Dear Teammates,
I made the journey to Winters with our newest team member, Michelle Heaton. I've ridden with Michelle for about five years on the Sunday and Wednesday rides and she's really strong - period. Not just for a female rider or a rider over the age of 45, just a strong rider of any sex or age. In addition, she's a great person and a friend who really cares about those around her. She owns her own successful Montessori pre-school.
I read before the race they had taken out the English Hills section of the course so I thought the race would be dead flat, but I was wrong. Indeed, the big hill in the middle of the course was still there and having ridden Winters several years ago, I knew it would be a tough day in the 45+ open category race.
A group of four riders went away before the big hill in the middle of the course and they stayed away for the whole rest of the race. I saw Joe Platin breakaway from the group as the race hit the bottom of the big hill section and I knew my chances of helping Joe (which were slim at best) in the sprint were gone.
The race then became a flashback of my prior Winters experience in the 45+ open. I lost contact with the main group on the last steep section of the hill, tried to bridge on the descent to no avail, formed a chase group with 12-15 other riders, caught the main group (five of us) after an 18-mile chase, got dropped again near the top of the big climb, formed another chase group with 7-9 riders and finished 2nd in the second group, five places behind Joe in 30th.
I was very satisfied with my race and put in a good effort on the two long chases, taking almost every pull to help our group make up time on the main pack. I know the main group was not riding very hard because four riders were up the road and most of the big teams were represented in it but our group rode as one, working together in unison for a common goal and we did it after a 45 minute chase.
Ed Price
Friday, August 29, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
San Ardo (55+) - Aug 23, 2008
San Ardo time trial Report
By Jim Langley
Okay, okay - I know - and YOU know, that San Ardo is a ROAD RACE, not a time trial, but you're going to have to cut me some slack on this one. Somehow, and, I'm still not entirely clear how it happened, I turned it into a time trial, much to my humiliation, disgust and downright misery.
So, there I am about 15 minutes before the start and I find teammates Gary and Larry and we're spinning around warming up and things are hunky dory. I feel the need and head for the porta-potties and commence taking care of business. Mind you that the starting line is less than 10 feet away from the crappers. Also note, that as I entered the plastic-fantastic relief station I double-checked and there wasn't a single 55+ racer anywhere near the starting line or even any master riders like me grouping behind the packs soon starting.
Now, I don't know about you, but I like a potty that has a handle on the backside of the door so you can settle onto the throne without blowing a knee out using your legs. Alas, no handle on this unit. No worries, I grab the latch, which sorta works as long as you hold tight. First, I have to remove my jersey so I can get the damn bibs off.
That's a little tricky, though. If I'm not careful, the pockets will dump and my GU will land in the pile of poo. Then, there's the issue of what to do with my only full-zip team jersey. Naturally, there's no hook on the back of the door to hang it. And, I certainly can't put it on the tinkle-treated floor. But, I'm an old hand at this game and I gingerly balance the jersey on top of the TP holder and get down to some serious pre-race weight-loss.
Deposit delivered, I suit back up, exit stage left for some fresh air and take another long look at the staging area. Sill no 55+ racers in sight. But, that's not surprising as I still haven't heard the starter call the race. It looks like the women are starting and some juniors after them. I decide to try to find Larry and Gary and ride up the street a bit. Nope. I check my watch. Still a few minutes before our start. But, where are all the guys?
Still clueless, I finally decide to ask the starter who is now getting into his car, which is when I get the wonderful news that he started my group "a long time ago," apparently exactly when I disappeared into the dumper. Unbelievable. This is the first time in all the VeloPromo races I've ever done, going back to 1982, that they actually started one early - and nobody thought to send me the memo. (In my defense, another guy in our group missed the start, too, but he saw the group heading out of town and was able to chase and catch.)
What to do, what to do? I decide anything's better than hanging out at the start, so I slam my Cervelo onto the 53, get down on the drops and hit it as hard as I can. Maybe I can catch them. Only a couple miles out I see the first juniors. They're so small and rail thin, and not working together, but individually they're all going at a pretty good clip. I move way left and holler encouragement as I pound by trying to eek every bit of speed out my bike and body. Next, I overtake a more organized group of juniors and urge them on, too. It's awesome to see kids out racing.
I'm remembering the San Ardo course now from years ago when I last raced it. Wide open roads, no traffic at all, fairly gentle rollers, wind, wind and more wind, and some seriously thrashed pavement, that keeps kicking me hard every 50 feet or so due to the unavoidable raised cracks. Already, my legs are burning from the all-out effort, but my back is screaming from the nasty bumps. I can't keep this up if I can't relieve the pain. I decide to ride an even bigger gear and jam even the flat sections standing up to stretch out my back and take the bumps with my knees. This works, and I'm able to keep hammering at over 24mph.
Soon, I see a large pack, which gives me hope. I start picking up stragglers from other races first. They're too blasted to even respond when I tell them 'good job - keep it going,' as I motor past. Maybe, just maybe, that group up ahead is my group. I know better - the women started after us - but I try to trick myself into believing. As I catch the back of the pack, I see that it is the women. I'm about 15 miles in and about now, it would be so nice to sit at the back for a bit, but the motorcycle official won't let me. He sees me coming, lets me pass, gets on my wheel and starts telling the ladies to move over and let me through. It takes a significant effort to get around them, but I manage and then worry that I'm going to die any minute and suffer having them blow by me. They're so tightly packed and so smooth, surely I can't stay ahead of them fighting the wind alone.
Somehow, though, I start feeling a little better. I keep shifting gears, standing and sitting to change muscle groups and pushing it as hard as my legs and lungs will let me. I take a look back and see that I've put major distance on the girls, which makes me feel a little better - being able to stay ahead of a big organized group is a good sign. A few more miles and I cruise through San Ardo, where there are actually some local kids standing in the road cheering in Spanish obviously delighted to have a fun distraction on this overcast Saturday morning. Pretty cool. Later I see some collecting ejected bottles, too.
Glancing at my computer as I pass the scene of the "crime" (the starting line) I see that I've ridden the lap, 21 miles on terrible pavement with a headwind most of the way around, in well under an hour. I tell myself, maybe there's still a chance I'll catch someone from my group, and I attack the easy climb that starts lap 2. The feed zone folks give me some love, which helps steel me for the work to come. It feels like my left quad is blown, a very sharp pain just above the knee. My back is on fire. I have two mini cramps on both sides of my stomach just below the ribs. But, surprisingly, I'm feeling pretty strong, like I can absolutely kill this course one more time - and I feel like killing someone, namely one VeloPromo starter too numb to make sure everyone was lined up BEFORE starting the freakin' race early.
Up the road I spot some more stragglers. I can't use them as it's illegal, but none are in any shape to join my time trial anyway. They're in survival mode. Some have turned back even. I use the same technique I used on lap one and ride the bump sections standing and pushing a huge gear to avoid the impact on every crack. I also big gear all the climbs. On one, the race photographer jumps up and helps motivate me to finish the effort over the top to give him something worth shooting.
