Monday, December 12, 2016
After two DNF's in a row, it was great to have a successful race! This was my first full race as a 3 (the first race that I actually finished as a 3, anyway), and I managed to land myself on the podium still. Great end to the season!
I got a great start from the first row. Went through the prologue (about 2/3 of a lap in third wheel). Laid down some power in the one flat stretch to pass Ella (the tiny pre-teen on the second step of the podium) for second wheel. On the first full lap, Jenna (third step on the podium) was leading but totally ate it on the run-up. I passed her for the lead. I was nervous, because I didn't want to be responsible for pace-setting. At that point, there were four of us together in a group, with a good gap back to fifth place.
I tried to discipline myself to slow down and not waste energy, but it's hard to ride steady when you can hear heavy breathing behind you. My plan was to attack on the final lap and try to get a gap, rather than letting it come down to a final sprint. I was working really hard, too. I was on the limit, and couldn't have gone much faster.
Lisa passed me in the second-to-last lap, but I passed her on the inside on a technical corner to retake the lead. On the final lap, she accelerated around me, and I dug to catch up. After a few turns, though, it became apparent that I wasn't going to be able to hold her pace. I lost contact on a pair of corners, and was never able to accelerate back up to her. But I could hear Jenna breathing heavily, and I was pretty sure I could hold Ella off (because I've ridden away from her on other courses).
Jenna managed to get around me somehow coming into the barriers for the last time, and I lost my rhythm going over the planks. I messed up my remount, ran my handlebars into the tape, and lost just a few seconds disentangling myself. But that was enough time for Ella and Jenna to get away from me. They had maybe 5 or 6 seconds on me through the rest of the race, and I never got them back. So I hung with the winning group through the whole race and lost it in the final lap.
Logically, I know that I didn't actually lose. I'm standing on the podium up there! But I can't help but think of the ways that I could have maybe stood a step or two higher on that podium, and there are no races next week for me to move up further! Still, it's a pretty great way to start my career as a cat 3 (Capital Cross Classic last weekend notwithstanding).
Now it's time to build some base for the road season!
Monday, December 5, 2016
This will be a short one.
We went to Canada for American Thanksgiving. I got terribly, terribly sick on the day we drove back and I've been sick ever since. I think I might have had the flu. I had a slight fever, my throat was sore, my joints and muscles ached, and my skin felt really sensitive. I was completely wiped out until last Thursday. I felt a little better on Friday, so I tried to catch up on a few chores--did the dishes, vacuumed. By Friday night, I was totally miserable again. Missed the team ride on Saturday because I was so sick. I knew I wasn't in any kind of condition to race on Sunday, but I'd already signed up and paid for my entry, so I went anyway.
I arrived at 8, even though I wasn't racing with the women's 4s--this was my first race as a cat 3! I wanted to cheer my friends on, though. I warmed up on the course, and felt okay. In fact, my legs felt really good, and the course felt like a good one for me! I thought I could probably get a podium, even. But then as soon as I stopped pre-riding and sat in my chair, I felt like baby elephants were sitting on top of me. I was totally wiped out again.
I lined up, anyway. Got a pretty good start, and went into the first section in the top 10. I had my eye on a few ladies that I knew I should be able to track throughout the race (if I were healthy). I managed to stay with them through the first few sections, still in touch with the front. My first indication that my body was not going to cooperate was on the run-up. I willed my body to go faster, but it wouldn't. I barely managed a jog, but that was enough to pass a few women who were walking their bikes. I should have been able to ride the second hill, but accidentally unclipped my right foot and had to run the rest of the way up. A girl tried to run past me there, and I was able to put in a surge to get away from her with a sprint, a good re-mount, and a little dig up the hill.
But at the top of the hill, my body told me, "Nope! You're sick!" I couldn't catch my breath. I got chills all over--you know that feeling when you've run out of glycogen towards the end of a hard interval workout and you feel like you've been dipped in ice water? I got that. I had to soft-pedal, and everyone I'd passed came around me. I recovered through the next several sections and had a good ride down The Chute (a long, swoopy descent courtesy of the Lake Fairfax mountain bike trails). I made an awesome attack on the punchy hill going up to the team tent area, passed on the outside, and cut in to take a great line through the off-camber switch back. It was beautiful.
And then my body sent me another message: "Nope! Still sick!" Same thing. Ice water, couldn't catch my breath. Since the first signals, I'd been debating in my head whether or not to pull out after the first lap. I knew I could make it through the race okay, if I would just soft pedal around the course--that is, if I would just ride the race "for fun." But every time someone would pass me, something in my head said, "No way! I am faster than you!" And I would put in a surge and try to get that place back and then my body would remind me that sick people don't get to do that.
So at the last second--literally, right before I crossed the finish line for the first lap--I pulled off the course and told the officials that I was pulling myself. Went back to the tent and changed and stewed over how well I could have done in the Super 8 finale if only I hadn't gotten sick . . . but that's cross! There's always next year. And I did make Emily's day by coming home and telling her, "You were right. I shouldn't have tried to race." She loves being right.
I'm afraid I may be one of those bike racers who takes herself too seriously, who's incapable of doing the race for fun. It may be that the part of racing that I like is proving that I'm better--stronger, faster, better at cornering, whatever--than other people; I don't ride bikes just because I like it, but because it's a way of proving my superiority. Does that make me a jerk? It might make me a little bit of a jerk. I do make a conscious effort of riding with the mantra, "Don't be a jerk," so maybe it balances out.
I hope I get over this cold/flu/sickness soon, though. I'm ready to start base-building for the road season!