Wednesday, 25 July
Why the heck do the cat 4-5s yell so much during their race at Pacific Raceways? Are they all hard of hearing? It doesn't sound like "slowing" or "hold your line." It's more like they're continuing ten arguments from the previous week. There could actually be racing going on if they weren't expending all their energy yelling at each other.
Yeah, yeah, I could go ride with a different field. But half of the masters guys are racing in shorts that should've been retired three years ago, and the 1-2s are so strung out most of the time that there's no nice draft for wimps like me to sit in. So I make do with the 4s until the sketch factor kicks in. But the yelling has got to go....
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
A whole nother level
Monday, 23 July
The folks who really rode on a different level this weekend were at Race Across Oregon.
Being a mere mortal, I stuck to the Co-Motion tandem stage race. It was my third Co-Motion race, but the first year to race there with my husband. Race results will eventually appear here, and I'll forgo the blow-by-blow details. We were third in the TT (first mixed tandem), lost no time to our competition in the crit, and were fourth in the RR (first mixed).
The lesser observation of the weekend is that the male-male bikes did absolutely nothing in the crit. They didn't ride at the front, they didn't get in any breaks, and they didn't win any primes. I could only attribute such atypical male behavior to the fact that the male pairs were matches made for this race--and thus less confident of their combined technical riding skills?--whereas the mixed pairs probably do most of their tandem riding with their partners in this race. Never mind that we'd never sprinted on the tandem before; it didn't stop us from trying (we have 2+ pounds of coffee to prove it)!
The greater observation came halfway up the epic climb in yesterday's road race. The bottom mile is the steepest; everyone stayed together. Then it settles into about 7% for the next two miles. By halfway through this, we were the only mixed tandem left in the front group. I knew it was the place to be, but I felt a little out of my league with all those boys riding hard on a long climb. Mostly, though, I felt like I might explode at any moment; I know this climb well and was focusing on getting to where it flattens out a little in the last mile. And then the Hutch's guys attacked. Before I could even think "oh good, let them go," my captain launched to get on their wheel. And we did. And we stayed. Until the next attack.
I have always thought that riding tandem is a better workout than I would get doing the same ride on my single bike. Perceived effort is less than actual effort. Previous tandem partners have all been much stronger than me--men just have more muscle mass and more power output, and the ones I've ridden with also had more pounds than I have.
But when O.A.D. went after that first attack yesterday, I was truly surprised--not that he tried, but that he made it work. I thought I was at my max, and there was no way I could've gone harder if I'd been on my single bike. But all of a sudden someone was making me go harder--I didn't have any choice. And since I was probably contributing about 10% of the increased effort, that meant he was doing 90% and dragging me up the hill...and staying with those guys. Think about how hard it is to accelerate on a long climb. Then imagine doing it on a bike that weighs 10 pounds more than your race bike, with 125 pounds of underpowered weight on the back. This was something that all the modern technology you can put on your bike will never measure. I'm not sure what the measure is, but I guess my climbing ability has been relatively similar to that of my previous partners, whereas O.A.D. possesses more of something in that department.
We couldn't match the second attack but--like Levi--we just rode a hard, damage-control tempo and stayed with one male-male bike that eventually towed us up to the two leaders. Apart from two 2-mile descents, I was maxed out for about 17 miles of climbing and chasing. I never ride with a heart-rate monitor, but I sure wish I had data from that effort!
The folks who really rode on a different level this weekend were at Race Across Oregon.
Being a mere mortal, I stuck to the Co-Motion tandem stage race. It was my third Co-Motion race, but the first year to race there with my husband. Race results will eventually appear here, and I'll forgo the blow-by-blow details. We were third in the TT (first mixed tandem), lost no time to our competition in the crit, and were fourth in the RR (first mixed).
