Racing has begun!

Well, as I feared it seems that life got in the way of keeping this blog updated and I am only now able to get back to it. I apologize for the lapse in writing and will do my best to keep up with it in the future.

Now, enough with the frivolities and onto the racing! This past Sunday was the New Martinsville Road Race starting in New Martinsville, WV and ending in Hannibal, OH. As this race was less than 20 miles from where I grew up and under an hour from where I currently reside, it seemed the perfect venue to test out my racing legs. This would be my first road race ever, having only competed in short multi-sport or mountain bike events prior (and those were when I was in high school).

Naively, I felt pretty prepared for the race. I had started a fairly rigorous training program January of this year and felt to already have the form similar to my fitness at the end of last summer. I kept up on race strategy by reading VeloNews and skimming through CyclingNews.com daily, and I had read and reread Chris Carmichael's The Ultimate Ride numerous times. I was set!

A week before the race I got a copy of the course map and sat down one evening, feverishly working up my race strategy. There were four major climbs over the 45 mile course, one 10 miles in and then three successive climbs starting at mile 35. I pondered and marked the map at the intervals at which I would go easy and then determined that the final climbs would make or break the race. That is where I planned to launch my attack! I figured I have done lots of climbing intervals and have a ton of miles in the saddle already this season, how hard could it be to pull away from these guys after only 35 miles, right? ....Wrong....I only got my first inkling of what the race would be like the weekend before when Elizabeth and I drove the course. I had brought my bike so I could ride the four hills and see what they were like. The first climb shoots seemingly straight up from Rt. 7 into the hills of Monroe County at grades of 21% or more for over a mile of hard climbing. Following that fun foray, you are pummeled with rollers for 20 some odd miles at which point you begin the stair step climbing of the final three hills. Lovingly called A, B, and C hills, the climbing lasts for around 3-4 miles with grades ranging from 7-20%. Hill B is the toughest and comes right in the middle of the overall climbfest. After slogging up all four hills in my granny ring and puffing for air, I began to second guess my original race strategy.

But like a good racer, I stuck with my plan, tapered well the week before the race, and got plenty of sleep the night prior to be in top form on Sunday. We (Barney, Elizabeth, Paul, and I) arrived to the start line a good hour early and I was registered and warmed up with plenty of time to spare. As I was standing at the start line I struck up a conversation with a guy from Pittsburgh who had driven down because he couldnt find enough races in his area to ride in. We hit it off and, as a couple of what only seemed a handful of independent racers, chose to ride together at least for awhile.

At 10am our police escort showed up and the organizers waved us on to begin our controlled start through downtown New Martinsville. The attitude of the pack was pretty jovial at this point. There was laughing and joking as we made our way up to the bridge, the end of which marked the end of our controlled roll. We cruised across the bridge at 19-20mph but by the time the escort vehicle pulled away, the entire peloton was clipping along at 23-25mph. One guy shot out right at the start, gaining a 20 second advantage but no one followed and we all knew it was going to be a long hard day so no one was worried about catching him. His attack didn't last long as he was reeled back in 3-4 miles down the road.

I felt good! I was sitting in 3rd or 4th position, taking pulls on the front with the Pittsburgh guy, getting my legs warmed up. At this point the entire pack was still together and we rolled as one large, fast animal. There was a bit of jostling midpack, but for the most part no one wanted to make any moves on the flat approach to climb number one. After a few miles, the Pittsburgh guy and I got restless so we started cranking the tempo up. Long pulls on the front got the pack moving around 27mph and there was some splintering at the back. A large guy with a TT bike moved up with us and we started pushing the pace even more. At some point one of the Cat1/2/3 guys yelled "Quit pulling so hard!" indicating that we would wear ourselves out before we got to the end of the race, but I felt good and what was the fun in sitting in anyway? I figured I wasnt really an overall contender, so I needed to whittle down my class before we got into the main part of the course. The front of the peloton was in a two by two formation at this point and we had already detached a handful of riders off the back.

At mile 10, the course took a hard left hand turn and shot upwards on Sykes Ridge road. I was sitting in 8th position when we took the turn onto the approach to the climb. I told the Pittsburgh guy we had a tough one coming up and he barely acknowledged either due to effort or not hearing what I said (the whir of tires is pretty loud). Now on a small one lane road, the peloton began to spread out in order to position for the climb. We hit the bottom of the climb and immediately the field was shattered. I stuck to what felt like a midrange tempo and hung on to the remnants of the fast group on the way up the climb. The Pittsburgh guy quickly dropped off after about a half a mile of climbing and I didnt see him the rest of the day. Near the top, my "fan club" was waiting for me with cameras flashing. I waved at them and then continued the climb to finish with a group of 5-6 guys in a chase group about 30 seconds down from the "climber" group. We played cat and mouse with the first group for the next 15 miles or so, trying to reel them in but were kept just out of reach.

