Mea Culpa (and some awesome races this weekend)

First, let me start out with the ugly - I owe many people a Mea Culpa for my outburst at the finish line today. I could make excuses and rationalizations all day long, but the fact is *I* was that jerk today. As the refs told me (when I went to apologize), they were "flabbergasted" (his words, not mine) to hear that language coming from me. I pride myself in acting responsibly and in the interest of the sport and I failed. Call it the heat of the moment, call it a temporary moment of insanity, but there's no excuse and I wouldn't let someone else slide on it so ... thereyago. No need to rehash the situation, no need to point fingers- I did it, I own it and I won't do it again. I've apologized to those I could and thank you to those who offered to vouch for me in the event the refs wanted to DQ me. I'm truly sorry for my behavior and I do hope it didn't leave a lasting impression on any of those who witnessed it.

(Deep Breath) - Okay, with that done ... Big, huge compliments to both Chris Gould and Ruth Stornetta for this weekend's awesome races. The courses were well planned, well marked and challenging. As someone who has promoted races before, I know these events never go off without a hitch or two, but, as a racer, both the Shenandoah Time Trial and the Millers School Road Race are worthy of the label "annual classics" on the calendar. If you didn't attend, you missed out!

The time trial started a touch rocky for me - as the holder let me go, the bike leaned to the right and I almost rode into the ditch. Jim Wilson - he who takes the amazing action shots that we all love to see of ourselves - captured the moment where I look either constipated or like I'm about to cry. If he were in the right spot, he would have caught another fabulous shot about two miles in where I thought I might do the latter - it's been a while since I've done a "hilly" 40k TT and I am admittedly vertically challenged (though less so than I was when I first got back on the bike). The first climb did not do me any favors but there was a bit of a reward afterward with a slight downhill before the stair-step rollers started. I knew the race was mostly up going out and, after a little kick at the turnaround, it was supposed to be very fast coming back. By the time I got to the turn around, I had passed all of my competitors so I settled in for a "fun" ride back. The part that either I wasn't told or I blocked from memory was the wall that I hit just as I was feeling good about myself for flying down the hills. I remembered how uncomfortable it is to climb on my TT bike when I came out of the saddle to make it up that hill. I got to the top, got a little reward and then - what the? - ANOTHER hill? I made it up and finally got back on the roads I recognized from the beginning of the ride. The road pitched down again and, on the last turn before the finishing stretch, I nearly took myself out by overcooking the deceptively sweeping turn. I recovered, stood on the pedals and got back up to speed for the finish. I'm happy to report that, despite myself, I managed to take the 35+ win. After a couple of challenging (read: bad for me) weekends at great races like the Franklin Omnium and Lost River, I needed that!

After waiting for the TT results, stopping to grab lunch and traveling an hour to our home for the evening - otherwise known as the Holiday Inn - we were all pretty wiped. Recovery was a little lacking, I admit, but we did get to bed at a decent hour after watching the re-runs of the swimming event. 

The boy graciously left me sleeping while he headed off to his race. I finally rolled out of bed, packed up and texted Gwenn, who was joining me for breakfast before making our way over to the course. We pulled ourselves together (after I spent a few moments with her "thumper" - get your mind out of the gutter) and navigated to our "champions breakfast".

Once we arrived to the Millers School, we sat in the feedzone to watch the boys finish - thanks to Mrs. Fuentes for trying to feed the boy in my absence but moreso for the fantastic story about the guy who tried to steal the bottle she was holding out! - and commenced to the logistics of getting numbers pinned, finding heart rate monitors, changing brake pads (thank you to the boy!) and ... where does one do nature's business when in nature without a portajohn? - I rolled down to check out the first climb and I'm glad I did. It was a harsh way to start the race but the pre-ride gave me the confidence that it WOULD end. It was nice to see a strong field as we lined up - Super C-O was there, along with the Enforcer; Kenda had a strong showing, Jeanette made a welcome appearance and the ABRT girls were there to mix it up. I knew it was going to be a tough day in the saddle. We were only doing two laps and I silently wished that we might take the first lap as a parade lap. Of course, we didn't.

ABRT drilled it up the hill and we settled into a slightly uncomfortable (for me) pace. I stayed near the front, but never on the front - remember that whole "vertically challenged thing". I never once looked back during the race so I always had the feeling that someone was going to jump around me and kill it. ABRT jumped once and we brought her back but it cost us a few bullets. A different ABRT jumped and before you knew it, she was out of sight. Gone out for a solo ride in the hills. We played around in the pack, some accelerations and some attacks, but nothing was seriously going to bring the solo rider back. We knew this because the peanut gallery on the side of the road told us so in no uncertain terms.

