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.