The Easy Race

On my way home from the Union Grove Road Race I was thinking of what to write about it. I had intended on basically writing a big bitch-fest. There was a lot for me to dislike today. Then I went to the bathroom and about 5 minutes later I felt much better, and had decided to do something other than that. Besides, that's not exciting to read.

But I still want to talk about the race because even though there were things to dislike, there were as many things to learn. After all, if I didn't call this a learning experience it would have been quite the waste of time and money.

The day started out early. Very early. Like 4:45 early. With an 8:30 roll time and a 2 hour drive, it couldn't be helped. By the time we got going, I hadn't warmed up, I was freezing (the temps were in the high-20's), and my head wasn't in the game.

Basically everyone had failed to get a proper warm-up, and because of that we had what could be called a neutralized start. Or just a really slow start. Which was cool with everyone. We had 7 laps for a total of 52k to ride. I figured that after the first couple laps we would start the racing in earnest.

It turns out that I was wrong. After 2.5 laps, myself and another guy went off the front and stormed up the short, steeeeeep climb. We had a little gap, but we had been going so slowly that I pegged the rev limiter and couldn't get my heart rate down fast enough to be of any use. So we were swallowed up. I knew once we went off the front the speed would get going, and guys would rip off the front left and right.

I was wrong again. We just went back to a leisurely pace. In fact, I believe that we went from being in a break to being the guys pulling the pack instead of them coming up and just swallowing us up. This race just didn't want to get going.

And it didn't get going at all. Ever. There was, and I'm serious here, not a single point at which I felt like the pace was race-like. Most of the time, the pace wasn't even as high as most of us go on a team training ride. I would get to the front to pull for a while, and when I was tired, no one would come through. I ended up leading the race for at least a lap and a half (of 7) and probably closer to 2 full laps. Most of it was at a pretty slow clip because no one wanted to go faster than the pace I was setting. Which was purposefully really really slow.

What I learned (And I know you're waiting for this part) is that my legs need to be told what they're doing. If I'm taking them out for a training ride then they know that they don't have to go full-out, but they need to learn how to go hard and be efficient. If I'm in a TT situation, they know that they need to find their limit and stay there. And in a race they know to go as hard as necessary for as long as necessary, while leaving just a little tiny bit in the reserves for the sprint.

Today, my legs never got the message that we were in a race. They thought we were cruising. Maybe somewhere between a group ride and a training ride. They just never got to the stage of really doing the work necessary to go fast. Because of that, they stayed cold, never really woke up, and didn't want to do much of anything when it came to the business-end of the race.

At the 1K mark, I was 2nd or 3rd wheel. At about 700m someone went off the front. I tried to follow his wheel but after a hundred meters or so I realized it was probably too early, and I didn't have the legs to do it. So I fell back to the group and figured I'd rip it up in the uphill sprint.

I was wrong again. After not really getting my heart, lungs, and legs into race mode, they all just didn't recover from the initial hard effort, and when it came time to sprint up the finishing climb, I just didn't have anything left.

I probably placed in the 20's or so, and maybe down into the 30's. Which is among my worst results.

I never really thought it was possible, but I realized later that the race was just too easy for me. My legs never woke up, I couldn't get into "race mode", and in the end I just didn't have what it took to get fired up for the finish.

A few factors conspired to make the field a bit weak other than their basic laziness. The promoter was a bit lacking. We all stood on line in the shade at 7:45 in the morning when it was 27 degrees for well over 20 minutes to register. Even though we had already pre-registered. The weather was bitterly cold, though it was dry, and most of us didn't get a chance to warm up prior to the race start. I think there were very few of us that really wanted to be there.

What I've realized is that I don't do well under certain conditions. My body doesn't react to the cold very well. I'm from California, so what do you expect? I'm not a morning person. I just never have been. And I don't "race train" at a low level which means that if the race doesn't get hot, I'm rubbish.

So I won't do races that are super cold, early in the morning, and full of lazy blokes. That seems easy enough ... Until I get a 'cross bike.

