Never Stop Chasing

Oh Clermont, we meet again.  There is always something about this tiny little place that can easily suck the life out of you.  It’s humbling.  With each race I do, I learn just a little bit more.  This weekend we headed up to Race of the West.  Packed the bikes and four bodies (thug life) into one hotel room.  If anything, the weekend was filled with a lot laughs, hashtags, and new found respect for a tub with proper draining.

CLEEEERMONT!

Saturday I woke up with mixed emotions, one was I can’t wait to do this…the other was I’ve changed my mind, I’m staying in bed (child tantrum).  This would be my first circuit so I went with one goal, stay with the main group.  A circuit: a road cycling race that’s several laps in a given amount time, this one was 40 minutes, just in case anyone was wondering.  I didn’t want to be that one lonely straggler.  I didn’t want a DNF.  Worse off, I didn’t want to make a rookie mistake and take someone down.  Setting some realistic goals here people.  So I line up, hands shaking and heart pounding (please don’t throw up).  After a few rules (don’t ever fold your number) we were off…and of course, I can’t clip in (wtf!). After what felt like the longest seconds, I finally get clipped and head off to close off whatever gap had created.  I knew I had to find a way to calm myself down, this kind of nervous just makes you jittery on the bike, which never leads to anything good.  We get into a surprisingly steady rhythm.  The road starts to curve and we take a few turns, nothing I couldn’t handle. Until we come to the last turn towards the start/finish.  This is where I realized more than ever that I can’t take a turn if my life depended on it (great!).  So the rest of the race I knew I was going to be closing gaps. (#thegapclosers).  This is just an unnecessary waste of energy and work.  It’s hard to think of any kind of strategy when you don’t know what to expect (is someone going to attack!?) and you can’t take a damn turn.  Other than sprinting to catch the group after certain turns, the race went at a good pace.  It’s not that it was easy, but when you spend your weekend trying to keep up with some of these boys (key word being trying), you kind of expect that level of intensity.  “1 lap left”, so I was ready for some kind of showdown but it went like any of the other loops.  That was until the finish line was in sight (it’s going down).  I never imagined how much goes on at this finish line.  I come from races where you come in alone.  In this case, you have to worry about those sprinting inches from you, the wheel in front of you (note to self: don’t get behind a girl that’s going to slow down), is there space for you to move forward, is someone going to make a dumb mistake and cut you off, are you in the right gear (this was more of an afterthought).  All while going as fast as possible, giving whatever you have left.  There’s a lot going on and little time to react.  You just get this tunnel vision.  Shut.up.legs. Finito!! Second thought, after holly hell, can we do it again?? After a minor heartache in the guy’s race, some breakfast, the procession for showers, we head to drive the course for the Road Race.  My one thought, I wish I hadn’t.

That’s me…in the back…

The course of the road race on Sunday was 4, 11 mile loops.  With a climb that has been crowned “the wall”.  I’ll leave it at that.  I went in this race with my general attitude.  Small accomplishments, just finish.  I should have gone into this race thinking fight like hell to stay with the group (it’s a learning process). The race starts like all others, steady pace…and then the wall (wait.for.me).  Surprise, surprise I get dropped.  But instead of saying that’s it, I chase down the group.  Pedal like hell on the downhill.  I pass a girl and in true sportsman like conduct tell her to get on my wheel and I start closing the gap, only to realize I was starting to run out of push.  I ease up on the pedal and she starts to pull. With a whole lot of effort we manage to get back with the group. “Never stop chasing, you never know” she tells me with a smile and that stuck with me the rest of the race…and will for the rest of my races (actually, in life).  I got dropped on the next longer climb and worked just to keep the group in sight.  Into the second loop my roommate caught up after dropping the chain and we worked together to catch two other girls.  A big thank you to her for keeping me going, for helping me out when my legs just couldn’t. Wind, climbs, numb legs, snot and other things…we finished together and the second we unclipped took a seat on the grass, there was just nothing left to walk.  I don’t think we’ve ever pushed ourselves this much in a race.  It felt good… ~AddingMoMiles

Race Fun Begins.