The lesser observation of the weekend is that the male-male bikes did absolutely nothing in the crit. They didn't ride at the front, they didn't get in any breaks, and they didn't win any primes. I could only attribute such atypical male behavior to the fact that the male pairs were matches made for this race--and thus less confident of their combined technical riding skills?--whereas the mixed pairs probably do most of their tandem riding with their partners in this race. Never mind that we'd never sprinted on the tandem before; it didn't stop us from trying (we have 2+ pounds of coffee to prove it)!
The greater observation came halfway up the epic climb in yesterday's road race. The bottom mile is the steepest; everyone stayed together. Then it settles into about 7% for the next two miles. By halfway through this, we were the only mixed tandem left in the front group. I knew it was the place to be, but I felt a little out of my league with all those boys riding hard on a long climb. Mostly, though, I felt like I might explode at any moment; I know this climb well and was focusing on getting to where it flattens out a little in the last mile. And then the Hutch's guys attacked. Before I could even think "oh good, let them go," my captain launched to get on their wheel. And we did. And we stayed. Until the next attack.
I have always thought that riding tandem is a better workout than I would get doing the same ride on my single bike. Perceived effort is less than actual effort. Previous tandem partners have all been much stronger than me--men just have more muscle mass and more power output, and the ones I've ridden with also had more pounds than I have.
But when O.A.D. went after that first attack yesterday, I was truly surprised--not that he tried, but that he made it work. I thought I was at my max, and there was no way I could've gone harder if I'd been on my single bike. But all of a sudden someone was making me go harder--I didn't have any choice. And since I was probably contributing about 10% of the increased effort, that meant he was doing 90% and dragging me up the hill...and staying with those guys. Think about how hard it is to accelerate on a long climb. Then imagine doing it on a bike that weighs 10 pounds more than your race bike, with 125 pounds of underpowered weight on the back. This was something that all the modern technology you can put on your bike will never measure. I'm not sure what the measure is, but I guess my climbing ability has been relatively similar to that of my previous partners, whereas O.A.D. possesses more of something in that department.
We couldn't match the second attack but--like Levi--we just rode a hard, damage-control tempo and stayed with one male-male bike that eventually towed us up to the two leaders. Apart from two 2-mile descents, I was maxed out for about 17 miles of climbing and chasing. I never ride with a heart-rate monitor, but I sure wish I had data from that effort!
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Port-a-potty protocol
Saturday, 21 July
Dudes, lock the door!!
At the Cascade Cycling Classic two weeks ago, I walked up to a port-a-potty with a green "open" sign on the door--and opened it to find a guy with his shorts around his ankles. Oops, sorry!
Today at the Co-Motion tandem stage race, I hesitated before another "open" biffy and knocked. No answer. So I opened it up--and there's another guy in the same state.
What is this? A secret desire to be caught at something I don't want to catch anyone at? As the next person in line said, this isn't exactly rocket science. How do we make it any clearer? It's not so bad when a male teammate or some old broad like me catches you, but little kids? An official? LOCK THE DOOR!!
Dudes, lock the door!!
At the Cascade Cycling Classic two weeks ago, I walked up to a port-a-potty with a green "open" sign on the door--and opened it to find a guy with his shorts around his ankles. Oops, sorry!
Today at the Co-Motion tandem stage race, I hesitated before another "open" biffy and knocked. No answer. So I opened it up--and there's another guy in the same state.
What is this? A secret desire to be caught at something I don't want to catch anyone at? As the next person in line said, this isn't exactly rocket science. How do we make it any clearer? It's not so bad when a male teammate or some old broad like me catches you, but little kids? An official? LOCK THE DOOR!!
Monday, July 16, 2007
Picture show
Monday, 16 July (still)
Sahalie Falls. Almost the headwaters of the McKenzie River.
Top of McKenzie Pass. Road is completely closed just past the summit, so almost no cars.
No cars, but lots of chipmunks up there on McKenzie Pass!
Stage 5 feed zone. This is the break in the pro field; it's relatively quiet here, but there was pandemonium when the packs came through. Phil in com 1 kept trying (futilely) to wave us all back outside the white line.
