Elkhorn Stage Race

Exit Cat 4, Enter Cat 3. I was racing with the big girls now. I got my upgrade after the Mt Hood Cycling Classic. Elkhorn would be my first race as a Cat 3. I still wasn't sure how to feel about it. Did I just get lucky or did I deserve to be riding with the 1/2/3s?

Bright and early Friday morning, Sarah, Cary and I, with a loaded car and bikes in tow, headed north east to Baker City. Our race started at 2pm.

We arrived at race headquarters, Baker City High School around noon.

Dark clouds looming and intermittent rain showers greeting us with open arms.

Stage 1: Oregon Trail Road Race

The peleton rolled out of the high school parking lot and through the town of Baker City, over 90 riders strong. All the women raced together, Pro 1/2s, 3 and 4s and there was an overload of nervous energy brewing as people moved around to find the right wheel and their “spot” within the group. I stayed to the outside of the group, hugging the yellow line and trying to keep a position in the front 1/3 of the group. The roads were wet. Grit quickly found its way in between my teeth and behind my sunglasses.

The first 25 miles were almost flat and everyone just rode shoulder to shoulder. Deep concentration on the movement of the women around me was all I can remember. There were a couple of lame attacks off the front, but nothing that anyone worried about and nothing that stuck.

A few girls got shelled off the back when we hit the first little climb, but the group stayed largely together as we descended into the town of Union. Rain showers had visited us off and on for the first half of the race, a few glimpses of lightening in the distance and many foreboding clouds, but it was on this descent that the skies really opened up.

The rain was coming down in huge drops and everyone was a bit twitchy. I was second from the left as we headed downhill in the rain. A screech of brakes caused me to glance over my shoulder just as a Gentle Lovers kit skidded and hit the deck.

Bike on asphalt. Bad sound.

I saw it happen in slow motion, but just as quickly, I snapped back to reality as the peleton rode on. Should I stop? No, keep riding.

Next came a few small hills that started to tire out some legs. I could see people slipping back, not sure how many riders were still behind me. I only knew the lead group was all together.

Then came the climb over Frazier Pass. The group shattered to pieces. The acceleration caught me a little off guard and I had to work my way through some slower riders to regain connection with the first chase group. Terry Shesby and two other girls were off the front and out of sight. I rode with the chase group for a couple of miles, feeling strong, but lost a wheel on a steep descent and couldn’t bridge the gap.

In the distance, I could see the break and the chase group. I was in no-man’s land; time trialing with all I had.

I looked behind me, I couldn’t see the next group. The group I was trying to catch was getting further and further away. I looked at my computer, 31mph. It was almost flat road; How can they be going that fast?

I quickly reminded myself that I was one and they were 6 and I had better put my head down and push if I didn’t want to get caught. I road alone for 14 miles.

With 10 miles to the finish the group chasing me came into sight. They weren’t too far behind. The group ahead of me has slowed down, but they were still out of my reach.

I have been told that if you are going to get caught, it is better to just sit up and wait instead of wearing yourself out.

I wasn’t willing to give up that easily. I didn’t want to get caught.

I attacked the climb out of Medicine Creek; hoping I could hold on for just a few more miles.

Then, from behind, I saw MacKenzine Madison. She had broken from the group and bridged up to me. I was not going to let her go.

There’s a group right there, they are going to catch us, MacKenzie said.

No they’re not, I replied. Let’s work together.

She started pulling up the hill, I was right on her wheel, determined to stick. Between labored breaths I said, I can’t help right now, give me a minute.

I sat in, steadying my pace and my heart rate.

After a couple of minutes I took my turn.

If I am slowing down, you have to tell me. She agreed and soon gave me the encouragement I needed by saying we were pulling away from our chasers.

I looked at my computer as we crested the climb with the first chase group in sight. Four miles to go. Serena, hold on, just 4 more miles. Mackenzie moved in front just as we passed the 3k sign. Only 3k to go, not 4 miles. I could do this.

On the final descent, I stayed with the wheel in front of me. I was glued to it. I couldn’t let it go. I took a pull. We passed the 1km sign and Mackenzie moved in front. I was right behind her, 200 km to the finish. She found another gear. I stood up, my legs shaking. MacKenzie beat me to the line, but we were given the same time.

I rolled slowly down the road, catching my breath. When the results were posted that evening, I learned I had finished 8th, 4 minutes down.