First race of 2015, and even more exciting, it was a road race.  We drove up to Dade City, FL for Race for Humanity, two 17 mile loop course.  I’ve had my fair share of run races and obviously triathlons but I’ve had a limited number of cycling races.  By limited, I signed up for one last year on a whim on a weekend riding trip to Clermont and didn’t even technically finish.  So we’ve made progress, I finished this race and didn’t get lapped.  It was only two loops, so lapping would have been kind of hard but let’s not focus on that.  We can say I won my race, no DNF and I didn’t come in dead last.  Now let me tell you a little story about the conditions.

I checked the forecast the night before leaving and it said 60’s and raining.  I figured the forecast was wrong, it usually is.  They were right on.  We wake up race morning to find it raining, 60ish degrees, and winds up to 30 mph (I kid you not, this isn’t a Cuban exaggeration).  If this were a regular riding day, I would have climbed right back into my warm bed.  The plan to ride there for warm up was cancelled; we pack our cars and headed to the race.  We manage to get our chips, put our numbers and stay relatively dry, but no time to warm up.  As we wait for the women’s race to start I couldn’t stop shaking, I couldn’t tell if it’s from nerves or just from being soaked and cold.  Pneumonia for sure.  “It’s the first race of the season, no need to kill yourself on the course girls, safety first” or something along those lines came out of the officials mouth.  Great.   At this point all I could think about is not leaving any skin on the pavement.

As we start the race, my glasses were already covered in water and I could barely see the tire in front of me.  Not to mention, the wind wouldn’t let me hear the freewheeling for the other girls, so I wasn’t exactly sure when they were slowing down.  The only choice was to take off my glasses.  Nothing better than road gunk splashing up into your eyes, but at the moment that was the least of my worries.  My legs felt tight but nothing I wasn’t able to shake off.  We start with a few short climbs, relatively easy speed.  It wasn’t until we came to a longer climb around mile 10 that the group started to pull away.  It was bound to happen on a climb, it isn’t exactly my forte. It beats the last race where I got dropped the first minute (literally) of the race. So now I’m left to battle the winds solo, but the positive was that I didn’t have the stress of being surrounded by other riders on very wet roads.  I finished the first loop without much thought, with exception of the nice 3 climbs heading right into the wind the last 3-4 miles.  On this last stretch, I see a tiny spec ahead, which I had to assume was another cyclist.  My thought was if I reach her we can battle this wind together.  I get to her about 1 KM off of the start/finish, only to watch her not go for the second loop but get off the course.  Really lady!? Even though a part of me wanted to get off with her.

So the next 17 miles were filled with some ups and down and some extreme thoughts.  The first few miles I swore I was retiring, not doing another road race. I pushed those thoughts aside and set a goal to finish under 2 hours.  I start pushing on the pedals, though at some point I swore the bike was having some kind of mechanical failure because it wasn’t moving.  Turns out, the bike was just fine; I was on a false flat.  I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt my fingers or toes. I had to start rationing my water. For some time I thought I was completely lost, nothing  looked familiar and freaked out a little more when the vultures started to circle overhead.  Turns out they were there for the dead armadillo, not me.  I made the final turn towards the finish right into the wind, knowing I only had a few miles left and about two climbs.  Oh look how nice, now the sun decides to peak through the clouds.  Kind of useless now, I may have already lost a toe to frostbite.   I miscounted the climbs, turns out it was more than two.  It was hard to get out of the saddle to climb; the gust of winds would shake your bike.  I fought the wind in each climb, at some point I’m sure I screamed out obscenities.  I was relieved to see the finish line and even more relieved to get out of my soaked cold clothes and put on my hoodie.  I tell you this, coffee and a warm shower never felt so good.  But after I had defrosted all I could think of was the next race.  I know, masochist.

Those were the hardest weather conditions I have ever raced in.  If there is anything this race did was highlight my weakness in climbing and probably my rookie nerves of riding in those conditions.  Both of which will be worked on.  Putting everything aside, it was a great training race with a good amount of climbing.  Something I wouldn’t have been able to do in Miami.  Not only that, I realized how much I really love road racing, the atmosphere, the people.  So I take my learning from this race and on to the next race… ~ AddingMoMiles