Archive for May 2008
2008 Mt Hamilton Classic Race Report (Cat 3)
May 30 2008
Matt Chappell in Race Reports | No Comments Yet
After winning my first ever bike race " the Berkeley Hills Road Race, I am determined to work hard at winning races. While its easy to go out and race hard, its another whole world to actually win. I convinced Glenn to sign up for Cat 3 (he usually signs up for masters), which was made easier since LT and I were spending the weekend with the Rawlinson family in Menlo Park. This was my first race as a Cat 3, so I was excited to see how it went.
This race starts with a 19mile climb to the top of Hamilton. I rode with the lead group at what I thought was a fairly steady effort without putting myself in the red. I didnt contest the KOM, since I didnt even know it existed... oh, and I didnt really know what to expect on the course either, maybe I should have done at least a little research beforehand. Luckily, the racers with me told me how far we still had to go, what the terrain was like, and even described the finish. It was disappointing to see Glenn a switchback below in the group behind me since hes climbing so well these days, and he appeared to be SO close. But thats bike racing: SO close, is usually SO far!
After the summit, I rode at the front for the descent, and was really working the twisting corners, when my legs started cramping. Just about every muscle, from my calves through my quads/hams to my glutes were way paste twinges and threatening full leg-lock cramps. Being a smaller guy, I usually dont sweat much, so this is pretty unusual; I guess I rode harder up that climb than I thought! At the bottom of the hill, I struggled to ride without cramping; I tried to ride with as little effort as possible. Our lead group of 6 was joined by 6 more, and I immediately moved to the back to try and recover. I decided I was low on electrolytes, and pounded a bag of Clif Shot Bloks, 2 Clif Shots and a bottle, figuring a bloated stomach was better than locked-up legs.
For the next 40 miles, I sat in and did NOTHING; I didnt have any choice! Every small climb or acceleration brought back cramps. At some point, I have no idea when since I didnt see it (remember, I was in the back), one of the riders in our group took a solo flyer off the front, and soloed in for a very impressive win. About 20 miles from the finish, 2 more riders attacked together, though it really looked like they just slowly rode away from the group (again from my vantage point in the back). Based on the condition of my legs, I had no option but to watch them go.
About 5 miles from the finish, I started feeling better, and tested my legs up a small roller. I gapped the field, but sat up so theyd catch me right away since we were still too far out. I let them all ride by me, then worked myself up to near the front where I stayed until the gradual uphill finish. I sat on the wheel of the most aggressive rider in our bunch, then launched myself with 200m to go, winning the field sprint by a surprisingly huge margin, and taking 4th overall. I had a fantastically fun time in my first race as a Cat 3, and am looking forward to more. Thanks to Glenn for making it happen, and to LT for driving the car to the finish, and making her training ride shorter as a result.
Good Friends get you to do things you might not otherwise do. Take for example, Mt. Hamilton Classic Road Race. It wasn't officially on my calendar, but come Sunday morning I was lining along teammate Conrad Snover in his first 3's race. Let's get one thing straight: though my climbing has improved, I'm in no way a climber. The plan: Hang on for dear life. The first two climbs went well as the shallow gradient is more to my liking. Into the the third and final climb up to the observatory we go. It kicks just enough put me into trouble. The group was down to about 20 now and I could feel the old diesel starting to rumble. I stuck with it but fell off a bit without going completely into the red so I could hold a solid pace. After another 5-8 minutes, the gradient leveled back to something I could tolerate and a few of us regrouped and started pulling back others who had let go of the lead group. By the beginning of the descent, I was feeling better and pushing hard to gain back some time on the 12 (including Conrad) that were off the front. It's a good descent and technical for road racing. In fact, I overcooked one corner and almost laid it down--something that told me to ease back there cowboy. (Eds note: Glenns from Texas)
The descent split our little group of 8 again and by the bottom my group of 4 picked up another 2 in front and 2 from behind to make it 8 again. Through the middle of the course, we could see the lead group probably 1 minute ahead. We all started working together well in hopes of reintegrating. I was feeling good while not over-working myself. 2 guys couldn't handle the pace and blew off the back. Uh oh, I felt a little twinge so I went to the back and started soft pedaling. Maybe that was a mistake as my legs went into full spasms: adductors, VMOs and quads on both legs. I tried to ride through it by changing cadence, standing, moving around--ooh it hurt and finally it was full leg-lock. I unclipped and stretched but that made it worse. I clipped in my legs riveted in full spasm and I pulled the plug and stopped on the side of the road. I stretched out and the cramps subsided just as another group of 4 came by. I jumped on the back and was fine on the flat section but the twinges came back on an climbs--all I could do was stand and pedal easy until they finally dropped me quite easily.
I rebounded though and hoped to catch the 4 in front of me but for the next 90minutes they held a gap of 30 seconds that increased to probably 90 seconds at then finish. So I TT'd solo for 90minutes after cramping for 20-something place finish. Major Bummer! On a positive note, my climbing is improving. Last year I was under pressure from gun so there is a consolation prize. That and the fact that Mr. Snover pulled down a 4th in his first 3s race. Nice Work Conrad!!
2008 Mt Hood Cycling Classic Race Report (Cat 3)
May 19 2008
Nick Schaffner in Race Reports | No Comments Yet
The course profile was 9 miles up and 9 miles down. 9 miles of torture followed by 9 miles of relief. Repeat 3 times, with an extra 9 miles back up the climb to the finish. An evil person designed this course.
Right from the gun the pace was hard. We were doing 15-25mph up 10% grades, my heart rate was pegged just to hang on. By the end of the first lap our field was split in half, with each subsequent lap reducing it by another 50%. Each time we started our 9 mile ascent I thought I was going to get dropped, yet my legs kept coming back for more. By the time we started our final ascent into Cooper Spur, there were less than 30 left in the field, and I knew I would shake-out a top placing on the GC. With 3k to go I was popped from the group, and finished 58 seconds down in 13th place. Nate passed me on the climb (of course) to finish an amazing 3rd overall.
Stage 2, Columbia Gorge ITT. 18 miles, 2000 feet of climbing.
Our time trial started at 2pm, in 95 degree heat. It was flat for the first 5 miles then nothing but climbing and descending for the final 13. I knew I wouldnt lose time or my placing on the GC, but I really wanted to move up in fear of the intense climbing of the following stage.
