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| Monday, May 24, 2004 |
| The Sunapee Freezer |
The two or so hours on the bike during the Sunapee Road Race were without question the coldest I have ever been in my entire life ... and I grew up playing ice hockey.
I can only compare it to walking into a restaurant walk-in freezer and sitting on a block of ice for the same duration. Because I can't get to too many races, this race meant a lot to me and I went into it well prepared and with a plan. Unfortunately I made a bad mistake and shed clothes 5 minutes before the start as a short-lived window of weather appeared to look favorable—the rain stopped and so did the wind and then I did it ... I took off my knee warmers and put my vest back in the car. Arggh!!! That gave me something to fixate on for the next 2 hours .. stupid, stupid, stupid ... yep, it started raining and blowing right at the gun. I knew I made a bad mistake right away.
Things started to get bad after about 30 minutes. It's pretty vague to me now because I am quite certain I was very close to hypo-thermic on that venture and my brain was doing little to assist in reasoning. My body started to give up after the first hour. Arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably and my breathing was labored even though my heart rate was below 140-bpm. A few kind and considerate guys in the group began checking on me as I must have looked real bad. "How are you doing man. You should think about stopping after the first lap. You look real cold man. It's not worth it." I think that's pretty much what people were saying to me;or I was saying it to myself and now can't discern what really happened. My hands were gone but my feet were strangely okay (I had booties on). After stubbornly passing the chance to drop out after the first lap —I started to get more folks asking about me and that's when I thought perhaps they were right. Then I bit my tongue, literally—my teeth were chattering so bad I bit the heck out of my tongue and could taste the blood in my mouth. That's when I had to admit I started to get a little scared and that's when I faded to the back of the pack—and then dropped back to the wheel van and asked them "watch me". I wasn't sure it I'd collapse or if my legs would stop turning ... at any rate, I wanted them to know I was in trouble and wanted/needed them to put me in their truck if I happened to suddenly seize-up. I knew if I had to turn around and ride 8-miles back to the start then I'd be in big trouble and perhaps wouldn't make it. They agreed and I made my way back onto the tail of the race.
I almost always ride about 10th-wheel. I never like being in the midway or back of the pack—but I found I was just not pedaling enough up there and stayed last wheel for about the next 5 miles as I forced myself to stand on the pedals and get blood into my now wooden legs. It worked some but I was very miserable. It felt particular bad when we passed the section of the course where I thought I would attack the field. Instead I was at the back. Around 5 miles to go in the race I realized I was probably going to finish safely. I surprisingly made my way up to the mid-section of the peloton by the last 3 miles and just pedaled up to the finish. I was glad to survive but pissed that in reality this was nothing more than an icy group-ride for me. I could tolerate that if I was racing every weekend, but that's not my gig. The strange thing is—for the entire race I was never put into oxygen debt, never got over 160-bpm.
When I got back to my car I shivered in the car with heat full blast for 40 minutes. I finally stopped shaking from the cold. A lot of other people were doing the same thing.
The conclusion—dress smart or pay dearly. My jaw is still sore from involuntarily grinding my teeth and I'm no Tyler Hamilton. I hope I don't need to get my teeth capped for this fiasco.
More later—I gotta get back to work. |
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| Tuesday, May 04, 2004 |
| Whitcomb Hill Road Race |
I spent last Sunday heading down to western MA to race in the Whitcomb Hill Road Race. I was originally hoping to race in Saturday's Jiminy Peak race but didn't register in time before the field filled up. That left me scrambing for a near-ish by race to enter. Luckily for me Whitcomb Hill was available. I wasn't sure what to make of this as it was the first running of the race, so there wasn't anything to go off based on other folks experiences. I love hearing what people have to say about races. You can get a lot a race from a weathered racer or gain some insight into there psyche. I love the, "that race sucks, what a waste of time" -- a few minutes later you learn they got dropped on the first climb or they flatted. The opposite can also happen. A real run-of-the-mill event where said cyclist pulled of the win and it's elevated to the Queeen of the Classics. Anyway, I didn't know what to expect other than the promoters' materials available online. They said it was hilly with two major climbs. How hard could that be. Actually I felt a little cheated. The 4s were only doing one "lap" before reaching the finaly 2.5 mile climb to the finish -- in all a 28-mile race. Lame or at least that's what I was thinking.
After poking about the various parking areas (there were three) and trying to assess the final climb via car I established camp at the starting area (not the same as the finish area). These scenes are pretty classic. Almost more goes on before the race than what goes on during the race. Dudes getting the bikes together, trainers coming out of car trunks - Cat 4s with $1,000 wheelsets, and people not sure where they are or when their race starts. It's all good. As the start time approached, a wheel van whose pilot looked more at home on the sideline of a soccer game rolled in behind the congregating racers. The infamous 4/5 wheel van. A mash of wheels all jumbled together in Dodge Caravan. She was at capacity and still taking wheels. I could only imagine the scene if I needed a wheel change. I left mine leaning against the car and hoped for the best and scurried over the line.