Presentation

First off, I had started writing this with some sort of intention to be anonymous. That way if I said something that offended someone, it could matter less to me personally. Which was a great idea in terms of keeping myself insulated from anyone with hurt feelings.
It's really a bit hard to write that way, though. You may have noticed that I have hardly written anything here. Last year I kept a blog and I updated it far more frequently than I have this one. A lot of that is in trying to skirt around issues like who I am.
In reality, I realized, I don't give a damn if people get upset. Well, to a point. There are still crazy people out there.

Hi, my name is Brian Parker, and I can be a bit sharp-tongued at times. I'm sorry if that gets you all worked up, but I can't say I'll change it.
So let's get one thing out of the way that I have no problem saying straight-away.

If we happen to all find ourselves in a bicycle race and you feel as though the pace isn't high enough for you then you should, by all means, move to the front and take a solid pull. If your pull is so hard that the guy behind you can't hold your wheel then you may have just made an unintentional break-away. Go you!

If, however, you find yourself somewhere between 10 and 20 wheels back, comfortably in the middle of the back, in a sub-sub-maximal effort zone, and you don't want to get to the front and pull: Keep your damn mouth shut.
"Come on guys; up the pace!" is not what I want to hear after I've been at the front rotating with 5 other guys to pull in some breakaway. We're gassed, and we did it to get the entire bunch up to some other bunch. You've been having an armchair ride. Be thankful for that, and then come around us in the sprint because we just got you to a good position at our own expense. Don't thank me by telling me to go harder.

Anywho,
I realized at last weekend's race that when I'm at that place where my heart can't beat much faster, my lungs aren't taking in enough oxygen, and everything is saturated in lactic acid, I look like shit.
This may not come as a huge revelation to the non-cycling public. Most mortals, in that scenario, look rather poorly. Cyclists, however, tend to have a certain amount of dignity when they're in the red.

Here's Lance Armstrong in the time trial up Alpe D' Huez in '04. Relatively calm, looking fairly cool. Really, he looks like he's not doing that much to his body. The truth is that he's climbing one of the fiercest mountains in the world, and he's doing against nothing but himself and the clock. That's the hardest kind of riding there is. In sharp contrast, I offer:


More specifically:



We all look a bit worn down, but I look like I'm getting ready to shout at someone. Really, I was just trying to breathe. Air in, air out, repeat. That was a bit tough at the time.

What I really noticed based on this and other similar photos is that I have no chance at being a good racer. The fact that I finished 5th in my second 3/4 race (the last one, an insect bit me on the forehead in the sprint) and my 3rd race as a cat. 4 doesn't really matter. If I can't start looking better, no one will want to take pictures of me. If there aren't any pictures of me then there are no pictures of my kit. And how do you convince sponsors that they should get behind a team with a rider no one will photograph? I guess that somehow, I need to start looking much, much better when I'm totally gassed.

At some point in time I may come across the finish line first. If the first person photographed finished second then my win will really be worth nothing.

New!

Well, the new season is nearly upon us. Or, it is if you're me. Or anyone else in this particular area and circumstance.

Which is to say that the training series I would have been racing in every weekend for the past month was cancelled. First, there was a ton of snow everywhere. Then, the snow melted, the ground was saturated, and pot-holes formed. Those holes were apparently rather large, and couldn't be patched cold. I guess someone didn't watch the Daytona 500 this year.

So the first race is next weekend. That's like a week away!

Which means the things going through my head are frantically "Holy crap! Next weekend! Am I ready? Of course I'm ready. I mean ... Yeah, I'm ready. Right? And no crashes! And don't be sketched out by all the people that seem to want to destroy you. Holy crap! Man, I'm not ready!"

This is much different than last year when I thought almost nothing but how excited I was to finally be able to race my bike. I didn't know what to expect, and there was more than a bit of trepidation, but I was just stoked to finally be able to do what I had wanted to do so much.

This year I've got a good idea of what to expect, and I think I know where my fitness is. I haven't been out there racing though, so I really don't know. If the form really is where I think then I should do well. But if I'm just being cocky then this could be a real wake-up call. Oh well, I guess I'll just wait and see what happens at the Vint Hill Classic.