I'm tiring, though, and I'm starting to lose faith that there's any chance of catching my group. I get negative and start doing the math. Four or 5 groups between mine and when I started means that I took my first pedal stroke at least 20 minutes in arrears. Even Cancellara who rides the same Cervelo I do couldn't make up that distance. Still, I'm not about to quit now. I think of my high school cross country coach who told us that if he ever heard one of his "boys" quit - even on a weekend training run - he'd put us on the practice squad. I push more, trying extra hard to relax my upper body, breathe rhythmically and get more oomph into my legs. I keep my back way flat and ride a perfectly straight line. I see that up the road there are now stragglers every hundred yards or so, targets for me to focus on and pick off - exactly what I need about now.
I catch everyone and keep seeing more and try to take it up another notch. I'm gasping instead of inhaling now and I can no longer ride a straight line. My legs are so ruined I can't push the big gears sitting so I stand and sprint, sit and spin, and repeat. There's San Ardo! The finish is just up the road! I pass a few more guys and then 2 more, and I see a wonderful sight, their numbers are 700s, meaning that I have caught 2 guys in my group - who started at least 20 minutes before me. Not bad. I absolutely destroy them passing about 10mph faster then they're going as if they're guilty for the early start.
Unfortunately, I don't see any more of the 700 club until I finish. But, at least they're still congregated around the finish, which opens the possibility that my 42 mile individual time trial might have been almost as fast as their group race. That possibility isn't as satisfying as actually racing with them, but it's the only thought that eases the guilt of missing the start in the first place and letting the team and Coach Mark down.
Rolling over, I ask how the race went for them and Larry tells me I should be happy I missed the start as most of the group took a wrong turn at the end and lost their chance at winning. Bad luck for Larry and me, but luckily for Team Bike Trip, Gary WAS paying attention when the pack veered off course and he didn't turn but instead sprinting down the home straight for second place, his best finish of the year! Great job Gary!
By Jim Langley
Okay, okay - I know - and YOU know, that San Ardo is a ROAD RACE, not a time trial, but you're going to have to cut me some slack on this one. Somehow, and, I'm still not entirely clear how it happened, I turned it into a time trial, much to my humiliation, disgust and downright misery.
So, there I am about 15 minutes before the start and I find teammates Gary and Larry and we're spinning around warming up and things are hunky dory. I feel the need and head for the porta-potties and commence taking care of business. Mind you that the starting line is less than 10 feet away from the crappers. Also note, that as I entered the plastic-fantastic relief station I double-checked and there wasn't a single 55+ racer anywhere near the starting line or even any master riders like me grouping behind the packs soon starting.
Now, I don't know about you, but I like a potty that has a handle on the backside of the door so you can settle onto the throne without blowing a knee out using your legs. Alas, no handle on this unit. No worries, I grab the latch, which sorta works as long as you hold tight. First, I have to remove my jersey so I can get the damn bibs off.
That's a little tricky, though. If I'm not careful, the pockets will dump and my GU will land in the pile of poo. Then, there's the issue of what to do with my only full-zip team jersey. Naturally, there's no hook on the back of the door to hang it. And, I certainly can't put it on the tinkle-treated floor. But, I'm an old hand at this game and I gingerly balance the jersey on top of the TP holder and get down to some serious pre-race weight-loss.
Deposit delivered, I suit back up, exit stage left for some fresh air and take another long look at the staging area. Sill no 55+ racers in sight. But, that's not surprising as I still haven't heard the starter call the race. It looks like the women are starting and some juniors after them. I decide to try to find Larry and Gary and ride up the street a bit. Nope. I check my watch. Still a few minutes before our start. But, where are all the guys?
Still clueless, I finally decide to ask the starter who is now getting into his car, which is when I get the wonderful news that he started my group "a long time ago," apparently exactly when I disappeared into the dumper. Unbelievable. This is the first time in all the VeloPromo races I've ever done, going back to 1982, that they actually started one early - and nobody thought to send me the memo. (In my defense, another guy in our group missed the start, too, but he saw the group heading out of town and was able to chase and catch.)
What to do, what to do? I decide anything's better than hanging out at the start, so I slam my Cervelo onto the 53, get down on the drops and hit it as hard as I can. Maybe I can catch them. Only a couple miles out I see the first juniors. They're so small and rail thin, and not working together, but individually they're all going at a pretty good clip. I move way left and holler encouragement as I pound by trying to eek every bit of speed out my bike and body. Next, I overtake a more organized group of juniors and urge them on, too. It's awesome to see kids out racing.
I'm remembering the San Ardo course now from years ago when I last raced it. Wide open roads, no traffic at all, fairly gentle rollers, wind, wind and more wind, and some seriously thrashed pavement, that keeps kicking me hard every 50 feet or so due to the unavoidable raised cracks. Already, my legs are burning from the all-out effort, but my back is screaming from the nasty bumps. I can't keep this up if I can't relieve the pain. I decide to ride an even bigger gear and jam even the flat sections standing up to stretch out my back and take the bumps with my knees. This works, and I'm able to keep hammering at over 24mph.
Soon, I see a large pack, which gives me hope. I start picking up stragglers from other races first. They're too blasted to even respond when I tell them 'good job - keep it going,' as I motor past. Maybe, just maybe, that group up ahead is my group. I know better - the women started after us - but I try to trick myself into believing. As I catch the back of the pack, I see that it is the women. I'm about 15 miles in and about now, it would be so nice to sit at the back for a bit, but the motorcycle official won't let me. He sees me coming, lets me pass, gets on my wheel and starts telling the ladies to move over and let me through. It takes a significant effort to get around them, but I manage and then worry that I'm going to die any minute and suffer having them blow by me. They're so tightly packed and so smooth, surely I can't stay ahead of them fighting the wind alone.
Somehow, though, I start feeling a little better. I keep shifting gears, standing and sitting to change muscle groups and pushing it as hard as my legs and lungs will let me. I take a look back and see that I've put major distance on the girls, which makes me feel a little better - being able to stay ahead of a big organized group is a good sign. A few more miles and I cruise through San Ardo, where there are actually some local kids standing in the road cheering in Spanish obviously delighted to have a fun distraction on this overcast Saturday morning. Pretty cool. Later I see some collecting ejected bottles, too.
Glancing at my computer as I pass the scene of the "crime" (the starting line) I see that I've ridden the lap, 21 miles on terrible pavement with a headwind most of the way around, in well under an hour. I tell myself, maybe there's still a chance I'll catch someone from my group, and I attack the easy climb that starts lap 2. The feed zone folks give me some love, which helps steel me for the work to come. It feels like my left quad is blown, a very sharp pain just above the knee. My back is on fire. I have two mini cramps on both sides of my stomach just below the ribs. But, surprisingly, I'm feeling pretty strong, like I can absolutely kill this course one more time - and I feel like killing someone, namely one VeloPromo starter too numb to make sure everyone was lined up BEFORE starting the freakin' race early.
Up the road I spot some more stragglers. I can't use them as it's illegal, but none are in any shape to join my time trial anyway. They're in survival mode. Some have turned back even. I use the same technique I used on lap one and ride the bump sections standing and pushing a huge gear to avoid the impact on every crack. I also big gear all the climbs. On one, the race photographer jumps up and helps motivate me to finish the effort over the top to give him something worth shooting.