Within the first 5 miles I caught and passed my 30 second-man and then spent the rest of the race trying to catch my minute-man. I felt strong the entire TT, so when I saw the 5k to-go sign, I let myself drift so I could finish strong in the last 3k. Except the 3k to-go marker never came, nor did the 1k to-go. I saw the finish line banner at 400 meters, screamed and sprinted across the line. I probably lost at least 30 seconds letting my pace slide for the final 5km, as I finished with too much gas left in my tank. 16th in the TT and I moved up to12th overall. Nate finished 24th and moved down to 10th overall.
Stage 3, WyEast Road Race. 72 miles, 8000 feet of climbing. Summit finish at Mt Hood Resort.
With temps once again reaching 95 degrees, the penultimate stage of the tour was an epic death march to the top of Mt Hood. From the gun we started climbing and I was immediately put into the pain cave, thinking I would get dropped at any moment. I continued to feel this way until the first feed zone where the pace finally slowed down, my legs recovered and I was able to move to the front of the pack to actually participate in the race (instead of just hanging on for dear life).
On the drive up to Hood River, Nate and I checked the last half of the course from our car. The final 50 miles were all uphill, with the last 8 being fairly steep and the closing 2 through the finish being super steep. So all day I knew what was coming at the end of the race; an all-out showdown the last 10 miles up to Mt Hood Resort.
And of course that is exactly what happened. As soon as we made the final right-hand turn onto Highway 35, some jackass attacked and the pack absolutely exploded. I was about 5 riders from the front when this happened after 1 mile of barley hanging on, my legs gave out and I got pooped out the back of the pack. Fortunately by this point the lead pack I got shot out of was only about 20 riders large, with the rest of the field scattered much further down the climb. So I put my head down, and slid as deep as I ever have into the pain cave for the rest of the race. All I had to do was limit my losses, as I just focused on keeping the lead riders within my sights.
At this point I realized I hadnt seen Nate for a long time. I assumed he was ahead of me in the lead group, but I had my doubts. Halfway up the climb a car passed me and I heard some guy inside mumble, "Hey there's another Cyclepaths rider!" Uh oh " either I was climbing better than I ever have before, or Nate is behind me having problems.
With 2 miles to go, from seemingly out of nowhere, Nate appeared next to me. He had flatted right before the decisive climb and had been chasing for last 15 miles, what a super stud. We were within striking distance of a group of 6 riders, including the yellow jersey so Nate started pouring on the speed up the final ascent. My efforts on the climb thus far had made me legally retarded, and all I could do was glare at his rear wheel and mash the pedals to stay with him. It probably took several years off the end of my life, but I managed to somehow hang with Nate as we caught and passed the 6 riders within the last kilometer. The last few hundred meters across the finish were sheer agony. I rode over the line and directly into a snow-bank, where I laid down in the cold dirt-laden snow for several minutes, recovering from my attempted suicide.
I came around Nate in the final 400 meters for 10th on the day, officially beating him for the first time in my life up a climb. Now I know the secret is to flat one of his tires. We moved up on the GC to 7th and 8th overall.
Stage 4, Downtown Hood River Crit. 50 minutes
When we first arrived in Hood River, we previewed this course by driving around it a few times. It featured a finish line atop a steep hill, followed by a twisty 120 degree turn downhill and another 4 corners climbing back up to the line. As soon as I saw the complexity of the course, I knew I could win this race. And like Babe Ruth pointing to distant spot on the outfield before his home runs, I called it spot on.
From the gun all I did was focus on staying in the top 10 of the field. Years of ski racing, video games and chasing Gregg Betonte down Donner Summit have given me the ability to handle my bike like an extra limb. Plus I have a death wish, with no regard to my or my fellow racers safety " so I do really
well on scary courses like Downtown Hood River.
Every few laps there was a crash on the 120 degree turn, so the effort to stay at the front proved to be worth it. I kept clipping my pedals through the corkscrew downhill, and eventually the crowd caught on to my scary riding. Some guy started yelling at me each lap, "don't clip yer pedal!" With 10 laps to go and a smile on my face I knew for certain I had this race wrapped up. On the final lap sitting in 2nd position, there was a crash in one of the final turns. I scream "GO" to the rider in front and we took it all the way to line. I couldnt make it around him at the finish, but he was a Cat 2, and I was a Cat 3. So while I finished in 2nd place overall, I officially won the Cat 3 race.
Nate had crashed in one of the final laps and broke his frame, but still retained his 7th placing overall. I finished 8th overall, taking home a stage win and a huge purse of 80 American dollars. Enough winnings to almost pay for one tank of gas. To top off a great week of racing, my bike fell off the roof of our car on the way home and broke too. Bike racing is awesome, punishingly, bitter-sweetly awesome.
2008 Berkeley Hills Race Report (Cat 3)
May 12 2008
Nick Schaffner in Race Reports | No Comments Yet
Nate and I drove down the night before to the gracious hospitality of Paul and Janet. With eggs and oatmeal in our gullet and an espresso made by Paul that just about knocked me on the floor, we were ready to race.
After the first time up the Bears, Nate and I both sensed we had great legs. However the pack was gruppo-compacto after the first round of climbing. So we decided the only way to dictate the outcome of this race was to drive it from the front. Entering the Bears on the second lap we surged to the front and started trading hard pulls. Hoping to start shelling riders we kept the pace at maximum all the way over Mama Bear, through Papa Bear and down the other side. It was a fireworks display of pure Cyclepaths/Wild Cherries power, with my GPS later denoting our ascent the fastest of the four laps. Nate declared it the pain train " all aboard choo choo! It was enough to break up the group, but then the negative racing began.
Shortly at the start of the third lap we either starting catching the Masters 35+ group, or they were catching us. Because of the mix of categories, the moto referee neutralized us for 5+ minutes and the entire peleton, dropped riders included, and came back together. This cycle of catching or being caught by other categories continued for the rest of the race. We would charge hard, drop riders, break up the group and then get neutralized at 15mph by the moto referee so it could all come back together. Racing became utterly pointless.
