Catamount GP

Whoa, what a weekend.  Yesterday I was just too knackered and scattered to put down my thoughts, but I think with the added rest and a chance to reflect I'll be able to do it justice.


It began with a cheerful drive north with two of my lovely teammates, albeit arriving way past my bedtime.  We were able to sleep in a little the next day, however, so it wasn't too bad.  On Saturday morning I was able to go through my super-relaxing routine of toast and tea, followed by some more substantial breakfast.  It was rainy but the sky cleared as we drove out to Catamount in time to catch most of the women's 3/4 race.

A couple hours before the Elite Women's race I got out on the course for a lap.  Ouch.  I knew there would be climbing, but ouch.  The nice thing was the climbing was in two big chunks, which were followed by fun, fast descents.  There were two lung-busting sets of steps, and some nice fast barriers.  Despite the rain the night before the course was dry and dusty.  I felt good about my warm up, good about the course, and sort of bummed about my last row call up, but it was a position I could only improve upon.

My start was . . . uneven.  I got going all right, passed some people, and then seized up.  I suspect it's more mental than anything else, but as we hit the first grinding climb I found myself going backwards fast.  My legs came around, however, and I was able to pass some pretty big chunks of people within the first lap and a half.  Suddenly I heard people yelling at me, "10th place is right there!"  I dug, joined a group of 2-3 at one point who were fighting for 8th place.  In the end I ended up 10th, despite almost face planting the final time through the barriers.

I had a hard time believing it until I saw it printed in the results.  My first UCI top 10!  My first UCI point!  And the funny thing was, it wasn't any harder than being at the back was last year.  In the (paraphrased?) words of Greg LeMond, "It never hurts less, you just go faster."

The usual post-race recovery eating, spinning and rehashing commenced, followed by dinner at the condo and an early bedtime.  The next day we were up a bit earlier.  It was cold out!  37F isn't really that cold I suppose, except when you're coming off of a hot summer and haven't had time to adjust to the chill.  Again I arrived early enough to cheer for the 3/4 women.  When we got out on course it initially seemed like it might be easier than Saturday, as we really only had one sustained climb.  At race pace, however, the dirt mound you had to ride/run over, the BMX jump you had to ride up, and the incessant accelerations ended up being equally tough.

I had a 2nd row call up, and I positioned myself squarely behind Crystal Anthony, Saturday's winner and former LadiesFirst teammate.  And I had the Start Of My Life.  By the time we hit the first turn I was 4th wheel, behind Crystal, Sally Annis, and Mo.  I wish I could say that I held that position, but I wasn't aggressive enough in the turns, and I ended up having to do the same game of catch-up that I had the day before.  Between a couple strong ladies who hadn't raced on Saturday and not having the legs I had the day before, I only managed 15th.  In the money!  (Because, you know, women's cycling is all about the money....)

Anyway, I'm looking forward to putting more pieces of the puzzle down in the coming weeks.  If I'm successful it's because I have amazing support from my team, coach, our awesome race mechanic, and of course my friends and family, many of whom have no idea what a UCI point is but still get excited when I tell them I got one.

Pictures!

With my race wheels on my bike was ridiculously light.  Every time I had to lift it I wanted to smile.  That's never happened before!

Below you can see evidence of my fantastic start!

Sufferface.  This was nearing the top of the climb.

Green Mountains of Awesomeness

I can't even begin to write a race report right now.  I'm incredibly scattered and excited and my thoughts are going a million directions.  I'll have to save it for another day.

How Not to Race Cyclocross - Quad

After being sort-of sick last week, missing some workouts, and really hoping I wasn't going to get gnarly-sick for Green Mountain weekend, I wasn't even sure I was going to go race the season opener, Quad Cross, on Sunday.  I wasn't sure the night before, telling myself "If I wake up and I feel lousy I won't go."

Then when I woke up and felt pretty OK, telling myself, "I'll head down there and if I feel lousy I won't ride."

Then "I'll start my warm up and if I feel bad I won't race."

