2/17/2011: Moving to New Digs

This is my final post on this here blog site. But don't despair, loyal readers. I am simply moving my posts to the new Sonic Boom Racing team site!

Check it out. Not only will you see my own posts, but you'll gain access to posts by my teammates and other news about this truly awesome team - Sonic Boom Racing p/b Lucky Pie.

As always, ride safe.

Nate

8/15/10: Air Force Academy State RR Champs

Having never ridden out at the AFA, I wasn't sure what to expect from the course aside from the very real potential for a stiff wind. The AFA is the location for the strongest winds in CO and the gustiest winds in the entire country. Plus, the parcours had changed from previous years so the lap configuration was new to all the racers. We'd all be seeing it for the first time on the first lap of our respective races.

The Pro/1/2 race was to be 9 laps of a 9-mile circuit, winding its way around the Academy. Someone in-the-know informed me that overall the course was mostly flat with one long, gradual climb of nearly 2 miles and a second steeper, punchy climb which would take somewhere between 30-45 seconds to top. We would hit this climb just a couple minutes after the first, longer climb.

The token break of 2 riders went away at the gun while the rest of us settled in with little sense of urgency. And it didn't take long for the break's lead to balloon to nearly 5 minutes over the course of the first 2 laps. My legs felt great - very fresh and strong. Accessing the watts was not an issue, but I also realized the race had yet to heat up. It was on the 3rd lap where things started to get interesting . . .

The 2 climbs were smack in the middle of each lap. Our third time up the long climb, a couple riders initiated a blistering attack that immediately shattered the peloton to bits. I was riding in the top 20, so was in a fairly good position to react. As I latched on to the back of the small front group of about 12 riders, I noticed that a couple of the heavy hitters were nowhere in sight. I also went right by one of the stronger Cat 1 riders as he appeared to be wrestling his bike to the ground; he looked really uncomfortable! Covering the attack put me in the hurt locker, but I recovered quickly over the top of the climb and on to the twisty descent before the sharp 2nd climb. On the descent, I looked over my shoulder and there was a sizable gap to the rest of the field. At that point, I figured going with the move was the smart thing to do. Unfortunately, things came back together and we were one happy family of about 60 again.

But, it was clear that the long climb, gradual as it was, would be the stomping grounds for shelling riders on every lap to come. The fourth time up this climb, my bike started making funny noises, like my chain wasn't quite shifting gears cleanly. I shifted up and down through my mid-gears and everything checked out OK. By the time we hit the climbs on lap 5, the noise was so pronounced that it sounded like a handful of marbles being ground together. Some guys around me made comments about how loud my bike was. My bottom bracket was coming apart.

The upshot is that the friction caused by the bearings grinding against one another quickly made it feel like I was riding with a brake rubbing against my rim. I fell off the pace the fifth time up the climbs as my legs got completely overloaded with the effort and increased friction. Luckily, a group of about 6 caught me as we approached the short, steep climb. I fought like hell to stick with them and subsequently had to sit on the back to recover, skipping way more pulls than I took. Miraculously, we caught the small front group of challengers and were back in the thick of things . . . just in time to hit the climbs on lap 6.

The timing could not have been any worse. By this time, my BB was so messed up and my legs were so torched that I got jettisoned immediately. And there was no hope of catching back on this time. As I crossed paths with the front group the remainder of that lap and during the 7th lap, I noticed that the pace had slackened enough where the group remained together until the final attacks on the 9th and final lap.

Me? I was out of the top 20 and, thus, well out of the points. My knees ached, my bike was effectively broken. So, at the end of the 7th lap, I veered off the course and rode up the parking lot to my car. A disappointing way to finish a race that started out with some pretty good promise.

Despite my bad luck, I absolutely loved the course. Definitely challenging enough, even without the wind which, by the way, materialized but never gained its typical gusto. It's a race I'd like to get back to next year.

Ride safe,
Nate

7/25/10: Scott Kornfield Classic

After racing Mt. Evans yesterday, I awoke pretty ambivalent about racing again today, let alone a high-intensity crit. But I wouldn't miss this race for anything, given its significance to me and to the team. Given the P/1/2 race was the last of the day, starting at 5pm, I would have plenty of time to get my legs back and be ready to roll.