By the time we hit the final ascent of Papa Bear to the finish line, the whole fucking peleton was the same size as when we started the race. Fat guys included. This 75 mile race came down to one final uphill drag. It might as well of been a one-mile long race starting at the bottom of Papa Bear.
My legs were spent by the end, with my earlier efforts affecting my final kick. Nate passed me on the way up (of course) and we finished somewhere in the top 15, outside the points and outside the money.
Patience is truly the most difficult virtue in road racing. When I'm feeling good, I have historically gone to the front to try to start a break. I have yet to stay away, and always blow up fantastically, finishing way back. Adam and I talked about this at Sea Otter recently, and he mentioned that he always races best when he's not feeling well, since he stays at the back, and does NOTHING.
So, for this race, I FINALLY decided to execute the strategy Glenn and I have discussed SO many times. I sat at the back and did nothing for the entire race. In fact, I think I used only my little ring for the entire 2nd lap! At one point, I was so bored, I thought about going to the front and stringing it out, then thought better of it.
When it came down to the uphill sprint finish, I was nice and fresh and able to dig super deep. It was one of the hardest efforts (for less than 30 seconds) I've had on a bike, and I was able to hold off the only other two riders who were close to me. In fact, this strategy worked so well, I wonder why it's taken me this long to execute it successfully. Apparently it's not actually that easy...
Results:
1st, Cat 4: Conrad Snover
12th, Cat 3: Nate Freed
15th, Cat 3: Nick Schaffner
Stage 1 Report
Nate, Nates girlfriend Allie and I left Truckee around 9am on Monday
morning for our 20 hour drive to Silver City, New Mexico. We would have
been able to leave 3 hours earlier, except we didnt anticipate the
brain-buster of trying to fit 5 bikes, 12 spare wheels, bags of
clothing, food and 3 people into our borrowed Ford Excursion. At the
last minute we had to source a hitch-mounted bike rack and a cargo box
for the roof to fit all of our crap. Getting the hitch rack installed
required waking up a neighbor to plasma cut off the lock on our hitch.
It was a miracle we were able to leave as early as we did and we
couldnt have done it without help from Ross, Errol and my Dad.
Along the way to New Mexico we stopped on an empty highway north of
Vegas to motorpace behind the Excursion. It was Allies first time
driving as a motorpacer, but after a few confusing minutes with her
driving a mile ahead without any cyclist in tow, she figured it out and
did a great job.
We acquired last minute host housing in Silver City, and were placed in
a pre-furnished, for-sale house " with no residents! So we got all the
benefits of host housing without the hassle of actual hosts. Aside from
the smell of rank cat piss and sticker thorns all over the carpet, the
place was pretty nice.
Silver City to Mogollon Road Race - 73.1 miles, 5700 climbing
This race was a point to point, with rolling flats ending atop a final
6.7 mile, 2100 climb. All I did the entire race prior to final climb
was sit-in, eat and drink. My heart-rate averaged around 130 bpm for
the first 60 miles of the race. I wanted to be as fresh as possible for
the climb, as that is where all the time gaps would happen. This also
gave me the opportunity to size-up the rest of the field, as we racing
against all new faces from Colorado and Arizona.
Allie was our race support for the week, so she stationed herself at
each feedzone for bottle and food handups. There was some confusion at
the first feedzone as I was yelling BOTTLE BOTTLE! but had a mussette
bag aimed at me instead. I desperately tried to reach in farther for
the bottle in her lower hand, but I ended up missing the grab of either.
But at the slow pace the field was rolling, I was fine until the next
feedzone.
As the final climb started I moved to the front and hung with the
leaders with about 3 miles to go. With my heartrate maxed, my legs
slowly started to fade and I had to drop off their pace. I never felt
like I blew up or was crawling, I just wasnt able to hold their speed
and rolled in 20th for the day. 2:30 behind the leader. Nate finished
16th, 2:00 off.
We were both extremely optimistic about our results and were certain we
could makeup time throughout the rest of the race.
Stage 2 Report
I woke up this morning determined to do well. I knew today would be the
hardest stage of the whole race, and I wanted to make sure everyone felt
it too. No more fucking around hanging out in the middle of pack
getting a free ride, if I wanted to move up on the GC " I needed to take
the race into my own hand. My legs still felt fresh from the previous
days effort, and the constant up and down profile of todays stage fit
my riding style. Nate and I discussed going on the attack the entire
day to shake a larger breakaway group loose and create some time gaps to
move us up on the GC. What we didnt factor in were the constant 30 "
50 mph head winds for the last 30 miles of the race.
Fort Bayard Inner Loop Road Race " 77.9 miles, 5800 climbing
Warming up on the trainer before the race I amped myself up with music
and thoughts of putting some hurt into my competitors. By the time I
reached the start line I had already committed myself to attacking for
an all-day breakaway.
The pace was high right from the gun as our race headed up the first big
climb of the day. It was roughly 15 miles of uphill which concluded
with an extremely dangerous 3 mile descent " so dangerous it had its own
section in the race bible. With a mile or two to go on the first climb,
a rider launched out and I went after him. I had to chase for the rest
of the climb, but when I finally caught him we had a large gap and one
more breakaway companion. I knew we could pickup loads of time on the
descent, as 3 guys are a lot quicker around hairy corners than the
entire peleton.
I slowed down briefly, looked at both of my breakaway companions and
said, I have a deathwish going downhill, STAY ON MY WHEEL. And with
that I took off hoping they would keep up. And because I meant what I
said, I went down the descent without any regard for life or limb.
Braking at the last possible second and then sticking like glue through
the 180 degree turns only to fire out like a rocket at the other side.
On the worst corner of the descent the race directors had an ambulance
and several EMTs setup assuming that someone would go down. As I flew
towards them, they were screaming at me to slow down and an EMT ran out
in the middle of the road to try and stop me " but I railed by them
unscathed and devoid of my breakaway partners.
At the bottom of the descent I waited around for several minutes soft
pedaling while my break companions caught up. We then made
introductions; I was with Chris and Brett " 7th and 8th on the GC
respectively. Our goal was to stay away and gain time, and to do this
we would have to work together for the next 50 miles. We had a great
rhythm going and it seemed like the perfect move, something that would
stay away until the finish. But fast forward to a few miles later and
they dropped me on a steep climb. I was yelling out WAIT UP " but
apparently they thought they didnt need me " because they didnt WAIT UP.