Sahalie Falls. Almost the headwaters of the McKenzie River.
Top of McKenzie Pass. Road is completely closed just past the summit, so almost no cars.
No cars, but lots of chipmunks up there on McKenzie Pass!
Stage 5 feed zone. This is the break in the pro field; it's relatively quiet here, but there was pandemonium when the packs came through. Phil in com 1 kept trying (futilely) to wave us all back outside the white line.
Back to reality
Monday, 16 July
I went. I saw. I conquered. And then I had to come home.
The conquest started off the week: I set a new course record--with help from O.A.D., of course. There then were a couple of long, solo, unsupported days on my single bike on beautiful roads next to scenic rivers and over mountain passes, some stretches with not-so-beautiful traffic. There was one glorious ride on a closed road, 15 miles out/up, 15 miles back/down; I realized about 3/4 of the way through the ride that I had a huge grin on my face--it was just that beautiful and that much fun. Found another scrumptious bakery. Saw alpacas, llamas, reindeer (seriously!), a gazillion chipmunks, a bobcat, and blazingly bright stars all the way down to the horizon.
Then it was on to one day of registration and two days of hard physical labor to support an NRC race (remind me never to promote one of those). Then two days of feed zoning, which took me back to my earliest roots in bike racing. I am quite happy to sit at my desk, out of the sun, today!
All week long, I just kept meeting great people and getting to know others better and seeing folks I hadn't seen in years. There's a huge cycling community out there, and so many parts are so interconnected. People were incredibly kind and generous to me, and others seemed grateful for advice and help I was able to give them. And on my bike, I encountered not one rude motorist--in 300 miles, much of it on state highways, that was a pleasant surprise.
It was not a vacation where I got to lie in a hammock, read all day (I read one book), and drink umbrellaed drinks (I sampled several local beers, though). But I barely thought about work...or the WSBA...or BARR points...and I had a lot of fun. I would do it all again (and better) in a heartbeat!
Afterword: My antipathy toward crits was only reinforced on this busman's holiday. During a crit on Friday, I was minding my own business, sitting 3 feet back from the curb after corner 3 just opposite one of the pits, making a hat, when 2 riders came flying through the caution tape and over the hay bale and very, very nearly slammed into me. The riders were okay, but the same cannot be said for one skinsuit and one carbon seatpost that's now in two pieces. In retrospect, it's pretty funny: I was nearly taken out in a crit and I wasn't even on my bike!
I went. I saw. I conquered. And then I had to come home.
The conquest started off the week: I set a new course record--with help from O.A.D., of course. There then were a couple of long, solo, unsupported days on my single bike on beautiful roads next to scenic rivers and over mountain passes, some stretches with not-so-beautiful traffic. There was one glorious ride on a closed road, 15 miles out/up, 15 miles back/down; I realized about 3/4 of the way through the ride that I had a huge grin on my face--it was just that beautiful and that much fun. Found another scrumptious bakery. Saw alpacas, llamas, reindeer (seriously!), a gazillion chipmunks, a bobcat, and blazingly bright stars all the way down to the horizon.
Then it was on to one day of registration and two days of hard physical labor to support an NRC race (remind me never to promote one of those). Then two days of feed zoning, which took me back to my earliest roots in bike racing. I am quite happy to sit at my desk, out of the sun, today!
All week long, I just kept meeting great people and getting to know others better and seeing folks I hadn't seen in years. There's a huge cycling community out there, and so many parts are so interconnected. People were incredibly kind and generous to me, and others seemed grateful for advice and help I was able to give them. And on my bike, I encountered not one rude motorist--in 300 miles, much of it on state highways, that was a pleasant surprise.
It was not a vacation where I got to lie in a hammock, read all day (I read one book), and drink umbrellaed drinks (I sampled several local beers, though). But I barely thought about work...or the WSBA...or BARR points...and I had a lot of fun. I would do it all again (and better) in a heartbeat!
