This weekend's "chase the race" routine finds me in Pittsburgh, where a small-ish crit on Saturday prepped us for the big show - the Steel City Showdown. The big weekend of travel came as a bit of a surprise even to me, as only a few days ago I commented that I had no desire to drive to Pittsburgh, I was staying local (relatively speaking) to race the Rock Lititz stage race. Unfortunately, that plan fell apart when the promoter removed the women's category from bikereg. No announcement, no "last call" ... 4 days before race day and a very unceremonious withdrawal of the women's category. We can get into the whole "womens racing" debate at a later date - suffice it to say that I'm seeing some new faces and new places and that's good enough for me.
Back up to last week - the All American Road Race. Decent open women's field with quite a few Category 4 and Junior Racers. Again, the trouble was partly that the newbies were strong enough to stay in the field but didn't really have the experience or finesse to understand racing in a pack - much less with a yellow-line rule. I appreciate that they're out there and, hey, we've all been there as beginners with more hubris than common sense. Once 2 girls got off the front, no one cared to organize for a chase. With the firepower we had in the field, we could have run them down but everyone thinks they're going to be a sprinter so, we rolled around more or less as a parade, with accelerations here and there along with calls to "organize" and "paceline" from the back.
Favorite moment in the race was when I decided to pull my weight and hopped into a short-lived paceline. This whole "racing for myself" thing is very odd for me and I'm not sure yet when to use a match and when I should conserve - I'm erring more on conservation until I can figure out the tone of the races and my own limitations. Anyway, I'm in a very innocuous jersey and a lot of girls don't know that it's me. So, I pull through, put in a decent dig and proceed to pull off in due time. The girl coming up next to me kindly coached me through the proper technique (ok, now slow down a little so I can pass you. good job). I just smiled and drifted back. Most of you know that I've been well indoctrinated in pacelines for many years. I still appreciated that the girl was at least kind and nice about it.
Speaking of which, I'm noticing in no uncertain terms that the tone of womens racing has changed since I last raced (more or less in 2009). I'm not sure if everyone is just angry when they get to the races or if people think they're going to go pro by bombing the turn at Dolan. There's definitely an element of middle-school lunch table politics - if you're not in our color than you are the ENEMY, perhaps even the spawn of satan. I'm all good with healthy competition and, coming to the line, there's only one goal - to WIN. What I'm seeing, though, is a complete lack of respect and common civility in races. To the point of taking the safety of the pack for granted - eg. I'm NOT going to let so-and-so get this wheel or make a jump and if I take her out (along with everyone behind her), sobeit.
When someone speaks in the pack, people automatically take offense and mark that person. I tend to let people know when, coming into a turn, I'm on their inside - you're looking ahead, not to the side, so it's a courtesy and a safety precaution. If you don't like the heads up - ignore it. No need for snarky comments or threats.
Ok, I'll climb off my soapbox. Today started with hail on the drive into Pittsburgh. Chilly, but not cold - we've been spoiled by the fabulous weather we've enjoyed the past couple months so I keep reminding myself that IT'S NOT THAT BAD. Time for a quick warmup and off we went with a pack of maybe 15 or 20 girls. Only a couple were active and after a few nice digs, the eventual winner took off, never to be seen again. Ok, we could see her, we just weren't going to chase her. For reasons unknown. A couple girls tried to activate the field but, again, no one wanted to burn a match to make it happen so we all became sprinters. I'm not a sprinter but - as mentioned above - I'm just not sure of my limitations yet so aside from a verbal tiff with one of the younger girls (again, note the commentary above), I stayed relatively calm and waited for the finish.