So now I was in no-mans land. I had a 5 minute gap on the peleton, my
break partners rode away from me, and I was all by myself in the wind.
I didnt know what to do. Should I stop and wait for the pack, or keep
going? My decision was to keep going, hoping another break would have
formed (hopefully with Nate in it) and would catch me. 10 miles later
and I was still alone, still no peleton, no other breakaways and no race
referee to give me time gap updates. This was the weirdest time Ive
ever had in a race, Ive never just sat out, not-chasing and
not-charging for so long. I started to think I made a wrong turn and
was off the race course. At this point my legs started to give out, and
I was slowly burying myself. I had about 5 miles of gradual climbing to
go before a long downhill and I was afraid that if the pack caught me
during the climbing, that I would get dropped. In the final two miles
of climbing through the Gila forest, I finally saw the pack creeping up
behind me. I had to put in a huge effort in those last two miles so I
didnt get caught out on the climb. Just as I reached the Continental
Divide sign and the downhill " the pack grabbed me and was able to sit
in a draft for the first time in 25 miles.
By this time my legs were shot, Nate found me in the group and I was so
tired that I had trouble talking to him. Over the next 15 miles I
slowly drifted farther back in the pack until I was hanging on by the
very last wheel. We hit the beginnings of the 30 " 50 mph cross and
headwinds and I blown off the back. With 20 miles to go in the race,
the majority of it uphill and into t
he wind - once again I was all by
myself. This was the setup for the worst time Ive ever had on my bike.
Turning a corner into the final climb of the day, with 17 miles to go
the finish, the wind poured into me at a constant 30+ mph. A half-mile
into the climb was the feedzone, and Allie was waiting to hand me a
bottle. Since I was bringing up the rear of the field she was able to
practically drive alongside me the entire climb. It was great to have
someone with me, even if they werent on a bike " but there wasnt
anything she could do to make it any easier. (and all I wanted to eat
were Little Debbie Zebra Cakes, which she didnt have) It was a
gradual uphill, 4-6% grades the entire way, but I was crawling along in
my drops, head down at 6 mph, grinding my 39x26. The course remained
like this with no respite from the wind or gradient for the next 12
miles. I just wanted to fall off my bike and quit. I knew I was
loosing huge amounts of time and that my breakaway escapades had
destroyed any chances I had for the GC.
At some point into the climb with my nose on my stem, I noticed a
rubbing sound. As it turns out my front brake was on. As soon as I
loosened it felt like I had a new set of legs. I have no idea how long
my front brake was slowing me down, but I suspect it had something to do
with my royal blowout out the back of the pack. Was it a factor in me
doing so badly in the race? Had it been sucking my power out all day
long? I dont know for sure and it certainly didnt matter now. All I
had to do was finish so I could stay in the race.
I finally crawled into the finish line 20 minutes down on the winner, in
50th place for the day and I was moved down to 50th overall on the GC.
I was completely destroyed and just about fell off my bike at the line.
Nate finished 27th and moved up to 14th on the GC. The breakaway I
was in was caught with about 5 miles to go; I bet we would have made it
with a third person to take pulls.
Now that I am completely out of contention for the overall, I can change
my focus to winning stages, winning money and helping Nate preserve his
GC placing. The time trial is tomorrow, and since my GC hopes are long
gone " I get to ride it for fun and use it as an extra rest day. I
think Ill ride it with my aero helmet on backwards just to fuck with
people.
Stage 3 Report
With my GC hopes in the toilet, sitting in 50th place overall and 25
minutes down on the leader, todays stage presented itself as a pseudo
rest-day. It was an individual time trial, 16.14 miles in length with
1600 of climbing. It would be impossible in 16 miles to bring back 25
minutes, or even 5 minutes so I decided to just go out and cruise the
course to save my legs.
Since Nate was 14th on the GC, I let him use my time trial bike while I
used my road bike with aero bars clipped on. I managed to sneak my ipod
into my skinsuit (they are illegal in these races) and rolled out to the
start line after a weak 15 minute warmup. As I was being held at the
line ready to go, an official demanded that I take out my headphones.
So I unplugged the cord from the back and had to promise not to plug
it back in.
I made an agreement before I started to keep my heart rate under 160
bpm, about 20 bpm below my lactic threshold. The course started with a
4.4 mile climb, and I was able to settle into a comfortable rhythm "
still maintaining a low heart rate. 2 miles into the ascent I had
passed the rider who started 30 seconds ahead of me. And then by the
top of the climb I had passed my 1 minute man and was on the tail of the
guy who started 90 seconds earlier. By the time I hit the turnaround I
had passed 10 riders, and yet I still wasnt working hard and was
keeping my heart rate low.
At this point I realized I had super legs and super form today. I
picked up the pace a little bit on the way back because I was having
lots of fun riding fast and passing more riders. I hammered it up the
final steep climb before the 4.4 mile downhill with a smile on my face.
This was the first time Ive ever enjoyed myself during a time trial.
Usually its a nonstop suffer-fest, with snot, spit and sweat splayed
all over my face. Typically I cant walk when Im done and often have
trouble just getting off my bike from the effort.
I finished with a time of 42:26, good enough for 17th place. I wasnt
even short-of breath when I crossed the finish line. My average heart
rate was 158 bpm, my normal TT average is 178 " 185 bpm. As I spun my
legs out afterwards I started to kick myself for not actually trying. I
could have easily knocked 2+ minutes off my time and finished on the
podium had I actual ridden at my limit.
Nate started 15 minutes behind me and rolled in with a time of 42:15 for
14th place.
Stage 4 Report
For as much as I train, eat and race as skinny climber " deep down
inside I may bear the soul of a fat, angry crit sprinter. I know that
when the shit-hits-the-fan, I can surprise other racers (myself
included) with a blazing sprint. When I saw the layout of the Stage 4s
Downtown criterium, I knew I could do well. It featured about 80 feet
of climbing per lap with four 90 degree corners and a high speed
downhill. Sitting at 48th on the GC, I had absolutely nothing to lose
and was determined to go balls-to-the-wall all day.