I'm tiring, though, and I'm starting to lose faith that there's any chance of catching my group. I get negative and start doing the math. Four or 5 groups between mine and when I started means that I took my first pedal stroke at least 20 minutes in arrears. Even Cancellara who rides the same Cervelo I do couldn't make up that distance. Still, I'm not about to quit now. I think of my high school cross country coach who told us that if he ever heard one of his "boys" quit - even on a weekend training run - he'd put us on the practice squad. I push more, trying extra hard to relax my upper body, breathe rhythmically and get more oomph into my legs. I keep my back way flat and ride a perfectly straight line. I see that up the road there are now stragglers every hundred yards or so, targets for me to focus on and pick off - exactly what I need about now.
I catch everyone and keep seeing more and try to take it up another notch. I'm gasping instead of inhaling now and I can no longer ride a straight line. My legs are so ruined I can't push the big gears sitting so I stand and sprint, sit and spin, and repeat. There's San Ardo! The finish is just up the road! I pass a few more guys and then 2 more, and I see a wonderful sight, their numbers are 700s, meaning that I have caught 2 guys in my group - who started at least 20 minutes before me. Not bad. I absolutely destroy them passing about 10mph faster then they're going as if they're guilty for the early start.
Unfortunately, I don't see any more of the 700 club until I finish. But, at least they're still congregated around the finish, which opens the possibility that my 42 mile individual time trial might have been almost as fast as their group race. That possibility isn't as satisfying as actually racing with them, but it's the only thought that eases the guilt of missing the start in the first place and letting the team and Coach Mark down.
Rolling over, I ask how the race went for them and Larry tells me I should be happy I missed the start as most of the group took a wrong turn at the end and lost their chance at winning. Bad luck for Larry and me, but luckily for Team Bike Trip, Gary WAS paying attention when the pack veered off course and he didn't turn but instead sprinting down the home straight for second place, his best finish of the year! Great job Gary!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Fort Ord Road Race by Ed Price
Dear Teammates, Friends and Family,
Last Saturday I competed in the Fort Ord Road Race along with teammates Dennis Pederson and Larry Broberg. Dennis raced in the 45+ event and Larry raced in the 55+ category. I know Larry finished a very close 2nd while Dennis showed tremendous courage in the 45+ open cateogry race, competing with some of the best climbers in the district.
Fort Ord is not my "cup of tea" but I couldn't pass it up, because next to the Sea Otter, it is the closest race to my home (30 minute drive). The course was a clockwise ten mile loop of endless rolling hills with two "out and back" sections and one "big" climb near the end of each lap. The "big" climb was only about six to eight minutes long but it required a 39 x 23 right from the start.
My race started at 11:45 am. The weather was warm to hot, the wind was pretty mild for Fort Ord and the pavement was poor to bad (with many large and deep potholes). My goal was to stay with the main group as long as possible and hopefully make it up the main climb at least once so that I could get through most of the 2nd lap before the second time up the big hill.
Our race had approximately 50 to 60 riders but was not full by any means (75 rider limit). I guess you either love or hate the Fort Ord course depending on how well you are climbing at the moment. I was hoping that the interval training I have been doing on the rollers (one good 45-60 minute session, three shorter sessions of about 30 minutes and one to two very short workouts of about 20 minutes would pay off, and they did.
I felt good even during the 45 minute warmup session on the rollers before the race started. The race consisted of "moderate tempo" on the many ups and downs leading to the course's big climb where the strong riders "punched it" every lap. I was spinning the smallest gear I possibly could the whole race, many times in the 39 x 19 where other riders rode the big chainring. I stayed with the group up the first climb and felt better about my chances. I lost contact near the very top of the big climb on the second lap but quickly caught the lead group on the descent. The third time up the big climb I knew it would be very difficult and I lost contact near the top again but was not able to catch on the descent. There were about 12 miles of racing to go and I was really spent but I "slogged" through it and finished 22nd. We were averaging 30 minutes per lap but on the last lap, it took 38 minutes and I finished in two hours and eight minutes. A group of four riders, including my friend and travel companion, Russ Cadwallader broke away from the field on the last climb and Russ finished 3rd. I am trying to get Russ to join our team for next year since Family Cycling Center will not be sponsoring anyone next year. Russ has placed in the top ten of every race except Pescadero (15th). He is one strong rider and would fit the team perfectly.
Ed Price
Last Saturday I competed in the Fort Ord Road Race along with teammates Dennis Pederson and Larry Broberg. Dennis raced in the 45+ event and Larry raced in the 55+ category. I know Larry finished a very close 2nd while Dennis showed tremendous courage in the 45+ open cateogry race, competing with some of the best climbers in the district.
Fort Ord is not my "cup of tea" but I couldn't pass it up, because next to the Sea Otter, it is the closest race to my home (30 minute drive). The course was a clockwise ten mile loop of endless rolling hills with two "out and back" sections and one "big" climb near the end of each lap. The "big" climb was only about six to eight minutes long but it required a 39 x 23 right from the start.
My race started at 11:45 am. The weather was warm to hot, the wind was pretty mild for Fort Ord and the pavement was poor to bad (with many large and deep potholes). My goal was to stay with the main group as long as possible and hopefully make it up the main climb at least once so that I could get through most of the 2nd lap before the second time up the big hill.
Our race had approximately 50 to 60 riders but was not full by any means (75 rider limit). I guess you either love or hate the Fort Ord course depending on how well you are climbing at the moment. I was hoping that the interval training I have been doing on the rollers (one good 45-60 minute session, three shorter sessions of about 30 minutes and one to two very short workouts of about 20 minutes would pay off, and they did.
I felt good even during the 45 minute warmup session on the rollers before the race started. The race consisted of "moderate tempo" on the many ups and downs leading to the course's big climb where the strong riders "punched it" every lap. I was spinning the smallest gear I possibly could the whole race, many times in the 39 x 19 where other riders rode the big chainring. I stayed with the group up the first climb and felt better about my chances. I lost contact near the very top of the big climb on the second lap but quickly caught the lead group on the descent. The third time up the big climb I knew it would be very difficult and I lost contact near the top again but was not able to catch on the descent. There were about 12 miles of racing to go and I was really spent but I "slogged" through it and finished 22nd. We were averaging 30 minutes per lap but on the last lap, it took 38 minutes and I finished in two hours and eight minutes. A group of four riders, including my friend and travel companion, Russ Cadwallader broke away from the field on the last climb and Russ finished 3rd. I am trying to get Russ to join our team for next year since Family Cycling Center will not be sponsoring anyone next year. Russ has placed in the top ten of every race except Pescadero (15th). He is one strong rider and would fit the team perfectly.
Ed Price
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Northern CA/NV Elite Road Race Championships, 45+, 8/2/2008
By Dennis Pedersen
Margaret was out of town this weekend, partying with her girlfriends in Chicago, so I did what any crazed cycling-nerd with a bachelor's weekend would do: I looked around for races to enter! And this one at Fort Ord, so close to home, made sense. Except Team Bicycle Trip's coach, Mark Edwards, warned me that the hills were just slightly longer than ideal for me and there'd be tons of tough competitors. Heck, I deal with that sort of thing all the time, and what's the worst thing they would be likely to do... drop me. I'm used to that, so bring it on!