Afterword: My antipathy toward crits was only reinforced on this busman's holiday. During a crit on Friday, I was minding my own business, sitting 3 feet back from the curb after corner 3 just opposite one of the pits, making a hat, when 2 riders came flying through the caution tape and over the hay bale and very, very nearly slammed into me. The riders were okay, but the same cannot be said for one skinsuit and one carbon seatpost that's now in two pieces. In retrospect, it's pretty funny: I was nearly taken out in a crit and I wasn't even on my bike!
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Summertime
Friday, 6 July
I'm off to try new things for a while: do something I've never done, go somewhere I've never been. There will, of course, be tandems and my single bike and challenges. And hats, friends, wilderness, and racing. And nary a computer on the horizon. Happy summer!
I'm off to try new things for a while: do something I've never done, go somewhere I've never been. There will, of course, be tandems and my single bike and challenges. And hats, friends, wilderness, and racing. And nary a computer on the horizon. Happy summer!
Monday, July 02, 2007
Two firsts
Monday, 2 July
No, that's not my weekend race report (I only managed one second in that department).
The first first was on Sunday morning. We were driving on the Delta Highway in Eugene and saw a turtle in the middle of the road. This was not one of those turtles that somebody wanted to remove from the Des Moines crit course. This was a critter, walking across the freeway. Its shell was probably 8-10 inches across and the color of concrete. Fortunately, there wasn't much traffic so I'm hoping it made it all the way across without becoming road kill.
The second first was during my race on Sunday afternoon. On the second lap, I was riding with one other woman. We had just turned onto the narrow, rolly, twisty road through the vineyards on this course when we heard a truck behind us. Since we had no lead or follow car, we did our duty and moved to the right, but it took a while before the driver got up the nerve to pass--you couldn't see more than 100 feet along the road at a time. It turned out that the vehicle was not a truck but a Hummer limo, and it took FOREVER to get past us. When it pulled in front of us, it didn't fit on its half of the road so the right wheels were in the dirt on the right shoulder. And then it turned right into one of the wineries, forcing us to slow down while we waited for it to turn its behemoth self off the road.
The racing was good; more than twice as many women turned out for the masters women's road race championship this Sunday than had turned up 3 weeks ago for the senior women's championship race.
No, that's not my weekend race report (I only managed one second in that department).
The first first was on Sunday morning. We were driving on the Delta Highway in Eugene and saw a turtle in the middle of the road. This was not one of those turtles that somebody wanted to remove from the Des Moines crit course. This was a critter, walking across the freeway. Its shell was probably 8-10 inches across and the color of concrete. Fortunately, there wasn't much traffic so I'm hoping it made it all the way across without becoming road kill.
The second first was during my race on Sunday afternoon. On the second lap, I was riding with one other woman. We had just turned onto the narrow, rolly, twisty road through the vineyards on this course when we heard a truck behind us. Since we had no lead or follow car, we did our duty and moved to the right, but it took a while before the driver got up the nerve to pass--you couldn't see more than 100 feet along the road at a time. It turned out that the vehicle was not a truck but a Hummer limo, and it took FOREVER to get past us. When it pulled in front of us, it didn't fit on its half of the road so the right wheels were in the dirt on the right shoulder. And then it turned right into one of the wineries, forcing us to slow down while we waited for it to turn its behemoth self off the road.
The racing was good; more than twice as many women turned out for the masters women's road race championship this Sunday than had turned up 3 weeks ago for the senior women's championship race.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Not about the bike
Friday, 29 June
I went to my local farmers market on Thursday afternoon and bought these beauties from Schuh Farms in the Skagit Valley. That's a whole flat, 12 pints of fresh-picked strawberries from 50 miles away instead of 1500.
So my Friday afternoon/evening was busy, making a total of 17 jars of jam, some little, some big. It's the perfect stuff on pancakes before a long winter ride! Mmmmm.
And there's no rest for the weary because the raspberries are coming on like gangbusters--a pint and a half tonight from my garden. I freeze what we can't eat (well, that's not quite true; I leave out enough for dessert and breakfast and freeze the rest) and already have more than half of what I need for a batch of jam.