So of course I woke up this morning feeling more tired than I have all
week. I did not want to get out of bed today, my legs hurt, my stomach
hurt and I was suddenly unmotivated to do anything. But I got up
anyway, hoping I would feel better as the morning went on.
We arrived at the course in downtown Silver City with about an hour to
warmup. After setting up our trainers and suiting up, Nate discovered
that his bike wouldnt shift " at all. His derailleur was fixed in his
50x11, and the shifter was doing nothing but creating slack in the
cable. We went into panic-mode as we frantically tried to fix his bike.
We both needed to warmup, but getting Nate into the crit on a working
bike to preserve his GC placing was more important.
It has taken me years of racing to be able do my entire pre-race
preparation with complete calm and relaxation. The more stressful you
make your pre-race warmup, including suiting up, filling water bottles,
lubing chain, pumping tires etc " the more energy you will drain from
your body prior to the race. I have a specific order in which I do
everything from putting my shoes on, to oiling my legs, even always
putting my helmet in a specific place near my trainer. So when
something unexpectedly catastrophic happens, like a bike breaking " I go
fucking insane.
After checking shifters, derailleur and cables we figured out that
something in the derailleur was seized. We sprayed the entire body down
with lube, wrenched on it a bunch of times and finally it started to
move freely. After another cable adjustment it was shifting like new
again. We now had about 20 minutes to warmup, normally I need about 40
before a hard crit. With Allie pinning our numbers we did our half-ass
warmup and flew off to the course.
On lap 2 I tore off the front to chase down a $40 prime, and allowed
another rider to out sprint me. I was afraid that if I did a full-bore
sprint I would blow myself up and get left behind by the pack. A few
laps later I went off the front again with the same rider, and once
ag
ain let him take the prime. This continued for the next 12 laps as I
kept leaping off the front into breakaways with other riders.
Unfortunately nothing stuck and no primes were won, but all that
attacking allowed me to get a good feel for how fast and for how long I
could hold solo speed on the circuit.
For the last 4 laps I sat in and found Nate at the front of the pack. I
asked him to lead me out on the final lap. I sat right on his wheel for
the next 3 laps. On the final lap someone tried to take his wheel from
me and I had to shove the guy off and yell, Thats my fucking wheel!
He was forced to go around Nate and take a pull at the front of the
peleton, which took us all the way up the hill into the 3rd corner. At
that point a huge crash occurred right behind us and I screamed out to
Nate, Go, Fucking Go Now! And he did! Nate charged super hard
through corners 3 and 4. Lining the final straightaway into the finish
line were reflective shop windows and I could use those to see we had a
10 foot gap on the group. I was screaming at Nate like a drill sergeant
to keep going. 200 meters from the line, I saw the rider behind us
through the shop windows start his sprint. So I got out of the saddle
and wound it up around Nate to roll in for the win, with Nate coming in
right behind me for second.
Nick Schaffner from Truckee California " 1st place, screamed the
announcer over the loudspeaker.
It couldnt have been a more perfect win, combined with Nate coming in
second. We do nothing but train for stage racing, climbing and time
trialing all year long, and our biggest results of the season come out
of a criterium.
Stage 5 Report
The final day of the Gila featured a reverse route of Stage 2. It was
73 miles of a few rollers, followed by a final decisive climb, fast
descent and a final gentle uphill to the finish in Pinos Altos. The
major climb near the end decided the entire stage, either you had your
climbing legs or you didnt. Nate and I decided the best strategy was
to sit in all day, eating and drinking and hope that we had the juice
for the final uphill showdown.
One thing you must absolutely do at all times during a stage race is to
be eating or drinking. Its so easy to create a calorie deficit
throughout multiple days of racing that you really need to keep on top
of your food intake to maximize your daily recovery. But day after day
of the same flavor of bars, gels and salty Gatorade, I grew pretty tired
of the stuff. I'm sure some variety would have helped, yet you don't
have a choice but to eat portable food. Eventually it all starts to
taste like sawdust in your mouth. Nate had bought some Little Debbie
Zebra Cakes for the trip, and for the final stage I had Allie hand me a
pack of them at the feed zone. I sucked down both cakes in one bite and
it was pure sugary bliss. If they werent prone to melting in my jersey
pockets, I would probably switch my race nutrition to 100% Little Debbie
product. Furthermore, if they werent prone to making me fat, Id
probably switch my entire diet to Little Debbie product.
After sitting comfortably all day in the pack we approached the final
climb and the race exploded. I went straight into the red zone and just
couldnt hang on with the leaders. I was riding at maximum, and half
the peleton rode away from me. Nate passed me along the way up the
climb, and gave his obligatory words of encouragement and all I could do
was grunt in response. The brief interaction of Nate passing me on a
decisive climb with encouraging speak, followed by my mumbled and
labored response seems to have happened in almost every race this
season. Its like some twisted planned joke every race, and I can
always feel it coming when I get popped on climb.
With 10 miles left to go in the race, I went into survival mode to try
and preserve some sort of placing. I was able to keep the pack within
my sights the entire climb, but I knew as soon as they hit the downhill
I would never be able to catch up. As I dug deeper and deeper I started
to feel better. By the time I crested the climb I was flying, albeit
solo, but I kept turning a huge gear. Finally I started passing other
dropped riders and I somehow thought in the back of mind that I could
catch the pack, so I charged even harder.
Everyday Nate and I would write down the top 15 GC numbers on a small
piece of paper and tape it to our top tube. The top 15 GC didnt really
matter to me, but it was crucial to keep track of these riders to
preserve Nates placing. About 5 miles from the finish I caught a rider
and noticed on my top tube that he was ahead of Nate on the GC. This
rider sat on my wheel as I passed him hoping I would pull him to the
line. Since I wanted this guy to lose as much time as possible with the
idea that Nate could move farther up the GC, I started to attack him so
he couldnt benefit from my draft. I did this several times and after
every attack he would slowly crawl back to my wheel. Finally he pleaded
out to me, What are you doing!? Stop attacking me! All in the most
pathetic begging tone. At this point, 2 miles from the finish, I was
pissed about my placing but still riding strong. I then got even more
pissed that such a petty douche was ahead of me on the GC. His remarks
tipped the pissed off meter into all-out-anger and I turned back at him
to yell, Stop crying you whiny little bitch, Im gonna do it again!