Finally, "I'll start the race and if I feel bad I won't finish."

No pressure.  Stay healthy.  It's too early in the season to get laid out with some stupid cold.

As it turned out I felt pretty good the whole time, maybe a little sluggish after the unplanned time off during the preceding week, but not a hacking, snotty mess as I'd feared.

How Not to Race Cross

#1:  I had the start of my life.  I was third wheel behind Mo and Ellen Noble.  And what did I do?   I panicked.  "Oh shit, I shouldn't be here, I'm going to slow someone down and ruin their race and I should just let them go by me."  Seriously.  A split second of meekness immediately followed by, "D'oh!  The whole damn field just passed me!  Move up!  Move up!"  Yeah....  I'm now working on "visualizing riding at the front."  Seriously, that was just ridiculous.  That

Anyway, I made some good passes and caught up to my teammate and was pretty happy to be on her wheel.  On the fast fireroad descent I was sitting near the back of the saddle powering in my big ring when, after hitting a bump, the nose of my saddle was pointing skyward.  Yes, my seat clamp was torqued to spec, it still slipped.  This was not my error, but it brings us to-

#2:  I had a pit bike, but it wasn't in the pit.  Sigh...  In all the happy NECX reunion gibber gabber I was like, "oh, pit bike?  It's fine right where it is."  On my car.  As I rode by the pit with my saddle in a most uncomfortable position I hollered at my teammate who had raced earlier, "CAN YOU GET MY PIT BIKE OFF MY CAR FOR ME?!"  What a doll, she not only had to run back to the parking area, but had to figure out which car was mine.  And she made it back with my bike within half lap so I could get it the next time through the pit.  Gold star.

Armed with my wonderfully flat-saddled bike, I started trying to make up the time I'd lost.  Unfortuantely . . .

#3:  I didn't check the tire pressure in my pit bike.  Right?  Right?  I think I had 20 PSI in there.  In clinchers.  For those not in the know, that's not enough.  Not only was I hitting the rim over ever root, I washed out in two corners.  I actually thought I had a flat, my tires were so soft.  Fortunately, the next time I went through the pit they had my A bike for me.  With the saddle leveled out, bless them.  I think I said something like, "Cool, 'cause I have a flat. Fun day!"  I was informed the next time through that I didn't have a flat, I'm just a bonehead.

Anywho.

With much encouragement from the ECV/Seaside/LadiesFirst crews, I worked my way back up to the spot behind my teammate, albeit 30 seconds back or so.

#4:  On the last lap, I pinch flatted.  Pretty darn far from the pits.  I was trying to maintain my position and I got sloppy over the roots.  I had to run/ride super slow around to the pit, get a wheel, and finish in not-quite-last (which is pretty remarkable given how slowly I was riding/running).

C'est la course.

The good news?  I am so jazzed on racing cyclocross.  I'm fit, and lean, and so totally in love with NECX.  It's going to be a fantastic season.

Here's a picture of my awesome start:

http://spokenshutter.smugmug.com/2012Cyclocross/2012-Quad-Cross-Women-Elite/25293442_QS3bCt#!i=2078246864&k=tj5v6DV

And here's one of my saddle-nose pointing heavenward:

http://spokenshutter.smugmug.com/2012Cyclocross/2012-Quad-Cross-Women-Elite/25293442_QS3bCt#!i=2078248358&k=R7cMJbm

And here's one of my dog telling me that flexibility is overrated.

Why is my yoga mat always so gritty?

Thoughts on Training

Tuesday is generally my favorite day of the week.  I take off Tuesday and Sunday from work, you see. Sundays are full of riding, society, and sometimes chores about the house.  Tuesdays are all mine.  I can sleep as late as I like (wow, 7:30!!!), sit in bed drinking coffee and catching up on the internet, and then go out for my ride whenever I feel like it.  It doesn't make me feel especially productive or industrious, but it is really good for general feelings of well-being.  Usually I spend some time in there cleaning the house or running errands, but I do them at my leisure, which is exactly how I like to take care of such things.