Riding over to the race venue, my legs responded well to some accelerations up a couple hills. Good sign. But a 75-min crit would certainly be a different story.

The SKC course is a well-laid out venue with a fully closed off course, twists and turns, Hay Bale Alley where the course narrows to a single lane into a 90-degree right hand turn, and a couple of gradual climbs which aren't too challenging in-and-of themselves but definitely sting the legs over the course of 20+ laps.

The goal was to get Tim Srenaski into "the" break of the day. With members of Fly-V Australia, Garmin, Groove Subaru and other top teams in attendance, it would be pretty easy to determine when "the" break would form. My job would be to ensure Tim got into that break and then shepherd Mahting Putelis around the course until the sprint finish. When the gun went off, a spark went off and I jammed it off the line. Stringing the race out the first 2 laps, I then backed off the pace hoping it would launch some sort of counter-attack and thus let Tim react to it or not. A counter did go off the front and Tim did go with it. A couple laps later, Tim was back in the fold as was the entire break. As he slid past me, I asked if he was OK and he said he was. I left my place next to Mahting and moved back to the front with the goal of keeping things together until "the" break finally formed. On the gradual uphill of the finishing straight, several heavy hitters launched themselves up the right hand side of the road. Tim went with the move, so I accelerated as if I were going to go with the move as well. After about 15 seconds, I slowly let off the gas. The ruse worked. Given my acceleration on the front of the peloton, I'm guessing everyone behind me thought the gap to the break was being well-managed. Instead, the break got its decisive gap and Tim was in it. Great!

A couple laps later, Tim was back in the fold, clearly having an off day. Unfortunately, by that time the 12-man break was well-established and far enough up the road where trying to chase it down would simply waste a lot of energy. I found Mahting and got in front of him, urging him to sit in and save his legs for the end. If another group got motivated and went up the road, I wanted the 2 of us to be ready to go with it. I lost track of the number of guys or small groups that attacked off the front to only lose all the steam literally a couple hundred meters later. It all seemed pretty damn silly, to say the least - just completely unfocused and unmotivated accelerations which served absolutely no purpose. But, in the heat of the race, you don't really know the mindset of each attack, so you just have to react. Consequently, I covered way too many worthless attacks. In looking at my power profile after the race, I noticed no fewer than 34 surges above 600 watts, a dozen of which were in excess of 800 watts.

With 3 laps to go, I pulled up along Mahting and told him that with 3/4 of a lap to go, on a hard right-hander into a sweeping downhill, that I was going to give it everything I had for as long as I could. Mahting has some explosive speed, so my hope was that he would get a free ride into the uphill drag to the finish. As we hit the right-hander into the finishing straight with just over a lap to go, I led the peloton up the left side of the road. If anyone attacked, I wanted it to be to my right. About 50 meters later, a Natural Grocers rider put in a massive attack up the right side of the road. It was so strong of an attack that I felt I had no choice but to go with it. As I bled out my eyes, I finally grabbed his wheel at the precise spot I had planned on attacking on the first place. Looked over my shoulder and saw we had a sizable gap, one worth pressing. I shouted at him to continue drilling it so I could grab my breath and try to help him keep the pace high.

We traded pulls as we urgently meandered around the course. As we hit Hay Bale alley, 2 turns from the finishing straight, we got swarmed by the peloton. Totally blown, the 2 of us sat up and got spit out the back. It was worth a shot. I did notice that as the peloton galloped up to the line, the break's lead has shrunk surprisingly. But it was too little, too late to realistically have any shot at catching them.

We averaged 28mph for the race. I felt surprisingly strong and the legs were very responsive. A great rebound from the previous day's disappointing result at Evans. While our small team executed our plan to precision, it unfortunately didn't work out. Tim felt great in pre-race warm-ups, but his legs clearly betrayed him out on the course. That's OK, we all have off days. Next time, we'll get him in "the" break and he'll make a go of it, just like he has multiple times already this season.

Only one race left - the State RR Champs at the Air Force Academy on August 15th. Till then, ride safe.

Nate

7/24/10: Mt. Evans Hill Climb

Mt. Evans is always "the" race for me every summer. I fancy myself a pretty good climber, so this race tends to be right up my alley. To-date, my worst finish has been 4th. This year would prove to be a different story given my upgrade to the P/1/2 ranks, but I felt I was ready for the challenge. My fitness was coming along very well and the indications were that a sub-1:55 was plausible.

