5/18/08: SMK Memorial Circuit Race

I am knackered.

Yesterday’s Scott Kornfield Coal Miner’s Classic was one tough circuit race. Arguably the most aggressive circuit race/crit in which I’ve competed. The change in venue from last year went off without a hitch. Topographically, the course was not very challenging. However, the constant twists and turns, some tight corners and the blowing winds certainly made for a challenging race.

My legs felt great at the tail end of 3 consecutive weeks of racing. While I consider my fitness at 75-80% as I focus on Mt. Evans on July 19, this was not a race to take lightly. If nothing else, its significance makes it important. On top of memorializing Scott, my team co-sponsors and runs the race. Kudos to Andrew and Duncan for an excellent job of being co-race directors! You and the entire crew put on a great day of racing!

And I would be remiss if I failed to give kudos to Josh Tanner – 5th place! Awesome job, dude. Great rebound after a frustrating winter, including the knee issues you’ve been dealing with.

The 3s race was fast and furious from the gun. My fitness this May is noticeably and deliberately less than what it was last year, and it showed. Last year, going off the front during crits was my MO. Yesterday? I didn’t even see the front. A different rider or two dove each corner which kep the pace elevated and the racing super aggressive. I was surprised (and relieved) that there were no crashes. There were a couple guys who appeared to have no regard for the safety of those around them, choosing to move up at the stupidest times – like right into the bottlenecked 90-degree right turn late in the loop. Just plain dumb. Word has it that one of the yokels got a serious talking to at the end of the race.

Simply hanging on for survival is what I was relegated to doing. 3 laps into the race, my legs felt great but my chest was on fire. I thought, “How the heck am I gonna last another 50 minutes???” A few valiantly attempted breakaways throughout the race. One looked like it was going to stick as it lasted multiple laps and the lead continued to grow to about 20 seconds. Then the peloton’s pace lifted again and we covered the lap a good 10 seconds faster. And again, and again, and the breakaway was swallowed up.

I yo-yoed from about 5th to 10th position to 40th, mainly struggling to stay in the top 20-30. It was nuts. Everyone wanted to rip everyone else’s legs off, it seemed. The quarter-mile finishing straight was the best place to catch a breather, but only if you fought for your position. The cross wind caused the peloton to quickly gutter out, so many riders were left exposed for that stretch. The attrition rate ran high, with many riders dropping out or getting lapped and, thus, being forced to abandon. But there was no way I was going to quit.

With a lap to go, I imploded. The final attacks started and my legs simply could not respond. While they felt strong on the day, I had no access to any sort of top end power. My fitness is where I expected it to be, yet I did not anticipate being worked over like this. In keeping the eye on the prize in July, I can’t complain. However, taking the race as a single snapshot, it was humbling. My spring fitness was much better for the 2007 season but left me flat for July. Hopefully by easing into things this year, it will reap greater rewards in a couple months. Time will tell.

Great job to everyone out there. It was one challenging race, from multiple perspectives.

Next up, the Mike Horgan Hill Climb. A good stepping stone leading up to Evans.

Ride safe,
Nate

5/10/08: Sunshine Hill Climb

The Sunshine Hill Climb occurs up one of the most challenging canyons in the Boulder area Front Range. At 9 miles in length and with an average gradient of 7.6%, it rivals any of the more challenging climbs the Tour de France throws at its competitors. A closer look at the climb exposes its raw toughness - the final 4 miles are washboard dirt, the average gradient of the dirt is between 10-11% and at least one switchback tops 20%. It is an unforgiving climb. If you start out too hard or hit your redline too early, there is no respite in the dirt and no place to hide.

This year's race occurred 7 weeks earlier than last year. This Spring's topsy turvy weather also decided to not cooperate as racers were met with cold temps, increasingly colder temps as we gained elevation, a consistent head wind and, in the last several miles, falling snow. Needless to say, finishing times were not going to flatter the efforts of the racers who braved the elements and the climb itself.

The above descriptions may sould melodramatic. Until you look at the start lists and realize the fields of riders were about 25-33% of their normal size for less challenging races. It is pretty early in the season to race this hard. It's not like you can spin up Sunshine! And why would you want to on a day like last Saturday?

The highlight of the day had to be Andy Johnson upgrading to the 3s. We rode to the race to warm up and he never breathed a word to me. Not even when he went to get his number. Then, as he, Greg Ross and I are standing around before the start, Greg says, "So, Andy, you racing with us?" To which Andy grinned sheepishly and responded, "Yes, I am. And, boy, am I nervous!" I could not have been more surprised and, of course, happy for him. I love racing with Andy. The only detractor was the cold he was battling that week. Hopefully it would not spoil his debut in the 3s.

The pace of the 3s race was more aggressive from the start than last year's race. Last year, it felt pedestrian until I decided to attack right before we hit the Poorman turn-off. I realized that was too early to commit, so this year's tactic was to follow moves, not create them and then see what was what in the final few miles. If I had the legs, I would attack then. And after last weekend's disappointment, I was motivated to race hard and well.

