SMK Memorial Ride - 5/29/06

While the actual anniversary of Scott's untimely death is today, yesterday was Memorial Day. Every six years, May 30 will be Memorial Day, so in the interim years I'll have a moment of pause on the Day as well as the date.

I decided the best way to honor Scott would be to complete the ride he and I had set off to do last Memorial Day - an 80-miler out to Lyons, up to Raymond and on to Peaceful Valley, before cresting at Ward. Then after a fun descent, another hard push up the backside of Lee Hill before dialing it down to return home. I was set to leave at 7am, when Scott and I left as well.

About fifteen people met me at my house and came out to the accident site with me. Titus and Dan M. continued to ride into the mountains and then on to the Peaceful Valley / Ward loop. Their company was much welcome. Afterall, they were friends of Scott's as well. At the site, I took out some wildflower seeds - some sunflowers I brought out and some given to me by Andy J. (he was out of town at a wedding and lamented he could not join us yesterday) - dug a hole where Scott had lain and buried the seeds there. I brought an extra waterbottle with me full of water and doused the seeds. Hopefully they will take root and give us a colorful reminder of Scott's bubbly personality.

Diran, Brad Titus and I gathered below the "In Memory of" highway sign that now stands at the site. The LVC guys respectfully, but unnecessarily, stayed back while we reflected on our fallen friend and teammate. I don't remember his exact words, but Diran said it best as he blurted something to the effect of "What a crock." In essence, we were robbed of a very special person. Well said, Diran.

The ride was an emotional one, but a wonderful one. I felt Scott all around me. The wind whipped down at us as we climbed South St. Vrain canyon and I mused that Scott was doing his best to make an already challenging ride even more difficult. A year later, I can close a major chapter in this aspect of my life. So much has happened since last Memorial Day and so much more will still happen that is directly tied to last year's tragedy. But, I believe it is now clear that all who were touched by Scott's death are OK and are enjoying life. We miss our comrade, and we shed tears at times, but we are collectively smiling more and more. And that's a good thing and it's OK.

We miss you, man. Send us some Sonic Booms!

SMK Memorial Race Revisit

The significance of Sunday's memorial race is hitting me more and more here. It is evident that the cycling community lost a great person in Scott, not just those who were closest to him. He was an all-around solid human being, and will be sorely and sadly missed.

Kelly Hanes did a tremendous job of grabbing the media's attention for this. His vast media background really shaped things up nicely. He put together and sent out press releases to the TV stations and newspapers. This resulted in the Boulder Daily Camera running some pre-race articles on the event. It also led to four major TV stations showing to cover the race, and speak with me and Diran about what Scott means to us all. WB2, Fox, CBS and ABC were all there. Unfortunately, The Daily Camera was conspicuous by its absence at the actual race.

Andy and Diran shed tears during their races. Speaking between the Pro and Cat 3 race was more difficult than I anticipated, but happily did. And will happily continue doing.

Within a few weeks, we'll have Scott's memorial box up near the crash site, the proverbial last step in the closure process. Scott will never be forgotten. Not by those closest to him or by those who truly understand the fragility and preciousness of life.

Be careful out there. . .

SMK Memorial Race - 5/21/06

L to R: Jonathan, Andrew, me, Brad, Diran, Titus, Andy.

Well, despite sustaining a 3rd- to 4th-degree separation of my left shoulder 2 weeks prior, all systems were go for the race. Last weekend, I was sure that I would not be racing. It was not until 3-4 days before the race that I started to think toeing the line would be possible. Ironically, my shoulder does not hurt on the bike, nor does it hamper my ability to ride. Still, the thought of falling on it again right now is a little unnerving.

Despite the race start of 8:40am, it was already pretty warm. I felt a twinge of sorrow for Diran, who would not be racing until 4:30pm, when the day would be at its hottest.

Having been renamed the Scott Kornfield Memorial Race, the significance of the day was not lost on any of us on the Feedback Sports team. Regardless of the results, we planned to race our hearts out and leave it all on the tarmac. Given this was a 40-min circuit race of a 1.4-mile rectangle, it was a given the pace would be “fast and furious” from the get-go.

The shake out of the first couple laps was more sedate than I expected. One moron did dive a corner after the fast descent right as everyone else was braking. Almost took me out, which made me almost take out someone else. Gave him a severe tongue lashing, which was totally lost on him as he gave me the standard “What?” look in response. Of course, when the pace quickened, we never saw him again.