And on Monday morning, I'll be out there picking blueberries to top off the cereal bowl! 75 feet, 15 seconds from bush to bowl. I love this time of year.
I went to my local farmers market on Thursday afternoon and bought these beauties from Schuh Farms in the Skagit Valley. That's a whole flat, 12 pints of fresh-picked strawberries from 50 miles away instead of 1500.
So my Friday afternoon/evening was busy, making a total of 17 jars of jam, some little, some big. It's the perfect stuff on pancakes before a long winter ride! Mmmmm.
And there's no rest for the weary because the raspberries are coming on like gangbusters--a pint and a half tonight from my garden. I freeze what we can't eat (well, that's not quite true; I leave out enough for dessert and breakfast and freeze the rest) and already have more than half of what I need for a batch of jam.And on Monday morning, I'll be out there picking blueberries to top off the cereal bowl! 75 feet, 15 seconds from bush to bowl. I love this time of year.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Another racing observation
Tuesday, 26 June
I'm feeling really bold today--and I haven't even had my coffee yet. Last time I ventured into the "why do they race/ride they way they do?" realm, I was told that my entry was a "pretty big blow to the NW women's peloton" and "most of it was inaccurate." Again, I'm just making an observation today, based on my limited participation in the sport. I don't think it's very controversial but someone will probably take offense (that's what blogs are supposed to do, right--offend?).
Perhaps more than most women, I race sometimes with men. Not just the weekly series events, but by racing on the tandem with multiple male partners (no comments, please), I get some insight into how men race and ride.
Last Sunday, though, I was in a group of experienced women racers for a very long time up some long climbs. And I noticed that they almost never get out of the saddle. Sit, sit, sit--uphill, downhill, just about all the time. Men complain they can't get out of the saddle enough when they ride tandem and they all wonder why I can't stand for a half a mile at a stretch.
I first got insight into the value of standing occasionally when I rode with an ex-pro up that long climb on the last day at Columbia Plateau (its reported length varies but it's at least 10 miles). Standing lets you rest some muscles and use new ones, it changes the way your weight is distributed through your hands and feet, and (sometimes this is priceless) it allows you some respite from pressure on the saddle. And on an extraordinarily long climb, well, it's something to do.
But there we were on Sunday, a group of maybe 20 women riding up a 4-mile climb, every single one of us in the saddle. The pace was not blistering and I thought it was a great opportunity to get out of the saddle. The only other woman who was standing occasionally was clearly on the rivet and struggling to keep her momentum up enough to stay on. Now, there's nothing wrong with sitting, and it made for an incredibly smooth group because bikes don't shift around nearly as much when you're sitting squarely on top of them. But the men I ride with would have been out of the saddle more than they were in it.
So, what's the difference here? Is it purely anatomical? There were plenty of complaints from the women about, um, saddle discomfort and a fair amount of shifting position ever so slightly to try to relieve pressure on particularly sore spots. Do women's bikes "fit" them differently so that standing is not as comfortable as it is for men? Are women not as confident out of the saddle? I would not for a minute believe that saddle manufacturers favor women's saddle comfort over men's (because nothing else manufactured for this sport favors a woman's anatomy).
Okay, so tell me I'm clearly not a bike racer because if I had all this time and energy for observation and getting out of the saddle, I should have been attacking instead and not just sitting in a super smooth group when there were only 60 miles to the finish. That still doesn't answer my fundamental question (based on unscientific data collection, I know): why are men so much more likely to climb out of the saddle than women? Maybe I should ask about the tendencies of cat 4/5 men because I'm, um, selective about my male tandem partners and they've all been cat 1/2. Anybody have any insights into this really burning question?
I'm feeling really bold today--and I haven't even had my coffee yet. Last time I ventured into the "why do they race/ride they way they do?" realm, I was told that my entry was a "pretty big blow to the NW women's peloton" and "most of it was inaccurate." Again, I'm just making an observation today, based on my limited participation in the sport. I don't think it's very controversial but someone will probably take offense (that's what blogs are supposed to do, right--offend?).