Despite some new faces on the line, I eyed the two people I knew would have a hand in defining the race - my teammate, Greg (arguably the best steep climber in the 3s) and Chris Case (who Greg and I beat at last year's Sunshine HC and Mike Horgan HC, but who beat us when it counted most at Mt. Evans). Stick with them and that would be the race.

Chris must have taken a page out of my 2007 strategy handbook. Just past Poorman, when the first steep pitches of the climb are hit, Chris veered to the outside of the group and jumped up the road. At this point the pack was down to about 20 riders. I was in the front half and Greg was on the front. When Chris took off, Greg jumped after him, as did a few other riders. A gap opened very quickly. Keenly remembering the discomfort of last year's race, and not wanting to tow anyone up to Greg, I decided to sit tight. I was confident I could bridge up later.

In no time, the final selections were made. Chris dangled a handful of seconds up front. Greg and a Front Rangers rider were within spitting distance of him, while myself and a Vitamin Cottage guy named Jim were another 5-10 seconds behind in 4th and 5th. At this point, about a third into the race, my goal was to not pull Jim up to Greg but keep Greg in sight in case he faltered or the guy with him faltered.

To Jim's credit, he tried to bridge up a couple times and also tried dropping me. Neither worked. And, when he would recover on my wheel, I let my HR drop to about 130. There was no way I was going to be any help to him given I had a teammate up the road. Then another attack by Jim, I'd latch on to his wheel, the attack would end and we'd settle back in at what turned out to be a slightly slower pace than what Greg and the Front Rangers guy were holding as they battled it out with each other and as they tried to catch Chris in the lead. The wind made the racing and the tactics all the more important. Despite the efforts of the racers, the biting wind chilled and was uncomfortable. Nobody wanted to be strung out in front of it. I thought, "If Chris hangs on for the win, he definitely deserves it on a day like today."

Finally, I realized Greg was far enough in front of me where it didn't matter what I did anymore. My legs felt great and pretty fresh. Around a particularly steep switchback, Jim had a spot of trouble with his gears (at least it sounded like it as I heard some clanking behind me), so I seized the moment and jumped away. A quick look over my shoulder confirmed that he was unable to follow. I pressed hard the final 2.5 miles, wondering if I would see any of the 3 guys in front of me. Holding back in the first 6.5 miles does not mitigate the difficulty of the climb. The steepest sections just past Mile 7 were every bit as hard this year as they were last year.

In the final mile, the front 3 were out of sight and no one was coming up behind me. I shut it down a little bit, content with 4th place on the day and happy with the strategy I chose to employ. Truth be told, the absolute best I may have been able to pull off was third. Greg and Chris were in a league of their own and the Front Rangers guy did a great job as well. Greg ended up catching Chris and was able to respond to a couple of his attacks. But, in the end, Chris won in a very strong and commanding effort. Greg slid across the line in 2nd and Andy crossed in 10th. 2-4-10 was strong enough to vault the team into a clear (albeit early) lead in the Best All-around Team (BAT) competition.

Next up: SMK Memorial. Always a great race, always a poignant time to remember Scott.

Ride Safe,
Nate

5/7/08: Jeez, More Cowardice

I posted on this last year, but I guess it will become a yearly ritual. It’s really too bad.

For the record, people can disagree with me, vilify me, and outright hate me. If you don’t like my persona, or don’t like what I blog about – or how I blog – or my interpretations and recollections about my race experiences, that’s totally cool. I appear to have fans (man, that sounds corny, doesn’t it?) and detractors alike. The negative rolls off my back, so go ahead and add your comments to the blog telling me what a jerk I am or that you think I’m way off base. I’m not infallible; I just tell it like I see it.

However, if all you are going to do is hide behind the shield of anonymity and present that as some type of false courage, then I encourage you to do one of two things: (1) don’t bother posting your anonymous opinions on my blog; or (2) be a stand up guy and identify yourself and include your email address within your comments.

Look at this gem of a response to my Lookout Mtn race recap:

“Based on the amount of vitriol in you post, you pretty much come across as the jerk in this situation. I'm going to have to say it couldn't have happened to a better guy.

Keep an eye out for me on the dirt parts of Sunshine. I'm going to be waiting on one of the steep sections when you're speed is in the single digits and just push you over.”

If this isn’t a supreme example of complete cowardice, I don’t know what is. This commentator calls me a jerk. OK, that’s fine. Couldn’t have happened to a better guy. OK, an attempt at sarcasm. But then to threaten me directly, and promise to sabotage my next race efforts – and do so in a completely anonymous way? Pathetic cowardice.

What was the point, anyway? I am supposed to lose sleep, wondering who this closet psycho is? Am I supposed to be so scared that I’m not going to race this weekend? Or so scared and distracted that I won’t be able to race well? Aside from none of this happening, I just don't get it.

Again, feel free to post any comments you like. I seem to like vitriol, so be as scathing as you wanna be. What do I care? But don’t be a coward. It’s not becoming of you.

Nuff said,
Nate

5/3/08: Lookout Mountain Hill Climb

So, I kicked around trying to find a relatively nice way to go about posting this race report. There isn’t any.

