Salida RR State Champs - 07/28/07

Going Reptilian, Seeing God and the Challenges of the Drug Addict.

The Salida RR is a tough course for sure. It throws everything at racers – higher altitude, gradual and steep ascents, fast descents, false flats and varying weather conditions. Lump on top of this everyone’s desire to be crowned the state RR champ and there is the chance for this to become a real slug fest. 120 riders would start and only 42 would finish, if that is any indication of the day’s challenges.

Which it did in this year’s edition. We rolled out of Salida for the 30-minute neutral rollout to the start line under warming and humid conditions. I felt like I was back in the Chicagoland area where I grew up and became very familiar with the famous “90/90” days of the Midwest. Meaning, 90-degrees and 90% humidity. Though we were just strolling along, I was already starting to sweat. Notorious for my sweat rate and loss of electrolytes, I could tell I would be at risk of running out of Endurolytes before me need for them was through. Time would tell . . .

As the race officially started, we rolled off the start line at a faster but still casual pace. 72 miles with 8,000 feet of climbing was not to be taken lightly. Each of the six 12-mile loops started with a long flat to false flat, followed by the climb and false flat up to the finish line before a fast, non-technical descent back to the start line. Each loop would take us about 32 minutes to complete.

Some riders pushed the pace the first and second time up the climb. Nothing too serious, just enough to sting the legs. But I knew right away I would be a follower, not an instigator this day. Leading into Mt. Evans the weekend before, I wondered if my taper had been a touch too long. Coming into Salida, I knew I had fallen off the edge. If the race schedule unfolds in similar fashion next year, I’ll be lopping 2 weeks off the taper regimen. I didn’t feel tired; I just had no juice in the legs. The cumulative efforts and effects of the previous 5 weeks had taken their toll. Still, I was always in the front group and didn’t feel terrible. It would prove to be a long day and anything can happen. I was making no predictions one way or the other.

However, I was getting frustrated that on the flats just past the start line that the group kept sitting up to refuel and take stock. This allowed for large regroupings to occur those first two loops. But I must not have been as frustrated as Jake Wells of Mafia Racing was. The third time up the climb, Jake laid it down something fierce. He torched the peloton as if his were a move for victory. I had to bite off my tongue just to stay on his wheel. But, 50-60 instantly became five by the finish line. At the bottom of the descent, another seven had bridged up to make a front group of a dozen. This would be the race.

As we cross the start line, indicating 3.5 loops to go, the twelve of us got into a good rhythm and kept it going into the next time up the climb. My legs were throbbing and I was sweating like a banshee. I could tell I would be in trouble from a cramping perspective if I wasn’t careful. I took out my Endurolytes and popped the last of my pills. Only they weren’t supposed to be my last. Somehow, half of my stash had been lost in the first parts of the race. Not good. In fact, it would be very bad later on. I rolled to the front and kindly reminded everyone we still had close to 2 hours left to race, an effort to discourage another blistering attack and to save my own hide. I don’t know if my words sunk in or if everyone else felt the after-effects Jake’s superhuman efforts, but the pace was noticeably more manageable the next couple times up the climb. Thank goodness!

However, my legs were in big trouble. The muscles from my inner quads, running up the insides of my legs and then wrapping over the top of the thighs and connecting to the hip flexors started to cramp. There was no way I was going to last another 90 minutes. Greg Ross to the rescue! He came by me in the paceline and I asked if he had any ELs left to spare. He did and graciously handed me one. I chewed it up to speed the absorption rate before swallowing it down with a swig of HEED. I don’t recommend this except in dire emergencies, by the way. Their concentration of sodium makes them very bitter.

I felt like a crack addict going through a withdrawl and being given another hit of the pipe by an empathetic druggie. The EL kicked in and stemmed the tide of the cramps. But it was a pale solution, akin to the Dutch boy sticking his finger in the cracking dike. One EL when 3-4 were needed would not be a big help. But, Greg spared another 4 along the rest of the race, a couple times without me even asking. He just looked over and saw I was in trouble. My poker face must have sucked.

