inside for the water. I go outside and four guys appear. They want to go without George. They are in a hurry. You can't drop George in the first one hundred miles. I suggest they leave one guy and the rest go and we'll have two teams of three riders each. Before we can decide, George appears and we set off. The day dawns clear and cold and very windy. I heard later twenty-five to thirty miles per hour steady with gusts to fifty-five. Fifty-five staying alive. We are cruising through the residences and we are cruising through the woods and the guys up front are cruising faster than the guys in back. We regroup three times with me as the elastic in the middle. Something has to give sooner or later and I will have to go one way or another. The guys up front are determined to go fast. George is content to go slow, but can he do two laps? Only if I follow the moth and ride slow. George has a flat and I stay behind. Francesco Todayo stays to assist also. He says he cannot get his turbo to function and is content to ride with us. Or so he says, because soon we stop to pee and somehow manage to loose Francesco. So then George and I hit the river and ride into a gale force wind wondering when we will ever see our fellows again. Nothing eventful actually happens for a few hours until we get back to the finish when we see, off in the distance, one of the riders from the first group riding away with his girlfriend. We are about fifteen minutes off the start of the one-lap race and decide to eat our sandwiches. Off we go and we go by my house again and son of a gun we meet up with five riders at the hot dog stand and we all celebrate by eating hot dogs and drinking coffee and none of the riders are from the two-lap group. Where are they, are they ahead? They abandoned, we are told. Someone says they complained of the wind. The wind. Gee, when I think about it I guess it could be pretty debilitating. Fortunately for me, I worked on a Holly Farm during the winter and never went inside from dawn to dark. I guess it payed off because the rest of this stage seems like a walk in the park. Of course there is a moral to this story somewhere and I think it centers around this whole race thing. First of all think about this - it is not called the Race de France. It is called the Tour de France, and who is it you want to defeat anyway? It's not about losing - it's about winning. In this case it was Mother Nature who supplied the decisive move. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And oh, yes, George rode two laps. Part III -Stage II - Philly Spring Classic continues.....by Al, 3/3/02 In this stage of the race I arrived at the finish first and discovered that the group of riders behind me had gone another way. Only Drew followed me to the finish. Effectively, Drew came in second. Under gentlemen's rules this means that I demure from any claims of victory because I cannot and neither was it made available to me to contest or take part in the outcome of the event if I am not present at said event or any part thereof. In this case, despite the fact that the pack went another way, I was not with them. Normally in a race this would get the pack disqualified, but once upon a time I was away from home during the Classic. During this time some of the riders added an extra harder part that is longer also. Everyone knows this is not part of the Original Spring Classic. I myself rode this extra part for a few years. Known as the Koppenburg, it is a difficult cobblestone climb. Unfortunately it adds mileage to the Spring Classic which was designed to split the total mileage of Paris Roubiax into three consecutive Sundays exactly, thus enabling any rider to extrapolate an appreciation of the full rigors of a professional bicycle road racing Spring Classic. Back to the race. When the group rolled in, it was suggested that a two lap Classic be instituted for the third and final stage. Not only that - they are coming to my house to get me! Gentlemen's rules imply that it would be mandatory for me to accept the challenge if I wish to contest any of the proceedings. I ponder. Lately I have been focusing my thoughts on what is the role of a bicycle rider outside of society. For instance, my colleagues and I are having this bicycle race which can only be described as an underground race. No entry fee. No bureaucratic support structure. Maybe the real question is what legitimizes behavior? Racing legitimizes riding. And so you get these uniforms and you ride around. What if there was no sanctioned racing? Would you dress up fast and ride around? I do. I purposely do not use an automobile. For this I was thrown out of college and my Federal Scholarship was taken away. That, and I knew too much about flying saucers. C.O.N.I., the Italian Cycling Bible, says that a rider should eventually give up when he sees that his performance does not legitimize his existence as a bicycle racer. I have never agreed with this. I believe that in society the cyclist is really a knight and that this is his legitimate role and so he must ride if he chooses to do so. Riding your own bicycle dispels the forces of ignorance and defeat. No amount of racing, governing bodies, or societies' constraints or conventions should ever be taken into account because ultimately this world is corrupt in relation to the divine. At the base of the Wall, I fell. I slipped on the cobbles. This is how Drew came up to me. I am a little hurt because my elbow banged into my ribs. The strange part is that this section of road resembles a jousting court where the knights joust each other. My rib cage feels as if I have been knocked off my steed. All the more humiliating because I was wearing bright colors. My nemesis, whom I consider to be Mike Yozell, the man I seek to emulate and the man we all contest with, for he is indeed a fine and practiced cyclist - he wore all black. Although he did not knock me off my bicycle literally, he does seem to occupy the role of Black Knight. It is he who will be at my gate come Sunday morning. He and others. It seems that the Spring Classic has now become a stage in a titanic battle between the forces of nature and we riders who are witness to it all - being swept into the vortex through our own cognizance which as cyclists we are always willing to enhance.