A cold snap blew through the Front Range in the days preceding the Lookout Mountain Hill Climb. The day before showcased constant gusting winds and chilly temps, so despite things warming up on Saturday, the early morning start of the 3s race promised there would be a bite in the air.

The climb itself is not terribly challenging. At roughly 20 minutes, it’s a fast race from the gun with few tactics. Basically, you stay with the leaders for as long as possible then hang on for dear life as they ride off the front. Given that Greg Ross and I are two of the best climbers in the 3s ranks, we both had high aspirations for this race.

However, fate can be a cruel bitch.

As we lined up for the start, I was in the second row. Perfect place to be given how many people floor it off the line only to suck wind 5 minutes into the race. I just don’t get that strategy; this is not a flat, down-in-the-aero-position TT. My goal was to start out strong but smooth, watch the pretenders fade then move to the front and challenge for the win. Unfortunately, all strategy was thrown out the fucking window.

The gun goes off and as I’m clipping in, some COMPLETE MORON in the front row who can’t get clipped in does a 90-degree turn right into me. Sends me to the tarmac. Right at the start line! The leg under my bike is still clipped in, so I’m flopping around like a fish out of water getting untangled from my bike and back on my feet. Poor Greg got caught directly behind me and had to put a foot down. One of my teammates said something encouraging as I lay there – whomever it was, thanks. As I’m falling, I distinctly remember cursing this idiot with a string of expletives. What I said, I don’t know. But it wasn’t pretty.

Finally, I get back on my feet, get on my bike and head off with Greg right behind me. We’re a good 150-200m behind where we should be at the front. I threw it into the large chain ring and, against my better judgment, hammered my way up the climb in a desperate attempt to latch on to the back of the pack. Greg and I were both redlined as we caught the group, after about 2-3 minutes of chasing. There was no choice but to suck wind and try to recover, and hope that the real attacks would not come for a handful of minutes. A small reprieve – any reprieve – would be a godsend.

But it was not to be. As Greg and I latched back on and each tried to figure out the best way to get back into position, the decisive move went off the front – a solo attack by an unattached rider. Right then, I saw my race go up in flames. I was livid at the asshole who obviously doesn’t know his pedal-and-cleat from a hole in the ground. Ever think about pedaling with only one foot clipped in and getting some speed up before fiddling with your unclipped cleat? Guess not.

Despite my searing lungs, I had to get to the front. I couldn’t afford to let another move happen while stuck on the back of the group. The lone breakaway was dangling out there, and I felt the pace within the lead group ebb, so I decided to give it one focused dig to try to bridge the gap. The legs responded for about 100m before my heart tried to explode. I had no reserves whatsoever. As I eased off, it was then that Greg moved to the front of the chase. It was great to see him making the most of our misfortune. I slotted in about 5th position and decided to do my best to recover. Only I couldn’t. As we hit the upper switchbacks, I slid off the back of the lead group. I looked behind me and there was no one there. I was in 8th place.

The final 5 minutes of this race can be brutal. If you’re already in the red zone, then you’re going to fall off the pace as the leaders pound on each other. Slowly but surely, the threads frayed and rider after rider fell back. I used that as motivation to ignore the taste of blood in my mouth and the alarm bells ringing in my ears. I caught one guy and sprinted past him so he couldn’t latch on to my wheel. I did the same to another rider and suddenly found myself in 6th. The eventual winner was about 25 seconds up the road. Greg and another guy were about 15 seconds behind him battling it out for 2nd and 3rd, and another 10 seconds back were the guys battling for 4th and 5th. I was about 4-5 seconds behind them.

We all say this, but I don’t think I’ve ever dug so deep for so long. I clawed my way to the back of the 2 riders in front of me. After a very brief breather, I figured better to surprise them and go for it with about 600-800 meters to go. I shifted down 2 gears and hit it. One guy had no response; the other was wavering about 5 meters behind me. With 200m to go, I thought I would hold on to 4th. With 100m to go, I was cooked and the guy came by me.

Greg ended up 3rd on the day – he, too, got outsprinted at the end. 5th place for me. Satisfactory results given the bullshit start we both experienced. My guess is we lost upwards of 15 seconds in a literal sense. But the time loss was much, much more than that. The need to sprint from the get-go to latch back on meant we had nothing in the tank when the moves started. So, instead of being able to respond to them, we watched helplessly like neutered dipshit eunuchs. In the true sense, I would say we lost anywhere from 30-45 seconds. We made the most out of an unfavorable situation. In no way am I taking away from the dude’s victory or saying Greg or I would have won this race. We both have the legs to go with just about any move. I’m confident that we would have been able to at least respond to and go with that decisive solo attack. My guess is that it would have been a 3-horse race for the victory. Who knows from there.

I’m not focused on the “what could have been” scenario. I’m focused on that jerk on the start line. All I could see was bright shades of red, so I can’t even tell you who he was or what kit he wore. All I know is that he figured out a great way to throw gasoline on a campfire. With the Sunshine HC slated for this Saturday, I’ve got a score to settle.

I look forward to toeing the line with those who know how to clip into their pedals and who are ready for a slugfest.

Till then,
Nate