With 2 laps to go, the clouds and rain moved in. And with one full loop to go, the rain was coming down fairly strong and the temps had plummeted to about 50. Coming through the finish line with one loop to go, I was already shivering. But did I complain? Hell no! Anything to keep me cooled off would help with the cramping. I also grabbed a chilled bottle of water every time through the finish line and doused myself. I don’t know how I managed to hang on till the end. For sure, without Greg’s help, I would have folded and probably not been able to finish at all. My hope was that the final attacks would not start until the final time up the climb. At least then my misery would have company. I flirted with the idea of “making something happen” but quickly realized my tank was empty. My efforts would only serve to drop me right off the back.

The final attacks started earlier than I expected, on the tough flat section leading into the final climb. By now a stiff headwind was batting us in the face, so as the 2 riders broke off the front, the rest of us lined it up but held back. The real attacks started in earnest right as the climb hit its first steep pitch of about 150 meters. My legs were cratered. I could only look to limit my losses at this point and watch most of the pack ride away from me. Any time I tried to accelerate, I’d have to back off immediately. I wasn’t bonked; my muscles were simply utterly tapped out. Oh, yes, and cramping.

In those last couple miles, I lost 1:40, a staggering amount of time in truth. Still, I kept fighting as the brain fried and went reptilian. Crossed the line in 10th, which is the absolute best I could have hoped for on the day. Greg had a great race, finishing in 4th and only 9 seconds off the win. A couple of other teams, Colavita and MixOne had very impressive outings, each placing 2 guys in the top 10 as well. My hats go off to everyone who finished this race, but even more so to those who kept it together in our front group. The next pack rolled across the line a good five minutes behind us.

But the day was not over. We still had to descend back to the start line and then retrace our steps back to Salida, which effectively added another 45 minutes of biking to the mix. Part way down the descent, my quads and hamstrings cramped up. How the hell do you combat that?!?! Greg offered to go get his truck and come get me. Had I not been shivering in the rain like a sniveling street urchin, I might have taken him up on it. Instead, I remounted and tried to find that precarious balance which allowed all sets of muscles to twitch but not quite lock up. That was not a fun “cool down”.

The big lesson learned is that my taper was too long. I didn’t feel awful but I had no power in my legs. Not flat, just “not there”. I wasn’t in any way a playmaker. I’m looking forward to the fact that my last 2 races are 60-minute crits. I can deal with an hour of concentrated discomfort twice over.

Till next time, ride safe.

Why Levi Will Never Win the Tour - 07/23/07

Yesterday's epic mountain stage - the first in the Pyrenees - showcased the talents of those who are really hungry to win the 2007 Tour de France. The throw down on the Plateau de Beille was awesome to watch. I kept waiting for one or more of the attacking riders to fall off the bike - literally - the way they were relentlessly attacking. Cadel Evans' implosion was amazing. He kept fighting but eventually his body said, "Fuck off!" and shut him down. He snapped like a twig. But that's what it takes if the goal is to win the Tour de France.

In watching Levi ride, in stark contrast to Evans, Rasmussen, Soler and Contador, my assertions about him were further validated. He will never win a grand tour. He doesn't have it in him. When the pace really heats up, he looks lethargic, like he's biking in slow motion or trying to bike through jello. He's got no explosive power. And he's not aggressive by nature. He's got no outward aggression at all. At least none that I've ever seen.

After the stage, Robbie Ventura (quite possibly the worst interviewer ever) asked Levi for his thoughts on the stage and how it went personally. To paraphrase, Levi said something like, "I felt strong, but could not go with the accelerations. I don't ride that way (or maybe he said he "can't" ride that way), so I kept it steady . . ." blah, blah, blah.

Well, guess what, Levi? If you can't accelerate and take the race to the others, then you will never, ever win a grand tour. If you're not taking it to the competition, then the competition is sticking it to you. Winning a grand tour is not about riding steady and strong, it's about ripping apart the competition with attacks that demoralize and dishearten them. So, "sure-n-steady Levi" will be a pretty sure bet for a Top 10, but a waste of money to those who bet on him for the win.