Stage 2: Pleasant Valley Time Trial

Saturday morning brought cool weather and clear skies; ideal for the day ahead. The start list for the time trial had been posted. I would go off at 9:54; 30 seconds ahead of MacKenzine.

11.3 miles of all-out effort. 411 feet of climbing, out and back course, head winds on the way back in.

After a good warm up, I headed to the starting line. Equipped with my clip-on aero bars and brand new Giro Advantage 2 TT Helmet, I looked fast…. Well, sort of.

The first couple seconds of the TT is always a bit scary. Someone holding your seatpost until the official counts down 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Then – GO!! Stand up, a couple of hard pedal strokes to get up to speed and then into the aerobars, and just go – HARD.

The course was non-technical, but seemed to be uphill both ways. At the turn around, I had passed one rider and was relieved that Mackenzie had not yet caught me. I made the turn and was heading back toward Baker City, gaining on the rider ahead of me, as MacKenzie, on her very pretty Cervelo TT Bike cruised on past. My legs were going as hard as they could; I made them go faster.

I finished 1:12 behind Mackenzie. The GC remained unchanged for me; I was still sitting in 8th.

Stage 3: Gold Rush Criterium

While crits continue to be a game of survival for me, I am beginning to feel much more comfortable about lining up with 80+ women and am starting to have a little fun. My goal for the 40 minute rat race was to stay safe, out of trouble and with the lead pack. You don’t win a stage race by winning the crit, and while you don’t want to loose time, finishing in the lead pack gives you the same time as everybody else and you don’t have to tire out your legs too much. Down side of my strategy: No OBRA points and no prems.

I sat just off the front for the entire race, going with the group when the leaders decided it was time to accelerate, sitting in when it was time to rest.

My strategy worked beautifully and when the last lap came, I crossed the line with everybody else.

Much to my surprise, a few girls close to me in the GC didn’t remember to stay with the pack and lost some time. I moved up in the GC to 7th.

Stage 4: Mt Dooley Road Race

I woke up before my alarm Sunday morning to the sound of heavy rain. The race was scheduled for an 8am start; the forecast called for heavy rain and temperatures in the high 30s.

102 miles, 7075ft of climbing, a finish atop Mt Dooley.

The thought of what laid ahead didn’t sound amazingly appealing, but everyone had to deal with the same conditions. Suck it up!

I felt fortunate to have packed my booties, although an investment in a rain jacket was one I have yet to make. I put a trashbag down the front of my jersey and called it good. It would have to do.

We rode over to the high school through sheets of rain. It was already crowded when we arrived. Plastic clad cyclists, milling about.

Then the announcement was made. The Mt Dooley Road Race would be shortened from 102 miles to just 24; 10 miles of flat road leading out of town, then up the back side of Mt. Dooley.

Disappointment and relief came over me simultaneously. I had been looking forward to this race for a sometime as a chance to test myself. At the same time I was excited that I would not have to make 2 long descents with frozen fingers.

The neutral roll out took us out of town, but even when the pace car sped up, the peleton didn’t accelerate much. The rain was still heavy and the roads wet.

I was in the first 1/3 of the group, right in the middle of the pack. As we rolled toward Mt Dooley and the base of the climb, we all stayed together. I moved forward in the group and to the far left just before the start of the climb.

I had expected an obvious acceleration by the leaders as soon as we started upward, but instead it was gradual. The pace quickened, dropping a few girls off the back, but not enough to break the main group.

Then the grade steepened and things started to shatter. The front group was off the front before I knew it.

I was on the wheel of a strong climber, someone I had excepted to crush this stage. Poor choice; she did not have this in her plans for the day. Crap! A gap had formed and I needed to be on the other side of it.

A rider came by me on the left, moving quickly, I jumped on her wheel. Together we moved in between riders as we passed then, our goal set on the group of 3 ladies ahead. We soon caught and passed them. Our group has swelled to 5 or 6. I was second wheel and felt like we need to push the pace and moved to the front. According to my computer, we had about 9 miles to go. I sped up, but not enough to drop anyone, but we were gaining on a few riders that had been shelled from the lead group… we would catch them. Things were going my way.

With about 8 miles to go I saw the 3km sign. What?? 3km? This race was only going to be 18 miles long. I needed been get my butt in gear.

I looked behind me, shifted and stood up. I had to go for it. Now or never. Within a couple of pedal strokes, I was alone. The group behind did not follow me.