Strange weather met us up in Idaho Springs. A low-lying cloud cover trapped the heat and humidity, meaning things would be uncharacteristically soupy for the first half of the race. The clouds left the impression that it would be stormy "up top," above the ranger station. In fact, above the clouds, the sun burst out and left the top half of the course warmer and calmer than I've ever seen it. From one perspective, this was a great year to shoot for a PR.

The P/1/2 race rolled out at 8:15am and was quite the leisurely stroll the first 4 miles. In anticipation of a wild start (like the Dead Dog RR), I was in my big ring and bolted out of the school's parking lot and up the highway. Found myself on the front of the race and nobody riding with any sense of urgency. I let the watts drop well below 200 (high end of recovery effort) and I was still on the front. After letting the watts drop to 150, other riders got the point and finally came around me. But the pace didn't get any faster for the first 20 minutes or so. Then, things changed.

Fairly quickly, the pace ratcheted up and up and up. I soon found myself pushing north of 300 watts, and oscillating between 270 - 350, depending on the nuances of the road surface. The pace was accelerating, but steadily so. Despite the lollygagging the first 4 miles, we still hit the Ranger Station turn-off by Echo Lake in 52-flat - a good 3 minutes or so faster than I've hit the half-way point. Echo Lake was a bit eerie. For about a 90sec span, the temperatures dropped a good 15-20 degrees as we motored through a low-lying cloud bank. Brigadoon comes to mind. Then, we climbed above the clouds just as we took the right hand turn past the lake, at the Ranger Station and on to the road up Mt. Evans proper.

I was feeling strong, but also sweating buckets due to the humidity. I had a feeling the right thing to do would be to back off the pace, settle in and ride strong to the top. But, in races of this importance, sometimes you have to say WTF and just go with it. The pace was hot enough where a large portion of the peloton had already dropped off. In fact, a fair number of riders wouldn't even finish the race due to being out of the running so quickly. My hope was that by hanging on for "just a few more minutes" that a small group would fall off the back of the leaders and then work together to the top.

It was about 15 minutes past the Ranger Station that I blew up. Right when Peter Stetina and another pro dropped the sledgehammer. That left me riding solo for the final 50 minutes or so. Not fun. The extensive sweating had left me overheated and depleted. In hindsight, I should have taken an extra bottle with me (in my jersey pocket) and also dissolved extra electrolyte capsules in each bottle. This would have done wonders for me. As it is, my body was overextended and failing to make the jump to warp speed.

Some riders believe that you need to go really hard the first half of the race because that's where you can make up the most time. Once you get up past a certain altitude, the lack of oxygen makes it impossible to keep pushing. Well, after this year and even last year (even though I won the race last year), I call BS on that. I've ridden more aggressively the past 2 years in the first half of the race, which left me overextended and fighting to keep pressing. My overall time has suffered both years. While I know I'm faster than ever this year, my final time was a good 6 minutes lower than my PR. In fact, the year I hit my PR is when I recorded one of the slowest first halves of the race at a bit more than 56 minutes. IMO, holding back the first half allows one to keep pressing even when the lack of oxygen continues to build and build above treeline. Maybe that's the approach to take next year. But I digress . . .

Despite falling off the pace when I did, nobody passed me. Nor did I catch anybody else. My place was my place, which ended up being 18th. My worst placing in a hill climb this year and an underperformance. I was disappointed for sure, but at the same time happy that I decided to challenge my limits just past the halfway point. I rolled the dice and lost, but at least I rolled them.

The prospect of racing the next day in our team race, the Scott Kornfield Classic, was not very attractive as I sat on a rock atop Mt. Evans, bent over and heaving as I tried to collect my breath. I wondered if I would be recovered enough to even impact the race or help out Tim and Mahting in any meaningful way. I guess I would find out tomorrow....

7/3/10: Mike Horgan Hill Climb

This year's hill climb started in Boulder at Canyon/6th St. and headed due west, first up Canyon before a sharp right-hander on to Sugarloaf Rd., ascending several miles of dirt roads before being spit out on to Peak-to-Peak Highway for the final press to Nederland Elementary School. All in, about 15 miles.