Philadelphia
Spring Classic starts off with a bang! Well, hopefully all of you aspiring racers and Sunday speed riders had the opportunity to participate in Stage 1 of the Philadelphia Spring Classic on February 24. (editor's comment) Here's Al's story: "The moral of the story - don't be too hard on yourself. When I arrived at the start of the Spring Classic, I was greeted by 35 riders including two teams - the Wissahicon Bicycle Club from Chestnut Hill and Evolution Pro Bike Shop from Buckingham. It was a picture perfect day - cool and sweet. Some wore shoe covers, others didn't. The scene was nothing short of mind-blowing with all the riders, bicycles, and bright colors. Everyone must have felt it, for we all began to sing, led by the indomitable spirit of Mike Yoyell, who along with anyone has held this event together sharing his talents with others year after year. A good strong corps of riders too, but a group of new riders also being introduced to the rigors of the event. The course is 55 miles, yet this race took a whopping 4 hours and 25 minutes to complete. This means that anyone can win the Classic if they ride slow enough. Flats and mishaps are dealt with in a gentlemanly manner. No one ever attacks anyone at a red light, for instance. Plus there is the welcome stop at the Oasis: a hot dog stand at the beginning of the 9 mile bicycle path at Pennypack Park. Here we digest the beautiful woodland scenery along the creek as we meander our way towards Interstate 95 and the grim reality of the waterfront district which is really quite beautiful. You can see the center city skyline. You ride under the Tacony-Palmyra bridge all the way to the Ben Franklin [bridge] and eventually to Market Street. You can see City Hall - eleven traffic lights away. We could not reach it without stopping 11 times. Around City Hall for the traditional yodel loop and we are all on our way flowing out of town towards the Art Museum. We are in traffic surrounded by cars. We are all going in the same direction and we flow. I seem to have caught the crest of some sort of energy wave and I am far off the front of the group. I sweep downhill and around the boathouses. Out of sight out of mind. I hope so, but now I must recover from the surge and get myself under control. Before I know it, I have a sizeable gap. Now it is time to do business. On the long stretches I look back, but only briefly. I wish to keep my airflow clean and my pace steady. I am at the mercy of the wind, however, and must adjust. I see the pack of riders. Do they see me? I pray for invisibility and think I get it. I don't want to lose one precious second. I don't want to get caught, but neither do I want to blow my cookie either, or my rice wrapped in seaweed which I have been carrying with me waiting for just the right moment. A moment of sharing. This isn't it. I am alone and working hard. I estimate the situation - there are still 40 minutes to the finish. Country music plays in my head. The Carroll County Accident sung by Porter Wagner which I heard last week and somehow got lodged in my brain. Back to the race. I arrive in Manyunk. It is nice outside so the streets are crowded. I don't intend to be taking any prisoners, however. I pass any car that is slow. I dodge between pedestrians with the swiftness of a purse snatcher. I turn into Levering Street from the left lane in-between the cars on my right in one smooth continuous motion. The eyes of the pedestrian stepping into the pavement in front of me are focused ahead in the direction he is walking. I am but a brief disturbance in front of his vision which he does not notice as he walks on uncomprehending that anything had crossed his path at all. I slip between two SUVs with only air to spare, and suddenly I am on the Wall - a mere vertical road rising up from the Schuylkill River. My pace slows. Will I be caught? If the riders catch sight of me they will hunt me down like a pack of ravenous beasts. A quick survey behind me at the top indicates that I am clear and out of sight. Now I head toward Forbidden Drive - a dirt road of four miles. Forbidden to automobiles, it is full of recreational walkers and cyclists. A little girl on her bicycle blocks my path. She is wearing pink. Should I run her down? Of course not. I slow down and say hello to her and her grandfather. My one act of humility. Perhaps the gods notice because after this everyone moves out of the way and I am left with one last hill, which, by the way, everybody turns left near the top into the school onto a steep turning footpath up against a building. Two sets of stairs and you are at the top and out of the parking lot next to the Cricket Club with its grass tennis courts. Over the railroad and down to the left and zigzag back towards Germantown Avenue, down the one-way street, across the trolley tracks and then two blocks more to the start-finish area. Wow, I made it back. Soon, everyone else comes in too."