Nice guy, though.

Just my 2 cents . . .

Mt. Evans Hill Climb - 07/21/07

Mt. Evans is one of those epic races. 28 miles in length, the race is an almost non-stop grind at a 5% grade. The race starts at 6,700 feet in Idaho Springs and finishes atop Mt. Evans at 14,200 feet while traversing the highest paved road in the US. The Mt. Evans HC, officially named the Bob Cooke Memorial after one of America's premier climbers in the 70s and 80s before dying from a brain tumor, serves as both the Colorado State HC champs as well as the FIAC National HC champs. Always a premier event, this year's installment gained an extra perk by the participation of Tom Danielson of the Discovery Channel team. Tom is largely considered one of the best pure steep terrain climbers in the world and holds the record on Mt. Evans.

The conditions were a little worse than last year (which was nearly perfect). Storm clouds were brewing over the mountain peaks, which kicked up a moderately strong wind over the entire course. While the wind always blows above tree line, normally the wind is a non-factor during the first half the race. However, today the wind was ever-present and would assuredly lead to slower (yet still impressive) times.

The team's goals was to control the pace in the opening miles. Last year, the pace would maddeningly accelerate and back off over and over again (in the 4s race). My goal was for a steady but challenging pace to be set to string things out, whittle down the pack to some degree and set Greg and me up for a great second half.

The gun went off at just after 8:15, and we rolled out of the Idaho Springs school parking lot. Andrew took a dig at the front right away. He set a solid pace that strung things out nicely and held it for a few miles. The first 5-8 guys were single file!
Finally, he got fed up from not receiving any help from the wheel suckers behind him (and rightly so), so he pulled to the side and hits the brakes. But the momentum was set - people at the front were in the groove (like lemmings), so the next couple in line kept the pace going fairly well. Then, Diran came shooting by me, headed to the very front and took up the pace setting. He strung it out for well over a mile and I saw that Andrew was sitting third wheel, waiting to take over again. About this time, a wide smile cracks my face. I could not have asked for more.

Diran finished his pull and Andrew took back over. One guy, Ben (who ended up 5th) took off, but Andrew stayed the course with a steady effort. He gave us what he could and then faded back. A few minutes later, J-Rod shot by me and went to the front to take his turn at laying it down. Beautiful!

Those three guys were pure poetry today. For the first 8-9 miles, they rode selflessly. It really, REALLY settled the whole race down and eliminated all attacks save the one by Ben. For the record, he only got 100-200m on us and then dangled out there wasting his energy. His 5th was admirable, but he was over 6 minutes off the win.

While the team took care of things up front, Greg and I sat in saving our energy for when things would really start heating up. The original plan was for us to start our own series of attacks a few miles past the ranger station, so a little over half way. But, things were turned a little upside down. At about Mile 9, the two MixOne riders were taking their turn at the front and setting a solid pace, just after J-Rod finished his final pull. Greg and I were right on their heels. I was feeling great - in control and champing at the bit for the fun to really begin. The MixOne riders decided to pull off, putting Greg and me on the front. The pace immediately slacked. I looked over my shoulder and saw about 25-30 of us all together. I also heard a lot of panting. Looking forward, I saw Ben still dangling out there about 200m ahead. As nonchalantly as possible, I shifted down two gears and put it in my big chain ring, then blasted off.

Behind me, I heard a bunch of "clunk-clunks", as others responded to my attack. I had not wanted to go that early, but I also didn't want the pace to slack. The move was meant as nothing more than to break things up and make yet another selection. Which is precisely what happened. A look over my shoulder and I saw only four other riders able to respond. Bridging up to Ben made us a solid and final group of six.

We settled in to a great rhythm. It didn't take long for six to turn into five. The effects of my attack on me reminded me that I am 38 years old. Recovering from such high intensity efforts does not come as quickly as it used to, so I did my best to let others do the work so I could settle my breathing down. We hit the ranger station at 54:35, so a fairly good clip. At this point, I felt strong and poised for the second half.

