Why

Ann tackles Mason Lake #2 (photo by Brian Koder)

On Saturday morning, the alarm clock went off at 4:30am, and as I reached over to smack it silly, I asked myself the same question I ask every morning before a bike race.

Why?

Why am I getting out of a perfectly warm, comfortable bed so that I can ride my bike as fast as I can until I either crash or cross the finish line? At 4:30am, this made no sense to me, and yet I still got up, went downstairs to turn on the coffee pot, let the dogs out to pee and tried to tame my bed-head.

Why?

As I sipped my coffee and attempted to finish my breakfast (seriously, who eats breakfast at 4:30am?!?!) I still didn't have the answer, and as I waited for Ann to pull into the driveway, that familiar, nervous pre-race "elephant-dancing-in-my-stomach" feeling was back.

With a vengeance.

Whywhywhywhywhy?

On the two-hour drive to Sequim, I started to relax a bit in the company of my teammates (Ann the driver, Brandee the birthday girl and Larisa the 15-year-old who warned us that she doesn't "do social" until two hours after sunrise). So, for the first 90 minutes we avoided talking strategy.

And, in case you were wondering what women do talk about on the way to a bike race (in lieu of strategy), I'll tell you. We talk about poop (usually because one or more of us needs a potty stop in a bad way). I'm not sure how many poop euphemisms (poophemisms - wow, I've been wanting to use that word in my blog for years) we came up with on the way to The Tour de Dung (no, seriously, that's what it's called) but it was enough to take my mind off of the dancing elephants.

At least temporarily.

Brandee, Sam, Ann and Larisa (Tour de Dung warm-up)

The conversation was not, however, enough to take my mind off of last weekend's racing misadventures. You may have read about them. The Icebreaker TT and Mason Lake #1 were two very humbling "learning experiences" that forced me to not only re-examine my race tactics but also re-evaluate my goals.

Don't get me wrong. My ambition to upgrade with my teammates is still very much alive. But my short-term goals (what I wanted to accomplish at the races this weekend) had undergone a serious makeover. My new mission?

Just don't suck.

Now, in order for a goal to be a goal, it supposedly has to be realistic and measurable, so let me define exactly what not sucking meant to me going into Saturday's road race. It meant not dangling dangerously near the back of the pack. Ann told me during the week that I needed ride where she could see me at all times. If I was behind her, she couldn't see me. And if she couldn't see me, she would start to wonder if I was lying in a ditch somewhere. Therefore, not sucking meant staying in Ann's line of vision.

Additionally, not sucking meant staying with the main field (or at least not getting dropped by the main field - going off the front was allowed). If I went off the back, I wouldn't be any help to my teammates at the finish line. And that would rank very high on the suckitude scale.

Just sayin'.

Finally, not sucking meant staying upright. Although safe riding has always been a priority of mine, it has taken on new meaning since the long-awaited arrival of my fancy, carbon wheels (which I will be paying for long past my 87th birthday). Now more than ever I have incentive to keep the rubber side down.

Again. Just sayin'.

Hello, new wheels (hello, consumer credit card debt)

[Also, in case you were wondering, in the event of a crash, I was planning on dropping my shoulder with enough velocity that the momentum of my twisting torso would carry the bike above my body before impact with the asphalt, thus saving my fancy, new wheels from an almost-certain demise.]

Just kidding.

Sort of.

So, anyway, I did a lot of (over)thinking this past week, which was probably why the elephant in my stomach was having such a good time. As we approached the start line on Saturday, however, I started to calm down a little bit. Yes, I was on the verge of hyperventilating, but other than that, I was starting to realize that in a few seconds, the race would be underway, and I'd be fine.

[inhale]

Juuuuuuust fine.

[exhale]

Or not.

[WTF?]

Unfortunately, the race organizers had other plans (at least for half of us). With another impressive field size on their hands (topping 60 for the second week in a row), the folks in charge decided to split us into two groups. The good news was that this would make for a much safer (and fun) race. The bad news is that they split up teams, and our 15-year-old racing wonder was left to fend for herself in the first race while the rest of us waited another two hours for our delayed start.