Sugarloaf Rd. is a bit insidious. The first part is a 5-mile ascent, averaging around 7.6% gradient. It never gets really steep, but it also never really relents. And, there are no switchbacks, so there is little in the way of reprieve. The road simply goes on and on and on, one false summit to the next. Miles 6-8 are more rolling and can be a great place to catch one's breath before the 3-4 miles of dirt. The dirt isn't super tough, unless you've already blown your legs. In which case, it sucks. The main challenge with the dirt is gritting the teeth during the couple fast descents to (1) stay upright and (2) not get dropped by the group in which you might find yourself. Once the race hits Peak-to-Peak, it's about 10 minutes to the finish line over some rollers and a final gradual climb up to the school.

I felt pretty good heading into this one - physically and mentally. I had come off a strong 9th overall at the Dead Dog Stage Race the weekend before, had recovered well from that effort and felt poised to do well this weekend. I was planning on carrying forward the lesson I learned at Dead Dog, which was to climb within my own limits when the pace heated up too much rather than explode by trying to stick with the leaders "for just a little longer." Horgan is not the race to over-extend yourself too early.

A sizable and strong peloton rolled off the start line and immediately an Aussie National Team member and another rider bolted up the road. Given we would be racing for a little over an hour, the pack was content to let them go. That's not to say the pace was pedestrian as we headed up Canyon. Several riders from different teams laid themselves out for their team leaders to keep the pace fast-but-consistent for the first 15 minutes or so. That we hit the Sugarloaf turn-off in 15 minutes demonstrates just how fast we were motoring. We hit the right-hand turn on to Sugarloaf and the road immediately ramped up, initiating a cacophony of clinks and clanks as everyone shifted out of the big ring and got out of the saddle to propel the bike up the steeper pitch.

The best of the bunch were like wind-up toys, preparing to pounce at any moment. The accelerations started and the pack was quickly whittled down to the final 15 or so. Another attack and I decided to let it go. About 10-11 folks went up the road, but I was confident I would see some of them again. I looked down and saw I was pressing in excess of 320 watts; right where I felt I could be for the duration. True to form, guys started to get shelled off the back of the front group, which was now 5 after catching the initial two escape artists (1 of which stayed with the front group, 1 of which started climbing backwards he was so shot). I climbed right past several riders and finally found myself in a small group with 2 others. We traded pulls, kept the effort smooth for the most part and then one guy dropped off. Right up the road was Kevin Nicol, one of the strongest Cat 1 climbers around. My "buddy" and I caught Kevin, who settled in behind us and (understandably) didn't do any work given he had a teammate up the road. The 3 of us constituted 6th - 8th place.

I was pretty spent when we hit the first crest on Sugarloaf but recovered surprisingly well before we hit the section of dirt. As we rolled onto the dirt, it was my turn to pull through. This is where I made my tactical mistake. Given how I felt, I pressed the pace. Because I felt good, not because I was trying to drop the other 2 guys. In other words, an effort which lacked purpose and focus. As Nicol continued his free ride, the other guy pulled through about a mile later and I found myself in a spot of trouble as he upped the pace. Over the ensuing rollers, I had to let he and Nicol gap me. As we hit Peak-to-Peak Highway, Nicol had dropped back to me, and we were roughly 45 seconds behind the other guy.

In between bouts of kicking myself for my blunder, I tried ignoring the burning in my legs and closing down the gap. I've developed a bit of a rapport with Nicol this season (my first racing against him), which is why I believe at this point he started taking pulls. First, he realized we were not going to catch his teammate (who ended up 5th) and second I'd like to believe he was trying to help me (and himself) gain a chance at 6th place, which was just up the road. Try as we might, we could only pull to within 30 seconds of 6th. With about 3/4-mile to go, Nicol attacked me. I had nothing left in my legs, so I shouted "Go, go, go!" in the hopes he might be able to bridge up to the guy in 6th. He stalled about 10-15 seconds in front of me, so I dug even deeper the final few hundred meters and tried to claw him back.

