No Fear

So, I'm starting to realize that when it comes to bicycle racing, emotions tend to run the gamut. You can leave a race wanting to throw your bike to the ground and run it over with the car (which is how I felt after yesterday's Volunteer Park Criterium) and then the next day you can come back and cross the finish line in first place (which is NOT what I did at this morning's Olympic View Road Race, but just the fact that you went there even for a brief moment makes me happy).

Bicycle racing is exciting. It is challenging. It is heart-breaking. It is frustrating. It is painful. It is scary. And sometimes, if we let it happen, it is awesome.

That said, this was not one of my awesome weekends of bike racing. Erm, no, notsomuch. It was, however, worthy of all the other previously-mentioned adjectives, which means that I am going to sit down with a beer or six and blog about it. Ready? Here we go!

[this is where you grab a beer, too]

So here's the thing. Humans (unlike the dogs that own us) are not perfect. Our daily lives are a never-ending progression of D'oh! moments. I'm guessing that you've probably already had a few of those today. Don't feel bad. You should have seen the epic battle I had with my bib shorts (inside the odorific confines of a port-a-potty) about two minutes before the start of yesterday's race.

[yeah, you don't wanna know]

And yet, there are times when I expect people to just do their jobs - not necessarily perfectly, but at least to the best of their abilities. Let's take, oh, I dunno....USA Cycling officials, for example. When I put in the training hours, pay my entry fee, show up early and race hard, I expect those folks in the khaki hats to use the tools and technology available to them (as well as their gray matter) and make it a great racing experience. For all of us!

Or most of us.

Or some of us?

Thud.

That right there, my friends, was the sound of the USA Cycling Officials dropping the ball in yesterday's Women's Cat 4 race at the Volunteer Park Criterium.

Erm. Yeah.

Before I get into my race report, let me just say a couple of things. First, I don't normally use this blog to host my own private pity parties. There's nothing private about the internet, and my pity parties usually end when we run out of beer. But for me (and for the five other gals in my chase group) yesterday's adventure at Volunteer Park was an awesome racing experience right up to the point when the USCF official erroneously (big word, I know) stepped in and pulled us off the course. More on this in a few moments....

Second, I'd like to also reiterate the fact that when it comes right down to it...all this? It's just bicycle racing. Sometimes, like when I wanted to drive Karen's car over my carbon frame, I tend to forget this little detail.

So, anyhoo, where was I? Oh, yeah, Volunteer Park! This was my first criterium, and (as you can imagine) I was more than a little nervous going into it, especially with such a large field (capped at 50). At the same time, the pressure was off my shoulders on this occasion because the biggest contribution I could make to the team effort would be to focus on gaining experience in this discipline (and just staying upright).

Yep, that's me in the red. A Cucina Fresca sandwich.

At the starting line, I rolled up to the far right, surrounded by the white kits of Cucina Fresca, and listened as the USA Cycling official give his pre-race spiel. The ironic part of that whole nervous moment is that all I really remember him saying was that he didn't plan on pulling any riders, and that the officials wanted to let everyone race till the end.

Did anyone else hear that or was it just me?

So, anyway, the whistle blew, and we were off. Woot! A few girls in front of me had trouble clipping in, so I went by on the right side and moved up in the field. Heading into the first round-about, I was actually in the first third of the field.

Holy crap! I know! I couldn't believe it either!

As we made our way through the downhill on the back side, and then up the hill to the conservatory, I was still with the main group. In fact, for about the first five laps, I would repeatedly lose ground on the round-about and the downhill, and then reach the leaders again on the uphill.

Chasing Group Health around the water tower

At some point, however, the downhill gap grew to the point where a few of us couldn't latch back on during the climb. There was a group of approximately twenty riders in front of us, and we were a serious group of four (that turned into six when we picked up two others that had fallen off the pace of the lead pack).

Lap after lap, the six of us worked together on the flat sections, curving in a tight paceline around the water tower into the descent, and then fueled off of each other to tackle the back side climb. Not bad for a mismatched group of Oly Ortho, Starbucks, Group Health, two Cucina Fresca and Brenda*.

*Brenda isn't actually a team sponsor. She is an unattached rider. In fact, her jersey says "Unattached Rider" in big letters. Usually when you say "Brenda" people just know. You know. Like Madonna.

Anyhoo, after a few more laps, the lead group had finally moved out of sight, but we continued to push onward and pick off dropped riders. It was actually a lot of fun in an all-out cyclocross effort kind of way. We would push ourselves up the back side, come together across the start/finish line and then descend like mad women. Wash, rinse and repeat. We had it down!