Speaking of the pace quickening, Andy Johnson got some sort of fuse lit up his rear end. Our third time up the climb to the Start / Finish banner, Andy floors it (don’t believe his, “Oh, jeez, I didn’t accelerate THAT hard”, aw shucks attitude). He stomps down on the pedals and the pack immediately strings out. While not evident at the time, it was this move that single-handedly triggered the outcome of the race. Andrew dove for Andy’s wheel and, since Andrew was our prime focus in setting the team up for victory, I jumped on as well. By the top of the hill, we were all redlining it an were in a pack of about 10-12 that had gained a small advantage on the peloton.

At the top of the climb, there is a short flat before a fast downhill (then into another flat before the uphill back to the Start / Finish). As we hit the flat then downhill section, we’re still together, and we stayed together through the next uphill. The pace was too much for some and the lead group became seven. Absent from the group were Andy and Andrew (I found out afterwards that Andrew had called up to me to back off and let him catch his wind; I never heard him). I was feeling good, so I stayed with the move. I figured the peloton would either catch us quickly or they wouldn’t catch us at all.

The various prime laps assured a quickening of the pace so that we were reduced to a lead group of five by the halfway point. The lead seesawed and, at one point, I thought for sure we would be assimilated back into the group. “That’s fine,” I thought. It would give me a chance to regroup with Andrew, see how things were going and rest up before hoping to give him a monster lead out. But we never did get caught. Jonathan tried to bridge up to our lead group of five, but suffered a flat right as he caught on. Bummer! Another Feedback rider in that lead group would have been sweet.

We had a distinct advantage over the peloton. In this case, it was strength in lack of numbers because we could dive through every turn without braking. This is what allowed our break to be successful. Brad White and Dan Weiler were two guys in the break with me whom I knew I could not beat in a straight up sprint, but the other two guys looked weak every time up the finishing hill. White more resembles a linebacker, so this race was perfectly tailored to his strengths. With about 3 laps to go, I decided the only thing to do would be to try to drop the 2 guys I thought were stragglers, cut my losses and settle for third. I figured this was a safer tactic than playing cat-n-mouse those final few hundred meters. So, halfway through the last lap at the bottom of the descent, I came through second behind White then dove right and floored it right past him. “Cool,” I thought. I had caught him off guard. Maybe it would be enough. . .

Not so much. At the end of the straight, before the final uphill, I see a helmet shadow around my bottom bracket. Somehow, I decide it is Weiler. That’s OK, I think. I’ll be happy to give Dan a super duper lead out, as long as it gives him a shot at beating White and, in the process, I’ve dropped the other two riders. Well, you know the saying “The best laid plans go to waste”? That’s what happened here. With two hundred meters to go, White jumps past like a freight train; he had been third in line. Weiler kicks past me and has no chance in hell to catch White; he hangs on for second. Just before I can think that I might have third sewn up, the other two riders pop past me. I’m totally spent, my HR has hit 190 – there is nothing left in the legs. A perfect lead out it was, but I ended up shooting myself in both feet. Fifth out of five. Lance would say that was last. But, hey, it was fun!

The pace was really fast throughout. Lapped riders were being pulled to keep things safe. Titus and Brad got caught up in the fallout, but were awesome for support from the sidelines. Andrew ended up 9th, which means he must have had a great finishing kick since he was in a pack of about 40-50. As for Andy. . . He just couldn’t get enough of the action, so he decided to race again just over an hour later in the 35+ category. And at the end, guess what? He was driving that train at the very front of the lead group!! Understandably, he had nothing in the tank for that group’s final sprint up the final hill, but his daily double was very, very impressive.

We still have not finished a race without some sort of mishap or miscue. We’re getting there, though. Hats off to everyone, especially SMK, who was definitely with each and every one of us on this glorious day of racing.

Shoulder Diagnosis Completed

So, when I went to the hospital after being taken out last Saturday, I was told by the “Scrubs” cast member posing as a doctor that I had suffered a Grade 2 AC separation of the (left) shoulder. Surgery not required, time will heal all wounds, all that noise. I was instructed to see an ortho this week to get it checked again for progress in healing or lack thereof.

Yesterday, I went to Eric McCartey, a neighbor of mine who played LB at CU and now services their athletics as well as those of DU. He also has a private practice. This guy interned at Vandy and with the NY Giants before coming back home to Boulder with his current gig. I knew I could trust Eric’s opinion.