I could see the group of 3 I wanted to catch climbing up the next switch back; about 45 seconds ahead of me.

By the time I reached the 1km sign, I was only about 15 seconds behind the 3 riders and no one was behind me.

Stand up, pedal, count, sit down, count, stand up.

200km to go. I stood up. I crossed the line, 6 seconds behind the group I was chasing.

Deep breath.

My computer said 18.12miles. Not the 25miles I had planned for, not the 25 miles I had paced for. That is what happens when the course changes 5 minutes before the race starts.

Raincoat covered numbers delayed results until Tuesday and it wasn’t until then that saw my placement for the final stage or the GC.

A 4th place finish atop Mt Dooley moved me up to 6th in the General Classification. My first Cat 3 race. I was competitive.

My legs are getting stronger, but more importantly, I am learning a thing or two about road racing. In a road race, you have to make thousands of tiny moves; some of large consequence, some not so important.

In this crazy game of chess that we call bike racing, I am making some of the right moves and some of the little ones I don't have to think so much about.

Perspective

I had a conversation with a friend a few afternoons ago.

It was a discussion of perspective, not of advice.

It was a lecture delivered not from the front of classroom, but from the heart.

It was just what I needed.

We all set expectations.

I tend to set mine too high.

But then again, isn't it better to set lofty goals and not reach them than to underestimate your ability?

I need to walk before I can run… hard when I used to be pretty good at running.

I need to listen and observe and gradually build the knowledge that will lead to intuition.

It is this intuition, coupled by motivation and fitness that I seek.

I need to test myself.

If I blow up, what harm has it done?

I will have given it a shot; I will have learned something.

I will have lived.

I need to learn to set my expectations from a vantage point that allows for the right perspective.

My right perspective; dictated only by the goals I set for myself from the plain upon which I currently stand.

I need to be proud of my accomplishments, no matter how small.

I have worked hard for them, and while meaningless to others, they are meaningful to me.

A wise man recently told me something that I have been mulling over and close-to completely understand:

Some of my best races I did not win. Those races that I won were not necessarily my best.

A game of chess in which all players are skilled and strong; how will I make my next move?

Mt Hood Cycling Classic - Race Recap

I spent most of Sunday afternoon in the horizontal position. I was completely zapped of energy. Mt. Hood Cycling Classis really took it out of me. I was racing with the Cat 3 women; for the first time. This so called Cat 3/4 race was a Cat 3 field with a couple of Cat 4s tagging along. My heart rate monitor read upwards of 180 for the majority of the weekend and the only reprieve I ever felt was after I crossed the line; not even the downhills offered a chance to relax.

While the results may not reflect it, I raced hard. I raced harder than I have all year. I gave what I had at the time, but looking back, I wonder whether I could have done more, trained harder. I missed a break in the Wy-East Road stage. I kicked myself for not practicing more surges and then road with the chase group until 5k to go and took off, passing 2 of the girls in the group in the last 3k. Could I have made that break if I had just pushed a little harder? I lost a lot of time on that stage, but I raced hard. Once I got shut out of the break, I realized how important it was to hang onto the wheel. I am learning, next time I will do better.

Starting out with an 18.5 mile time trial, my weekend unfolded like this……….

Stage 1: Time Trial from The Dalles Discovery Center to Hood River – 2000 ft of climbing, crazy headwind.
Clip on aero bars and a super chic aero helmet; I was ready. They sent us off in 30 second intervals. I climbed well, passing 3 girls in the first 10 miles; then got passed by 2 others on the descent. The head wind was so strong it took loads of effort not to get blown across the center line and there were times when rounding a corner, my speed would drop from 24 to 12 in a split second as I hit the wall of wind. A TT bike would have been helpful.

I crossed the finish line and rolled down the hill to the parking lot. My glutes were on fire, I spun out my legs; ouch. I reclaimed my breath, swallowed some recovery drink and did a cool-down with Susanna. Beautiful and brutal were the only words to describe what we had just ridden.

When the results were posted later that evening, I was disappointed. I placed 11th in the field of 39, 4 minutes behind the leader. This was going to be a tough race.