After three weeks of hard rides on my Tuesdays, I've earned a rest week and all I plan on doing on my bike today is an easy spin with some cyclocross drills (I seem to have misplaced my practice barrier so today's errands include a trip to the hardware store for PVC joints).  I'm pretty excited about a nice easy week on the bike, as are my legs, which are sort of aching as I'm just sitting here.  But it's that building-muscle-ache, so I think I'm doing something right.  We're 3.5 weeks out from the informal CX season opener, and I am so anxious to see how much the hard work will show in my results.  While I agree that hard training and dedication are a reward in themselves, let's be honest, this is about winning races. Or at least coming closer than before.

Saturdays are generally the hardest day I have.  I've been up at 5 so I can be on my bike at 6 and do a hard 2 hour ride before coming home and getting ready to work 9-5.  I realized this past Saturday that there is an added benefit to getting up at such an obscene hour on a weekend day.  It's as though my body is still so groggy for the first part of my ride that it doesn't register what it's being put through, and my head is so foggy that there are no intervening thoughts to distract me from the task at hand.   It makes those super long, tough intervals go by so easily.

On Sunday I went out for a long, solo ride on my cyclocross bike.  I rode pavement out to Appleton Farms, cut through on the double and singletrack that run through there, rode through Bradley Palmer State Park and hit some fantastic singletrack that runs along the edge there, and then rode through Willowdale, hitting most of the XC race course in there.  The roots were pretty wet and slick, and I wiped out on one section, causing a guy on a MTB to catch me.  He stopped to chat and said something to the effect of, "Oh, it's a little rocky for a CX bike in here."  At that very moment, Tim Johnson (multi-time CX national champion and North Shore resident) rode up on his CX bike.  He proceeded to compliment my choice of steed, note that we were running the same tires, and invite me to ride with him and his friend.  They were heading in the opposite direction as me so I declined, but it was sort of a neat encounter, as I've not been in the area long enough to be desensitized to running into national champions on the trails.  Anyway, I rode out to Linebrook Rd. on the other side of Willowdale and looped back home on the pavement.  It was such a fun ride, I really can't wait to do it again.

Anyway, now I suppose I ought to make my leisurely way out of bed and do some things.  'Til next time, here's another Europe pic.  It's me at the Eiffel Tower.

All In

Whoa, long time without a blog post.  What have I been doing?  What haven't I been doing?

I did some more bike racing.  Didn't go too well, but it's cool.

I went to Europe for two weeks with my dad.  A week in Denmark,  a week in Paris.  It was indescribable.  I can't possibly write a blog post about it, seriously.  Maybe I'll post a couple pictures from time to time, but I wouldn't even know where to begin.

Came back, worked a bit, rode some.  My mom came out to visit me, and we're at the tail end of her visit.  Today we rode, then went for a sail.  I have a pretty spectacular sunburn.

That pretty much gets us caught up.

So what am I blogging about then?

Cyclocross.

Without getting into it too much, the time I spent in Europe opened my eyes to possibilities.  Endless, endless possibilities.  And I want to be free to explore those possibilities, without having any regrets.  Of all the things I anticipate regretting, top of the list would be never committing myself fully to racing my bike.  So this cyclocross season I'm going all in.  Okay, I'm still working 40 hours a week, but I'm approaching my training and my life with a level of serious commitment that I've never practiced.

How serious am I?  Pretty darn serious.  I'm not drinking alcohol until January 14th (the day after nationals).  I am, so far, 7 pounds lighter than I was when I got back from Europe.  I have done all the little extra things that make a better athlete - daily yoga, daily core strength exercises.  I have two gorgeous new bikes to race on.  I am on a fantastically supportive team.  I am going all in.

If I do something crazy next spring, like sail to the caribbean or ride around Europe (I'm not saying I will, I'm just saying anything is possible) I will have no regrets, no "what might have been" moments to look back on.