I also looked at my x-rays before meeting with Eric. Yep, nice separation between the two bones of the shoulder – the collar bone and whatever the other one is called. They normally sit nose-to-nose and that connection is housed within some ligaments. Well, now the collar bone is pitched up what looks like about half-an-inch to an inch. Looks abnormal, that’s all I know.

So I get to the McCartey household and Eric takes me back to his study. As he boots up the CD the x-rays are on (ah, modern technology), he directs my attention to a couple of medical books he has open to the “Shoulder Injury” sections. I look at the pictures and x-rays of Grade 2 separations and my first thought is, “Uh oh.” The data shows the ligaments securing that nose-to-nose connection of the bones to be torn and shows stretching of other ligaments surrounding the collarbone. But, the collarbone is still nose-to-nose with the other shoulder bone. This ain’t what my shoulder looks like.

My next thought? “Grade 3 means surgery. Dammit!” My x-rays are done booting up and Eric takes a look. First thing out of his mouth is, “That’s a Grade 3 separation, not a Grade 2.” Great. He then probes the shoulder, asks some questions and, for the most part, is encouraged at the progress it has made in such a short period of time. I can raise my arm to parallel out to the side and can reach forward above my head; it’s getting there. I am loathe to say he is “surprised” or “shocked” because he lives this sort of crap every day. He shared an encouraging story about newly-graduated CU quarterback Joel Klatt. During Klatt’s sophomore year, he sustained a shoulder separation that Eric said was very similar to my own. Within 3 weeks he was back in the line up and had no recurrence of the injury over his final 2.5 years of being a CU starting QB. I also asked Eric about the dangers of injuring it further should I get back on the bike too soon and crash on it again. He said matter-of-factly that there is little risk of me injuring it further, even if I were to fall on it today. Yep, it would hurt like hell, but the damage is done. If football players can get slammed and crunched so soon after similar injuries, then falling off the bike can’t be any more punishing. I tend to agree. Time will tell.

Finally, Eric stated that surgery is not necessary, that my shoulder will always look fucked and that if it bothers me down the road I could opt for surgery at that time. For now, dig in and bear it. Fair enough. Of course, the vain side of me is saying, “Get the surgery. A small scar is better than looking like a hunchback.” The incredulous side of me is saying, “I’ve been bulletproof through over 30 years of high-end athletics and at age 37 is when something finally happens?” I’m not old and brittle yet. Finally, part of me remembers the tragic death of Andre Kivilev, who fell off his bike on a climb at about 10mph (but without a helmet, since the UCI had not instituted the mandatory helmet rule on climbs yet) and died. I’m reminded that this could have been a lot worse.

Whatever.

So, six weeks to get back on the bike? I don’t think so. I’m thinking that a shot of lydocane and I’m good to go for Scott’s Memorial race on the 21st. I’ll come to that crossroads in a few days and decide then. For now, I’m on the stationary bike and enjoying my recovery week. Legs feel great. I’ll be out there in no time.

Footnote: My bike sustained about $400 worth of damage – sheared fork, bent handlebars, both wheels out of true, sliced front tire and tube, bent cabling, more. I’m playing PI and trying to find the yokel who hit me so he can pay for it all. If anyone has any ideas, lemme know.

Lookout Mountain Pillar to Post Hill Climb: 5/6/06

I had Scott on the brain starting last night. I made a pact with him that I would tear this race up, cross the line first and then celebrate the spoils with him. Race morning, things were feeling pretty good. As Jonathan and I rode out to the race to warm up, it was one of those "no chain" feelings - effortless pedaling. I knew my effort was going to be a very strong one; I was confident I could win. I recalled the added carrot that both Kelly and Diran put in front of me - to beat Scott's time from the previous year of 19:45.

At the start line, I was at the very front with Jonathan and Andrew. As the starter called out "5 (4-3-2-1) minutes to go," I collected myself. Given the race was only 4.5 miles, the anticipation was that some riders would burn rubber, kill themselves and then drop like flies. And those naive boys did not disappoint. My strategy was to bolt out of the gate, but quickly settle in behind the initial rush.

The whistle blows and we're off! The first mile is one of the steepest parts of the race, but is by no means steep. Lookout Mtn. is a small ring climb until the final two- to three-tenths of a mile. About 15 guys rushed past me, so I settled in at the back of that initial pack. There were about 80 people in our race, so I knew the selections would be coming from in front of me. It did not take long for people to blow. When one group of three right in front of me started to allow a gap to open, I jumped past them. And then there were 12. . .

