A Late Jefferson Cup 2014 Survival Report

About a week before race-day, Ruth mentioned on Facebook that the weather was going to be sunny and in the 60’s. As the week progressed, forecasted temperatures dropped and by Saturday we knew it was going to be NOT sunny and NOT in the 60’s. 

Ever the optimist (or perhaps in denial), I did some openers at home and proceeded to pack the car for the drive south.

Race Day. Cold. Light rain. Nothing I couldn’t handle. I wasn’t HAPPY about it but at some point a girl’s gotta just get on with the business at hand. We had all of our Cat 2 women signed up and the typical strong field of competition for the first big race of the season. Given the weather conditions, several of the women (arguably smarter than me) bowed out.  We gathered for the pre-race instructions. And waited. Freezing. Then we rolled out for the slow ride to the start line. And waited. Freezing. 

Finally the whistle blew and we got moving. I was just happy to move hoping to warm up. I thought I was prepared but I failed to pack winter gloves and shoe covers. It had rained most of the night so the roads were wet; the second my feet got wet they froze. The upside is that once they go numb you really can’t feel anything and hey, my legs could still turn the pedals. See? Ever the optimist. 

The first time up “the hill” we were rather civilized. I felt good spinning up the climb and happy to be in the front few as we crested. Then the downhill. In halfway normal conditions I can take a downhill. But these were wet roads. With potholes that could be puddles and puddles that might be potholes. And over-anxious riders, some recently upgraded and doing their first 1-2-3 race. I backed WAY off and found myself chasing on. Which was ok – upright and chasing sure beats on the pavement because someone thought they could bomb a wet descent. 

I caught on just fine and sat in for the “false flat” section; we came across the line gruppo compacto. There were a few accelerations and a couple of honest attacks. I was definitely conserving energy given the distance of the race and the deteriorating conditions. Again, I dropped way back on the descent leading up to the “false flat” and I just knew that someone would attack there. And … someone did, just as I was recovering from chasing on. I did this to myself, I said to me. And I was ok with it. The move went and a split happened. I couldn’t cover and I had no idea who was up there or how many were 1-2s. 

I settled in with Sue, Nikki, Mary and a VA Beach woman. We picked up Michelle on the way. Kelley was with us for a bit but she was having trouble shifting due to frozen fingers. It was raining for reals and the temperature was dropping. Coming across the line, we were advised that our race was cut short by a lap. We had a nice paceline going (side note - it’s amazing to me how many people in higher categories that don’t know the basics of pacelining) and had the lead group in sight coming to the first turn. I think they saw us and accelerated. Or maybe they just accelerated. Either way, that was the last time we saw them. 

We had been working well together but once we made that first turn and the lead group was gone, one girl attacked our group and went into the wind by herself. Not sure what that was about so we let her dangle out there for a while, catching her before the end of the downhill. The wind had picked up and I was starting to lose feeling in my right thumb. Random, I know. 

There wasn’t much talking, just pedaling. We all knew we had one more lap to go and had settled into that special place you go when you’re suffering; you know there is an end but you have to get there.

I was sitting second wheel coming up to what we thought would be the bell-lap. About 50meters from the line someone on the side of the road shouts “YOU’RE FINISHING NOW!!!” The other girls hesitated a half second. I dumped two gears and stood up to get to the line first. And, I did.

The lead group had 4 women in my category, so I scored 5^th. Kelley came just behind our group to grab 9^th in our category. Funny, most races SOMEONE would get all uppity about paying for a full race and getting cut short. The general consensus was that we wish we had some more warning but THANK YOU. 

The next race was to get out of wet clothing. Riding back to the school was torture after going super hard for the finish and abruptly stopping. I left my bike where anyone could take it if they wanted, my car was left unlocked and my most valuable possession at this point was dry clothing. The girls bathroom looked like a locker room, with racers peeling out of wet layers as fast as possible. Afterward, I sat on the bench near registration with Kelley. Brittany and Dana – both smarter and warmer for not racing – tried to warm us up. I must’ve looked pretty bad; I was worried about Kelley but the EMT kept checking on me. It took a solid 45mins to stop violently shivering. The smartest thing I had done all day was to ask for late checkout. Once I could be trusted to drive, I quickly loaded up my bike (thankfully still there) and went back to the hotel for a glorious hot shower. 