I was just in time for the official's instructions. Perhaps the most daunting pre-race speech I've even had to listen to. He was like General Custer had he known he was going to be slaughtered at Little Big horn. Complete with the requisite rumpled USCF-issued denim button down shirt, he pretty much explained that not all of us would ever see our mommies again. As the race rolled out, I sleazed into third wheel with an elegant yellow line violation and rode the first 10 wheels until the first climb at mile seven. That's when I suddenly lost the feeling of being cheated out of a second lap on the course. All I could think about was those poor Cat 1/2/3 that had to do this a second time and damn most of them rode at Jiminy the day before - talk about grateful. A group of seven split off the front by the crest of the climb. The climb, from what I remember, was real steep. Perhaps 18-percent in places and very sustained in the 13-percent range at my best guess for about 2 miles. Dudes were weaving like hell just to turn the pedals over. When I'm in trouble I stand on the pedal and yeah I was standing a whole lot during that climb. And like that, the field was shattered. Actually, pretty cool to be done in the first nine miles.
Now I was part of about 20 chasers and pinch yourself, we actually chased well together and caught the break. Now comes the sad part. After we caught the break, the field as predicted relaxed, and bang another a rider named Andy Hardy attacked. And now I'm starting to see a familiar pattern. We let him go. I, like the rest of us, thought "no way". He's built like a sprinter, he'll never last out there. I had my chance to get on his wheel and I just let him go. I was stupid. Our "chase" became a Sunday group ride and we preceeded to dilly-dally for miles. Folks lacking confidence found themselves on the front and then slowed down to 18-miles an hour hoping someone would pull through - arrgh. Andy was loving it and he motored further out of sight and up the road.
To make a short story long. He was smart because he knew he'd need a good headstart to get up that last App Gap like climb to the finish and he gambled that we wouldn't chase. He was right. Cat 4s can be that way. I was taking notes from this lesson. Damn, he even won the race with a few hundred feet to spare. I hit that last climb in a good position and slowly slipped off the group like greased hands on garden hose. It was hard to swallow but that's bike racing. Some days you get it handed to you. The best part of the day was seeing a train of ten LG riders heading down that final climb as I was close to choking on what was left of my tiny lungs. Their shouts and words of encouragement went a long way to give me a much needed lift. I finish 14th, which I suppose wasn't a bad way to start my season.
More later—I gotta get back to work. |
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| Monday, April 26, 2004 |
| La Primavera |
Scheesh, this isn't good. It's May now. Spring in earnest and I'm just getting around to putting up my first diary entry. When Andrew asked me to keep a dairy for the LG site I was a little wary. Who the hell cares about what I'm doing? I dunno. It's the internet - people will read anything, right? Hey if all else fails and readership plummets, I can use this page to peddle hats or shirts or some other sorta dot-com gimmick.
Anyway, for those of you that have just recently met me (or those who have no clue who I am) I'm captain of the LG Development Team. It was a gruelling campaign to earn this title, complete with payoffs, smear campaigns, backroom payoffs and a whole battery of back stabbing antics. In the end, I just told everyone that I was the oldest - the one most likely to "expire" first -- that got people to step aside and give me the position. When in doubt, the sympathy card wins every time.
Now I wear a special dev team captain lapel pin to most of the formal LG functions. It usually gets me backstage and I'm able to meet some of the major players in the game. Someday I hope to find the right team mate to hand this title over to when I make it to the Elite team, which means when I move up to the 2s, which will be around the same time we find WMDs in Iraq.
Other than the perks, I also intermitently communicate stuff to my other 7 teammates on the dev squad and pitch-in on whatever else needs to get done. In the big picture (also known as reality), the dev team is looking smoking hot this year and has already put up some solid results in the early season. Zach, Luke, Dan and Keith have already lit up the 3s and 4s and as the season moves forward, the green presence in the peloton is going to represent the attacks that could "stick" and the breaks that need to be reeled in by other teams in the field. It's all good. I look forward to lining up with all these guys.
In my world, I'm busting my ass to get into form to earn the right to be on this team. After spending the last three years half-heartedly wearing the local club's team kit, I'm buckling down and getting serious about racing. Last year I got fed up with racing in the 4/5s and moved over to the masters 30s. After 5 races with that crowd I realized I was always going to know that I never made it out of the 4s. So as a matter of pride, I've changed course - I'm back in the 4s and right there in a nutshell is my main objective for the season. Cat-up and get out the 4s. Sounds easy really. But I'm older than most 4s and I've got two kids under age five. Everyone's heard this story before. Everyone's got a lot to do in addition to riding the bike so I'll stop right now. Yawn, I'm bored already. I'm just hoping to have everything dialed in to get the most out of the 12 days of racing I can manage this season. Twelve days aren't much, but it's the most I can muster and keep the balance. Pressure's on. Time to step up.
In the world of training, I've signed on for a second season with the coaching staff at KTS - Knight Training Systems. Since last year, Andrew's been kind/patient enough to help plan out my training schedule and offer advice relating to the bike, fitness, nutrition, gear - the whole gig - and to boot, he's usually available on a daily basis. Worth something? You bet. Go here and see what half that attention will cost you. Whoa.
Working with KTS has really made a difference. It's true what they say, if you want to improve in this sport, get yourself a coach. Even on your worst days, they'll usually have something complementary to say like, "you really blew up on that climb, but the way you've got your helmet all tilted sideways -- that sorta looks cool."
With that said, I started my training season on January 4th - my first day on the trainer. I know to many folks out there, that's not a big deal. If anything, it's probably a bit late - heck a lot folks don't even take the winter "off" anymore. But for me it was huge to be on the bike this early and I'm glad for it. In the past, I've had some "Ullrich" issues. I won't go into the details on this front, you know what I mean. The bottom line is I've maintain my GMSR race weight through the off season. That makes my scale happy.
More later—I gotta get back to work. |
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