Various riders invariably decided to jump to the front to try to be the hero of the day. While that served to up the tempo and shell some other riders, the tactic proved self-throttling as well; those riders also managed to drop themselves right out of contention. Two guys did come past me from behind. I upped my tempo, rode past some others, but remained in control. About 1.2 miles into it, there were about six of us left. I wasn't sure where Jonathan or Andrew were, but there was no time to look or think about anything else but marking whoever was in front of me.

Now, I'll admit that the pace was faster than I expected and had I worn a HR monitor, I'm sure my HR would have been a good 5-10 beats higher than I had planned to ride. But, I felt strong and was definitely in control. I knew right then that I would win this race. Suddenly, one guy takes off the front. Only one guy tries a half-ass response. No one else moves; they are already on the rivet. So, I know they are all toast. Time to dispatch them, so I kick it down a gear and jump out of the saddle. Pass them up and settle back down in the seat. The guy up front has about 20 seconds on me. But he's just hanging out there, so I know I can reel him in when at 3.1 miles - my pre-determined place to floor it - I will be ready to give it all I've got.

Behind me, I hear someone hyperventilating and realize the race is down to 3 of us. Everyone else is shot off the back. I hope Jonathan and Andrew are riding well. I want the guy on my wheel to help me bridge up, but he's worthless. He's cooked but is in complete denial. I veer out and force him to pull through once for a brief respite, but after about 5 pedal strokes realize he's going to be no help. This, at around 2.8 miles. My point of final attack is within sight, a series of steeper switchbacks just after a small pull-off parking lot at the 3-mile mark. When pre-riding the course with J-Rod a couple weeks ago, I punched it here and found out that it is only another 7-or-so minutes of riding from the parking lot to the finish line.

Before I launch my final bid, the guy behind me has exploded. He's done. The guy up front is still hanging strong at 20 seconds up. But I'm not worried. I know I can catch him. Without a doubt.

The time comes, and I wind it up. I accelerate through the first 2 switchbacks. Suddenly, the time gap is 12 seconds, then a couple tenths of a mile later, it's down to 8 seconds. I am just about ready to throw my entire self into this. I'm gonna catch this guy quick. But I'm not going to sit on his wheel and recover, no way. I'm going to launch myself right past him and never look back. The crosshairs are on his back and they are lit up like a Christmas tree.

Then, disaster strikes. . .

I would have won the race and am confident I would have smashed Scott's time (based on Jonathan's very respectable time of 20:50 and how far ahead the guy out front was; I'll have to see the official results tomorrow to know for sure). I was absolutely flying and no one was in sight behind me. The guy in front stood no chance. With less than a mile to go, I was going around one of the switchbacks to the left when a group of guys were coming back down the mountain (they had raced in an earlier wave). They were coming way too fast and two of them crossed the yellow line. One of them plowed right into me - about a 40mph collision.

My fork was sheared off below the head tube. My helmet cracked and I suffered a 2nd degree AC separation of the left shoulder. Basically, that means the two ligaments that hold the shoulder muscles to the collar bone area were "shredded" (as the doctor put it after examining the X-Rays). Different than a dislocation, my collar bone looks like it is sticking up about an inch because the muscles of my shoulder have DROPPED down that much. Arm's in a sling right now, nothing they can do, and I'm off the bike for up to 6 weeks. Of course, I will ride the trainer or the stationary at the gym, but it sucks to not be able to climb for a number of weeks. That means that if I can race the Mike Horgan Hill Climb on Father's Day - 6 weeks from tomorrow - I'll have done little to no climbing during that time (depending on when I can get back outside on the bike).

But, what really sucks is to not be able to race Scott's memorial race in 2 weeks. No chance in hell of that happening. That's the real rub of all this. Accolades are great but ultimately don't mean shit. My shoulder? It will repair itself and I'll get back on the bike. Life goes on, and all that. Remembering and paying tribute to Scott is greater than his newly-established memorial race, but it is still the most important race on my calendar. I'm sad that I will be missing it. Of course, I will be there to cheer on the team and participate in other ways. That goes without saying.

Finally, I need to give a BIG "Thank you!!!" to Andrew. He was awesome. Right after he crossed the line, he spun around and came down the mountain to help me. He's a former volunteer fire fighter and knows a thing or two about first-aid. He drove me to the hospital, filled out the paperwork for me and sat with me for about 3 hours while the doctors and nurses came and went. I kept telling him to go, that he had better things to do with his time. But he never waivered. A true friend that I am very glad to have.