I have to hand it to Larisa, she really raced well on Saturday. Obviously I can't tell the entire story (because I wasn't along for the ride) but we knew her goal was to stay up front, and after the first lap, she and another rider had created a small gap as they tried to chase down a solo breakaway.

As they went by a second time, the field was about to swallow the breakaway - not because she had run out of gas but because she sat up, thinking the race was over (ouch - I'm guessing Irina won't make that mistake twice). At this point, Larisa was still very much in the mix, and despite getting stuck behind a crash on the final lap, she still managed to earn a 10th place finish. While this result didn't come as a surprise to her teammates (we know how hard she works), we're pretty sure Larisa turned a few heads in the peloton.

Sequim #1 - the final lap (photo by Lorraine Silva)

Soooooo, with the first Cat 4 race in the bag, it was now our turn to put in some work. You may have noticed a new face in the warm-up photo near the top of this blog. That is Sam, a recent addition to the team that we met last Sunday at Mason Lake #1. Her race results speak for themselves, but I'd also like to add that she's a crazy triathlete (of World Class pedigree) who happens to handle herself pretty well in the Cat 4 peloton.

We somehow signed her up before the other teams could get their hands on her. Muahahahaha!

So, anyhoo, with smaller numbers to work with, our team goals for Sequim were fairly vague - stay up front, cover breakaways, communicate, try to somehow get in position for the sprint finish - but we had left them that way intentionally. One thing we learned last weekend is that anything and everything can happen in a bike race. The more skilled we get at reacting to these unknowns, the better our outcome will be. We just need to keep ourselves in position to react.

Of course, as we pulled away from the start line, I once again found myself at the very back of the pack (apparently I need to be more aggressive during the pre-race line-up). At this point I knew that Ann would not be pleased with my positioning, so as soon as the lead car tooted its horn to release us from the neutral roll-out, I looked for an opportunity to move up. A few miles in, the road widened with the addition of a smooth shoulder, and I started to sneak up the right side.

Then something funny happened. I drew even with the girl in front, looked her in the eye, and then kept going. The funny thing about this was that I had no idea what I was doing. All I knew was that I had fancy, new wheels, and I wanted to test them out. So I took off.

Woohoo, this was fun! No braking! No bumping! Just me and my new wheels!

For almost a mile, they let me dangle out there off the front. I pedaled as hard as I could, but I knew that without a significant hill on the course, I would be caught sooner or later (and I was guessing sooner). The field eventually latched onto my rear wheel and let me continue to do all the work. And as I sat there huffing and puffing, I was also wondering how the heck to get off the front. I moved left to let someone else take over, and nobody pulled through. So I slowed a bit, and eventually a Cucina Fresca rider launched a counter attack (thank goodness - I was about to fall off my bike).

As I drifted towards the back, I heard Ann's voice telling me to move in ahead of her (I can't thank her enough for making room for me instead of letting me helplessly fly off the back). It was there, tucked in safely ahead of Ann, that I started to understand.

This was why I got out of bed at 4:30am.

(video by "that RideItLikeYouStoleIt guy" - need to ask his name next time)

So, anyway, Saturday's race was 36 miles long (three 12-mile laps) with mostly flat roads and the occasional roller. There were a few harmless break attempts early on (a few of them mine, a few from Cucina Fresca and others), and then on the last lap, two got away (and were looking to stay away unless we could get our shit together).

Ann, Brandee, Sam and I tried to stay organized in an attempt to lead by example, but there just weren't enough people interested in catching the breakaway. Group Health had a rider out front, so we certainly didn't expect them to do any extra work. Bikesale seemed content to sit in and conserve energy. Cucina Fresca was working just as hard as we were, but even with the additional effort put in by Sharon (of Blue Rooster fame) to keep us organized, we just couldn't get it together.

Our race would be for third place.