At about Mile 16, Chris Case attacked. Chris placed between me and Greg at the Sunshine HC and behind both of us last weekend at the Mike Horgann HC. A very strong and committed attack, but one that Greg and I covered easily. It served to drop the eventual 4th place rider, so the final selection had been made for the Top 3. However, another mile or two up the climb, Chris attacked again. I tried to respond but couldn't. Greg faired a little better but could not keep pace with Chris, who was riding extremely strong today. I called up to Greg who dropped back so we could work together, conserve our energy and ensure we held on to 2nd and 3rd. And, who knows, maybe we would be able to bridge back up to Chris.

But Chris continued to pull away. He tore it up today. Greg and I shared pulls, trying in vain to catch Chris. Overall I felt fine, just on the rivet with no room for upping the pace. Then, with one mile to go, my wheels came off. I had been at my limit for a touch too long and my body was forcing me to back off. Still pushing a solid gear, I had to watch Greg pull away. A quick look over my shoulder confirmed that the rider in 4th was nowhere in sight. So, no need to panic.

I crossed the line in 3rd with a time of 1:58:30, :20 behind Greg and over 2 minutes behind Chris. My primary goal was to break the 2-hour mark, so I was pleased with the result (which was also nearly 5 minutes faster than last year's race), especially given the stronger winds. I absolutely loved that race today. Aside from being whacked across the face by a 2x4 with one mile to go. Boy, did I get turned inside out at the top! At the top in the parking lot, I was a bit dazed. I crawled off the bike and took a seat within the Real Aussie Kids sag vehicle. What a great group of folks. Super supportive and hospitable of cycling in general, not just the group of fierce up-and-comers they bring Stateside for 6-8 weeks every summer (or Aussie winter, depending on your perspective).

As always, the ride down was a blast. The race unfolded near perfectly. The only thing that would have made it an absolutely perfect day would have been a victory for me or Greg. But, 2nd and 3rd ain't far off!

Oh, and on the way down I had the pleasure to have a brief conversation with the guy who prompted my "Wankers Need Not Read" post (below). Nice guy and I understood his point. However, we also figured out that I was not the Feedback rider with whom he took issue. I shrugged off his apology, stating that it's better to take issue and say something than to say nothing at all. We need to do what we can to improve the safety of our race experiences. This speaks directly to my "Wankers" post. Post any and all comments about what I write here. I encourage the feedback. Just let me know who you are so we can continue the discourse. I'm not always right. In this case, I was wrongly accused. But, no harm; no foul.

Next up, the Salida State RR Champs next weekend. This is clearly the hardest road race course on the calendar. Looking forward to it! The team has some great momentum going and there is no reason to believe it will stop before next weekend.

Ride safe,
Nate

Wankers Need Not Read - 07/18/07

I am amazed at the number of wankers who read my blog. My definition of a “wanker” is someone who reads a post and then leaves an anonymous note taking exception to how I presented my version of the race.

If you call me out about something, then kindly tell me who you are and how to contact you to discuss further. But don’t be a bold-faced coward by anonymously posting something, puffing out your chest and then hide behind your anonymity. It’s like giving another motorist the finger when you are within the safety of your own vehicle because you know there will be no face-to-face confrontation.

As one example, here is something I wrote in my Mike Horgan HC race report: "While forced to the inside and, thus, to traverse the steepest part of the switchback, . . ."

The anonymous post I received – which prompted this follow-on post – was: “Didn't look to me like you were "forced"...it only looked to me like you were on the outside, then dove to the inside almost taking out two front wheels, and then faded back to the middle/outside.”

Hey, fair enough for someone to see things differently. However, my use of the word “forced” is not indicative of someone forcing me to take the line I did. Given where I was within the group – on the inside of the switchback – my placement forced me to take that steep line. Had I been on the outside as contended, I would have stayed on the outside – the shallowest part of the switchback! Why the hell would I voluntarily make it more difficult on myself – and more dangerous for others – by diving across the switchback to the inside line? Makes no sense. But, if I am to respect this person’s opinion, then lose the passive-aggressive anonymous crap.