Well, from a racing perspective, this blog will be pretty light for the next several weeks or months. I'm sure other rantings and ravings will find their place here. Whew, I can feel the Percocet working its magic. Time to go night-night.

Zzzzzzzzzz. . .

Deer Trail RR Recap - 4/29/06

So Deer Trail was f-u-n. Wind, temps in the low-40s, wind, rain, wind, sleet, no sun. Did I mention the wind? A full pack of 4s rode off in the early-morning rain on the narrow, tight roads outside Tornado Alley (to paint an accurate picture of what Deer Trail looks like from the road). The 61-mile race consisted of a repeated 24-mile out-n-back (tail wind – head wind x 2) followed by a right turn onto some challenging rollers for a third and final out-n-back section.

Riders worked out the jitters and goosebumps during the first 30+ minutes. The pace was fast but completely manageable given the tailwind. On the way back, into the first head wind, the pack slowed. No one wanted to challenge the rest of us. Given last year’s 50+ rider mad dash to the finish, I was determined to not let that happen again. Marshalling the troops, Andy Johnson, Jonathan Weaver, Brad Fisher and I were part of a 7-man break. We pressed into the headwind and created a nice cushion on the main pack. Turning back into the tail wind, the goal was to press our advantage further. Unfortunately, the wheels came off of some of our companions and we got swallowed up about 5-6 miles down the road. Andy and I remained on the front to keep track of everything.

A couple miles shy of the turnaround, a guy dressed in Hammer Nutrition gear took off. We let him go because we knew the impending head wind would probably stifle his efforts. So, we hit the turnaround and head wind, and the same thing happens. The pack’s pace dies. Finally, I’d had enough. With about 20 miles to go, I jump and go! I ride as low as possible on the hoods and start cutting through the wind. After a few minutes, I look back and I’ve got a nice gap. A few moments later, the gap is still increasing. I’m totally committed to this solo break.

A few miles up the road, I catch the Hammer guy. He tries to stick with me but can’t, so I cut my losses and continue on solo. I make the right turn for the final 13-14 mile out-n-back and the pack is out of sight. At this point, I’m thinking I can win this thing! That motivation pushes me harder.

All is great until I hit the final turnaround. Now, only 6 miles left to the finish. The wind is hellacious and I know right then that it will be tough to stay away. I’ve got 1:15 on the chase pack of about a dozen riders. At the very least, mission accomplished. This won’t be a crap shoot among 50+ riders. I’m killing myself up the rollers and going nowhere fast. The wind is killer. The pack is catching me. Shit! Finally, I realize they will, in fact, catch me. But I don’t let up; it’s not in my genes. With about a mile left, the catch happens.

I still feel very strong, so I take up position at the back on the outside, completely sheltered from the wind. I’m twitching to attack again, but know it would be futile until the very end. There are 12 of us and I’m biding my time. I expect one more attack to try to make one more selection before the finish. One guy comes around me and goes. “This is it!” I think. This is the final selection. I jump on his wheel but not too aggressively. I don’t want to be second in line, but rather 6th to 8th so I can counterattack and make a dash for the line. I’m positioned 7th. Perfect!

Then, the guy in front raises his arm in victory. What?!?! An inch-thick piece of white tape across the road rolls under my wheel. THAT’S the finish line??? At least 8 of us thought the finish was back in town, another couple miles from the true finish line (so, when I say above that I was caught one mile from the finish, at the time I thought there were several miles left). Eight of us bitching about the finish. I’m not saying I would have won had I known where the finish was, but I certainly think it is safe to say I would have placed higher. And probably been the one to jump first. Lesson learned? Scout out the finish line as well as the start line of every race! Won’t happen again at any venue.

All in all, I felt I was the strongest rider. I instigated two breaks. The team was awesome, both in the break as well as for breaking the wind for me. Especially Andy and Brad. Those guys were rock stars that day! My hats off to both of them.

Brad did take me out before the race. He clipped my front wheel and sent me to the pavement while we were warming up. I figure he really knows how to make his teammates crash. I felt fine on the bike for the race and I feel fine on it this week. However, anything else I do – walk, sit, lie down, sneeze, cough, etc. – hurts like a bitch. My back’s locked up, my left butt cheek has a big knot in it and my tailbone is pretty bruised. Thanks a million, Brad!

Stay tuned for a Pillar to Post update after Saturday.

Ride safe,
Nate