We charged up the hill to get the bell as we crossed the finish line. Some girls took feeds but I was focusing on breathing - as in, the effort to arrive at the top of the hill in good position had me in a tough place. Luckily, there was a fantastic downhill after the line and I was feeling pretty good about myself for making it. I also knew I only had to do that godforsaken hill one more time. There was some carnage the second time up the initial climb but aside from a few small moves, the surviving group stayed civilized. It got a little spicy as we made our way toward the finishing climb and ABRT attacked to string things out. As we made the right hand turn around 1k to go, we were all grabbing gears like our lives depended on it. I managed to hang on and passed a couple people on the way up. I even (gasp) stood up to do a slo-mo sprint for the finish. Of course, this is where the "outburst" above comes into play. Despite that, I was honestly pretty pleased with my-vertically-challenged-self as I crested the hill to the finish line.

The end result: 10th overall, 3rd in the MABRA 35+ and 2nd in the VA 30+. The ABRT ladies cleaned up with a sweep of the overall podium but there were notable finishes for quite a few of our regular rock-stars - congrats to everyone for a great weekend of races!

Things I've Learned From Cycling

As I sat on a wooden bench in the shade after the Chantilly Crit yesterday, bag of ice on my back, drenched in sweat and making a very conscious effort to keep my pre-race lunch down, I took a second to reflect on the events that brought me to this exact moment. It wasn't just the frustrating race with what felt like a dozen attempts to get away, it wasn't the extreme heat (over 110 on the tarmac before the start), it wasn't the chase to bridge a 3-girl breakaway or the final 3 lap smackdown that peaked my heart rate at 206bpm (!). The event that brought me here, girls and boys, was cycling - racing to be precise.

My entire vocabulary has changed in the 8 years since I first pinned on a number. Breaks, drafting, vO2, threshold, skinsuits, sponsorships and ominums - none of these terms held meaning back when I was a young whippersnapper - only falling short of official "fred" status because I managed to take off the visor that came with my styrofoam helmet and I didn't know yet what a camelback was. Bridging must've been a made up verb about building one. Recovery was what you did after you found yourself dancing on the bar the night before. The concept of going out in the dead of winter with hand warmers, toe warmers, fleece tights and a balaclava was nowhere in my universe. 

These days, I have to tread carefully through daily conversations with laymen - a story about how I had to change in the parking lot again (do you know how hard it is to shimmy into a skinsuit when you're already sweating?!?!) doesn't go over well and the declaration that I need to DRINK before my race doesn't hold the same connotation with the general public. 

As for yesterday, that was the day I learned to appreciate the IceSock- it kept me cool for at least a handful of the opening laps, dripping cool water from melting ice down my back. I also re-learned the value of a cold, wet towel after a hot race. A few of us, trying to keep cool under a strategically placed tent provided by the Fuentii, laughed about how we've learned to prep for these events - at least two coolers, more chairs than you think you need, extra ice, extra jugs of water, sunscreen, sunglasses and, if you are looking for real style, a big, floppy hat. Yesterday was definitely a sundress day - not just because we look cute in them but because they make it easier to change in parking lots. Oh, and I keep saying "we" ... even when you're not wearing the same kit, cycling is usually a social sport. We root for each other when we're not out-sprinting or out-climbing each other. Most of us have a kind word or two for solid competitors - nice pull, good run, awesome race for you and the biggest compliment anyone can give me (personally) - I love racing with you! We stand out in fields to give a hand up to our significant others, our teammates and sometimes their teammates (bring your own bottle, I can feed you but I'm not your supplier!). If we're lucky, we become good friends with other cyclists that we may never have met if not for the sport.

All the training, all the equipment (rollers - who knew they weren't just for long hair?), all the time, money, heart and effort we put into this sport - it's what brings us to 100+  degree race days where we share stories while we shimmy into lycra and wait for the whistle to blow so that we can throw it all down for ourselves, our friends, our teammates, our significant others and anyone else willing to sit on the sidelines and cheer for a good show. After the madness of the final lap, we find our exit from the course and sometimes only make it to the first friendly face with a bottle of water or some ice or simply a kind word. It's all a blur at that point - it's over but the effort cost everything we had to give. That is the moment where I found myself on Sunday. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Well, That Coulda Gone Better

Yes, I know - it's been almost a month. And today is not Friday, it's Saturday so I'm even too late to do TGIF. In my defense, I wanted to do a post yesterday, I really did. But with the new job comes new personnel to break in so I thought I probably shouldn't start my second day at the new gig with a blog post. Anyway.