End result, 8th in 1:09:36. 6 seconds out of 7th and 30 seconds out of 6th. My best time on this course by well over 3 minutes. Can't be disappointed in that. The body's responding better to the accelerations as I continue to learn how to race in the Pro/1/2 ranks. Now, a 3-week break until the double-whammy of Mt. Evans on Saturday, 7/24 and SMK Memorial on Sunday the 25th.

Ride Safe,
Nate

6/27-28/10: Dead Dog Classic Stage Race

Laramie, Wyoming is a rural cow town which is home to the main U of WY campus. In fact, the tallest building in all of Wyoming is the 13-story dorm tower on campus. While not much happens in greater Wyoming, Laramie does play host to a two-day, three-stage cycling race, billed as the FIAC National Stage Race Championships - the Dead Dog Classic.

As with any stage race, lowest cumulative time after the 3 stages wins.
Saturday, Stage 1: 86-mile road race
Sunday at noon, Stage 2: 50min criterium
Sunday mid-afternoon, Stage 3: 10-mile ITT

Stage 1: 86-mile road race

This race started about 45min outside of Laramie in Albany, Wyoming at 8,400-feet. The Pro/1/2 field was relatively small this year at 32 entrants (all the fields were a bit small this year, actually), but with teams such as Garmin, Fly V-Australia, Jelly Belly and Team Type 1 and Kenda represented, we sure weren't short on talent. This was going to be a tough race end-to-end.

Over the first 10 miles, we lost about 1,000ft in elevation before rolling along another 9-ish miles to bring us to the first of two climbs to 11,000ft. The course itself is challenging enough; the constantly blowing winds increase the difficulty a few fold. In fact, nearly one-third of the Pro/1/2 field would abandon the race in the opening handful of miles. Which brings us to the start of the race.

Starting on a fairly fast downhill in an 86-mile RR, one would think the start would be somewhat mellow. Not! The whistle blew and the pack accelerated like we were shot out of a cannon. After the initial 1km descent, the road flattens out and becomes exposed to the whipping winds of the surrounding prairies. In this case, we were fighting a crosswind, from our left. I immediately found myself at the back of the strung out echelon, fighting for a wheel and gaining no respite from the wind. Panic set in as I pondered whether we were racing 86 miles or 8.6. Quickly, I determined that if I didn't move up, and fast, that I would get shot off the back and my race for the GC would be over literally before it began. Giving it everything I had, I pressed myself forward and into the top 5-10 riders. Had no idea what was occurring behind me; all I could focus on was forcing myself into the cross-the-road echelon, gaining some protection from the wind and staying put. A couple riders escaped up the road, but when we turned left and headed directly into the 30-40mph winds the pace didn't relent one bit. For another 5 miles or so, the hammer stayed down.

Just as I'm questioning the sanity of it all, the pace drops like a lead ball. Like a power outage, everything shuts down and settles in. "Thank f**king GOD!" I think to myself. Chatter between riders begins. I find myself next to Lachlan Morton, an 18-year old Aussie riding for Garmin. I raced against Morton as a 4 and then again as a 3, before he hit the rocket boosters and took off. Funny enough, he remembered racing against me those 2 seasons, and I told him it was great to see the hockey stick progression of his riding.

We hit the town of Centennial, where the first climb to 11,000ft begins in relative earnest. While there were some half-hearted attacks the whole way up the 9-mile climb and then across the 7-mile "shelf" up at 11,000ft, the pace was controlled enough despite the aggression. A group about 15 strong began the 7-mile descent to the 180-degree turn around down at 8,400ft. I hit the turnaround toward the back of the echelon, a tactical mistake on my part. Once we turned around, the afterburners were lit and the top riders immediately created a gap. With 43 miles left to go, I needed to ride hard but at my own pace. Pushing 300 watts that high in elevation, I knew some of the folks in front of me would soon pop off the back. Before too long, a front group of 5 was established and I settled in to a chasing group of 10. The subsequent 14 miles of climbing and rollers took it's toll on my legs; as long as the pace stayed consistent, I would be OK. If anyone decided to throw in an hot acceleration, I knew I would have to let it go. Luckily, everyone was content to keep things together.