As expected, an attack came on the 2nd to last turn of the oval - unfortunately, it came from the inside, pushing a few of us off our line and I scrubbed off some speed. Played catch up and made a good run of it to the finish, coming up 8th. So I'm coming to the line and the girl I had the tiff with saw me coming and kicked it up. We both threw our bikes and she came up a quarter wheel ahead of me. I looked over and - graciously said - NICE! "You didn't get it" she retorted. As I rode away, I told her "I was saying nice job, (insert expletive here)". See what I mean about lack of respect? Here I was being gracious to someone who gave me a run for my money and I catch sh!t about it. Back in my day, women's racing was a lot more fun. I'm hopeful that we can get back to that but I'm not sure how.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
TGIF-4/20/12: Suddenly 13 is a Lucky Number
Progress is good - I FINALLY managed to cowboy-up and actually finish a race without sitting up before the sprint. I'm told it's really all in my head (this is a likely scenario), that it's a self-fulfilling prophecy when I say I don't sprint. Congrats to ABRT's Katy Giles, who put on an encore to her Black Hills solo win. The other teams in the field either couldn't or wouldn't organize a chase so all of the one-offs and two-offs (like myself) just kinda got to ride around in circles with occasional accelerations and plenty of smack-talk.
I came through the final turn in terrible position. Since I'm still distrustful of unfamiliar wheels, I created a sprint-opportunity out of every turn and this was no exception. As an aside, don't we always love the girls IN THE BACK yelling at people not to slow down in the turn? Sorry, ladies - if you're not going through first, you're gonna hit your brakes.
I performed a poor excuse for a sprint to keep up with the field that went through a little faster/smoother and pushed off the thought of sitting up. While spinning up the hill I noticed I was passing quite a few girls who were fading after starting the sprint too early ... is it just me or did it seem like the finish line was further and further away every time we crested that hill? Anhoo, once I realized that I might actually get a finish out of this thing, I stood up, stepped up the pace and crossed the finish line with some speed. When I could breathe again, I looked in front of me and saw a swarm of ladies. Maybe a little disappointed but still relatively pleased with myself for perceived progress, I estimated maybe a top 25? Without bothering to check results, I spun around, handled some drama, cooled off and changed out of my super-girl suit.
Later in the day, I stopped to congratulate one of the Evo girls on a strong race. We talked about the race in general and I remarked that I felt good about progress and maybe cracked the top 25. She looked incredulous and said no, you were 13th. 13th!!! I almost hugged her. Then I went and took a pic of the posted finishing sheet to send to my coach (the one who thinks this is all in my head. again, this is quite possible). Lucky 13 - not much to some but it was to me. And really, this is all about me so that's what matters.
**THANK YOU** to DC Velo - always a class act. All of the women I spoke to appreciated the separation of 1-2-3s and the 4s.
I came through the final turn in terrible position. Since I'm still distrustful of unfamiliar wheels, I created a sprint-opportunity out of every turn and this was no exception. As an aside, don't we always love the girls IN THE BACK yelling at people not to slow down in the turn? Sorry, ladies - if you're not going through first, you're gonna hit your brakes.
I performed a poor excuse for a sprint to keep up with the field that went through a little faster/smoother and pushed off the thought of sitting up. While spinning up the hill I noticed I was passing quite a few girls who were fading after starting the sprint too early ... is it just me or did it seem like the finish line was further and further away every time we crested that hill? Anhoo, once I realized that I might actually get a finish out of this thing, I stood up, stepped up the pace and crossed the finish line with some speed. When I could breathe again, I looked in front of me and saw a swarm of ladies. Maybe a little disappointed but still relatively pleased with myself for perceived progress, I estimated maybe a top 25? Without bothering to check results, I spun around, handled some drama, cooled off and changed out of my super-girl suit.
Later in the day, I stopped to congratulate one of the Evo girls on a strong race. We talked about the race in general and I remarked that I felt good about progress and maybe cracked the top 25. She looked incredulous and said no, you were 13th. 13th!!! I almost hugged her. Then I went and took a pic of the posted finishing sheet to send to my coach (the one who thinks this is all in my head. again, this is quite possible). Lucky 13 - not much to some but it was to me. And really, this is all about me so that's what matters.
**THANK YOU** to DC Velo - always a class act. All of the women I spoke to appreciated the separation of 1-2-3s and the 4s.
Friday, April 13, 2012
TGIF 4/13/12 - Reinventing a Bike Racer
First, A BIG, HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who's been so supportive of my return to racing, including and most of all, the
boy.