My 45+ open-category race started at 11:46AM, so I got to sleep in a bit and had my usual breakfast at a leisurely pace. Larry Broberg was also racing, in 55+ starting at 11:50AM, and that morning he called and very kindly offered to drive me down. David Gill had dropped off a generator for me to deliver to Bob Leibold, but Larry was happy to help. What a guy!
It had been really foggy around our neighborhood near the beach, but it cleared up soon and by the time we got to Fort Ord the weather was gorgeous, around 60 degrees, and calm. As we got ready the wind did pick up, though, and eventually got up to about 12 MPH which did affect our race a lot. We warmed up on a section of the course and I was ready. Ed Price was also racing, but in 35+ 4/5 at 11:42AM with Russ Cadwallader (Family Cycling Center). We were all scheduled to race 4 laps, for 42.5 miles total.
Our race field was only about 15 guys, with Morgan Stanley and VOS well represented, a few from Alto Velo/Webcor and others. As we waited for the start everybody was keeping an eye out for Rob Anderson (Team Specialized Racing), who had won the NCNCA Masters Championships, in 50+, the weekend before by soloing off the front for several laps!!! Jon Ornstil (VOS) jokingly suggested that we start the race right away! Anderson showed up just as we got our last-minute lecture and a neutral start behind Bob Leibold's van, and the mood became much more somber.
Our pace was very pleasant at first, even after the van left, and I was really enjoying the scenery as guys joked in the peloton. Unbelievably, Anderson flatted in the first mile and was out! The news spread like wildfire... it was a new race!
We cruised through the convoluted course made up of various access roads left from the Army's long presence there. Then there were a few minor attacks, just part of our warmup I guess, but nothing that hurt. Even the biggest hill, shortly after the feed zone and a very hard left onto Hennekens Ranch Road, which seemed about 4 or 5 minutes at most (shorter than the hill repeats Mark has us do every Wednesday), wasn't too bad, though I was definitely working hard.
After the big climb somebody from Morgan Stanley soloed off the front; maybe Max Thompson? I was reluctant to do anything about it since I was alone, and VOS and Alto Velo had better reason to chase him. He stayed off the front for about a half lap, and I eventually got spat out the front and pulled half-heartedly with a few others. Ornstil joked (again!) that we should chase on the flats and then he would chase on the hills. I just chuckled. There weren't any real flats anyway, everything was either slightly uphill or slightly downhill. I really liked the course except for that one big hill... and there it was again.
I actually locked up my rear tire briefly as we entered that left turn again, because Ornstil slowed a bit abruptly, but soon we were all mashing our pedals peacefully up that hill. Well, briefly, because soon it was war! Halfway up, which just happens to be about my favorite climb distance, they either threw white gas on the fire or my body was going up in flames, because I was at my absolute limit by all of my measures: My heart rate was nearing 190, my legs were dying and I was wheezing asthmatically. With all of those danger signs I knew I had no choice but to ride at my own speed even as they dropped me. Sigh. I knew this might happen, but that didn't make it any more fun.
Creasting the hill I saw that they were about 200 meters ahead of me, but I gamely soldiered on as best I could. Larry had said it is possible to catch back on with the rolling hills, and perhaps they would slow as they so often do. After all, they knew that we'd be climbing that hill two more times and guys like me would be too fried after that to contest the finish. So why hurry?
After a couple of miles two Action Sports riders and one from Don Chapin caught up to me and we were soon doing a respectable job of pacelining ourselves closer to the pack. In fact we were only about 20 seconds back at the first of the two turnarounds on that lap, and even less at the next turnaround. I knew we'd be hosed even so, because I doubted we'd close the gap before the big climb... and we'd then face further attacks when we got there... oh joy!
Going through the feed zone again I was really tiring from the 10 miles of hard effort in the wind, and up the rolling hills, and I bade my chase-group friends adieu. I just couldn't ride hard any more, and my left hamstring was hurting. As I rode up the hill again, just behind them still, I actually had to favor my left leg as I pedalled uphill in my 39x25 gears (I had replaced my 42t ring with my 39t that morning, on Larry's advice). Eventually I did something I'd never done; I got off my bike and walked up the hill!!! I wasn't in contention anyway, so I was not about to risk injury to my leg out of foolish pride!
Thus ended my hopes. I took a break at the top, then rode slowly down the hill and back to the finish line where I waited with Martin Wolff (VOS) to watch the finish. It was very anti-climactic because my competitors had caught up to the 35+ 4/5 leaders, with Russ among them, and the two fields crossed the line in a confusing mess of sprints and leadouts that was hard to make sense of. But I think Mark Caldwell (Morgan Stanley) got the 45+, and Russ got 2nd in 35+ 4/5 with Ed a bit back. I waited for Larry to finish... he got 2nd in 55+! Woo-hoo!
I got a great 1 hour and 44 minutes workout, burned about 1700 calories, covered 30.3 miles, my heart rate averaging 156 BPM (even with the easy parts!), maxing out at 190 BPM, and spent just over 1 hour in my L3 zone and higher. Just what I wanted to do on my bachelor's weekend!
Now for a massage...
Margaret was out of town this weekend, partying with her girlfriends in Chicago, so I did what any crazed cycling-nerd with a bachelor's weekend would do: I looked around for races to enter! And this one at Fort Ord, so close to home, made sense. Except Team Bicycle Trip's coach, Mark Edwards, warned me that the hills were just slightly longer than ideal for me and there'd be tons of tough competitors. Heck, I deal with that sort of thing all the time, and what's the worst thing they would be likely to do... drop me. I'm used to that, so bring it on!
My 45+ open-category race started at 11:46AM, so I got to sleep in a bit and had my usual breakfast at a leisurely pace. Larry Broberg was also racing, in 55+ starting at 11:50AM, and that morning he called and very kindly offered to drive me down. David Gill had dropped off a generator for me to deliver to Bob Leibold, but Larry was happy to help. What a guy!
It had been really foggy around our neighborhood near the beach, but it cleared up soon and by the time we got to Fort Ord the weather was gorgeous, around 60 degrees, and calm. As we got ready the wind did pick up, though, and eventually got up to about 12 MPH which did affect our race a lot. We warmed up on a section of the course and I was ready. Ed Price was also racing, but in 35+ 4/5 at 11:42AM with Russ Cadwallader (Family Cycling Center). We were all scheduled to race 4 laps, for 42.5 miles total.
Our race field was only about 15 guys, with Morgan Stanley and VOS well represented, a few from Alto Velo/Webcor and others. As we waited for the start everybody was keeping an eye out for Rob Anderson (Team Specialized Racing), who had won the NCNCA Masters Championships, in 50+, the weekend before by soloing off the front for several laps!!! Jon Ornstil (VOS) jokingly suggested that we start the race right away! Anderson showed up just as we got our last-minute lecture and a neutral start behind Bob Leibold's van, and the mood became much more somber.
Our pace was very pleasant at first, even after the van left, and I was really enjoying the scenery as guys joked in the peloton. Unbelievably, Anderson flatted in the first mile and was out! The news spread like wildfire... it was a new race!
We cruised through the convoluted course made up of various access roads left from the Army's long presence there. Then there were a few minor attacks, just part of our warmup I guess, but nothing that hurt. Even the biggest hill, shortly after the feed zone and a very hard left onto Hennekens Ranch Road, which seemed about 4 or 5 minutes at most (shorter than the hill repeats Mark has us do every Wednesday), wasn't too bad, though I was definitely working hard.