As we descended the first 9-mile climb, I looked down to see 63mph. Fun!!! We were flying. When we hit the valley again and the flats, we had the benefit of a cross-/tailwind. A paceline immediately formed and as I faded back, the 2 guys in front of me allowed a gap to open to the other 7 riders. I've never chased so hard in my life. I was spinning at 130-140rpm and 40+mph, and barely closing the gap. I couldn't believe that my chances of finishing in the top 10 were disappearing up the road. The 2 guys with me popped off my wheel and I realized if I didn't bury myself right then, I might as well give up. I put my head down and didn't look up until I found myself latching on to the back of the 7-man group. I vowed to stick with them to the end.

We essentially worked together until we hit the final climb to the finish line. I pulled through right at the "1km to go" sign and then things shut down. Nobody else came through; nobody wanted to be on the front heading into a headwind and up a climb. For a split second, I considered attacking right then; in retrospect, I should have gone for it. Instead, I kept looking over my left shoulder and then my right for the next 700m. Finally, I said screw it and jumped. I didn't expect to drop everyone, but I was tired of waiting for someone to finally attack. I crossed the line in 10th, on even time with the guys in 6th - 9th, with the guys in 11th and 12th losing a handful of seconds.

All in all, a great race.

Stage 2: 50-minute Crit

I had no idea how I would feel when I awoke on Sunday. But, like last year, I felt pretty darn good. Doing all the recovery protocols - chugging water, supplements, eating something right before bed to help the muscles repair, sleeping with the legs elevated and so on - appeared to have done the trick. As I spun easily to warm up before the crit, I noted how light the legs felt. Racing a crit is quite different than an easy spin, so I'd know soon enough just how good or poorly the legs actually were. The good news is that everyone was in the same boat. We were all tired from the previous day's effort. Given the crit didn't start until 1:20, Mahting and I were able to sleep in and chow down on a big breakfast.

The crit was largely uneventful, a quick pace but very clean on a non-technical 0.7-mile course. I stayed out of trouble in the front of the group, spending quite a bit of time on the front of the race, much to my own chagrin. The guys I was sandwiched between on GC continually attacked; I didn't feel like I could assume anyone else would chase them down so I took it upon myself to protect my own GC position. Now that I was situated in the top 10, I didn't want to fall out of it.

After a sub-par performance the previous day, Mahting rebounded and was looking very strong. At the end in the drag race for the line, he would finish second in the sprint by a hair's breadth. Great job, Mahting! That boy has access to some explosive power, I must say. I crossed the line in the main group. The legs were torched from all of the attack-covering I did. I cursed myself as I wondered exactly how I planned to put in a solid TT. I could barely turn the pedals over as I spun easy for 5min after the crit.

Time would tell . . .

Stage 3 - 10-mile TT

Mahting and I had to high-tail it to the crit start, about 20min away from the crit. We had exactly an hour before he started his ITT; mine would start roughly 6min later.

The course was laid out outside Laramie at around 8,700ft. 5 miles slightly downnhill, 180-degree turn, 5 miles back slightly uphill. Of course, the wind would be right in our faces on the return uphill trip. The legs didn't feel quite as fresh as they did in the crit, but I wasn't worried. I would either have it or I wouldn't. As I warmed up, the first time up a short hill my legs were complete lead. Oops. But, the subsequent time up that climb, they felt better; then they opened up the third time up the climb and I felt things would be OK.

We started 30sec apart, in reverse GC order, so I was the 10th-from-last rider out of the start house. 'Start House' being a strip of duct tape across the road. At last year's race, I started out too fast and paid for it dearly on the return trip uphill and into the headwind. This year, I started out stupid slow so I would have plenty of juice left for the final uphill 5 miles.

I hit the turnaround feeling pretty fresh and plenty strong. I got out of the saddle and punched it up the first climb. Good sensations in the legs. I was hitting this TT perfectly, so whatever the final outcome I could not be disappointed. I was passed by one guy who started behind me, who had a great, great TT. I also passed 3 guys who started in front of me. I crossed the line in 22:35, a full minute faster than last year. Smiling despite the fatigue, I forgot the pain as I started to run the calculations in my head to see where I might have ended up on GC.

9th overall, about 18sec out of 8th and 46sec out of 7th. As we drove to the race Friday night, I decided that top 15-20 would be a very solid race and top 10 would be excellent. My stretch goal reached, the 2.5hr ride home passed quickly.