While stressing and agonizing fear of failure and fear of the now-unknown, I've been doing a lot of thinking about my prior race lives. In recent years, I was an instigator while chasing down unfavorable breaks and organizing a lead out for our designated sprinter. Previous teammates called me the puppet-master as I often orchestrated the strategy from within the race, filling in if I could when someone wasn't able to play their part. I almost always finished at the back, having played my part to set up a team win. And that we had - lots of team wins.
When you're new to anything, you do what comes naturally, what "feels" right. From the beginning I was predisposed as a gear grinder - big gears to power past people, up hills and through the finish. The trouble was that I didn't have the power to "power past" anything. Sprint was a dirty word to me, seeing as that doesn't work with aforementioned big gears. I could suffer more/longer/better than most and that was a source of early success. Once you get past the beginner categories, though, that logic only works for team worker-bees - people who can damage other people but aren't going to pull out a finish without a closer. I pigeonholed myself as a leadout expert and/or a breakaway rider. For a while that worked - being a part of a bigger thing, "I love it when a plan comes together" etc. After a time it's expected that you'll be the workhorse, suffering for the greater good, covering when someone else can't or won't, always sacrificing your result for a team result. Teammates knew I'd fill in if they decided to conserve for their own finish or raced contrary to the agreed-upon strategy. That's when it stopped being fun, when it stopped working for me.
Fast forward a couple years - the women's team I helped to create no longer exists in the same form. I left that team the week before I was injured in 2010. I realize there's no "I" in team but sometimes there has to be a "happy" in me. I always thought it wouldn't matter what color your lycra was, friends are friends. Of course there was drama at the time but no hard feelings, that's old news and, honestly, things change.
the definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
This time, it's different. Everything has changed, from my home to my job to my personal happiness. I trained differently this winter - thanks to Coach Chris (my xmas present from the boy). I am approaching racing differently, taking it a lot slower than my normal bull-in-a-china-shop pace. Maybe even exercising a little (very little) patience as I get my feet wet again.
I've recently noticed that I'm no longer a gear-grinder. Sometimes I'll find myself looking for heavier gears but when I grab them I realize they're no longer my comfort zone. My average cadence has increased significantly and I put out higher and steadier power numbers with the higher cadence. I'm learning how to race for myself - conserve a little more, react to others rather than having them react to me, allow someone else to instigate or set the pace instead of doing it all on my own. I haven't got it all figured out yet but each race leaves me with more education.
I'm even approaching the prospect of a team differently. There was a time when I thought that being a part of a team was required - partially because of my self-imposed status as a worker-bee. Then, I decided I'd never be on a team again - a knee-jerk reaction (once bitten, twice shy). Now, as I'm figuring myself out and getting to know some fantastic women, I'm enjoying the lower-stress of just racing my bike instead of trying to run a team, plan team events, look for sponsorship, run interference between teammates etc.
There has to be a happy medium and sometimes you just have to know your limits. For those of us hard-headed, type-A personalities, sometimes your limits have to hit you in the face a few times before you reluctantly acknowledge them.
Here's to the reinvention of this racer-girl. It'll be fun to see how this turns out!
While stressing and agonizing fear of failure and fear of the now-unknown, I've been doing a lot of thinking about my prior race lives. In recent years, I was an instigator while chasing down unfavorable breaks and organizing a lead out for our designated sprinter. Previous teammates called me the puppet-master as I often orchestrated the strategy from within the race, filling in if I could when someone wasn't able to play their part. I almost always finished at the back, having played my part to set up a team win. And that we had - lots of team wins.
When you're new to anything, you do what comes naturally, what "feels" right. From the beginning I was predisposed as a gear grinder - big gears to power past people, up hills and through the finish. The trouble was that I didn't have the power to "power past" anything. Sprint was a dirty word to me, seeing as that doesn't work with aforementioned big gears. I could suffer more/longer/better than most and that was a source of early success. Once you get past the beginner categories, though, that logic only works for team worker-bees - people who can damage other people but aren't going to pull out a finish without a closer. I pigeonholed myself as a leadout expert and/or a breakaway rider. For a while that worked - being a part of a bigger thing, "I love it when a plan comes together" etc. After a time it's expected that you'll be the workhorse, suffering for the greater good, covering when someone else can't or won't, always sacrificing your result for a team result. Teammates knew I'd fill in if they decided to conserve for their own finish or raced contrary to the agreed-upon strategy. That's when it stopped being fun, when it stopped working for me.