After the big climb somebody from Morgan Stanley soloed off the front; maybe Max Thompson? I was reluctant to do anything about it since I was alone, and VOS and Alto Velo had better reason to chase him. He stayed off the front for about a half lap, and I eventually got spat out the front and pulled half-heartedly with a few others. Ornstil joked (again!) that we should chase on the flats and then he would chase on the hills. I just chuckled. There weren't any real flats anyway, everything was either slightly uphill or slightly downhill. I really liked the course except for that one big hill... and there it was again.
I actually locked up my rear tire briefly as we entered that left turn again, because Ornstil slowed a bit abruptly, but soon we were all mashing our pedals peacefully up that hill. Well, briefly, because soon it was war! Halfway up, which just happens to be about my favorite climb distance, they either threw white gas on the fire or my body was going up in flames, because I was at my absolute limit by all of my measures: My heart rate was nearing 190, my legs were dying and I was wheezing asthmatically. With all of those danger signs I knew I had no choice but to ride at my own speed even as they dropped me. Sigh. I knew this might happen, but that didn't make it any more fun.
Creasting the hill I saw that they were about 200 meters ahead of me, but I gamely soldiered on as best I could. Larry had said it is possible to catch back on with the rolling hills, and perhaps they would slow as they so often do. After all, they knew that we'd be climbing that hill two more times and guys like me would be too fried after that to contest the finish. So why hurry?
After a couple of miles two Action Sports riders and one from Don Chapin caught up to me and we were soon doing a respectable job of pacelining ourselves closer to the pack. In fact we were only about 20 seconds back at the first of the two turnarounds on that lap, and even less at the next turnaround. I knew we'd be hosed even so, because I doubted we'd close the gap before the big climb... and we'd then face further attacks when we got there... oh joy!
Going through the feed zone again I was really tiring from the 10 miles of hard effort in the wind, and up the rolling hills, and I bade my chase-group friends adieu. I just couldn't ride hard any more, and my left hamstring was hurting. As I rode up the hill again, just behind them still, I actually had to favor my left leg as I pedalled uphill in my 39x25 gears (I had replaced my 42t ring with my 39t that morning, on Larry's advice). Eventually I did something I'd never done; I got off my bike and walked up the hill!!! I wasn't in contention anyway, so I was not about to risk injury to my leg out of foolish pride!
Thus ended my hopes. I took a break at the top, then rode slowly down the hill and back to the finish line where I waited with Martin Wolff (VOS) to watch the finish. It was very anti-climactic because my competitors had caught up to the 35+ 4/5 leaders, with Russ among them, and the two fields crossed the line in a confusing mess of sprints and leadouts that was hard to make sense of. But I think Mark Caldwell (Morgan Stanley) got the 45+, and Russ got 2nd in 35+ 4/5 with Ed a bit back. I waited for Larry to finish... he got 2nd in 55+! Woo-hoo!
I got a great 1 hour and 44 minutes workout, burned about 1700 calories, covered 30.3 miles, my heart rate averaging 156 BPM (even with the easy parts!), maxing out at 190 BPM, and spent just over 1 hour in my L3 zone and higher. Just what I wanted to do on my bachelor's weekend!
Now for a massage...
Monday, July 21, 2008
Watsonville Criterium, 45+
By Dennis Pedersen
Methylprednisolone Adverse Reactions:
That's what I read on the package insert for the medicine my doctor prescribed to treat the huge swelling and rash I experienced after being stung by a wasp on my ride home. Not what we usually associate with a drug in the steroid family. I only mention this so as to set your expectations, because my legs actually felt fine... it was my lungs, and my brain, that failed me in this race!
Last year I finally figured out that I'm a sprinter, albeit a small one at 150 pounds, and have been trying to figure out which courses suit me best ever since. I have raced this technical course, set in a nice residential neighborhood near downtown, in 2005, 2006 and 2007, with fairly promising results. Watsonville's twisty, tight, fast 3/4-mile criterium course, with a short hill, seemed to match my power profile and lighter weight, but now I know better!
My teammate Joe Platin was first to sign up, and Geoff Drake also did, even though he was recovering from a chest cold. I knew this race would be fast, but I was hoping that our interval workouts had prepared us well. And even if I couldn't deliver for the team, a climber like Joe might be able to. Or if a strong break developed perhaps Geoff could join it and do well with his amazing endurance power. Bases covered, right? Well, the best laid plans...
I had scoped out our open-category 45+ age-group competitors beforehand, and knew that Larry Nolan (Team Specialized Masters) would be tough to beat, or even hang with. But that didn't mean we couldn't have fun trying our best. Since our small field was combined with the 35+ race we also needed to know who to watch there, so we could go with any promising breaks.
We lined up on that pleasant afternoon, serene in our belief we would do fine. Mark Knutson (Team Santa Cruz) was there as well. I was right behind Nolan, determined to watch his wheel. Geoff and Joe looked comfortable too; that ended just seconds after the official blew his whistle and the pack sprinted off at full speed and up the hill for the first of 24 laps!
I was, in fact, right with Nolan for a while, but then on the back stretch I heard him shift gears and move forward. I didn't think too much of it, but by the end of that lap, on the hill, I saw that he had somehow vaulted all the way up to the front!!! Gasp! That reminded me to move forward in the field instead of trying to sit in the middle of the pack, a mistake I had made in 2006 and didn't want to repeat. The many tight turns, wind, and the hill, all create gaps in the peloton that we then have to work very hard to close. That is very tiring. It is better to set a hard, but more consistent, pace near the front, thus avoiding the constant redlining efforts of those stuck in the back.
It was too late for me: We had gaps forming even on the second lap, and pretty soon the size of these gaps increased. Joe and Geoff were looking good, and I was feeling strong, but when I moved forward I saw a gap form ahead of me, and I then had to sprint to close it. Then another gap formed, and again I had to close it. It was like trying to climb up a rope that was no longer secured, like in a cartoon!
Up the hill on lap 3 or 4, Geoff had a gap ahead of him (he had done a better job of being near the front!), and I had to really dig deep to get around him and keep the pack within range. I couldn't look back, but heard later that Geoff "pulled the plug" because his lungs were just not clear enough yet. Bummer.
After a few turns I had caught back on just as, you guessed it, the guy at the back let a gap form ahead of him. I needed some recovery and couldn't get around him, so I had to draft a bit and hope for a slowdown. I had lost Joe, and couldn't afford to wait for him, and it turned out that he dropped out, or got pulled, soon thereafter anyway. So, I ended up working with this guy for a few laps. We did take turns, and after a while somebody else joined us from behind. The three of us rode our butts off for a couple of laps until they dropped out. I was so exhausted I could hardly see straight. There is just not enough time to recover on this course, unlike at Coyote Creek where the longer laps allowed us some recovery time. In short, Watsonville favors time-trialers, not sprinters! I rode alone for a lap or so, losing ground, but then I too got pulled. I was kind of relieved!
My race was just 21 minutes long! I joined Margie, Mark, Scott and Chris on the sidewalk on the hill, where they'd been cheering us on, and watched the carnage continue. Two of my pre-race 35+ picks, Eric Easterling and Brian Bosch (both of Sierra Pacific Racing), had teamed up and formed a break that stayed away. Even Nolan, who tried to bridge up, couldn't catch them. Soon there were only two or three guys left in the 45+ field; if I had managed to stay in I would have been guaranteed a podium spot!