And with that I fired another bullet into my pedals, shot up the road
and didnt see him the rest of the race.
I finished in 32th place, 4 minutes down on the winner. I wasnt even tired at the finish, just angry.
And with that the Tour of the Gila was over, 43rd overall, but I walked
away with a stage win. At the end I still felt fresh and strong, like I
could keep racing day after day. Hopefully that is sign of proper
training, and that I may have not yet hit my peak in New Mexico.
On the 21 hour drive home we vowed to eat nothing but fast food, and
managed pretty well with a stop at Sonic, In-and-Out and Quiznos. Next
major stop is the Mt. Hood Cycling Classic on May 15th, a 4 day stage
race feature nothing but hills and mountains.
Nate, Nates girlfriend Allie and I left Truckee around 9am on Monday
morning for our 20 hour drive to Silver City, New Mexico. We would have
been able to leave 3 hours earlier, except we didnt anticipate the
brain-buster of trying to fit 5 bikes, 12 spare wheels, bags of
clothing, food and 3 people into our borrowed Ford Excursion. At the
last minute we had to source a hitch-mounted bike rack and a cargo box
for the roof to fit all of our crap. Getting the hitch rack installed
required waking up a neighbor to plasma cut off the lock on our hitch.
It was a miracle we were able to leave as early as we did and we
couldnt have done it without help from Ross, Errol and my Dad.
Along the way to New Mexico we stopped on an empty highway north of
Vegas to motorpace behind the Excursion. It was Allies first time
driving as a motorpacer, but after a few confusing minutes with her
driving a mile ahead without any cyclist in tow, she figured it out and
did a great job.
We acquired last minute host housing in Silver City, and were placed in
a pre-furnished, for-sale house " with no residents! So we got all the
benefits of host housing without the hassle of actual hosts. Aside from
the smell of rank cat piss and sticker thorns all over the carpet, the
place was pretty nice.
Silver City to Mogollon Road Race - 73.1 miles, 5700 climbing
This race was a point to point, with rolling flats ending atop a final
6.7 mile, 2100 climb. All I did the entire race prior to final climb
was sit-in, eat and drink. My heart-rate averaged around 130 bpm for
the first 60 miles of the race. I wanted to be as fresh as possible for
the climb, as that is where all the time gaps would happen. This also
gave me the opportunity to size-up the rest of the field, as we racing
against all new faces from Colorado and Arizona.
Allie was our race support for the week, so she stationed herself at
each feedzone for bottle and food handups. There was some confusion at
the first feedzone as I was yelling BOTTLE BOTTLE! but had a mussette
bag aimed at me instead. I desperately tried to reach in farther for
the bottle in her lower hand, but I ended up missing the grab of either.
But at the slow pace the field was rolling, I was fine until the next
feedzone.
As the final climb started I moved to the front and hung with the
leaders with about 3 miles to go. With my heartrate maxed, my legs
slowly started to fade and I had to drop off their pace. I never felt
like I blew up or was crawling, I just wasnt able to hold their speed
and rolled in 20th for the day. 2:30 behind the leader. Nate finished
16th, 2:00 off.
We were both extremely optimistic about our results and were certain we
could makeup time throughout the rest of the race.
Stage 2 Report
I woke up this morning determined to do well. I knew today would be the
hardest stage of the whole race, and I wanted to make sure everyone felt
it too. No more fucking around hanging out in the middle of pack
getting a free ride, if I wanted to move up on the GC " I needed to take
the race into my own hand. My legs still felt fresh from the previous
days effort, and the constant up and down profile of todays stage fit
my riding style. Nate and I discussed going on the attack the entire
day to shake a larger breakaway group loose and create some time gaps to
move us up on the GC. What we didnt factor in were the constant 30 "
50 mph head winds for the last 30 miles of the race.
Fort Bayard Inner Loop Road Race " 77.9 miles, 5800 climbing
Warming up on the trainer before the race I amped myself up with music
and thoughts of putting some hurt into my competitors. By the time I
reached the start line I had already committed myself to attacking for
an all-day breakaway.
The pace was high right from the gun as our race headed up the first big
climb of the day. It was roughly 15 miles of uphill which concluded
with an extremely dangerous 3 mile descent " so dangerous it had its own
section in the race bible. With a mile or two to go on the first climb,
a rider launched out and I went after him. I had to chase for the rest
of the climb, but when I finally caught him we had a large gap and one
more breakaway companion. I knew we could pickup loads of time on the
descent, as 3 guys are a lot quicker around hairy corners than the
entire peleton.
I slowed down briefly, looked at both of my breakaway companions and
said, I have a deathwish going downhill, STAY ON MY WHEEL. And with
that I took off hoping they would keep up. And because I meant what I
said, I went down the descent without any regard for life or limb.
Braking at the last possible second and then sticking like glue through
the 180 degree turns only to fire out like a rocket at the other side.
On the worst corner of the descent the race directors had an ambulance
and several EMTs setup assuming that someone would go down. As I flew
towards them, they were screaming at me to slow down and an EMT ran out
in the middle of the road to try and stop me " but I railed by them
unscathed and devoid of my breakaway partners.
At the bottom of the descent I waited around for several minutes soft
pedaling while my break companions caught up. We then made
introductions; I was with Chris and Brett " 7th and 8th on the GC
respectively. Our goal was to stay away and gain time, and to do this
we would have to work together for the next 50 miles. We had a great
rhythm going and it seemed like the perfect move, something that would
stay away until the finish. But fast forward to a few miles later and
they dropped me on a steep climb. I was yelling out WAIT UP " but
apparently they thought they didnt need me " because they didnt WAIT UP.
So now I was in no-mans land. I had a 5 minute gap on the peleton, my
break partners rode away from me, and I was all by myself in the wind.
I didnt know what to do. Should I stop and wait for the pack, or keep
going? My decision was to keep going, hoping another break would have
formed (hopefully with Nate in it) and would catch me. 10 miles later
and I was still alone, still no peleton, no other breakaways and no race
referee to give me time gap updates. This was the weirdest time Ive
ever had in a race, Ive never just sat out, not-chasing and
not-charging for so long. I started to think I made a wrong turn and
was off the race course. At this point my legs started to give out, and
I was slowly burying myself. I had about 5 miles of gradual climbing to
go before a long downhill and I was afraid that if the pack caught me
during the climbing, that I would get dropped. In the final two miles
of climbing through the Gila forest, I finally saw the pack creeping up
behind me. I had to put in a huge effort in those last two miles so I
didnt get caught out on the climb. Just as I reached the Continental
Divide sign and the downhill " the pack grabbed me and was able to sit
in a draft for the first time in 25 miles.