Stage 2: Wy-East Road Stage – 71 miles, 8500ft of climbing.
Rolling out of the Billy Bob Sno-Park at the start of Stage 2 seemed like an accomplishment in and of itself. The shuttle bus that planned to take the Cat 3/4 Women to the start of the race was running very late, got stuck behind the Cat 5 men, missed a turn and almost ran over a very small SmartCar in the process of turning around. We arrived at the start about 11:38; the race was to start at 11:40. They postponed the start until we could unload the bikes and get to the line. No time to warm up; it was time to ride.

The start of the race was down chipseal that convinced me there was something seriously wrong with my bike. I couldn't tell if it was the headset or my new wheels, but something was not right. The peleton was packed in close and I tried in vain to control the loquaciousness of my bike. I looked ahead just as a rider from Mountain View Cycles almost took out the entire pack but slamming on her brakes. Note to self: get away from her. The road was narrow and the girls were jumpy. A long stage lay before us and nerves were wound tight. The road flattened out and the pavement became smoother. My wheel seemed to be okay; I put any fears of a loose skewer out of my mind and just road on, hoping for the best.

I stayed toward to the front of the pack, 7th or 8th wheel for the first 10-12 miles. There were a couple of surges, but nothing too bad. The group was starting to break up and the pace was quicker than I expected, but I held on.

Up the first real hill, near Tygh Valley the girls from Hammer Velo started to launch, they were really working and riders started falling off the back. I couldn't tell how many, but I could sense there were fewer of us; maybe just 15 riders at this point. I was working hard to stay up in the front and knew the pace had to slow down at some point. On a short descent, I let a gap form between me and the wheel in front of me. I wasn't too worried, I would get regain it up the hill, but there was a surge from the front and I wasn’t able to get back on. I was about 20 bike lengths back at this point and then came a screaming descent I had not expected. I tried to tuck in and hold on. My computer read upwards of 47 mph, but it wasn't enough. I was alone and there were 10 out in front. At the base of the hill, I caught two girls that had fallen back and a couple of other riders caught the 3 of us. Up the next climb, I could see the front pack was breaking up. The Hammer Velo Girls were dropping back; we would catch them.

When we reached the pinstriped trio, they were spent, having pulled at the start of the race and done a lot of work in the lead group. With a large group now, we started double pace-lining and two of girls couldn't hang. We were trying to work together. It wasn't our intention to leave anyone, but we had to keep the pace up. My goal was to catch the lead group, but I soon realized that goal was not shared. For the majority of riders in my group, the goal was to avoid getting caught but the group behind us.

A strange thing about road racing is that you have to work with folks. You can't just say, well, I think I will go out on my own and catch them. If I had done that I would have time trialed for a couple of miles, exhausting myself, and probably would have been swallowed and then dropped; so I just sat in, taking my turn at the front, conserving energy and waiting.
At mile 39 I needed water. I started off the race with two bottles of Perpetuem. One was empty; right on schedule. But I needed water. I asked around, no one had any and everyone needed some. The feed zone was just a few miles away, I could wait that long. At the feed zone, I stuffed my full bottle of Pertetuem in my jersey pocket and took on board two fresh bottles. I drank down half of one and promptly dropped it while trying to put it in the cage. No worries, I had enough to make it another 21 miles, to the next feed.

43 miles into a 71 mile race, my legs started to fatigue. I had to keep eating, I needed the fuel, but I didn't want to. I made myself; every 5 minutes take a drink or a little Hammer Gel. About mile 50 I realized I felt better. The pace was too slow, I wanted to go faster, but with the headwind and the climbs that lay before us, I sat tight, working within the group, wondering how far ahead the lead pack was. At mile 62 we rolled through another feed zone, a bunch of the riders had their team support giving them fresh bottles of Heed and electrolyte drinks. I took on two bottles of cold water. More Hammer Gel, more water, keep eating.

In the feed zone we caught up with a River City rider who had been dropped from the lead pack. She said they were way ahead and that she had been riding alone for ten miles. She sat at the back of our group for a while and then started pushing the pace. I sat on her wheel, she dropped back. I pulled for a while then took second wheel. The big climb was yet to come. When I realized I wasn't going to catch the lead pack my goal became to pull away from my group on the final climb up to Mt. Hood Meadows.

With about 6 miles to go, Sam, from Hammer Velo launched off the front. Though she gained a sizeable lead on us, no one appeared concerned. I didn't like that fact that she was out there, but I also wasn't about to pull our whole group up to catch her. I sat at the front of the group, setting an easy pace, feeling good.
Then the climb began. We were almost to highway 35 and Sam was still out ahead of us. I came to the front of our group and got into a comfortable rhythm. I could see I was reeling her in, passing a couple of struggling guys, solid.