Don’t get me wrong here. If I missed something or you do take exception with something I say, let me know. That’s fine. I’m not looking for a fight or for an argument. Discourse is cool.

But don’t be a coward. If you're a cowardly wanker, stay the fuck off this blog.

Nuff said.

Mike Horgan Hill Climb - 07/14/07

2 Tests Down; 1 To Go.

Another tough day of climbing. There is nothing forgiving about this course. For starters, the climb up Magnolia is the hardest climb in the Boulder front range. On the lower slopes, some of the switchbacks hit close to 20% and the overall gradient averages close to 10%, rivaling some of the harest climbs the Tour can serve up. Above the paved section, the road levels out a bit but turns to dirt with quite a bit of washboard. This makes it challenging to get into a rhythm and can derail any momentum gained on the lower slopes. The reprieve comes once racers hit Peak-to-Peak Highway to start the short descent toward Nederland before taking the hard left and starting the climb up toward the Eldora Ski Mountain.

While a beautiful day for racing, the temperatures began to rise quickly. This coupled with the steep pitches of Magnolia left riders huffing and puffing, and sweating buckets at the lower elevations. My teammate, Greg Ross, put it well after we recon’d the course a couple weeks earlier. He said, “You just can’t go easy up Magnolia.” And it’s true. You can’t just spin up it like you can up to Jamestown or on the Peaceful Valley loop. You are forced to grind it out and your HR can skyrocket fairly quickly and easily.

Rolling out of the Boulder County Courthouse was an easy affair. With the relatively easy climb up Canyon toward the Magnolia turnoff, the pace was fairly sedate. Magnolia is a climb that scares riders, quite frankly. As much as I love to climb, I don’t know that I can honestly say that I love climbing Magnolia. Or even like climbing it. It’s a necessary evil when it comes time to race up it. To be perfectly honest, I probably won’t ride up it again until it’s time to prepare for Horgan in 2 years (as next year’s race will shift back over to Sugarloaf Mtn).

A small group of 4 riders broke away about halfway up Canyon and established a :10 gap at the Magnolia turnoff. At this early stage, expending any energy unnecessarily is, simply, a total waste and silly. I was feeling strong, riding well within myself and enjoyed a touch of dialogue with a few riders. But it was quickly becoming time to focus on the task at hand. The paved section of Magnolia is 4.5 miles, but would take about 30 minutes to climb at a fairly hard clip. That’s 9 mph average.

The only “yikes!” moment came during the left turn onto Magnolia. I was on the outside of the road and hit a bit of washout about three-quarters of the way through the turn. My bike slid hard and only a bit of counter steering kept me upright. Crashing would have sucked royal ass. Luckily, disaster averted. The first switchback, which hits riders immediately, hits about 20%. It’s a wall that bends back to the right. I was shocked at how quickly riders started to go backwards. While forced to the inside and, thus, to traverse the steepest part of the switchback, my legs felt great and I danced past a throng of riders. This is where the lead group of 4 were swallowed back up. It was also the point where my teammates who were not racing decided to plant themselves to cheer Greg and me (and Andy in the 4s race; he ended up 2nd!) on. Great to see them there!

The attrition rate was amazing. Before I could blink, the race was already whittled down to 5 riders. The key was going to be to keep effort in check on the paved section and then see what was what before deciding what to do on the 7.5-mile dirt section. The riders around me were breathing pretty heavily, so I was confident that without making any moves it would just be a matter of time before they dropped off the pace. Then, quite by serendipity, Greg found himself with about a 10- to 15-meter lead. He kept looking back to see what was happening behind him. I sat in second position in the “chase” pack of 4, doing absolutely no work. One time Greg looked back, I motioned for him to attack. This was the time to see who had what in the legs. Greg did not attack, but he kept forging ahead and had a solid lead by the time we hit the dirt.