By this time my legs were shot, Nate found me in the group and I was so
tired that I had trouble talking to him. Over the next 15 miles I
slowly drifted farther back in the pack until I was hanging on by the
very last wheel. We hit the beginnings of the 30 " 50 mph cross and
headwinds and I blown off the back. With 20 miles to go in the race,
the majority of it uphill and into t
he wind - once again I was all by
myself. This was the setup for the worst time Ive ever had on my bike.
Turning a corner into the final climb of the day, with 17 miles to go
the finish, the wind poured into me at a constant 30+ mph. A half-mile
into the climb was the feedzone, and Allie was waiting to hand me a
bottle. Since I was bringing up the rear of the field she was able to
practically drive alongside me the entire climb. It was great to have
someone with me, even if they werent on a bike " but there wasnt
anything she could do to make it any easier. (and all I wanted to eat
were Little Debbie Zebra Cakes, which she didnt have) It was a
gradual uphill, 4-6% grades the entire way, but I was crawling along in
my drops, head down at 6 mph, grinding my 39x26. The course remained
like this with no respite from the wind or gradient for the next 12
miles. I just wanted to fall off my bike and quit. I knew I was
loosing huge amounts of time and that my breakaway escapades had
destroyed any chances I had for the GC.
At some point into the climb with my nose on my stem, I noticed a
rubbing sound. As it turns out my front brake was on. As soon as I
loosened it felt like I had a new set of legs. I have no idea how long
my front brake was slowing me down, but I suspect it had something to do
with my royal blowout out the back of the pack. Was it a factor in me
doing so badly in the race? Had it been sucking my power out all day
long? I dont know for sure and it certainly didnt matter now. All I
had to do was finish so I could stay in the race.
I finally crawled into the finish line 20 minutes down on the winner, in
50th place for the day and I was moved down to 50th overall on the GC.
I was completely destroyed and just about fell off my bike at the line.
Nate finished 27th and moved up to 14th on the GC. The breakaway I
was in was caught with about 5 miles to go; I bet we would have made it
with a third person to take pulls.
Now that I am completely out of contention for the overall, I can change
my focus to winning stages, winning money and helping Nate preserve his
GC placing. The time trial is tomorrow, and since my GC hopes are long
gone " I get to ride it for fun and use it as an extra rest day. I
think Ill ride it with my aero helmet on backwards just to fuck with
people.
Stage 3 Report
With my GC hopes in the toilet, sitting in 50th place overall and 25
minutes down on the leader, todays stage presented itself as a pseudo
rest-day. It was an individual time trial, 16.14 miles in length with
1600 of climbing. It would be impossible in 16 miles to bring back 25
minutes, or even 5 minutes so I decided to just go out and cruise the
course to save my legs.
Since Nate was 14th on the GC, I let him use my time trial bike while I
used my road bike with aero bars clipped on. I managed to sneak my ipod
into my skinsuit (they are illegal in these races) and rolled out to the
start line after a weak 15 minute warmup. As I was being held at the
line ready to go, an official demanded that I take out my headphones.
So I unplugged the cord from the back and had to promise not to plug
it back in.
I made an agreement before I started to keep my heart rate under 160
bpm, about 20 bpm below my lactic threshold. The course started with a
4.4 mile climb, and I was able to settle into a comfortable rhythm "
still maintaining a low heart rate. 2 miles into the ascent I had
passed the rider who started 30 seconds ahead of me. And then by the
top of the climb I had passed my 1 minute man and was on the tail of the
guy who started 90 seconds earlier. By the time I hit the turnaround I
had passed 10 riders, and yet I still wasnt working hard and was
keeping my heart rate low.
At this point I realized I had super legs and super form today. I
picked up the pace a little bit on the way back because I was having
lots of fun riding fast and passing more riders. I hammered it up the
final steep climb before the 4.4 mile downhill with a smile on my face.
This was the first time Ive ever enjoyed myself during a time trial.
Usually its a nonstop suffer-fest, with snot, spit and sweat splayed
all over my face. Typically I cant walk when Im done and often have
trouble just getting off my bike from the effort.
I finished with a time of 42:26, good enough for 17th place. I wasnt
even short-of breath when I crossed the finish line. My average heart
rate was 158 bpm, my normal TT average is 178 " 185 bpm. As I spun my
legs out afterwards I started to kick myself for not actually trying. I
could have easily knocked 2+ minutes off my time and finished on the
podium had I actual ridden at my limit.
Nate started 15 minutes behind me and rolled in with a time of 42:15 for
14th place.
Stage 4 Report
For as much as I train, eat and race as skinny climber " deep down
inside I may bear the soul of a fat, angry crit sprinter. I know that
when the shit-hits-the-fan, I can surprise other racers (myself
included) with a blazing sprint. When I saw the layout of the Stage 4s
Downtown criterium, I knew I could do well. It featured about 80 feet
of climbing per lap with four 90 degree corners and a high speed
downhill. Sitting at 48th on the GC, I had absolutely nothing to lose
and was determined to go balls-to-the-wall all day.
So of course I woke up this morning feeling more tired than I have all
week. I did not want to get out of bed today, my legs hurt, my stomach
hurt and I was suddenly unmotivated to do anything. But I got up
anyway, hoping I would feel better as the morning went on.
We arrived at the course in downtown Silver City with about an hour to
warmup. After setting up our trainers and suiting up, Nate discovered
that his bike wouldnt shift " at all. His derailleur was fixed in his
50x11, and the shifter was doing nothing but creating slack in the
cable. We went into panic-mode as we frantically tried to fix his bike.
We both needed to warmup, but getting Nate into the crit on a working
bike to preserve his GC placing was more important.