Perhaps more than most women, I race sometimes with men. Not just the weekly series events, but by racing on the tandem with multiple male partners (no comments, please), I get some insight into how men race and ride.
Last Sunday, though, I was in a group of experienced women racers for a very long time up some long climbs. And I noticed that they almost never get out of the saddle. Sit, sit, sit--uphill, downhill, just about all the time. Men complain they can't get out of the saddle enough when they ride tandem and they all wonder why I can't stand for a half a mile at a stretch.
I first got insight into the value of standing occasionally when I rode with an ex-pro up that long climb on the last day at Columbia Plateau (its reported length varies but it's at least 10 miles). Standing lets you rest some muscles and use new ones, it changes the way your weight is distributed through your hands and feet, and (sometimes this is priceless) it allows you some respite from pressure on the saddle. And on an extraordinarily long climb, well, it's something to do.
But there we were on Sunday, a group of maybe 20 women riding up a 4-mile climb, every single one of us in the saddle. The pace was not blistering and I thought it was a great opportunity to get out of the saddle. The only other woman who was standing occasionally was clearly on the rivet and struggling to keep her momentum up enough to stay on. Now, there's nothing wrong with sitting, and it made for an incredibly smooth group because bikes don't shift around nearly as much when you're sitting squarely on top of them. But the men I ride with would have been out of the saddle more than they were in it.
So, what's the difference here? Is it purely anatomical? There were plenty of complaints from the women about, um, saddle discomfort and a fair amount of shifting position ever so slightly to try to relieve pressure on particularly sore spots. Do women's bikes "fit" them differently so that standing is not as comfortable as it is for men? Are women not as confident out of the saddle? I would not for a minute believe that saddle manufacturers favor women's saddle comfort over men's (because nothing else manufactured for this sport favors a woman's anatomy).
Okay, so tell me I'm clearly not a bike racer because if I had all this time and energy for observation and getting out of the saddle, I should have been attacking instead and not just sitting in a super smooth group when there were only 60 miles to the finish. That still doesn't answer my fundamental question (based on unscientific data collection, I know): why are men so much more likely to climb out of the saddle than women? Maybe I should ask about the tendencies of cat 4/5 men because I'm, um, selective about my male tandem partners and they've all been cat 1/2. Anybody have any insights into this really burning question?
Monday, June 25, 2007
Elkhorn days 2 and 3
Monday, 25 June
Saturday is the double-stage day at Elkhorn. You expect your legs to be tired on the second day of a stage race, but this time mine weren't. Every other part of me was tortured and exhausted, though, from the epicness of Friday. Walking from the car to the coffee shop for breakfast tired me out. I just wanted to lie in bed.
We had forgotten to pack the trainer into the car, so my warm-up for the TT was some hat-making followed by a brief spin on a borrowed trainer. Once I was racing, it took at least 2 kilometers to convince my body that it really could go hard. My time was 5 seconds slower than 2006, which didn't seem too bad, but I figured with the stronger field this year that it might be good enough for 10th instead of the 5th place I got last year. Hours later, I found out I was 6th on the stage. Well, at least there was some respectability there, since I was certain to do nothing but lose more time in the remaining stages. I guess everyone else was still exhausted from Friday's little jaunt.
The crit involved a prerace exchange of visits to the OBRA rule book and staying in long enough that I got so many laps down that the officials couldn't do the math any more and finally pulled me to make their lives easier. The only interesting thing about the crit was that they had so much stuff to give away that there was a prime nearly every lap. After Ms. U23 Australian national champion (who should've won a prize for choppiest pedal stroke in the peloton) went solo off the front, the race staff were kind enough to offer some of the prizes to the pack.