About 3 miles up the paved part of Magnolia, the lead pack was down to 3 – Greg, me and one other indi rider. We regrouped on the dirt but, quite frankly, did a poor job of working together on our way to P2P Highway. Finally, I sat up, looked at the third guy and said, “Look, you can either work with us or we’ll attack you and drop your ass. Your choice.” He decided to “try” to work with us. But near the top of the dirt, he tried attacking us. A worthy effort for sure, but a waste of energy given we were about to hit a descent into Ned.

Halfway down the descent, I was thinking it was time to put some strategy in place to drop this guy. He was strong, but Greg and I would have no excuses if at least one of us didn’t beat him. Once we took the hard left leading to the Eldora fork, I went to the front and ratcheted up the pace to keep things strung out. I looked over my shoulder and Greg was in third position. Perfect! I was hurting myself, so my hope was that I was also stinging the legs of the third guy. We hit the left hand fork to Eldora and I continued to jam the pace. My hope was that at some point very soon, Greg would come bolting by me.

Lo and behold, Greg jumps past me. Here I made a tactical mistake which nearly cost me the race. When Greg jumped, I literally stopped pedaling. The third guy reacted a little quicker and a little stronger than I anticipated, and I all of a sudden found myself with a 5-meter gap to close. Not good. I dug deep and bridged up to the other guy while Greg continued to open up a sizeable lead. I sat on the other guy’s wheel and recovered while Greg continued to churn and pull away.

With about 600 meters to go, I could tell Greg’s lead would not be in jeopardy if I attacked and, by chance, happened to pull this guy with me. So, I jumped. And unceremoniously dropped him. Reeling Greg in was beside the point, as the key was dropping the last guy and securing 1-2 for Feedback Sports. Which served as a great boon on our run for the BAT title. And it was great to see Greg rebound after (what he considered) a disappointing 6th place at the Sunshine HC race 2 weeks ago.

Next up, Mt. Evans on Saturday. Can’t wait! Greg and I will be quite the one-two punch there. People seem to come out of the woodwork for this race, but we’ll be ready for all comers. First goal is under 2 hours. Secondary goal is 1:55. We’ll see what the day throws at us in weather and competition. But this is what it’s all about.

Till next time . . .
Nate

You've Got that Tapered Feeling - 07/06/07

Feeling real good right now. Almost too good. Which means everything is right on track. Training continues to accelerate, times in tests keep dropping and my HR is reaching new heights during hard efforts. All positive signs that the body is absorbing the cutback in volume the way it is supposed to. Things are opening up.

Next week’s mid-week business trip to Boston is ill-timed but unavoidable. So, I’m not worrying about it. Ultimately, it’s probably a good thing. I don’t anticipate it detracting from Horgan next Saturday. Already mischievously wringing my hands about that one. Can’t wait!!

Tomorrow’s our Mt. Evans recon ride. Looking forward to that, too. Supposed to be a gorgeous day.

Stay tuned . . .

Sunshine Hill Climb - 06/29/07

Mt. Evans prep is going very well.

Over what is considered one of the hardest climbs in Boulder's Front Range climbs, I ended up 2nd in the Sunshine Hill Climb. The 9-mile course took me 44:19 to complete and left me :19 in arears of the winner, an Aussie from their National Team. The Aussies come to Boulder every year for 6 weeks to train and race the hard hill climb races in June / July. Greg Ross and I both beat this guy last year at Evans, but he was wicked strong today. In fact, he was strong enough to post the fastest time, period, including all the Pro/1/2 racers. Scott Moninger won the pro race, and finished :13 ahead of me, so I don't feel so bad for finishing 2nd! ;-)

The day dawned warm but calm. With the relatively early 8am start, we would avoid most of the day's roasting heat. Our gun went off 7 minutes behind the pros, and it took us about 4 miles before we started passing those in front of us (pros and the 35+ category). The pace began relatively easy, everyone realizing that though the race was short in distance and time, it was going to be anything but easy. The 12.2 mph average speed confirms the difficulty of the climb, half of which is on steep dirt.

