The Big Chill
As I scanned the 70 or so frozen faces lining up with me at yesterday's Binkerhoff B race, I discovered a ripe business opportunity to make a small fortune had I come with extra hand and foot warmers. On this early spring day, we found ourselves braving mid-winter temps and wind chills. While it was by far the coldest start for a race that I've ever done, I've faced much colder conditions out on rides this year so I knew enough to dress appropriately and to toss in some warmers to fight off frostbite from my extremities. At least I thought I had dressed appropriately given that riders near me were shivering in a way that gave the impression that they were sitting in one of those mechanical full-body massage chairs, while my body remained relatively calm and still before the race official set us off for the day.
But perhaps I wasn't as warm as I thought? Shortly after the pace car freed us from the neutral start, I found myself struggling to avoid falling off the back of the pack. My heart was pounding, I seemed to be hyper-ventilating rather than breathing, and my legs already seemed to be under attack by lactic acid. I glanced down at my PowerTap and was crestfallen to see that I was getting pummeled at speeds and Wattages that by now I should be able to do in my sleep.
The thoughts going through my head at that time were not good. Was I perhaps more fatigued than I suspected (I am now at the end of a three week training block, so that seemed like a plausible explanaition at the time)? Was last week's 10th place finish just a fluke, and I really belonged more towards the back of the pack? I'm almost embarrased to admit this, but I started to hope for a mechanical issue to take me out of the race during that first 6 mile lap of peresonal suffering. It would at least have been a concrete excuse that wouldn't cast doubt on my ability (other than my ability as a bike mechanic, which is far worse than my racing abilities!).
I felt like a Clipper out on the ocean with no wind behind me (which is a bit ironic given that the wind was howling yet again in Coxsackie NY), with my crew frantically inching us along by throwing all of their effort into stroking the oars into the ocean. But around me all I saw were tiny speed boats, happily being motoring forward without any effort. There was no way I could hold on for two laps, never-mind all seven given the way I felt, so believe it or not I had nearly resigned myself to just paddle along with the pack until we finished lap 1, and then to pull off and hide my head in shame until my teammate and carpooler Jason finished up.
The Big Thaw
Today I still have some doubts as to what took the wind out of my sail yesterday as there's no way I can prove any conclusion. If only I had felt colder or had dressed more for spring than for weather, I'd feel much more confident that the winter chill was behind my full body malfunction. Yet despite the shaky evidence, the way my body changed over the course of the next few laps, I'm having a hard time thinking of some other solid explanation.
By the time we crested the course's only hill ( a short one just over a mile from the start/finish ), I had safely worked my way into the peloton's warm cozy belly. As we neared my opportunity to bail and call it a day, my heart rate eased off the frenetic Techno beat and my breathing seemed to return to near normal levels. My feeling of panic had at least momentarily lost its grip upon me, so while I cocked my head at the left hand turn that would have taken me back to the parking lot, I figured I was now good enough to at least hold on for another lap or two.
Over the course of the next few laps the thought of doing anything less than the full 7 laps was completely dispelled from my brain. Whatever had locked up my body during that first lap had slowly thawed over the 2nd lap, and then melted and completely drained from my system by the time we reached the race's midpoint. Somehow I was able to tack the Clipper to a more favorable part of the ocean and I now found myself with a full gale behind all of my masts as we began lap 5.
Image from Bruce Von Stetina
By that point there was already one rider who had solo'ed his way to an insurmountable gap on the field, so I had no visions of winning the race. However, I had now worked my way up to the front, and I found my body able to react with seemingly little effort to any of the efforts and attacks from what remained of the pack (for some reason it seemed like this week the cold and wind really took its toll on the field, whittling us down to just 30 or so, 20 fewer than that which held on to the pack in last week's race).
As we neared the final lap, teammate Jason asked me how I was doing. I quickly responded back with "not my best race", but in hindsight I don't think that was the best response I could have given at the time. While it was a true statement for my overall day to that point, the fact is that as the pace ramped up on the backstretch (where we had the wind howling at our backs) with just a few miles to the finish, I felt as though my legs were hot knives stabbing through a butter stick. I knew if I could get myself into a good position, I had a shot for a great finish.
Once we cleared the hill for the final time, the pack repeated the normal frenzied maneuvers and shuffling on the left hand side of the road. Knowing that's where all of the action and attention was focused, I seemingly felt invisible as I made my way up the right hand side, all the way up to about 5th or 6th place where I found some shelter in the slipstream of teammate Jon (who unlike me, had been tussling at the front all day long). Jon looked over his shoulder and realized he was protecting a teammate and seemed to instantly recognize and embrace this new role.
Thanks to Jon, any fatigue caused by my push to the front was washed from my body as he kept me protected until the 1 KM to go sign. I was therefore firing on al cylinders when I launched after two other guys who had just fled the pack. I doubted I could beat the top sprinters, so I rolled the dice and decided to go all-in well before the finish line was even in sight.
As the three of us made the final left hand turn, I quickly glanced behind me and couldn't see the pack! We had launched so hard that we had distanced ourselves from those behind us with a gap I felt certain couldn't be closed, and for the first time ever the thought of "I could win this" came to my head. (I had forgotten at that moment that there was another rider well ahead of us.)
As we came down the finishing stretch, the wind slowed us down to the point where it felt as though my "sprint" was going no faster than a Sunday morning jogger. I grunted and snorted hoping to scare my body into generating a few extra last Watts. I caught and passed the rider directly in front of me (who did all sorts of creative zig-zagging to ensure I wasn't resting in his wake), and then just as I thought I had perhaps caught the last rider in front of me, I big black blur entered my vision just to my left.
Turns out that the gap I had assumed was insurmountable was either not that big and/or the wind just was too punishing for individual riders not protected within the pack. Apparently as I neared the finish line with visions of crossing the line first, the whole field behind me ramped things up. As the riders on the front who bore the brunt of the wind slowly yielded to the fresher riders from within, my teammate Jason surfed from wheel to wheel resting until the last moment, when BAM -- he launched a much more impressive sprint than I could ever muster.
I failed to pass that last rider immediately ahead of me (and of course didn't even come within 50 seconds of the impressive solo rider off the front), but I was also passed at the very last second by Jason, relegating me to 4th on the day. However, given how close I had come to pulling out at the start of the day, just finishing would have made me happy. So while I did jokingly give Jason some grief for chasing down a teammate, I was beaming from ear to ear and couldn't have cared as to whether I finished 2nd, 3rd, or 4th -- it was my first top 5 finish ever!
My first top ten last week, my first top 5 this week, and six races now under my belt in 2011 -- things are looking good for Battenkill now in two weeks!
Final #s
- 1hr 52: 42 (from my PT, not the official race results)
- 42.51 miles
- 1242 kJ
- Norm Power 224
- Avg Power 184
- Max Power 691
- Avg Speed 22.6
- 3rd in a bunch sprint, 4th overall with 70ish starters.
