Thursday, May 5, 2016

Bear Mountain is Broken

Recently, former race promoter of the Century Road Club Association, Matthew Vandivort wrote an interesting and well-regarded essay focusing on the iconic Bear Mountain Classic road race to illustrate some of the fiscal demands of hosting a bike race in our corner of the cycling world. You should read it here:


And while it’s a good read, filled with facts that help illustrate his point, I’m still left with the overwhelming feeling that I can only describe as, “Yes, but…”

Vandivort lays out what I assume was the Bear Mountain Classic operating budget during his tenure on the CRCA board in some detail, then summarizes it as such:

For the Bear Mountain Classic the budget totals to [sic] $30,000 in expenses BEFORE getting to the prize pool. Toss in the 2016 prize pool of $3,000 and expected USAC insurance costs and the total bill for a single day of racing is in the $35,000 range.”

You and I would be a fool to deny the tremendous expenses faced by race promoters. Even with hundreds, maybe thousands of volunteer hours put in by dedicated enthusiasts, putting on a bike race is expensive and exhausting. That’s a fact.

“Yes, but…”

For the sake of clarity and context, it might helpful to do a little comparing. These high quality, popular races in the general region may be more or less expensive to run, I don't know, but we can easily see what they are charging and offering.

Race Pro 1/2 Entry Fee Pro 1/2 Prize Purse
Bear Mountain  $67.50 (averaged) $600 10 deep
Quabbin             $65                       $1000 10 deep
Turkey Hill $35                       $1000 10 deep

So yeah, Bear Mountain, amongst its contemporaries, has the highest entry fee and smallest prize purse. And so the reality of the matter is whether you as a promoter have good reason for setting up your entry fee/prize purse ratio as such, some people are going to notice and be put off by the discrepancy.

“Yes, but…”

Is the Bear Mountain entry fee too expensive?

Is that the reason riders are not cranking out megawatts to get to what is one of the most impressive road race courses in the country? 

Vandivort reports that Bear Mountain’s “break-even” point is around 550 riders. With just hours to the close of race registration they appear to be around 100 riders short hitting that target. The similarly priced Quabbin road race had 564 pre-registered riders and I’m confident it had nothing to do with the bigger prize list. For one, there is my personal and highly unscientific observation that in 25 years of racing—among my peer group of amateur bike racersI have never personally met a single racer who made the decision to attend a race primarily based on the prize purse. 

Yes, entry fees are rising, prize purses are shrinking. We all notice, and some complain.

For years, I’ve been trying to get teammates to some really great races in part by mentioning the ridiculously good prize purses, to no avail. 

One of my all time favorite criteriums, The Wilmington Grand Prix offers Cat 2/3s $2500, 20 deep! And yet a cursory glance at the 2015 results show that there were only around 4 NYC racers who finished the 2/3 race.
In contrast, races in the exceedingly popular New England Max Performance Triathlon Series entry fees range from $77 to $105 and offer no prize money. 

Frankly, whether a race costs $40 or $70 is almost immaterial. Car rentals, restaurant meals, hotel rooms, those are expensive. 

Yes, the Bear Mountain Classic has a problem, but it has NOTHING to do with its entry fee or prize list. It has everything to do with their "product and target market audience."

There are literally hundreds of racers who call one of the 5 boroughs of New York City home. Hundreds more in nearby Northern New Jersey. These are racers who set their alarms for 4am just so they can have the opportunity to race sell-out fields in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. A “unique” opportunity that happens roughly 13 times a year. There is something really great and brilliant about NYC park racing, and at times it can be among the fastest, most competitive racing anywhere in the region.

But what is keeping those same riders from venturing just 30 or so miles north to take part of one of the grandest road racing courses this country has to offer? Why am I and so many others skipping out on this monument of the northeast road racing scene?

I’ve been racing the Bear Mountain course since the 1990s. I can’t remember exactly when I gave up on the race, but I can assure you it had nothing to do with entry fees or prize lists. It has everything to do with the race itself.

It’s too hard. 

Yup, there, I said it.

98 miles for the Pro 1/2 field, 84 for Cat 2s, on a demanding, hilly course, might be an appropriate distance for full-time riders coming off of Redlands, but for the hundreds of regular folks whose regular weekend training sends them up and down 9W, or maybe to the Rocket Ride, or out to Long Island for the Triangle Ride, or the Gimble’s in Westchester, Bear Mountain ends up being a suffer-fest for which many are not prepared. 4 laps and 56 miles for Cat 3s and Masters appears to be, at first glance, reasonable distances, but a look to the 2015 results suggests otherwise. 

In 2015, 166 racers DID NOT FINISH. Another 20 or so were pulled and placed. 

In 2014, 133 DNFs. No Bear Mountain races in 2012 and 2013. In 2011, there were just 40 DNFs, but reduced racing fields saw just 217 starters. 2010 results do not list DNFs.

The last few years I participated in this race, things kind of played out in the same way. First couple of laps most everyone is in the action and at least hanging on. But by the third time up the backside climbs, the field shatters. And then you have a select group at the front, and almost everyone else climbs off in the feed zone. Burned in my memory was the year I was riding half the race solo, desperately hoping I could make it to the finish line before they packed up the finish-line cameras just to get placed in the results. It appears, thankfully, they have embraced the concept of “pulling and placing” riders since then.