Finally, on a wide open section of Rt. 78 we caught up to one of their stragglers. He wanted to make a concerted effort to get to them, so he started pacing. I hooked onto his wheel and the entire group strung out in a long paceline, each guy taking 10-15 second pulls. On my second pull we came to a slight downhill, so I dropped the hammer and they all came along for the ride. Zipping along at 36mph, I shifted left to let the next guy take a pull, but he refused. We were within 5 seconds of the front group and I didnt want to lose them so I moved back over, took a double pull and then shifted left when I couldnt handle anymore. I realized at that moment I had made a big mistake. As the paceline zoomed past, I struggled to latch onto the back. Thanks to my pull, they caught the main group, however I was spit out the back angry and dejected.

This was the beginning of my nightmare. I was in what bike racers's call "no man's land". I wasn't in a solo breakaway off the front, I was in between groups. No one to share the work with and no one to pace off of on the hills. Basically just a really good place to wear yourself out and lose time. The slower climbing groups were nowhere in sight, but I was still within 15 seconds of the first group. With each roller, that gap seemed to grow insurmountable. My strength was waning and I could tell. However, at one point I rounded a corner and saw a lone rider who had gotten detached from the front group. I was determined to use him as a stepping stone to get to the main group. On a small rise, I saw him standing on the pedals, head down in pain. I knew he was tired and so was I, but now was the time. I surged forward with what explosiveness I had left, took a small draft from him and then attacked. I pulled away and redlined it for another 20 seconds. When I looked back he was not in sight, having relinquished any ideas of trying to chase my wheel. I was still at least 15-20 seconds down on the front pack, but just couldnt seem to bridge to them. At the base of every roller, I would get a glimpse of them at the top of the hill, but they were slowly pulling away. I was disappointed that after such a valiant effort, I wasnt going to be able to bridge the gap. The team car for one of the West Virginia teams pulled up to me and passed. There was a rider whose chain had snapped on the first climb sitting in the back. He waved and urged me on, "You got em, come on!" he yelled. They had watched my attack on the lone rider and wanted me to get in the mix off the front. I held my hands up and shrugged as if to say "I dont have it today", but he waved me in behind their car and said something to the driver. I pulled into their draft and they sped up to slingshot me forward down one of the rollers. I waved as I passed and gave it all I had, but still was plateaued at 20 seconds down from the front pack.

The course now began snaking through a valley and I was utterly alone. The front pack was out of sight and the team cars had moved up with them, however I was still well ahead of any of the splinter groups chasing from behind. I rolled at a steady 20mph clip, but was in severe back pain at this point. There had already been alot of climbing and I was afraid that my lower back was spent. I pushed through the pain and kept glancing behind me, but the telltale chase group that I kept worrying about never appeared. At mile 35 I arrived at the base of the last three climbs...alone....so there was no one I needed to attack or pace off of. I rode them at a fast but sustainable pace, pampering my back with low gears whenever I could. At the top, the rollers began again with a vengeance. I rounded a bend and looked across the small valley to see the front group coming out of the climbs as well. I could see a few riders struggling to stay attached at the back, part of the carnage of the final hills and a long day in the saddle. I began pacing with renewed vigor, but with no real hope of actually catching anyone else. I figured I was stuck where I was in the standings and was just focused on finishing the race strong.

A few miles later, right before the very last roller I came across the TT bike guy and a tall rider from the WVU cycling team. Both were in lots of pain, standing on their pedals and swaying their bikes side to side on even the slightest hills. I pulled in to draft off of them for a minute. At the top of the rise in front of us the checkpoint flagger yelled, "This is the last climb then you have 6 miles of downhill to the finish." I felt pretty awful, but that was enough motivation for me and I attacked and surged around both TT and WVU. I crested the hill and looked back, but neither were interested in following. I was once again, riding on my own, except now I had a goal: the finish line! I cruised the rest of the course and bombed the last few miles coming into the final corner at 46mph. I rolled into downtown Hannibal and crossed the finish 15th overall, but 2nd in my class. Elizabeth, Paul, and Barney were accompanied by my parents at the finish and I rolled over to talk and get congratulatory hugs, etc.

I was in alot of lower back pain and could barely stand, but I felt amazing! My first race had me hooked and my winnings covered the entry fee and a bit extra to boot! I know I didnt ride the race like I had planned and I definitely made mistakes that probably cost me a few extra place standings, however it was the most fun and most pain I have ever simultaneously experienced on a bike before. You can bet I will be back for more!