I briefly considered entering the Elite 3 race to get a full race workout, but didn't have time as we were going to my nephew's graduation party. Instead I rode a 50-mile workout on Sunday to punish myself!
So, what did we take from this race? No trophies, but lots of lessons. We were all surprised: Geoff and Joe by the furious pace, and me by the apparent ease some of them (e.g. Nolan!) had in moving forward. I was again reminded of what my friend Chris Tanner says: It's better to be at 95% effort and well-positioned than at 75% but poorly positioned, though I usually associate that with a sprint finish. Had I worked harder on the first lap, like Nolan did, to move forward instead of conserving energy for a sprint, I might have finished that race and been on the podium. Instead I spent a lot of time fighting the wind bridging multiple gaps, trying to ride even faster than the guys up front but starting from far behind them... a recipe for failure.
Oh well. There's always next time!
Methylprednisolone Adverse Reactions:
- Muscle weakness
- Loss of muscle mass
That's what I read on the package insert for the medicine my doctor prescribed to treat the huge swelling and rash I experienced after being stung by a wasp on my ride home. Not what we usually associate with a drug in the steroid family. I only mention this so as to set your expectations, because my legs actually felt fine... it was my lungs, and my brain, that failed me in this race!
Last year I finally figured out that I'm a sprinter, albeit a small one at 150 pounds, and have been trying to figure out which courses suit me best ever since. I have raced this technical course, set in a nice residential neighborhood near downtown, in 2005, 2006 and 2007, with fairly promising results. Watsonville's twisty, tight, fast 3/4-mile criterium course, with a short hill, seemed to match my power profile and lighter weight, but now I know better!
My teammate Joe Platin was first to sign up, and Geoff Drake also did, even though he was recovering from a chest cold. I knew this race would be fast, but I was hoping that our interval workouts had prepared us well. And even if I couldn't deliver for the team, a climber like Joe might be able to. Or if a strong break developed perhaps Geoff could join it and do well with his amazing endurance power. Bases covered, right? Well, the best laid plans...
I had scoped out our open-category 45+ age-group competitors beforehand, and knew that Larry Nolan (Team Specialized Masters) would be tough to beat, or even hang with. But that didn't mean we couldn't have fun trying our best. Since our small field was combined with the 35+ race we also needed to know who to watch there, so we could go with any promising breaks.
We lined up on that pleasant afternoon, serene in our belief we would do fine. Mark Knutson (Team Santa Cruz) was there as well. I was right behind Nolan, determined to watch his wheel. Geoff and Joe looked comfortable too; that ended just seconds after the official blew his whistle and the pack sprinted off at full speed and up the hill for the first of 24 laps!
I was, in fact, right with Nolan for a while, but then on the back stretch I heard him shift gears and move forward. I didn't think too much of it, but by the end of that lap, on the hill, I saw that he had somehow vaulted all the way up to the front!!! Gasp! That reminded me to move forward in the field instead of trying to sit in the middle of the pack, a mistake I had made in 2006 and didn't want to repeat. The many tight turns, wind, and the hill, all create gaps in the peloton that we then have to work very hard to close. That is very tiring. It is better to set a hard, but more consistent, pace near the front, thus avoiding the constant redlining efforts of those stuck in the back.
It was too late for me: We had gaps forming even on the second lap, and pretty soon the size of these gaps increased. Joe and Geoff were looking good, and I was feeling strong, but when I moved forward I saw a gap form ahead of me, and I then had to sprint to close it. Then another gap formed, and again I had to close it. It was like trying to climb up a rope that was no longer secured, like in a cartoon!
Up the hill on lap 3 or 4, Geoff had a gap ahead of him (he had done a better job of being near the front!), and I had to really dig deep to get around him and keep the pack within range. I couldn't look back, but heard later that Geoff "pulled the plug" because his lungs were just not clear enough yet. Bummer.
After a few turns I had caught back on just as, you guessed it, the guy at the back let a gap form ahead of him. I needed some recovery and couldn't get around him, so I had to draft a bit and hope for a slowdown. I had lost Joe, and couldn't afford to wait for him, and it turned out that he dropped out, or got pulled, soon thereafter anyway. So, I ended up working with this guy for a few laps. We did take turns, and after a while somebody else joined us from behind. The three of us rode our butts off for a couple of laps until they dropped out. I was so exhausted I could hardly see straight. There is just not enough time to recover on this course, unlike at Coyote Creek where the longer laps allowed us some recovery time. In short, Watsonville favors time-trialers, not sprinters! I rode alone for a lap or so, losing ground, but then I too got pulled. I was kind of relieved!
My race was just 21 minutes long! I joined Margie, Mark, Scott and Chris on the sidewalk on the hill, where they'd been cheering us on, and watched the carnage continue. Two of my pre-race 35+ picks, Eric Easterling and Brian Bosch (both of Sierra Pacific Racing), had teamed up and formed a break that stayed away. Even Nolan, who tried to bridge up, couldn't catch them. Soon there were only two or three guys left in the 45+ field; if I had managed to stay in I would have been guaranteed a podium spot!
I briefly considered entering the Elite 3 race to get a full race workout, but didn't have time as we were going to my nephew's graduation party. Instead I rode a 50-mile workout on Sunday to punish myself!
So, what did we take from this race? No trophies, but lots of lessons. We were all surprised: Geoff and Joe by the furious pace, and me by the apparent ease some of them (e.g. Nolan!) had in moving forward. I was again reminded of what my friend Chris Tanner says: It's better to be at 95% effort and well-positioned than at 75% but poorly positioned, though I usually associate that with a sprint finish. Had I worked harder on the first lap, like Nolan did, to move forward instead of conserving energy for a sprint, I might have finished that race and been on the podium. Instead I spent a lot of time fighting the wind bridging multiple gaps, trying to ride even faster than the guys up front but starting from far behind them... a recipe for failure.
Oh well. There's always next time!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Coyote Creek Circuit Race Report 7/14/08
Coyote Creek Circuit Race Report (45+ & 4's)
By Eddy Price
Greetings,
Yesterday four of us (myself, Joe Platin, Dennis Pederson and Bob Montague) raced in the 45+ open category at the Coyote Creek Circuit Race in South San Jose. Dennis was the obvious choice for our leader and protected rider as he won the 35+ 4/5 race last year and is our best sprinter by far. One hour after finishing the 45+ race, I competed in the open Cat 4 event.
The race was a 45 minute timed event on a 1.8 mile clockwise loop starting with a gradual one hundred foot climb followed by a fast drop, two consecutive right hand turns leading to a very long straight run followed by another two right hand turns and finishing near the top of the hill.
The race started very fast but settled down after 20 minutes and everyone seemed content to contest a bunch finish. I felt comfortable on the climb riding the smallest gear I could and never used the big chainring on the hill till the last three laps. Joe and Dennis were always near the front, Bob was somewhere in the middle of the pack and I sat at the back of the pack. Every time I moved up riders would force their way around me and very soon I was at the back again, wasting a lot of energy in the process and having nothing to show for it. Because there were only four turns on a very long loop, there was very little whiplash effect at the back and that is where I stayed for most of the race.