Okay, here's one Europe picture.  It's me and Napoleon.  Seriously.

Stages of Acceptance

Finally, several days after the fact, I'm writing about What Happened At Sterling.  It's taken me this long to process it and come to terms with, well, what happened.  

Basically, I got dropped on the first climb.  

Now, leading up to this race I was having some of the best training rides of my life, objectively.  My power numbers are higher than they've ever been, my nutrition has been excellent, and my life is very low in stress and high in quality sleep.  I spent the week leading up to it working on my mental preparation.  I have a beautiful new-ish bike that was functioning perfectly (well, until the flat tire, but that's actually pretty irrelevant), fantastic equipment, food, support, etc.  Shouldn't this equal improved results?  

This is how my emotions went during and after the event.

"I'm getting dropped."  - comic incredulity, in other words, disbelief.

To Cody, "I suck, I'm no good at this, I'm going to quit bike racing.  I'm a failure."  - bitter depression, obviously.  Give Cody a gold star for talking me down from the ledge, by the way.  Poor fella.

To my co-workers/family, "I don't want to talk about it."  - denial.  

And finally, "I understand what happened.  This is what I can do to not have that happen again."  - acceptance.

During my painful (Zone 5 interval) training ride today, I realized that I just totally choked.  My legs weren't so great, there were skinny people on the front making it hard, it was a steep hill.  I spent so much time mentally preparing for the race that instead of just riding intuitively and sticking on the wheel ahead of me, I started over thinking.  I got in my own way, stuck in my own head.  I want a do-over.  But there are no do-overs in life, just next time.  

I've got to go now, because Cody's coming home with baby ducks.  Seriously, guys, Baby.  Ducks.  Can we all agree that there's nothing cuter than a baby duck?  Of course we can.

By the way, I'm just joking about that whole stages of grieving shit, you know?  If the worst tragedy that happens to me is to get dropped in a bike race my life is pretty sweet.  

Seriously, there's going to be like, 6 of these at our house any minute now!!!

Racing Bikes is Fun

I've been waiting to write a race report for this one because I was hoping someone would put up some sweet pics of me looking competent on my bike.  After several days and nothing surfacing I've decided I should just write the darn report already.

The night after Quabbin I had this recurring dream that I was riding in a pack and the girl in front of me slammed on her brakes.  I'd jerk awake, only to have the dream again (that's why I used the word "recurring").  Anyway, I thought maybe I'd have more fun racing in the dirt, so I opted out of Bennington and drove to RI for the Battle at Burlingame.  As additional incentive, I have a shiny new Trek Fuel EX.  It's a sick trail bike, and I have it set up stock with the huge 2.3 tires that came on it.  Perfect for the trail riding I do out here, not exactly an uphill speed-machine, though.  But the whole point of racing MTBs is to have fun, and that bike is wicked fun.

Wicked sexy, too.

Cody was off at Highlands DH park for opening weekend, so on Sunday morning I loaded up my dog and my bike and drove to Charleston, RI.  I pulled into Burlingame State Park and the attendant at the gate told me, "You can't bring a dog in here.  They were supposed to tell you."  Um.  Crap.  It's possible that "they" did tell me and I just didn't read the small print, but come on!  This is a MTB race.  Bikes, beer, dogs, right?  "But you can bring your dog in if you rent a camp site."  Oh.  Ok.  Well, I drove all this way.  And it was just $20, practically free by campground standard rates, these days.  Stressful decision making averted, I paid my fee and parked.

I got my number, suited up, and realized I'd forgotten my gloves.  S&^%!  It's OK, it'll be OK.  What's 27 miles of trails without gloves?   (Did I mention the race was 27.5 miles?  5 x 5.5 miles.  That's pretty darn long for a mountain bike race.  I cat'ed down and raced Expert, too.  The pros did 33.  F&^% that.).  Anyway, I headed out to warm up a bit.  I didn't have a ton of time, so I rode out on the course for a few minutes, then back.  I had about 40 oz of water in my hydration pack, 4 Gu shots, and some Chomps.  I had some nutrition issues at Quabbin, and I was determined not to let that happen today.