Feedback Sports' gameplan was clear: ride at or near the front but do not push the pace. Let others burn their matches in the beginning. The spot to first attack would come at the Poorman Rd. turnoff, roughly 2.5 miles into the race. This is where the road pitches up to greater than 10% and stays there until about 3.2 miles. A hard effort there lasts roughly 4 minutes before the road flattens out for less than a mile and then begins to pitch back up. An acceleration here would certainly split things up and whittle the race to the final group. Or, at least that was my anticipation.

Not long after the start, one rider got a wild hair, panicked at the slow pace, and took off. I felt a pang of sorrow for him. Sunshine Canyon is an unforgiving climb. If you blow your wad early, you might as well turn around and descend with your tail between your legs. To his credit, he did end up 3rd on the day. The pace picked up a little bit with a couple of riders pushing the pace to at least keep things honest. We were down to about 15 riders as we approached Poorman. I left my HR monitor at home but could tell I was in control and ready to attack as planned.

About 200m from the Poorman turnoff, Greg faded to the left and the Aussie kid faded to the right. No one wanted to be in the lead at that point. So, I jumped. I clicked down 3 gears and slingshotted forward. From training on the road, I knew the effort would be finite and HOPED I would be able to recover when the road flatted out a few minutes later. Being objective here, the attack was devastating to the group. The early attacker was just up the road and got swallowed up. He hung on as we crested the steep part and the road leveled out. I looked over my shoulder and saw that no one was with us. I was not naive enough to think "this is the race!" I had jumped harder than anticipated and so I was a victim of my own effort, too. Not a great place to be with 6 miles left but, hey, you go with it.

The Aussie was able to bridge up to us, and the three of us worked together to widen our gap on the rest of the field. This kid from Down Under is stick thin, a pure climber. Very smooth and comfortable. He never seemed to falter. I did my best to recover and conserve my energy, letting him and the other guy take more pulls than I did. Mostly, and if I'm being completely honest, I was just trying to stay with them. This is when I realized that I had pushed a touch too hard on my attack. Again, you just have to go with it, adjust and survive the best you can.

At about 7 miles, the Aussie put in an acceleration I couldn't match. Luckily, the other guy couldn't either. He stretched his lead to a good :30. At 8 miles, on a relatively flat stretch, I jammed it into my big ring, clunked down 2 sprockets and jumped away from my companion. With about a half-mile to go, I knew I'd end up second. But, I also saw I was pulling back time on the Aussie. To be realistic, there is no way I could have caught him or beat him. However, I do know how to beat him now. He's racing Horgan and Evans, and I am very confident I'll beat him in 2 weeks at Horgan and then have a great shot at Evans. I won't divulge my strategy here, but be certain I'll spill the beans should it work! Looking forward to taking off the gloves with him twice more, that's for damn sure.

Greg ended up 5th and JT, still recovering from some sidelining bronchial thing, came across 11th. In the 4s, Andy crossed in 7th and Bry Guy finished 24th. Great job, guys!

I crossed the line totally spent. Nothing left. But recovery came quick and I felt great as I put another 2 hours in the saddle on the day. My goal is to win at least one of these "climber" races - Sunshine, Horgan, Evans and Salida. One down with a 2nd place; 3 to go.

Taper begins in earnest now. This is my own crunch time. Should be an exciting, wild few weeks.

Oh, one last thing. In response to the "anonymous" blogger who posted a response to my Ft. Collins Road Race recap . . . 1) Your grammar is atrocious. Go back to school; and 2) I hope you're enjoying the 2s. You made it sound like you would tear me up on a mano-a-mano climb. I quote from your post, "It's unfortunate that we don't have another go around in the hills because next it won't be so easy for you. If you think i was pushing the hills [at Ft. Collins] just wait and move up to the 2's will (sic) have some fun!!" By my math, Mr. Anonymous, you finished 1:29 slower than I did up Sunshine. Big - BIG - ouch!

Ride safe everyone,
Nate