Mike Horgan Hill Climb - 07/16/06

Well, old dogs can learn new tricks. This weekend’s Mike Horgan HC proved the perfect venue for THIS old dog to learn a couple things. What did I learn? I learned that: 1) Severe heat will 99 times out of 100 take me down; 2) I am really strong on moderately steep climbs, but only strong on moderate and really steep climbs; 3) performing very well on a course during training does not ensure success in an actual race over the same terrain; 4) never break a cardinal rule of racing. And, I’m sure there are more lessons learned.

I ended up 6th on the day. Not bad, but not satisfactory either. For the first time this year, I woke up and the first thought that came to mind was, “I’m off today.” After 30 years of this shit, I trust my gut. But, I didn’t think much of it. I’ve won very big, very important races after getting out of bed and wondering how I was going to put one foot in front of the other. But this feeling came directly from my head, not my body. The ride out to the race start felt fine. Not great, but not bad. I had no reason to think my performance would be sub-par. And, to be honest, I don’t know that it was sub-par.

Andrew showed up for some moral support and to help keep me where I wanted to be during the first 6-7 miles. After his big win at Festival in the Park the previous day, big kudos to him for doing the dirty double. He gets the definitive nod for Ye Old Codpiece in my book. Thanks, Andrew! The whistle blew and we took off out of the courthouse parking lot. I felt like an idiot while I tried to clip into my pedal about six times before I finally got it right. No problem. A few hard pedal strokes and I was right in the thick of things.

Aside from some psycho ranting and raving, and generally carrying on like a complete asshole those first 6 miles by one rider in particular (who was that jack ass anyway???), the race unfolded predictably. Some surges off the front, none worth following. Some were ignored, others were followed. I did my best to let others do the work to close gaps and conserve my energy for the certain pain to come. At 4.8 miles, we hit the sharp right turn onto Sugarloaf, and Andrew had me positioned perfectly – in the top 10-15. Then the fun began.

Some sharp accelerations made the first split. There were about 15-20 of us left up front. At this point, Andrew was still there, but I could tell his legs were on the verge of cracking. No matter, he did exactly what was asked of him. I gave him a thumbs up as I passed him by, a silent “thanks”. I felt OK here. Not great but in control of my effort. The attrition had begun.

The first couple miles of Sugarloaf are steep, in excess of 10%, then there is a slight leveling off before the real grunt begins just before the Mile 3 marker until just before Mile 5. Those two miles are brutal. Greg, a solid climber from Spike!, and I went to the front and lifted the pace up a notch. The lead group of 15 became 10. I uplifted the pace again and 10 became 6, then became just 3. At this point, around Mile 3.5, I was close to my limit and assumed Greg and the other guy, an unattached rider, were too. I was wrong. The unattached rider kicked the pace up a notch. Greg went with him and I could not. Not long after, another guy came up to me and I worked to stay with him. About this time, the heat is starting to bake me and the quads are starting to twinge. Which is strange for only 40 minutes into the race. This should not be happening this soon. But I put it out of my mind.

I crest the top of the steep climb about 30 seconds behind the two front runners and about 5 seconds behind the guy in third. From training, I remembered that the downhill portion allowed for sufficient recovery so I could push up and over the dirt section before the final descent & climb to the finish. I was really looking forward to the recovery and then the push to re-latch on to the front runners. But, the recovery never came. My HR never came down and my legs continued to protest. Twinging turned to light cramping. I had committed the cardinal sin of spending too much time in the Red Zone. As I have professed over and over, once you are in your Red Zone and you keep it there for too long (literally 10-20 minutes tops), your body shuts you down. You don’t have a choice; I didn’t have a choice. I had hit the wall.

The upper pitches of the race are gradual, and in training I hit them in my big chain ring. In the race, I could only manage my small ring. I knew things were bad when I saw the road continue up when I rounded a bend and all I could think was, “Shit!” My body was checked out and I couldn’t wait for it to be over. Not like me. But, when you cross over from “competitive” mode to “survival” mode, everything changes – your output, your mental state, how your body feels and so on. In the infamous words of Phill Liggett, I had cracked.

I hit the end of the dirt road where Sugarloaf meets Peak to Peak Highway at 1:03, nearly a minute faster than my best training run over the course. But, by the time I hit the finish line 10 minutes later, I was nearly a minute behind that training run. In the final 2.5 – 3 miles, I lost 2 minutes. That’s huge. The legs were totally tapped.

All in all, I can’t complain. More lessons learned. I am looking forward to Mt. Evans. My confidence is not shaken for that race. My legs are toast today, so my only worry is that I can get this recovered and feeling snappy for the 22nd. I’ll take it day by day. One thing I do know is that I’m going to put a 25 on the back for next year’s race (maybe even a 27 if it goes up Magnolia instead). The 23 just did not allow me to spin enough and keep the stress off the legs.

Hope you all are riding safe out there. . .