We lined up at the start.  All 2 of us.  Yes, 2 expert women in the 19-39 age range showed up.  We started chit chatting and she asked if I'd pre-ridden the course.  "Only the first part."  "Did you get to The Bridges?"  Um.  Bridges?  Maybe I should have gotten up earlier and gotten in a lap.  C'est la vie.  We were sent off last, at least 10 minutes behind the pro women (of whom there were 4).  Anyway, I let the other girl take the lead as she clearly had spent more time on course than me and I figured I could follow her lines.  There was one somewhat large log across the trail near the beginning, and we were both off our bikes running over it.  One super-smooth CX remount later, I realized I had a problem.  My saddle had slipped.  Ok.  It's OK.  It's not that bad, right?  I stayed with the other girl until we hit The Bridges.

I really should have pre-ridden.  They were wide bridges, but they had these steep little ramps leading up and down them, and between that was all wet roots and rocks.  And it was sort of a long section.  I only cleaned the whole thing once - on my final lap.  Anyway, since I was off my bike sucking at riding up these things I decided I might as well fix my seat height.  I still have the stock QR seatpost clamp on there, so at least I didn't need a tool.  Seat up, moving on.  By this point she was out of sight.  Okay, it's OK.  There's only 2 of you, the worst thing that can happen is 2nd place.  (I spend a lot of time telling myself things are going to be OK.)

The course was mostly fast, hard packed single and double track, with fast, not overly-steep climbs and some super fun railing descents.  But.  There was one section that was clearly freshly cut, and it had all the annoyingness of a freshly cut trail that isn't terribly well thought out  hasn't been ridden on much, until 200 bike racers try to ride it at speed.  It was sort of up and down, with rocks and roots and no flow at all.  It ended with a rock roller into a loose, rooty chute.  Wee.  Again, I only rode it completely cleanly on 1 out of 5 laps.  After that you had a super fast descent, two short steep climbs, and then a bunch of grinding back to the start/finish.

The Bad

• I got 2nd.  Also, last.
• I ran out of water on my last lap.
• My seat slipped again.
• I got lapped by a bunch of dudes.

The Good

• I got 2nd!
• I managed to keep my head when I ran out of water.  "It's OK.  You're going to be OK."  I was.
• When I put my seat back up for a second time I tightened the clamp down more and it stayed there.
• Those dudes that lapped me started at least 10 minutes ahead of me.
• My bike is sick.  People would be catching me on the climbs and then we'd hit the fast descents and I'd totally gap them again.  2.3's might suck on the way up, but they're money on the way down.
• I stayed positive the whole race.  After the first two laps I was like, "Really?  3 more of those?"  But I rode strong the whole time.  I was exhausted at the end, so I left it all out there, but even on the last lap I had some power in the legs.

Afterwards I decided to stick around for podiums since the race flier promised "merch" to the Expert women.  They finally did awards 40 minutes after the race finished, but just handed stuff out, not calling people onto the podium that was 5 feet away.  Whatevs.   But you know what I got?  A medal and a $15 gift certificate to NBX (it's a bike shop in RI).  Seriously?  I work at a bike shop, and I'm never going to be in Narragansett to redeem a gift certificate. I was pretty pissed off that I'd delayed my long drive home for that.  Oh well.  I'm not bagging on the race organizer, by the way.  Okay, maybe I am.  But the race was really well put on, it was a super fun course, and for the average person who lives in RI and doesn't work at shop that's a pretty killer prize.  

But.

Hey race organizers!  Stop giving out medals!  Unless it's for a kids race or your event is called "The Olympics" it just ends up on a dusty shelf somewhere.  

Anyway, the good news is that without that medal I wouldn't be able to bring you this adorable photo of my dog.

But maybe the race organizers sensed my irritation, because they gave me the medal for 1st place.  

Now I can fool my friends and relatives into thinking I won.