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.
Friday, April 20, 2012
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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