I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see a whole string of girls. No one was there. I shifted down, stood up. I was going to catch Sam. At 3k to the finish I passed her and spotted a couple of other women up ahead. I started setting little goals for myself; and it worked. I was accelerating as I climbed and I passed the two other women.

I came into the parking lot and looked for the finish. I could only see yellow cones, no finish line. I followed the cones around and at that back of the lot was the finishing banner. No one was there to cheer me on, it was the Cat 3/4 race after all, and I wasn't even in the lead group. I sprinted across the line with everything I had. With no idea how I had placed. All I knew was that those hill repeats paid off.

It wasn't until later that night that I saw my results. I had placed 7th. Not great.
I was disappointed in myself for letting that lead group get away.
I called Ben. And, like always, he knew just what to say.
We ate pizza, got ice cream.
With the road stage over, it was time to think about the crit.

Stage 3: Hood River Criterium 30 minutes, 6 corners. Aka, the Big Hurt!
Sunday morning. I woke up at 6am, 4 hours until race time. The crit went down pretty well; I had a great warm-up, pre-rode the course, got line advice from Doug and actually felt like I was “in it”.

The course was technical, 6 corners, one of which was a 180 degree turn on an off-camber downhill. It was here that all the accidents happened – 6 to be specific. Girls kart-wheeling over each other, running into hay bails, the sound of carbon fiber on asphalt.

The race started out fast and furious. I was in the second or third row at the start and when the bell went off, the Hammer Velo Girl in front of me didn’t move. She was having trouble with her pedal and while I should have asked if I could help, I instead maneuvered around her and struggled to get contact with the front group.

The first couple laps are the hardest. Your heart rate is high, your legs are burning and when you pass the clock for the 4th or 5th time and realize you’ve only been riding for 7 minutes, you don’t know if you will be able to hold on. But you work through it, and pretty soon you have just 10 laps to go.

I stayed with the front group the whole time, sometimes 5th wheel, sometimes 12th, but never much further back than that. I led one lap, which proved to be the easiest of the whole race; setting the pace and not worrying about the wheels in front of me.

A couple of girls went down in the last lap, but there was still a large field at the front. I sprinted up the outside on the straightaway and took the next uphill corner on the outside. I tucked in, out of the wind and took the inside line on the last corner, then uphill to the finish. I was in my drops, standing. I passed three girls in the last couple of meters and got passed by one on the far right side. I finished in 7th place. Not good enough for the podium, but somehow, oddly, I was pleased.

The General Classification
I finished 7th overall. Not spectacular, but respectable. I finished 7th and now more than ever want to train harder, get fastest, ride stronger. I raced harder than ever before and now know I can push myself even farther. 

Bike racing in not something that you become good at over night. Years of experience, hours in the saddle and a lot of dedication are key ingredients.
Keep working, you will get there, I tell myself.
My legs are tired. I need to rest. I am taking the day off and looking forward to next year’s Mt Hood Cycling Classic with motivated ambition.

MT Hood Cycling Classic

It is race time again. I can feel it.
My stomach is restless.
My legs are aching.
My mind is wandering.

The Mt. Hood Cycling Classic starts for me on Friday with an 18.5 mile time trail, up and over the Rowena Loops from the Dallas to Hood River.

Will my wheels be ready, do I have the right gearing, have I trained properly? Am I resting enough, am I tapering too much?

Saturday holds a 71 mile road race around Mt. Hood, complete with 8,500 feet of climbing and a huge uphill finish at Mt Hood Meadows.

I look at the Racer List. Many names I recognize, more I do not. Women are coming from Idaho, British Columbia, California, Washington. Some race for the Kristin Armstrong Development Team, one girl is only 15. I will be the only Woman wearing the Sunnyside Kit.

Did I do enough intervals, hill repeats, squats? Has my descending improved? And what about my cornering? Will I get dropped on the downhill again?

I will have the answers to these questions come Sunday, when we line up for the Crit; a technical course with an uphill, 180 degree corner.

Why am I nervous? There is nothing more I can do. At this point in the game, the training is over.

Being nervous doesn't make you faster or stronger or more aero. It only keeps you from sleeping well at night.

So, my goal is to not be nervous, but instead be strong; race hard, be smart, stay safe, and above all, have fun.