Joe's job was to stay near the front of the race and watch over Dennis who was always in the top five to ten. I figured Bob and myself could do something near the end of the race; leading Dennis out for the sprint, closing the gap to a lead group or attacking solo to incite the group to chase and giving Dennis a free ride during the chase.
With three laps to go there was a small break up the road and sensing hesitation in the pack, I went hard up the left side of the road and crested the top of the hill alone. One rider bridged the gap to me and shouted "let's work together and stay away" and we entered the long straight section of the course together. Very soon Dennis bridged up to us with the pack chasing a few seconds back. I went one more time down the left side of the road but was quickly countered by my breakaway companion and Dennis. The pack caught us near the end the straight and it was all for nothing. I was totally spent by the effort and knew there was nothing left in my legs for the sprint but I would rather finish last in the group helping someone on my team as compared to riding just for myself and going for a top 15 finish.
The last two laps are still a bit foggy in my head (maybe oxygen depletion in the brain!) but I know Bob went to the front and pulled the pack along at 30 miles per hour on the long straight back section of the course. I know Dennis finally bridged up to the small break on the last lap but then everyone in the break sat up and waited for the main group.
Dennis had wasted a lot of energy in that chase but still had a top six placing in his legs when the lead-out rider for Webcore-Alto Velo pulled left and suddenly slowed down right in front of Dennis, cutting Dennis' front tire and taking him out of contention. The lead-out rider claimed he was tired and had nothing left in his legs to pedal but it seemed to me that he hit is brakes because of how fast he slowed down. He did not gradually slow down like you do when you stop pedaling, he slowed down really fast and Dennis had no chance to react. Webcore-Alto Velo had the most riders of any team in the race and they also have the fastest sprinters. They shouldn't need to resort to dirty and dangerous tactics during the sprint.
I am not sure of how Dennis finished but I am sure he would have been in the top six, Joe was in the top twenty and Bob and myself finished in the bunch. We covered ten laps (18 miles) in 43 minutes for a 24.2 mile per hour average and one thousand feet of climbing.
I felt good that we actually animated the race and executed team tactics "on the fly". Without actually planning a reaction to very race situation, we worked together perfectly as the race unfolded, reacting "on the spot" when the need arose without hesitation or "analysis to paralysis".
As temperatures soared to the low 90's I lined up with close to 100 riders for the start of the Elite 4 race. My legs were not as sharp as the previous race and the pace was much faster. We covered ten laps in 41 minutes for a 24.7 mile per hour average and at the end I had nothing left in the tank and finished near the back of the main group.
I had pre-entered a third race, the 35+ 4/5 race starting two hours later. The temperatures were approaching the high 90's by now. I warmed up on the rollers for 30 minutes but felt so spent, I called it a day and drove home. If the temperatures were a bit cooler I would have had a chance at that third race. Riding almost an hour and a half at 24.5 miles per hour was all my body could take.
I have two weeks until the State Championship Criterium in Minden Nevada. I will be racing in the 50-55 category. It is too bad that the road race is the day before the Crit because the last time I raced the Districts, the Crit was first and the Road Race was second. Riding a Crit the day before a Road Race doesn't tired you out, in fact a short fast effort when you are rested is the perfect warm-up for a Road Race but not the other way around and if I have any chance of finishing the Crit with the main group and not get pulled as a lapped rider, I will need to be fresh. I finished 15th in the District Crit in 2006 and was the last official finisher, so my goal is a top 15 finish again.
Thanks for reading!
Ed
By Eddy Price
Greetings,
Yesterday four of us (myself, Joe Platin, Dennis Pederson and Bob Montague) raced in the 45+ open category at the Coyote Creek Circuit Race in South San Jose. Dennis was the obvious choice for our leader and protected rider as he won the 35+ 4/5 race last year and is our best sprinter by far. One hour after finishing the 45+ race, I competed in the open Cat 4 event.
The race was a 45 minute timed event on a 1.8 mile clockwise loop starting with a gradual one hundred foot climb followed by a fast drop, two consecutive right hand turns leading to a very long straight run followed by another two right hand turns and finishing near the top of the hill.
The race started very fast but settled down after 20 minutes and everyone seemed content to contest a bunch finish. I felt comfortable on the climb riding the smallest gear I could and never used the big chainring on the hill till the last three laps. Joe and Dennis were always near the front, Bob was somewhere in the middle of the pack and I sat at the back of the pack. Every time I moved up riders would force their way around me and very soon I was at the back again, wasting a lot of energy in the process and having nothing to show for it. Because there were only four turns on a very long loop, there was very little whiplash effect at the back and that is where I stayed for most of the race.
Joe's job was to stay near the front of the race and watch over Dennis who was always in the top five to ten. I figured Bob and myself could do something near the end of the race; leading Dennis out for the sprint, closing the gap to a lead group or attacking solo to incite the group to chase and giving Dennis a free ride during the chase.
With three laps to go there was a small break up the road and sensing hesitation in the pack, I went hard up the left side of the road and crested the top of the hill alone. One rider bridged the gap to me and shouted "let's work together and stay away" and we entered the long straight section of the course together. Very soon Dennis bridged up to us with the pack chasing a few seconds back. I went one more time down the left side of the road but was quickly countered by my breakaway companion and Dennis. The pack caught us near the end the straight and it was all for nothing. I was totally spent by the effort and knew there was nothing left in my legs for the sprint but I would rather finish last in the group helping someone on my team as compared to riding just for myself and going for a top 15 finish.
The last two laps are still a bit foggy in my head (maybe oxygen depletion in the brain!) but I know Bob went to the front and pulled the pack along at 30 miles per hour on the long straight back section of the course. I know Dennis finally bridged up to the small break on the last lap but then everyone in the break sat up and waited for the main group.
Dennis had wasted a lot of energy in that chase but still had a top six placing in his legs when the lead-out rider for Webcore-Alto Velo pulled left and suddenly slowed down right in front of Dennis, cutting Dennis' front tire and taking him out of contention. The lead-out rider claimed he was tired and had nothing left in his legs to pedal but it seemed to me that he hit is brakes because of how fast he slowed down. He did not gradually slow down like you do when you stop pedaling, he slowed down really fast and Dennis had no chance to react. Webcore-Alto Velo had the most riders of any team in the race and they also have the fastest sprinters. They shouldn't need to resort to dirty and dangerous tactics during the sprint.
I am not sure of how Dennis finished but I am sure he would have been in the top six, Joe was in the top twenty and Bob and myself finished in the bunch. We covered ten laps (18 miles) in 43 minutes for a 24.2 mile per hour average and one thousand feet of climbing.
I felt good that we actually animated the race and executed team tactics "on the fly". Without actually planning a reaction to very race situation, we worked together perfectly as the race unfolded, reacting "on the spot" when the need arose without hesitation or "analysis to paralysis".
As temperatures soared to the low 90's I lined up with close to 100 riders for the start of the Elite 4 race. My legs were not as sharp as the previous race and the pace was much faster. We covered ten laps in 41 minutes for a 24.7 mile per hour average and at the end I had nothing left in the tank and finished near the back of the main group.