And then....it was over. As we drilled it past the start/finish line with four laps to go, a whistle blew, and we were ordered to slow down and move off the course to the right. Yes, folks, the only group that had not been lapped by the main field had suddenly and inexplicably been pulled from the race.

We moved over to the right and looked around in confusion. Seriously. What the FUCK? At the time, I really didn't know what was happening. The six of us were off to the side, waiting and wondering, and then a while later, the main group finally blazed through.

Okay, I thought, they pulled us off because they wanted to clear the way for the lead group. That makes sense. I guess. I mean, I don't think that group was going to catch us because we were pretty organized (in a talking without words kind of way) but whatever. Making the race course safe for the lead group made sense.

What didn't make sense, however, was the fact that the rest of the field - the lapped riders - were allowed to continue to race. The six of us, the only non-lapped racers behind the main field and the only group that was actually still actively chasing, was told to abandon the race.

Oh. Wait. It gets better.

When we went over to check the on-site race results, the six of us were on the receiving end of the ultimate slap in the face. A big, fat DNF. A handful of the lapped riders were given places behind the main field, and our group? Notsomuch. I was totally confused.

When I approached the race director about the issue, he directed me to an official named Phil who was monitoring the Masters race currently on the course. He sent me up to the timing tent where the head official (a lady named Dot) was in charge. Now, I understand she was busy trying to follow the race in front of her, but given the fact that USA Cycling rules gave me only 15 minutes to protest the results, I was unwilling to leave her side. I asked her why we were pulled. I asked her why there were lapped riders in front of us in the results. I asked her if this was just some mysterious rule of crit racing that I didn't understand.

She kept her eyes on the start/finish line ahead of her and told me that she was sorry but she just couldn't tell what order people were crossing the finish line once there was lapped traffic. I gave her my best "but isn't that your job?" look, and she answered with her best "sorry can't help you" face.

And that was that.

To be honest, I still don't understand why they pulled us. And I don't think they do either.

Yeah.

My original plan was to stick around for the better part of the day and watch my teammates race in the Cat 1/2 and Cat 3 races. But at that point I had smoke coming out of my ears, and I opted instead to load my gear in the car and head home to Olympia, hoping that the next day would somehow end a little better.

[fast-forward to Sunday morning]

[yawn!]

This whole waking up really-ferkin-early on weekends thing is a total bummer. But until I can figure out a way to consistently earn upgrade points (in addition to the four freebies that came from attending the Cycle U 'Intro to Road Racing' clinic) and work my way up to racing with the Cat 3's in the afternoon, I better get used to it.

It is what it is.

I actually caught a ride to the Olympic View Road Race with Sharon of Blue Rooster fame, who was the first person to test out or newly-furnished guest room. After I sent Teg the dog over to the "guest wing" to pry Sharon's sleepy arse out of bed, we had breakfast (I'm all about the English muffin, Sharon apparently favors pre-race oatmeal) and made our way out to the megalopolis of Brady, Washington.

My warm-up was cut a little short by the fact that I decided to go back to the car to remove my leg warmers (my apologies to those of you who were blinded by the sight of my pasty white knees) and then brave the port-a-potty line. By the time I had finished peeing for the 17th time, it was time to pull my bike off the trainer and line up for the start.

But guess who didn't line up in the last row this time?!?!?!

Yeah! That's me lined up in the front row! Wooooot!

I know, I am not exactly sure how I got there. I sort of rolled up with the rest of my team, and we were chatting while the men rolled out in front of us. Before I knew it, a spot opened up on the far right, and I decided to roll in next to Larisa. I was all over that. Didn't really know what the heck I was doing, but there I was!

And when we started the neutral roll out, there I was leading the entire pack. If only my mom could have seen me! *sigh* Good times!

Actually, if you ever wonder what's going through my mind when I'm at the front, I'll just go ahead and tell you. I'm either thinking, "Sweet, this is going to be so great for my blog!" or "Oh crap, what am I doing up here?!?" For the first four miles of today's race, I was thinking about all kinds of blog-worthy one-liners.

And of course, then there was a slight hill and a few gals launched an attack, and my moment of glory was over. For what it's worth, this attack probably happened at that particular moment because I said it would be a good place to launch a little sumpin-sumpin in my OVRR recon video.

Next time I should probably pay attention to my own advice.

Anyway, the first lap was rather uneventful. There were only a couple of breakaway attempts, and all of them were pretty handily dealt with. There was a lot of braking, which made me wish I was back on the front leading the field. Things were so uncomplicated up there. All you had to do was pedal and point out gravel.