Philadelphia Spring
Classic starts Sunday! For those Philadelphians craving some real bicycle action, watch outside your door this coming Sunday, and just maybe, if you're lucky, you'll catch a glimpse of the intrepid, rain-or-shine riders participating in this year's Philadelphia Spring Classic. But, if you do miss them, you'll be delighted to know that this year, for the first time, Bilenky Cycle Works' News & Rumors will be featuring a weekly update on the race, through the eyes of the Classic's founder, Al Rodzinski. Read all about it here! Al's Pre-Race Words of Age and Wisdom "I'm
apprehensive. It's
that time of year again. Time for the Philadelphia Spring Classic. Every
year for 17 years now, we've ridden our bicycles (hard!) on Sunday for
three consecutive weekends. When
it's all over, the total distance equals that of the Paris-Roubiax and the
strongest riders mount the elegant podium made of trash cans. I
should be flying now, but I’m not . Winter doldrums perhaps......It's
not so easy any more to kick-start the body when you are 42 years
old. Yet I still ride the Classic. Can I help it? The
race course goes by my front door. I designed it this way so I would never
be far from a bicycle race. Which would include me in it! Same
course every year - a 55 mile loop throughout Philly and part of
Montgomery county. How to
keep on course? Just follow a veteran Spring Classic rider, but be
careful not to get separated in the area known as the Bermuda triangle- a
maze of a neighborhood which confounds one’s sense of navigation. I
still have not seen the four riders we lost there last year. Many of
the riders I don't see except for this one time every year. Last
year it was freezing rain: very ugly circumstances, to say the least. I
was sure I would be the only one there. Which meant, of course, that I
could declare myself the winner. I wouldn't even have to ride it!
When I arrived, however, I was greeted by 28 other riders. Amazing. The
Classic has taken on a cult-like following - there are only two
kinds of riders in the Philadelphia area- those who have ridden the
Classic and those who have not. You know which you are. Traditionally
never advertised, the Classic just happens-the same time every year-10:30
am at the Water Tower Recreation Center in Chestnut hill, beginning on the
last Sunday of February. A perfect window for the bicycle riders to launch
their Spring Training Campaign. The
first time rider is greeted with a serene introduction-sort of. We line up
facing the wrong direction . At the start everyone must negotiate an
instant U-turn, this sets the theme for what is to come- a series of
challenges known as “points of contention”, after which we all regroup
and continue, further strengthening our reputation for gentlemanly
conduct. In the cemetery, madness takes hold as the veterans, much to the
dismay of the first time riders, begin sprinting toward a chain link fence
at the bottom of the hill, apparently oblivious to any impending doom, but
that hole in the fence has been there for 17 years now………and
then........ Tune in next week for more!" OK, Al, we'll be watching.........(editor's comment) The above four articles were respectfully submitted by Allan Z. Rodzinski, 505 Shoemaker Ave., Jenkintown, PA 19046-2129, Phone 215-886 -2978 Al's scrapbook:
last updated August 25, 2006 spindept@bilenky.com |
