6/21/08: Ft. Collins Road Race

It had taken awhile for me to absorb this race and conceptualize the right way to post about it. How to explain the disappointments of the day without coming across as either bitter or as if I were simply making excuses for a really poor performance? This was my conundrum. So, I decided to give it a week’s worth of reflection first.

Felt OK before the race. Not great, but not bad. No reason for alarm. Training had been going very well and the peak build up for Mt. Evans had been spot on. The goal here was to see improvement in my fitness from the Mike Horgan HC. This year’s race start was quite a bit later in the day than the previous year. How much of this played into my implosion I’ll never know, but my guess is that it affected me quite a bit.

The ambient temperature of the day was fairly “hot”, even though the true temperature wasn’t that high – low-70s at race start and into the low- to mid-80s during the race. I recall thinking it was pretty hot while standing there at the start line for roughly 10 minutes. Still, at this point it was an observation. In last year’s race, Greg Ross and I controlled the pace up Rist Canyon, then tried to blow the race apart on the steep upper parts. That worked, but the race also came back together and was left to about a 15- or 20-man sprint for the finish. So, for this year, my strategy was to hold back going up Rist and save the legs for the final series of dams. Seemed like the right thing to do.

The course change for this year left me scratching my head. While I love climbing and think “more is better”, including those stingers in the opening 10 minutes of the race is kinda silly. Unless last year’s course had to be changed for some reason(s), the steep climbs right out of the starting gate left me shrugging my shoulders. Some folks decided to press the pace heading up these first climbs, which also left me scratching my head, but I stuck to my plan and hung back. I rode at the very back of the pack, and kept energy in the bank. Legs didn’t feel super snappy, but good enough. Still, no alarm at this point.

Things heated up, figuratively and literally, heading up Rist Canyon. Sticking to my pre-race plan, I kept the pace consistent and did not panic as the pace yo-yo’d. I dropped off the back and caught back on several times by holding my pace consistent. To me, I wasn’t burning matches and was still right where I wanted to be. So far, so good, right?

Well, not so much . . .

About 2/3 of the way up Rist Canyon, I commented to my teammate, Andy Johnson, that I was feeling pretty hot. He didn’t say anything at the time, but afterwards he commented to me that he figured I was in a for a long day given my susceptibility to the heat. I started to wonder if I was in for a long day myself when, on the steep upper slopes, my legs did not respond to the final accelerations. At that point, I simply could not “go.” Still, no panic. Based on the previous year’s race, the subsequent descent and flat sections would offer more than enough opportunity to catch back on.

I hit 64mph on the backside of Rist, loving every bit of that serpentine descent. Eventually, 7 of us hooked up and got a fairly efficient paceline going. Figured we would snatch up anyone else dropping off the front group of 8 (or so) and eventually catch back up to the leaders. I started feeling a little better, but still not great.

At about mile 40, after a left turn and a quick spin through one of the aid stations – which were great – the lights went out. It felt immediate, though clearly symptoms had been mounting. Suddenly, my HR dropped and my respiration climbed. I blew off the back of the paceline like I had been tied to a tether which had been pulled taut. It was that sudden and complete.

I was clearly overheated and dehydrated. My jersey was stiff with dried salt. My lips and tongue felt swollen (not sure if they actually were), and I had the most bitter taste of salt that I could not shake. My HEED went from tasting mild to super sweet and completely unpalatable. My body did not want me to ingest anything – not HEED, not plain water, nothing. On the flats, I was relegated to going 10-12mph. It was all I could do to turn the pedals over. The biggest moment of humility came when about 10 miles after my blow up an overweight cyclist who had to ride with his knees bowed out due to his girth passed me by. Just some guy out for a ride on Saturday. If I had not been so in-tune with my distress and forcing more calculations about my demise through my brain faster than the IBM Super Computer, I might have had the mental acuity to feel embarrassed.

Things did not get any better as I limped along. Eventually, they stopped getting worse. After about 30 minutes of my pedestrian pace, another large group came by me. One guy, I think he was in a Basil Doc’s kit, called out, “Nate, are you OK?” as the pack rolled by. Don’t know who he was, but I want to officially say thank you for recognizing me and checking in.

When it came time to hit the dams for the second pass, instead of taking that sharp left, I descended directly down and back to the start/finish area. Even if I had wanted to hit the dams for pride’s sake – and I sure as hell did not! – there’s no way my legs could have carried me over them. My goal is never to drop out, regardless of where I may end up place-wise. However, I would be served in no capacity by continuing on any farther. The only reason I kept pedaling once I had blown up was because there was no other way to get back to the venue.

After some exhaustive post-race dissection and in speaking with some ultra-distance athletes I know, what my implosion essentially boiled down to is lack of acclimation to the heat. No, it was not a super hot day. But, to my body it was and so my furnace, which burns hot anyway, kicked into overdrive and fried me to a crisp. Without boring with the details, it makes sense and now I have the tools to get myself better acclimated moving forward.

So, mission unaccomplished. After cycling through all the possible negative thoughts while I rode on alone, I kept coming back to the fact that my fitness was OK. It didn’t show in this race, but I would live to fight another day. Go home, lick wounds, get back on bike.

The team, however, had a great race. Greg Ross sprinted it out for 5th (and ended up 3rd in the following day’s HC). Josh Tanner ended up 10th. Jeremy Miller finished 17th to round out our presence in the Top 20 for those precious BAR/BAT points.

Next up for me is the Longmont Crit, 6 days out from Mt. Evans. A great final prep – short, sweet and intense.

Ride safe,
Nate