All in all, a challenging but mostly fun weekend of racing. Certainly, I would not call the 86-mile road race 'fun.' It was brutal and extremely hard. The crit was challenging as well, but my legs responded well. The TT was easier than anticipated and a positive experience. Here's to next year's race!

Ride safe,
Nate

6/20/10: State TT Champs

It's been awhile since I've raced a long ITT. Last year, the final stage of the Dead Dog Classic was a 10-mile affair, but the State TT Champs would be 38km (or 23.75mi). Back in the 90s, when I raced triathlon professionally, there was no need to think on the bike. We swam hard, sprinted for our bikes, and just went as hard as we could for the 40km bike leg before dismounting and running a 10km. There was little thinking involved. TTing was our world, start to finish, so we triathletes simply inherently knew how hard to press given the context of a (roughly) 2-hour race. Sometimes we got it wrong; most often we got it right.

The State TT course is a tricky one. The constantly rolling course is completely exposed to the whims of the wind. And it's always windy out there by DIA! Planes taking off and landing directly overhead adds another unique dimension to the race venue. The course consists of two out-and-back, L-shaped legs. The first leg rolls slightly downhill and includes the benefit of a (mainly) tailwind. Given this leg was about 10km long, it was imperative to hold back and conserve energy. I hit this portion perfectly, feeling strong but very much in control.

At the turnaround, I had ceded some time to both my 30sec and 1min man, but was confident I could start making it up as we ascended the rollers back to the start line and the right turn to the second L leg of the course. As we hit this halfway point, I could tell I was re-catching the guys in front of me and was holding steady with the riders who started behind me. All in all, I was feeling good and having a strong result.

The third leg is chock full of more rollers, but it's hard to tell whether there is a net gain or loss in altitude. The main thing to contend with is the crosswinds here and avoiding the deep cracks in the road. As I was warming up pre-race, one earlier rider was walking his bike back to his car after rolling his tire off his carbon rim when he hit a pothole. Trashed his wheel. Luckily he didn't go down. In any case, I kept pressing this third-of-four legs, building on my momentum and striving to reel in the two riders directly in front of me.

It was at around the final turnaround, heading into the final leg (the final 9km) of the race that I started to realize I had probably pushed the middle half of the race too hard. As I checked the time between myself and those in front of and behind me, I had begun to lose ground to both groups of riders. However, not much. For example, my teammate Lance Niles started a minute behind me and was roughly 30sec behind me 3/4 of the way through the race. Lance is a super strong TTer and looked incredible on his bike; I could tell he was having a hell of a ride.

That final 9km was more of a death march than I expected it would be. Everything started to fairly quickly go south. First the guy who started 30sec behind me came shooting by me; then not too much later, Lance came flying by. Had I not been falling off the pace, I could have been able to stick with each rider for at least a little bit as he spurred me to dig deeper. However, I was powerless and was only able to watch them zoom on by. The finish line could not come quick enough!

Finally, the uphill drag to the finish was in sight. I tried to pull another couple watts out of my fried legs, crossing the line completely spent. 52:14 by my watch, about 27.5mph if my math is correct. Not bad. Then I realized back in the 90s, I could bike that fast and still run a 10km in the low-30s. On this day, that would have been a 10km fast walk at best - HA!

15th on the day in the P/1/2 category. Really, I can't complain. Hadn't been on the TT bike but once in a year. Rode it every day the week of the State TT race, but might have done more harm than good given how sore it left my hip flexors and hamstrings. Note to self: Ride the TT bike consistently year-round, even if just on short, easy recovery days.

It was great to see my teammates coming and going out on the course. We were all too maxed out to shout words of encouragement to each other, but we definitely "locked eyes" as we crossed paths, which helped spur me along. As we cooled down on the trainers afterwards, Lance (who finished a great 9th!) was clearly amped. He is already preparing for next year's race with the goal of going for victory. I wouldn't put it past him!

The highlight? It's got to be Donuts smashing his time from the previous year. He's a year older but seems to be "coming into his own" in every type of race. A well-deserved victory HAS to be right around the corner for Matt!

Next up, Dead Dog on 6/26-27 in Laramie, WY. Long, hard 85-mile road race on Saturday through the Snowy Peak range with 2 ascents to 11,000ft; then on Sunday the morning criterium followed shortly thereafter with the early-afternoon ITT. Looking forward to it!