Thank you to those who helped take care of the near-hypothermic riders. For me, that was Dana, Brittany and Cheryl. 

In the end, this wasn’t a race strictly on fitness or strength. 

It was all about survival.  

Ramblings on Tour of Washington County

For those that are considering boycotting ToWC and/or other races due to the lack of a women's field THIS YEAR – think of the bigger picture. Lower attendance (less of a show) will have to be explained to sponsors when asking for support in 2015. Do we want the entire race to disappear – one of only TWO stage races in the area – because one group was not included? And would that impact the other races that this club puts on? Isn’t the solution to find out why our numbers are so low and do something about it?

As for my fellow women racers – Thank you. For showing up when you can, for making me show up, for making me work harder to be better whether in races or training rides. We can’t be expected to show up at every race but we have to understand that if we don’t show up, we might not have a race next year. To have a town shut down to watch 16 racers do a cookie ride on a hot summer day is not what our sponsors want, and lets be honest, it’s really no fun for us, either. I don't want to be a part of that; I want to be duking it out with a strong field, flying through corners, chasing breaks, making moves - I don't want to be a side show for the boys!

Yes, AVC’s lack of communication is regrettable in my view, but that’s just me. Many of us understand giving a lot and feeling like you’re not getting back. One false move and the pitchforks come out; all the good you’ve done is forgotten.

I hate that I can’t do ToWC this year. I hate that this one issue has been the focus to point fingers at each other rather than a rallying cry for our community – women and men – to make some changes. I know that racing is intimidating when you’re just starting out, perhaps more so for women.  It’s mentally tough: anyone who says there’s no crying in cycling is lying. It’s physically tough – I never broke a bone until I started racing. I’ve got war wounds to show for it. AND YET I WANT TO GET BACK UP AND DO IT AGAIN- and do it better. Isn’t that the point?

The larger issue here is not whether Joe Jefferson /AVC supports women. The larger issue is the current decline in women’s race fields, the difficulty in getting new riders into race fields and what we can do about it.

My record of handing out bottles is 9 in one feed. I’ve volunteered for races that were not run by my club, I’ve promoted races, I was part of the creation of a new women’s team – a rock star team I might add – back in the day and I'm a participating member of one of the larger clubs in the area. I’ve also had many guys and gals help me, both teammates and just comrades in on the battle field – feeds, mental support, being at the hospital when I was carted off and pushing me on training rides. What I’m saying is that as much as I feel that I’ve given, I’ve gotten so much more in return.

THAT is what we need to be looking at – how can we give back. We were all newbies at one point (some a little further back than others!) and we got help from someone, some team, some significant other, some random person who wanted to help. I’m happy to be part of the solution – women’s rides, clinics, race prep. If you want to be part of the solution, lets talk!

Otherwise, please step out of the way and let us get to it.

Better Late Than Never - Monster Cross Report

Lots of catching up to do. I'll regale you with pictures and narratives about my recent 2week stint of playing so-faux-pro in Mallorca but first I have to cover Monster Cross. Yeah - me - doing a cross race - like, an "epic" one. Yeah, I just said "epic". Because, for me, it kinda was.

I had been on my CX bike quite a few times, even a couple times in the gravel. It made perfect sense that I should do a 50 mile CX race, right? As the day loomed closer I figured eh, I'll survive. The day before I thought - huh - maybe I shoulda spent some more time on the bike off-road. The morning of I thought- what the hell was I thinking?!!?

Lets make one thing clear - while there were several hundred riders "competing", I was riding the event, not racing. So the race was...well, not so much a race but a 4+ hour ride that pretty much encompassed every emotion along with a plethora of random thoughts. I'm certain I resolved world peace around mile 27 but lost the train of thought shortly thereafter when I remembered that I had a cliff bar in my pocket.