In 2015, 14 people in the 84-mile Cat 2 race finished on the lead lap. 2 were pulled and placed. And 20 were DNFs. Take that in for a second...

Over half the Cat 2 field did not finish the race.

The 56-mile Cat 3 race field fared better, with 63 finishers on the lead lap, but that still left 25 DNFs. The 56-mile Cat 4 field had 34 DNFs.

It is worth noting too that the women of the Pro 1/2 race proved their toughness and went against this general trend of DNFs. In a 26-rider field, all but five finished their race.

And the men's Pro 1/2 race? 19 men finished on the lead lap, including a mix of local legends with 400+ watt FTPs and actual real deal pros and national caliber Cat 1s like Scott Zwizanski, Stephen Hyde and Eneas Freyre. 13 others were pulled and placed. 

In a 72-rider men's Pro 1/2 field, 40 DID NOT FINISH. That’s FORTY DNFs.

From a business point of view, this seems like an unsustainable model. How many of those 160 DNFs will come back and for how many years before they realize that they can’t even finish the race? What do some of the registration numbers look like this year compared to last?

                       2015 Starters            2016 Pre-reg'd
M Pro 1/2       72                              41
W Pro 1/2       26                              10
M 40+ 4/5       50                              55
W 3/4&35+     39*                             24
M Cat 3          88                               77
M Cat 4          99                               92
W Cat 4          30                              12
M Cat 5          72                               55
*Women 3/4 and Masters were run as separate categories in 2015; this year they are combined.

I’m not suggesting that the CRCA turns Bear Mountain into something it is not, but by reducing race distances I believe there is potential to attract a wider customer base without diluting the authenticity, the level of competition, and the character of Bear Mountain.

Finally, this race typically happens on Mother’s Day. And for Masters (the largest single group of license holders according to USA Cycling) racing on Mother’s Day can be, ahem, problematic.

Friday, March 21, 2014

Dad in Training: My son called me "fat."

"El-phan"
Am I doing it wrong? It's a question, dripping with guilt, that I'm sure hangs threateningly over most every decision, action and reaction we make as parents. Hang around me long enough (anytime over 10 minutes will do) and I'll admit to you that our son Peter is already an awesome kid, and on a day-by-day basis, I'm basically just trying not to screw him up.

And so, as the stay-at-home dad, I usually--sometime after mom comes home and has a great time with the same kid who I, not 40 minutes ago, barked at for splashing the dogs water out of the bowl--in a quiet moment, kind of hate myself for losing my mind earlier. Over what? A 20-month old splashing some water around the kitchen floor (which could probably use a little washing anyway)? Unfortunately, as my son fast approaches his 2nd birthday, feelings of worry and doubt started way back and do not look to be letting up anytime...ever.

In the beginning, too soon after the pure, deafening joy of my son's birth, I thought, "I don't think I spoke and sung to him enough when he was in utero." And I never, NOT ONCE, played him any Mozart through headphones pressed against Sarah's belly. As it turns out, according to Dr. Deborah Campbell, director of neonatology at The Children's Hospital at Montefiore not only is there no good evidence that you can in fact craft a baby genius by such technique, adding more noise to an already noisy womb, by way of loud speakers, is probably not a great idea. So PHEW!

"Gi-tar!"
Content in the knowledge that my quietly sung and thoroughly ridiculous made-up "I love you little
guy you're awesome" songs combined with early Tom Waits (see I am cool!) and Glee cast albums (see I am...uhm...) on road trips, I have moved on to other worries.

Namely language acquisition and development. I recall from a Developmental Psychology or Cognitive Science class I took in the way-way back at Vassar College, that an infant's brain is overflowing with almost limitless potential. But if you wait too long, the baby's brain will have "pruned" itself and will no longer be able to distinguish some of the subtle and almost imperceptible (to us) differences in, for example, some Asian language sounds. I haven't googled, or searched my old textbooks for a definitive answer, because I already suspect, and do not particularly want to be reminded, that because of me, my son will likely never speak perfect Mandarin.

And so, using the "better than nothing" theory of parenting, I sometimes speak and read to him in the only other language I sort of know. German. Despite the country's position as one of the world's most important, learning it's language is decidedly less so. No matter, we still count numbers in the elevator (I also add Spanish and mom remembers her HS French), I sing the alphabet to him with my best Teutonic accent. Knives and forks are also das Messer und die Gabel at Mittagsessen.

One particular day, I thought I must also teach him the German word for father. Right, duh? "Der Vater" or the more cuddly version, "Vati." In German the "V" is pronounced more like an "F" and so "daddy" will sound more like "fah-tee." Peter picks up new words at an alarming rate. And add to that the general rules of toddler verbal truncation, and Peter had both his mother and I laughing out loud when he pointed and called me "fat." Lesson learned. We'll stick with "da-DEE" for now.

Powers of keen observation (I'm working out and eating less), Mandarin language and grown-up cup drinking deficiencies aside, Peter continues to amaze us every day and excels in the field which to me matters most. Recently Peter has been, with outstretched arms, asking for "fa-huh" and "fa-ki." It's a "language lesson" we started early on in his life and I plan on subjecting him to "fa-huh" and "fa-ki" well past the time he stops asking for them. Because there is absolutely and truly nothing better in the world then when your son asks for a "family hug" or "family kiss." So moms and dads, if you ever wonder if you are doing it right, I can assure you that if you smother your kids with hugs and kisses and love, you are. You are doing it very right.