For the Cat 4 women, the course was 36 miles long (an 18-mile loop conquered twice). I attacked the hills early on the second lap, taking LB of Group Health-ness with me on one of them. At one point she passed me at the top of a hill (which was strange, because as far as I know, she really doesn't like hills) and I swear she said, "It's just us!" For a moment there I had visions of going out on a 12-mile breakaway adventure with LB, and I started pedaling furiously. Then, as my breathing grew labored and my quads started to scream, I heard the rest of the pack right behind us.

Maybe she actually said, "Camille, you're such a putz!"

Oh well. It was fun for a few moments!

As the race continued, I looked down at my odometer at the 32-mile mark. Brandee and I were sitting at the back of the pack (which is exactly where you do NOT want to be at that point in the race) and wondering how to make our way up before the last little hill.

Nothing doing.

Crap.

I had seen the front of the pack as well as the back of the pack at least a half dozen times during the course of the race, and now that positioning actually mattered? Yeah, Brandee and I were hanging out at the back. I turned to her and asked how she was feeling. "Like I don't want to be here," was her response.

At the time, I thought she meant that she was having a bad race, but judging by the fact that she somehow moved up in the pack, maneuvered her way around the hairpin turn and sprinted to a 6th place finish, I guess what she really meant was that she didn't want to be there (as in, at the back of the pack).

As we hit the valley floor and prepared for the last short climb, I hung back a bit and tried to figure out the best way up to the front. Climbing is my thing, and as long as I don't have a road block in front of me (which is usually the result of my own shitty decision-making), I can handle myself pretty darn well. I was lined up on the left in anticipation of the upcoming right-hand turns, but ahead of me I saw one rider jerk off to the left of the yellow line and a handful of others suddenly slow. Somebody was having some sort of mechanical issue.

It was time to move up!

Brandee and I pulled ahead to the right, and as we leveled off and headed past the cemetery, Sharon was working her way to the left (and apparently indicating for me to follow her, although I didn't see it at the time). As we cleared the left-hand turn and prepared for the descent into the sharp right-hander, Sharon and I were still fighting for position in the last third of the pack. Not exactly ideal for the last kilometer of the race, but whatchagonnado?

I lined up behind Sharon as far to the left as we could go without crossing the yellow center line and tried to time my sprint with the upcoming 200-meter sign. As we passed the marker, I followed Sharon's wheel off to the left, and was surprised to see most of the riders sticking to the right side of the road. Sharon and I made up some serious ground to the far left, although I have to say, 200 meters is a freaking LONG distance when it comes right down to it. I was off the saddle and in my drops, pedaling furiously with my head down, hoping that I wasn't going to run into anyone in front of me.

Rachel launches around LB for the win as I cling to Sharon's wheel

So anyway, remember the big, red Oly Ortho train from Mason Lake #3? Right. We didn't really have that going today. Ann, Brandee, Andrea, Stef, Sam, Larisa and I were spread across the field, each on our own to scrap our way to the finish. It ended up being Group Health's day as their always-consistent team leader, LB, delivered her teammate Rachel L. across the finish line for the win. Actually, Rachel, who was racing on a new carbon fiber frame and was slightly bewildered by the speedy, lightweight goodness of her new pony, was forced to (ever-so-kindly) ask her teammate to get out of the way as she danced on her pedals to a first-place finish.

*sigh* Carbon fiber. It's a beautiful thing.

Not far behind - no, seriously, the top 23 riders all finished within 2 seconds of each other - Oly Ortho crossed the finish line with Brandee fighting her way to 6th place, followed by Ann in 7th, Blue Rooster adoptee Sharon in 11th, yours truly in 16th, and Stef (who was starting to wonder if she really wanted to be a road racer) rounding out the top 20. Nice job, Stef. Hope this answered your question.

You're a road racer.

Like it or not, all of us out there are road racers. Why? Because it is exciting. And it is challenging. Because it is heart-breaking and frustrating. It is painful. And sometimes it is scary.

When that whistle blows, and we forget how nervous we've been for the past three hours (or three days) and we tell ourselves, "Here we go! Let's do this! No fear!".....that's when we remember....

THIS WILL BE SO AWESOME!

* * *

NOTE: I did have a really helpful email exchange with Phil this morning, regarding the crit confusion. As much as I hate to admit it, he really did have a good reason to pull us (to keep the course safe for the main field and to be able to score their sprint finish correctly without interference from other riders). The error was in the inconsistent scoring, or for me, the difference between 28th and 24th place. Yeah. It was the judges' first crit of the season, as well, and I think that they probably learned as much from the mix-up as I did.

Note to self - if I don't want to get pulled from a crit, I shouldn't let myself fall off the back of the main group in the first place.