With a few miles to go, we were all still playing musical chairs. At one point, all four Oly girls (plus Sharon) were up front. That was awesome! If only we could hold it for the finish! Of course, moments later, the chairs switched again, and we soon found ourselves scrambling to stay in position.

As expected, things got a little crazy towards the end. Twice a girl from Bikesale tried to bump me off the wheel I was following. Maybe this is just racing, and I need to learn how to not worry about it and just handle it (that will come at the end of the month at the CycleU Intro to Road Racing class, I suppose), but I was still a little shaken up by the fact that I almost went down simply because someone - who hadn't done any work during the entire race - suddenly wanted my crappy middle-of-the-pack position.

Seriously. Next time just ask me nicely.

So, anyway, as we made our way through the last turn and past the 1km sign, the musical chairs continued. Brandee and Ann were in pretty good position towards the front, but Sam and I were near the back attempting to shift over towards the center line. As the field passed the 200m sign, Brandee got a good jump, and Ann was able to follow her forward, eventually pulling ahead to the front row for an all-out sprint to the finish.

Sam and I were starting to move up the left side, but I positioned myself behind Brandee just as she had given everything to push Ann forward. I hit the brakes and rolled in with Sam to my left, Sharon to my right and Brandee directly in front of me.

The results? Ann fought her way to a 6th place finish, Brandee held on for 8th and I took 10th. For some reason, the camera didn't pick up Sam, but she finished right there next to me (if not a half-wheel ahead).

It was truly a turn-around from our first race of the season, and we accomplished (and learned) a lot. With a smaller field (31) we were able to recognize some of the stronger riders. We were also able to see who was willing to expend a little energy and who was content to sit back for a joy ride. At the same time, we did our fair share of the work, and I think at the very least, we earned a little respect in the peloton. Numbers-wise, we are not a big team. Nor are we the most experienced. But we are all hard workers. We ride smart. We respect others and expect the same in return. And because of that, things have a way of working themselves out.

When Ann dropped me off on Saturday night, it was after 5:00pm. I took a moment to think about Saturday's race, then I lubed my chain and packed my box for Sunday. A few minutes later I was on the sofa.

Done.

But not really. Whether my legs liked it or not, there was still more racing to come....

Waiting for the roll-out (photo by Brian Koder)

On Sunday morning, I was able to "sleep in" till 5:30am. The problem, however, was that before I fell asleep on Saturday night, I flipped all the clocks forward . While the alarm was screaming, "Hey, it's 5:30! Get out of bed!" my body was screaming, "It's 4:30am! Again! Why?"

And once again, I didn't have the answer. What I did have was a set of very tired legs (actually, very tired everything). But I also had three teammates who were counting on me to get out of bed and figure out a way to fit my bike, a set of spare wheels and a box of gear in the back of my little VW Beetle and get to the start line.

[believe it or not, I managed to get it all in the back of the VW with room to spare - next time I'll try to remember to take a photo]

Arriving at the registration area on Sunday, I felt both a sense of relief and disappointment. On one hand, there was clearly a smaller field size than we had encountered a week earlier during the white-knuckled stop-and-go-a-thon. This was definitely a plus. On the other hand, the chip-seal surface was still wet from the previous night's rain, and I made up my mind to race on the old wheels.

You know. Just in case.

Sam rolls out (photo by Brian Koder)

In addition to the smaller field size, compared to last week, we were also working together as a smaller team. Ann, Sam and I were joined by 13-year-old Andrea. Now, before you go jumping to conclusions, let me tell you a little bit about our young teammate.

She doesn't ride like a 13-year-old. Do not be fooled by her pink booties. When I was thirteen years old, my bike had a banana seat and streamers and a kick-stand. Yeah. Not exactly the Kona Andrea rode to 5th place at last season's Starcrossed (against a field of 80-something adults, including yours truly).

Yeah.

Thirteen.