I had pre-entered a third race, the 35+ 4/5 race starting two hours later. The temperatures were approaching the high 90's by now. I warmed up on the rollers for 30 minutes but felt so spent, I called it a day and drove home. If the temperatures were a bit cooler I would have had a chance at that third race. Riding almost an hour and a half at 24.5 miles per hour was all my body could take.
I have two weeks until the State Championship Criterium in Minden Nevada. I will be racing in the 50-55 category. It is too bad that the road race is the day before the Crit because the last time I raced the Districts, the Crit was first and the Road Race was second. Riding a Crit the day before a Road Race doesn't tired you out, in fact a short fast effort when you are rested is the perfect warm-up for a Road Race but not the other way around and if I have any chance of finishing the Crit with the main group and not get pulled as a lapped rider, I will need to be fresh. I finished 15th in the District Crit in 2006 and was the last official finisher, so my goal is a top 15 finish again.
Thanks for reading!
Ed
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Death Ride, 2008
Gary Griffin
The last time I did the Markleeville Death Ride was in the early 80’s, the ride was called the “Pain in the Passes,” and there were 300 people who participated in the mass start but only 60 who finished. A training camp for pro racers used the ride as the final day of a tough week of mountain training; my wife was pretty sure she recognized Davis Phinney in the group. Earning the ride patch that year made me feel pretty elite. This year, my second time to do the Death Ride, was a lot different. There was the lottery to enter, the commercialization, the shift from mainly race teams to recreational riders, but most of all, it was the sheer number of riders. When I started the ride, there were only a few other riders on the road and the only clue of the hoards I was to encounter was that the side of the road was a parking lot and I had to leave my car four miles from the start. It seems that starting 15 minutes before the 6:30 cutoff time made me one of the last to start. After a few miles I started climbing the first pass, Monitor, and started passing groups of riders. Soon the groups became a sea that stretched for miles in front of me. The rest of the day was spent either finding the best path to weave around slow riders or standing in line at a rest stop. None of the climbing was at all difficult, with only a couple of steep switch backs on Ebbitts Pass and I finished the ride less tired than I am when I get home from doing Soda Springs repeats.
By the time I got to the last of the five passes, Carson Pass, the temperature had climbed into the mid 90’s. At the rest stop near the foot of the pass there was a volunteer on a ladder spraying riders with a hose. I declined since I had spent the past week, which happened to be afflicted with a record heat wave, adapting to high temperatures and I felt fine. On Carson Pass the pace of the endless line of riders slowed to a crawl and passing was difficult since, unlike the other passes, this one was open to cars. The paradigm was that I would catch up to a group of riders, wait for a break in the motor vehicle traffic and then sprint around the group before traffic caught up with me. This wore me out pretty fast so for the last few miles to the top I gave up and just stayed in the procession of slow riders. I was tired and ready for the ride to end but consoled myself with thoughts of the fast, cool descent down Carson Pass which would bring me back to where my car was parked. When I finally got to the top, I collected my “Five Passes” pin, had a congratulatory ice cream bar, filled my water bottles and started the descent. I hadn’t gone a quarter mile when a thunderhead swept in and, with a single crack of thunder, the rain started. For a few minutes it wasn’t too bad, but then it started pouring rain and sleet and the temperature dropped to the mid fifties. The ride brochure had warned that the weather could change quickly in the Sierras, but of course I ignored that and had no protective clothing. I pulled over and stood under a pine tree for a while but soon the tree started dripping rain and it was obvious that this storm was not going to end soon so I rode the last fifteen miles of the Death Ride soaking wet and with fears of hypothermia. As I pulled up to my car and fumbled to unlock the door with shivering fingers, I noticed that I was within site of the rest stop where, a couple of hours earlier there had been a long line of hot riders waiting to be hosed down – ironic.
It was my own fault that I didn’t have a better Death Ride experience. I should have started earlier so that I would have been mingling with faster riders by the time I topped the first pass instead of threading my way through stragglers all day. But still, I cherish the memories of the first time I did the Death Ride and would like to relive the feeling I had of doing something extraordinary with a small group of compatriots. Maybe it’s time to start reading up on the Everest Challenge Stage Race.
Gary Griffin
The last time I did the Markleeville Death Ride was in the early 80’s, the ride was called the “Pain in the Passes,” and there were 300 people who participated in the mass start but only 60 who finished. A training camp for pro racers used the ride as the final day of a tough week of mountain training; my wife was pretty sure she recognized Davis Phinney in the group. Earning the ride patch that year made me feel pretty elite. This year, my second time to do the Death Ride, was a lot different. There was the lottery to enter, the commercialization, the shift from mainly race teams to recreational riders, but most of all, it was the sheer number of riders. When I started the ride, there were only a few other riders on the road and the only clue of the hoards I was to encounter was that the side of the road was a parking lot and I had to leave my car four miles from the start. It seems that starting 15 minutes before the 6:30 cutoff time made me one of the last to start. After a few miles I started climbing the first pass, Monitor, and started passing groups of riders. Soon the groups became a sea that stretched for miles in front of me. The rest of the day was spent either finding the best path to weave around slow riders or standing in line at a rest stop. None of the climbing was at all difficult, with only a couple of steep switch backs on Ebbitts Pass and I finished the ride less tired than I am when I get home from doing Soda Springs repeats.
By the time I got to the last of the five passes, Carson Pass, the temperature had climbed into the mid 90’s. At the rest stop near the foot of the pass there was a volunteer on a ladder spraying riders with a hose. I declined since I had spent the past week, which happened to be afflicted with a record heat wave, adapting to high temperatures and I felt fine. On Carson Pass the pace of the endless line of riders slowed to a crawl and passing was difficult since, unlike the other passes, this one was open to cars. The paradigm was that I would catch up to a group of riders, wait for a break in the motor vehicle traffic and then sprint around the group before traffic caught up with me. This wore me out pretty fast so for the last few miles to the top I gave up and just stayed in the procession of slow riders. I was tired and ready for the ride to end but consoled myself with thoughts of the fast, cool descent down Carson Pass which would bring me back to where my car was parked. When I finally got to the top, I collected my “Five Passes” pin, had a congratulatory ice cream bar, filled my water bottles and started the descent. I hadn’t gone a quarter mile when a thunderhead swept in and, with a single crack of thunder, the rain started. For a few minutes it wasn’t too bad, but then it started pouring rain and sleet and the temperature dropped to the mid fifties. The ride brochure had warned that the weather could change quickly in the Sierras, but of course I ignored that and had no protective clothing. I pulled over and stood under a pine tree for a while but soon the tree started dripping rain and it was obvious that this storm was not going to end soon so I rode the last fifteen miles of the Death Ride soaking wet and with fears of hypothermia. As I pulled up to my car and fumbled to unlock the door with shivering fingers, I noticed that I was within site of the rest stop where, a couple of hours earlier there had been a long line of hot riders waiting to be hosed down – ironic.
It was my own fault that I didn’t have a better Death Ride experience. I should have started earlier so that I would have been mingling with faster riders by the time I topped the first pass instead of threading my way through stragglers all day. But still, I cherish the memories of the first time I did the Death Ride and would like to relive the feeling I had of doing something extraordinary with a small group of compatriots. Maybe it’s time to start reading up on the Everest Challenge Stage Race.
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