Its a mass start unless you're racing the elites, like Christine initially told me I was, which put me in a panic seeing as I've ridden my cx off road all of 3 times -ever. To my relief, I had correctly registered for the open, which put me back with the mass start. 

It was a bit chaotic getting everyone through the tight staging area but Christine, Lauren (ncvc) and I managed to stay near the back to avoid most of it. 

I kid you not, within 10 mins of the start this happened: still bunched up, two lines that were rideable. I'm in the left one chatting with Lauren, Christine is right behind. Everyone is just going with the flow until the road opens up, which is where natural separation occurs and groups form according to riding ability. Some girl decides to pass me on the left (in the gutter, where all the gravel and tree branches are) just as we were passing a spot where a tree had gone down. I hear 'on your left'. What left? There IS no left. In the split second I had to think that thought, my bike suddenly stopped and I slid out. 

The stupid girl had kicked up the debris in the gutter and threw a branch into my wheel. I came up cursing like a sailor and trying to get out of the road. She was trying to pre-emptively defend herself as Lauren and Christine were yelling at her - her excuse? "I said on your left". I told her in no uncertain terms what I thought and where to go -and to make sure I didn't catch her - as I picked myself off the ground. 

I got on the bike as quick as I could and got some frustration out. I stuck with Lauren for a while (mostly while I was pedaling out of anger) but my lack of confidence hindered me. Then I stuck with Christine for a bit and let go of that group when we hit a huge mud-pit. I got off the bike to see if I could adjust my brakes and realized I couldn't put any weight on my right knee - when I wiped out, my top tube landed just right on the knee. I had blood dripping down my right leg and my kit was all dirty. Fabulous. Christine offered the parking lot we had just passed through but I was not ready to give in - I said no, I can pedal. Actually, I'm fairly certain I probably snarled that (sorry, Christine) as I was so angry to have been injured AGAIN on the bike and AGAIN not my fault. 

Shortly thereafter I got off the bike again to try to figure out the brakes and let go of that group.Then I got over myself and turned on my iPod. I'm certain I was mumbling to myself (only out loud) working my way around turns and through the mud. The first creek crossing caught me off guard. I slammed on the brakes and got off the path, wondering what to do... Walk through? Turn back? Sit down and cry? 

Walking wasn't an option since I was injured in the fall. Turning back was like accepting failure. I had already cried so that would be redundant. A few others offered encouragement and advice as they flew through the creek. I watched a few others go through and finally ponied up. I backed up to get a running start and ... It wasn't pretty but I made it. Funny thing about creeks, they are at water level so when you come out of it, it's a kicker of a hill. And it was already torn up and muddy from other riders. And I was having a hard time pushing with my right leg so, yeah, that was terrifying fun. 

I knew there was one creek crossing- the real surprise was that there were 4 - count them - 4 creek crossings. Which I mostly discovered after flying downhill into a turn and suddenly - screech - another creek!! I proceeded along, gaining confidence (though it took me to the 4th and final creek crossing not to hesitate - I rolled through that last one like a ...well, in total fear but I did it). I had the thought around mile 30 that maybe I should have at least experienced a mud-ride or a creek-crossing before this. Maybe?

 

I made some -we're in this together -friends, exchanging random comments and twice getting directions as I was about to go the wrong way. Anyone who's ever ridden with me will know that I have never claimed to be anything but directionally challenged. 

In the end it was 4:16 or so in the saddle. I came across the finish line (read: mud pit) and the boy expressed immense surprise that I finished and a lot sooner than he thought. Sigh. I'm constantly underestimated. I couldn't walk when I got off the bike - a sprained adductor was the general consenus along with the bruised knee. Fun. 

I cleaned up the superficial damage and the knee eventually healed. Picture it this way: I was toddering like an old lady with balance issue. But, there was no way this injury - less than 10 days out from departure to beautiful Mallorca - was going to keep me down (see my next post about Zurich, the city of stairs).  

All in all, I'm kinda proud of myself for toughing it out and not being dead last (I think 12th out of 28 registered?). It'll be a while before I can honestly say I'd do it again (but between you and me, I think I might).