Andrea's pink booties round the corner (photo by Brian Koder)

Our game plan for Sunday was pretty much the same as the day before. Try to stay up front and out of trouble. Put in the work but share the load. Cover the breakaways (or get in one, if possible). Ride safely. Have fun. Be ready for the sprint finish.

On paper, it seems pretty darn simple. Stay upright. Kick ass. Take names. How hard can it be? Well, with a group of thirty-something women with different goals, degrees of experience and hormone levels, it can be pretty darn tricky.

On a happy note, I didn't start at the back this time around. The Starbucks girl who pushed off in front of me had all sorts of trouble finding her pedals, so I moved around to the right and found myself in the middle of the pack to start Sunday's adventure.

Woo-hoo, already an improvement over last week!

[double fist-pump]

As we rolled out of neutral, a lane opened up to the left, and I moved forward and joined LB of Group Health fame up front. I had no plans of launching an attack at this point. I simply wanted to get some work in while I still had legs. After going off the front a half dozen times yesterday, I was pretty sure that today I was going to find myself hanging on for dear life at some point. Probably sooner rather than later.

The two of us pulled up front for a while, and I could feel my legs starting to fatigue as my breathing grew heavy. I turned to LB and asked, "So, um, you're obviously more experienced than I am at this whole racing thing. How do you get off the front when you're about to blow up?" She smiled and slowed the pace a little bit, prompting a gal from Old Town to take over. "If you slow down a little bit," LB explained, "they'll get impatient and move up."

And they did.

LB hung back a bit and let me jump on the Old Town wheel, and we recovered for a while until someone else launched an attack that the field quickly reeled in. But the effort pretty much pushed me to the back of the pack, and I struggled to hold on.

It was last weekend all over again. Only it wasn't. There was no way I was going to fall off the back, I didn't care what it took. I was going to finish with my teammates. Maybe I didn't have the legs to lead them out, but I was going to be there. I owed them that much. After last weekend's disappointment, I owed myself that much.

During the entire race, I could see Ann, Sam and Andrea, moving around near the front. They were working hard to keep their position. Meanwhile, I was on the back hanging on for dear life as the field continued to grow smaller with each acceleration.

I had a bone to pick with this course. I knew exactly where I lost contact with the group last week. And this time, as we climbed that little hill, and my legs were burning and my lungs were screaming, and a few girls behind me were dropped....I actually started to smile.

It hurt so f#$%ing bad, but I was loving it. I was loving it because I knew I could hold on. I wasn't going to win this race. But I was going to finish with the main field. I was going to finish with my teammates.

This time, I wasn't going to be mediocre.

The Sprint Finish (photo by Laurie O'Brien)

As we passed the 200 meter sign, the group surged forward and spread out across the width of the road. I could see that all three of my teammates were in great position, but since I was starting at the back, I had a little work to do in these final moments.

Last Wednesday, our Cat 3 teammate/mentor Michelle worked with us on sprinting technique. It was time to put that form into action. I stood up on the pedals, shifted my weight from one pedal to another, pulling with my arms, and....immediately realized that I had nothing left in my legs. I plopped back down on my saddle.

Yeah. I was done.

Or so I thought.

There in front of me, practically within reach, was Amanda of Group Health fame. She had taken 4th place in the first Cat 4 race yesterday, and I imagined her legs were feeling just about as lifeless as mine were at that point.

So, with about 100m left to make up some ground, I kept pedaling with everything I had. I could catch her! I could pass her! I just needed a little more space or time or...something. But I didn't have it.

As Amanda of Group Health fame crossed the finish line ahead of me, I had to smile. This was exactly why I woke up at 4:30am:

Because I didn't catch her last time.
And I didn't catch her this time.
But I might catch her next time.

That's why.

* * *

By the way, my teammates really did finish strong on Sunday. After taking 6th on Saturday, Ann followed up with 2nd during Sunday's sprint (hello, upgrade points). Andrea crossed the line in 4th place and Sam took 6th. My 16th place finish may not sound all that impressive, but there's always next week.