Ride safe,
Nate

5/31/2010: Remembering

Today marks the 5th anniversary of Scott Kornfield's untimely death. A truly sad day for those of us on the team and in the community who knew him.

I'd like to recall a fond memory, which occurred a couple weeks later. A woman who was moved by the tragic story organized a 'Ride of Silence' for Scott. Meeting out at the Seagate building north on 95th, the 10-mile route traced a rectangle along the rolling roads out there. The pace was very pedestrian - we covered the 10 miles in about an hour. When I stopped at one point on the ride and looked back, I was amazed at how long the procession of riders was. It extended for literally a half-mile or more. A few of us estimated that somewhere around 500-600 riders of all walks of life showed up.

When it was time to start the ride, I gave a short speech and then we rolled out of the parking lot. Riding in silence, aside from being a challenge, ended up being cathartic. I did my best to find a bunch of different people and do nothing more than wave at them or share a quick squeeze of the hands before moving on. At the end of the ride, people milled around, chatting about Scott, about life. Remembering. I hadn't planned on riding at all. I hadn't been back on my bike since Memorial Day. But, when I heard Scott's widow was going to ride, I felt I had no choice. If she was going to be there, then I was definitely going to be there, too.

As Lori and I prepared to load our bikes back on our bike rack, Andy Johnson came up. He said that a small group of guys was going to ride back to Louisville and asked if I wanted to join them. I really didn't. I looked at Lori. She gave me a look of encouragement and a gentle nudge. So I said OK. It wasn't that far; I'd be back home in about 40 minutes or less. We set off at an easy pace and meandered our way to the Diagonal, by Airport Road. As we turned south on the Diagonal, Andy came by the slow-moving paceline on the outside, passed me by, looked over his shoulder and gave me one of his looks that said, "C'mon, bud. Hop on my wheel. This is what you're meant to do. Enjoy THIS!" My brain threatened to analyze, but I shut it down cold. I reacted.

I jumped out of the paceline and sprinted up to Andy's wheel, then past him. Then Mike Hogan came by me, and someone came by him. And the race-pace echelon was underway. Metaphorically, I felt released, like I had just shrugged off a stack of 45-lb freeweight plates. The liberation of that moment was indescribable. Still is and tears well up in my eyes, even now.

When Lori had picked me up at the site of the accident and we prepared to drive away, a female state trooper stopped us. Lori rolled her window down and the trooper asked us if we wanted my bike. It was still where I had thrown it down in the middle of Hwy 36. Through the windshield I stared at it like a zombie. Lori put the car in park and retrieved it. It then collected dust in the garage until the 'Ride of Silence'.

I have to give Andy a deep and heartfelt "thank you" for that day. He knew what I needed more than I did. He single-handedly sparked the ember to rekindle my passion for riding. I'll never forget that.

Thanks, Andy.

Nate

5/27/10: Floyd Landis

First off, this post is not about whether or not I think anybody implicated by Landis is innocent or guilty. Because I don't know.

My question is this: Why is anybody or any organization (like the UCI) giving Landis any shred of credibility? Landis is an admitted swindler, cheat and liar. He's provided no proof to back up his allegations. Yet, all of these so-called investigations have been launched to "look into" his allegations.

Investigations are great. If they are warranted. So, why not say, "Sure, Floyd, we'll definitely look into all this. Once you provide us with proof, we'll get right on it. Until then, crawl back in your hole."

This reeks of some sort of PR damage control, given what the sport has put itself through the past decade-plus. The UCI launches its investigation and urges all of the relevant national governing bodies to do the same. Yet, it stresses that the launching of the investigations "in no way" is an indication of guilt or wrong-doing by anybody who Landis has implicated.

Really? So far, this appears to be a case of guilty until proven innocent. And, given the voracity of the claims and the lack of credibility involved, I'm surprised so much time and attention is being given to Landis considering he has not offered one shred of proof to-date.

Again, I have no idea who might be innocent or guilty here. If Landis does bring forth damning evidence against anybody, then that person should definitely be investigated and punished (if applicable). But until such time as Landis sufficiently fulfills the burden of proof, all we're seeing is a waste of time, resources and money. All in the name of PR damage control.

My 2 cents.....
Nate