The title of this post refers to my Hagerstown race this morning. I've never raced the "classic" course; I've always done the course a block over - you know, the one with the sharp left into a hill and the sweet 120-degree turn on the backside. On second thought, I think even that course had changed since I've done it (2008). This one was fun and pretty fast when we got going, which didn't happen until we completed a couple of parade laps to feel out the course and acclimate to the heat. Everything was going smooth like buttah until a pair of pedestrians nonchalantly started to cross at turn two - right as the field picked up speed to turn into the hill. There was a lot of yelling and some screeching of brakes; one rider says she actually ran over the pedestrian's toes. At the same time, the front of the pack charged the hill and suddenly there was a split in the field. Of course, that's the lap I had drifted to the back - the absolute worst place to be. I silently cursed myself as I commenced to chase and managed to get my friend about 3/4 of the way across before I was spent.

Once the remainder of the field swallowed me up, I commenced to organizing a chase. It soon became clear that I was the only one motivated to do so - the others would take the ride if I wanted to give it to them but there was no help. I jumped more than a few times but always wound up with people sitting on but not willing to pull through. The second I pulled off, everything slowed back down. I rolled up to one of my favorite riders and asked if she was interested in catching - she was blissfully honest to say she had no interest due to a teammate in the front split but she wouldn't mess things up and might even take a token pull here and there. You know who you are - as always, a class act!

As the race wound down and riders dropped out, my little group consisted of 3 riders with teammates up the road in the 8 rider split and one other rider that didn't have teammates. I roll up to her, introduce myself and say that we're the only two with a reason to try to catch the leaders. She says - ok - charge at the hill. Assuming that she meant to follow and chase with me, I fling myself up the hill on the next lap. Look behind me and ... she was nowhere to be found. At one point I tried to talk myself off the ledge with the theory that at least *I* was getting in a decent workout - my coach should be thrilled with the intervals! With 3 to go, another rider tried to take a flyer and I thought - THANK YOU, at least now we can play a little. She had a nice jump on the hill and I chased to catch her wheel. We had a gap coming into 2-to-go. I was, admittedly, sitting on - I had done a ton of work and knew I wouldn't have the jump for the finish if I did much more. We made the turn into the hill ... where she sat up - the remainder of the riders caught on and we made the turn into the bell lap.

Here's where my mind was - I have no idea how many are up the road and, honestly, my race was done when I missed the split. The rest of the event was experimenting with my jump, how long I could hold the field off and how much recovery I needed in between. Yeah, I tried to motivate a chase but I kind of knew it was a wasted effort. We could see the front group had slowed way down but still - no interest from the other girls to catch them. I knew I could hold a lap at speed but with no jump. So I decided I would charge the hill and take a half-lap-flyer for the finish. It worked beautifully. Both for the finish and the experiment. I held it to the end for a solo finish. That was my consolation prize - I did a ton of work, took a final risk and held it.

Later, one of my very good friends went to collect her prize $$ and came back with cold-hard-cash. She tries to hand me some and I refuse - she had already mentioned she'd share some of her winnings b/c I helped her bridge to the break. Then she forces me to take it by informing me that I finished in the $$ - my response? "NO (insert expletive)!!". Payout was to 8 and I finished 8th - the flyer was well worth it!

So, that could have gone better. I could have made the split and contested the finish, or helped my friend contest the finish. But, in the end, my success for the day was making my entry fee back. So I guess it coulda gone worse.

An aside: people talk to me. I don't know why, but they do. So I hear all kinds of issues and reports about various happenings in the race. For example, one rider apparently went off course - outside the cones- to make her way to the front to attack. Poor form. Also reported in this race, another rider seemed to disappear for a lap or so, only to reappear on the course when the front group caught her - as in, the story goes, she may have sat out a lap or so. Very poor form.

I did not witness either of these instances so the most I can say is

1. If you see it, report it. If people are too scared of the repercussions or too PC to call a spade, a spade, it's not going to stop. Waiting for someone else to say something means you are complicit in the behavior.

2. If you are the one cheating like this, shame on you. It's AMATEUR racing. Yes, it's competition but isn't cheating kind of defeating the spirit of the game? This is only one step down from doping to win the masters races. How do you look at yourself in the mirror?

That's what I've got for the day - more racing tomorrow at Chantilly.