Fast forward a couple years - the women's team I helped to create no longer exists in the same form. I left that team the week before I was injured in 2010. I realize there's no "I" in team but sometimes there has to be a "happy" in me. I always thought it wouldn't matter what color your lycra was, friends are friends. Of course there was drama at the time but no hard feelings, that's old news and, honestly, things change.
the definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
This time, it's different. Everything has changed, from my home to my job to my personal happiness. I trained differently this winter - thanks to Coach Chris (my xmas present from the boy). I am approaching racing differently, taking it a lot slower than my normal bull-in-a-china-shop pace. Maybe even exercising a little (very little) patience as I get my feet wet again.
I've recently noticed that I'm no longer a gear-grinder. Sometimes I'll find myself looking for heavier gears but when I grab them I realize they're no longer my comfort zone. My average cadence has increased significantly and I put out higher and steadier power numbers with the higher cadence. I'm learning how to race for myself - conserve a little more, react to others rather than having them react to me, allow someone else to instigate or set the pace instead of doing it all on my own. I haven't got it all figured out yet but each race leaves me with more education.
I'm even approaching the prospect of a team differently. There was a time when I thought that being a part of a team was required - partially because of my self-imposed status as a worker-bee. Then, I decided I'd never be on a team again - a knee-jerk reaction (once bitten, twice shy). Now, as I'm figuring myself out and getting to know some fantastic women, I'm enjoying the lower-stress of just racing my bike instead of trying to run a team, plan team events, look for sponsorship, run interference between teammates etc.
There has to be a happy medium and sometimes you just have to know your limits. For those of us hard-headed, type-A personalities, sometimes your limits have to hit you in the face a few times before you reluctantly acknowledge them.
Here's to the reinvention of this racer-girl. It'll be fun to see how this turns out!
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
My Jeff Cup (in a nutshell)
Ahh ... yet another Jeff Cup race report ... actually, I'll go against my rambling ways and summarize:
Ok, longish for a summary, but not a bad effort by yours truly.
As an aside, I hung out in the feedzone for the boy's race. I have nothing but more jacked up tan lines to show for it. Seriously. At this point, no one could actually make fun of me for the tan lines. The only acceptable reaction is to cringe and suggest a tanning salon.
Thank you - THANK YOU - to Ruth. As always, a class-act and an amazing feat to continue the tradition year after year. To all of those who complain or blatantly ignore common sense - STOP. Go promote a race. Until you do, you couldn't possibly understand the thankless job of race promoter.
Skies opened up and poured on us during the pre-ride on Saturday.
Wow - the grilled sea bass was awesome.
Newspaper definitely works to dry out soggy shoes.
WaffleHouse is the breakfast of champions.
Seeing old friends and getting hugs is good for the soul.
Not cool: Moto official "flipped a b*tch" in front of about 40 racers during the roll-out.
Teams don't seem to be working together as well as I've seen in the past.
Hills weren't nearly as intimidating and they were in my head. Downhills are worth the uphill work.
Playing surrogate teammate is fun.
Neutralized on lap 4. Officials kindly ignored the ladies who answered nature's call.
Sun finally came out on the last lap.
Terrible position for final surge. Sat up before the the turn.
Not ready to mix it up in a sprint yet.
Almost threw up my arms in victory after Sue paced me to the finish. (thank you!!)
I'M BACK!!!
Ok, longish for a summary, but not a bad effort by yours truly.
As an aside, I hung out in the feedzone for the boy's race. I have nothing but more jacked up tan lines to show for it. Seriously. At this point, no one could actually make fun of me for the tan lines. The only acceptable reaction is to cringe and suggest a tanning salon.
Thank you - THANK YOU - to Ruth. As always, a class-act and an amazing feat to continue the tradition year after year. To all of those who complain or blatantly ignore common sense - STOP. Go promote a race. Until you do, you couldn't possibly understand the thankless job of race promoter.
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