It has taken me years of racing to be able do my entire pre-race
preparation with complete calm and relaxation. The more stressful you
make your pre-race warmup, including suiting up, filling water bottles,
lubing chain, pumping tires etc " the more energy you will drain from
your body prior to the race. I have a specific order in which I do
everything from putting my shoes on, to oiling my legs, even always
putting my helmet in a specific place near my trainer. So when
something unexpectedly catastrophic happens, like a bike breaking " I go
fucking insane.
After checking shifters, derailleur and cables we figured out that
something in the derailleur was seized. We sprayed the entire body down
with lube, wrenched on it a bunch of times and finally it started to
move freely. After another cable adjustment it was shifting like new
again. We now had about 20 minutes to warmup, normally I need about 40
before a hard crit. With Allie pinning our numbers we did our half-ass
warmup and flew off to the course.
On lap 2 I tore off the front to chase down a $40 prime, and allowed
another rider to out sprint me. I was afraid that if I did a full-bore
sprint I would blow myself up and get left behind by the pack. A few
laps later I went off the front again with the same rider, and once
ag
ain let him take the prime. This continued for the next 12 laps as I
kept leaping off the front into breakaways with other riders.
Unfortunately nothing stuck and no primes were won, but all that
attacking allowed me to get a good feel for how fast and for how long I
could hold solo speed on the circuit.
For the last 4 laps I sat in and found Nate at the front of the pack. I
asked him to lead me out on the final lap. I sat right on his wheel for
the next 3 laps. On the final lap someone tried to take his wheel from
me and I had to shove the guy off and yell, Thats my fucking wheel!
He was forced to go around Nate and take a pull at the front of the
peleton, which took us all the way up the hill into the 3rd corner. At
that point a huge crash occurred right behind us and I screamed out to
Nate, Go, Fucking Go Now! And he did! Nate charged super hard
through corners 3 and 4. Lining the final straightaway into the finish
line were reflective shop windows and I could use those to see we had a
10 foot gap on the group. I was screaming at Nate like a drill sergeant
to keep going. 200 meters from the line, I saw the rider behind us
through the shop windows start his sprint. So I got out of the saddle
and wound it up around Nate to roll in for the win, with Nate coming in
right behind me for second.
Nick Schaffner from Truckee California " 1st place, screamed the
announcer over the loudspeaker.
It couldnt have been a more perfect win, combined with Nate coming in
second. We do nothing but train for stage racing, climbing and time
trialing all year long, and our biggest results of the season come out
of a criterium.
Stage 5 Report
The final day of the Gila featured a reverse route of Stage 2. It was
73 miles of a few rollers, followed by a final decisive climb, fast
descent and a final gentle uphill to the finish in Pinos Altos. The
major climb near the end decided the entire stage, either you had your
climbing legs or you didnt. Nate and I decided the best strategy was
to sit in all day, eating and drinking and hope that we had the juice
for the final uphill showdown.
One thing you must absolutely do at all times during a stage race is to
be eating or drinking. Its so easy to create a calorie deficit
throughout multiple days of racing that you really need to keep on top
of your food intake to maximize your daily recovery. But day after day
of the same flavor of bars, gels and salty Gatorade, I grew pretty tired
of the stuff. I'm sure some variety would have helped, yet you don't
have a choice but to eat portable food. Eventually it all starts to
taste like sawdust in your mouth. Nate had bought some Little Debbie
Zebra Cakes for the trip, and for the final stage I had Allie hand me a
pack of them at the feed zone. I sucked down both cakes in one bite and
it was pure sugary bliss. If they werent prone to melting in my jersey
pockets, I would probably switch my race nutrition to 100% Little Debbie
product. Furthermore, if they werent prone to making me fat, Id
probably switch my entire diet to Little Debbie product.
After sitting comfortably all day in the pack we approached the final
climb and the race exploded. I went straight into the red zone and just
couldnt hang on with the leaders. I was riding at maximum, and half
the peleton rode away from me. Nate passed me along the way up the
climb, and gave his obligatory words of encouragement and all I could do
was grunt in response. The brief interaction of Nate passing me on a
decisive climb with encouraging speak, followed by my mumbled and
labored response seems to have happened in almost every race this
season. Its like some twisted planned joke every race, and I can
always feel it coming when I get popped on climb.
With 10 miles left to go in the race, I went into survival mode to try
and preserve some sort of placing. I was able to keep the pack within
my sights the entire climb, but I knew as soon as they hit the downhill
I would never be able to catch up. As I dug deeper and deeper I started
to feel better. By the time I crested the climb I was flying, albeit
solo, but I kept turning a huge gear. Finally I started passing other
dropped riders and I somehow thought in the back of mind that I could
catch the pack, so I charged even harder.
Everyday Nate and I would write down the top 15 GC numbers on a small
piece of paper and tape it to our top tube. The top 15 GC didnt really
matter to me, but it was crucial to keep track of these riders to
preserve Nates placing. About 5 miles from the finish I caught a rider
and noticed on my top tube that he was ahead of Nate on the GC. This
rider sat on my wheel as I passed him hoping I would pull him to the
line. Since I wanted this guy to lose as much time as possible with the
idea that Nate could move farther up the GC, I started to attack him so
he couldnt benefit from my draft. I did this several times and after
every attack he would slowly crawl back to my wheel. Finally he pleaded
out to me, What are you doing!? Stop attacking me! All in the most
pathetic begging tone. At this point, 2 miles from the finish, I was
pissed about my placing but still riding strong. I then got even more
pissed that such a petty douche was ahead of me on the GC. His remarks
tipped the pissed off meter into all-out-anger and I turned back at him
to yell, Stop crying you whiny little bitch, Im gonna do it again!
And with that I fired another bullet into my pedals, shot up the road
and didnt see him the rest of the race.
I finished in 32th place, 4 minutes down on the winner. I wasnt even tired at the finish, just angry.
And with that the Tour of the Gila was over, 43rd overall, but I walked
away with a stage win. At the end I still felt fresh and strong, like I
could keep racing day after day. Hopefully that is sign of proper
training, and that I may have not yet hit my peak in New Mexico.
On the 21 hour drive home we vowed to eat nothing but fast food, and
managed pretty well with a stop at Sonic, In-and-Out and Quiznos. Next
major stop is the Mt. Hood Cycling Classic on May 15th, a 4 day stage
race feature nothing but hills and mountains.