Sunday is the epic Dooley Mountain road race, 102 miles of desolate Oregon wilderness (okay, there are farms from about mile 80 to 95, but not much sign of humanity anywhere else) finishing at the top of an 8-mile climb up Dooley Mountain. One year it snowed on this stage; other years the final climb has been like racing in an oven. There is now an unofficial water station at the sign marking the first hairpin on the climb so that if you're really desperate, you can stop and help yourself to a bottle.
The weather Sunday was PERFECT for racing. I started with arm warmers and gloves and was fine. The temperature never got above 75. There were some windy sections, but nothing like Friday. There are three big climbs on this stage (several miles each) plus some little "short" bumps (maybe a mile each). There are two amazingly long descents that even I have fun on, especially this year when I never had to chase back on down the descents. We had a rotating pace line going for the first part of the race that was a thing to behold: smooth, no gaps, no surges. And this with 35 women. We also luxuriated in a total of 3 pee stops on this stage. The last one was a bit mis-timed, and the masters break passed just as we stopped. I rode up the last climb with a woman from OSU, and it was nice to have company.
Bike racing is funny. I had a bad day on Friday, I lost time in the crit (which most people manage not to do), and I lost more time on the final climb on Sunday. My TT was reasonably OK, but not so good that I made up for any of those other losses. In the end, I came out 10th in GC and also 3rd in the FIAC stage race national championships. Other riders had worser days than me, I guess. And Friday's weather took its toll on different people in different ways.
Congrats to Allison for her win in our race. But special congrats to the old guy who counterattacked out of the neutral start in the masters race, stayed away in a break all day, and won solo at the top of Dooley! All the results will eventually be posted here. Special thanks to OBRA's Rob Anderson for his pictures and his endless patience in directing (cars and men on bikes) traffic around our peloton yesterday.
Saturday is the double-stage day at Elkhorn. You expect your legs to be tired on the second day of a stage race, but this time mine weren't. Every other part of me was tortured and exhausted, though, from the epicness of Friday. Walking from the car to the coffee shop for breakfast tired me out. I just wanted to lie in bed.
We had forgotten to pack the trainer into the car, so my warm-up for the TT was some hat-making followed by a brief spin on a borrowed trainer. Once I was racing, it took at least 2 kilometers to convince my body that it really could go hard. My time was 5 seconds slower than 2006, which didn't seem too bad, but I figured with the stronger field this year that it might be good enough for 10th instead of the 5th place I got last year. Hours later, I found out I was 6th on the stage. Well, at least there was some respectability there, since I was certain to do nothing but lose more time in the remaining stages. I guess everyone else was still exhausted from Friday's little jaunt.The crit involved a prerace exchange of visits to the OBRA rule book and staying in long enough that I got so many laps down that the officials couldn't do the math any more and finally pulled me to make their lives easier. The only interesting thing about the crit was that they had so much stuff to give away that there was a prime nearly every lap. After Ms. U23 Australian national champion (who should've won a prize for choppiest pedal stroke in the peloton) went solo off the front, the race staff were kind enough to offer some of the prizes to the pack.
Sunday is the epic Dooley Mountain road race, 102 miles of desolate Oregon wilderness (okay, there are farms from about mile 80 to 95, but not much sign of humanity anywhere else) finishing at the top of an 8-mile climb up Dooley Mountain. One year it snowed on this stage; other years the final climb has been like racing in an oven. There is now an unofficial water station at the sign marking the first hairpin on the climb so that if you're really desperate, you can stop and help yourself to a bottle.
The weather Sunday was PERFECT for racing. I started with arm warmers and gloves and was fine. The temperature never got above 75. There were some windy sections, but nothing like Friday. There are three big climbs on this stage (several miles each) plus some little "short" bumps (maybe a mile each). There are two amazingly long descents that even I have fun on, especially this year when I never had to chase back on down the descents. We had a rotating pace line going for the first part of the race that was a thing to behold: smooth, no gaps, no surges. And this with 35 women. We also luxuriated in a total of 3 pee stops on this stage. The last one was a bit mis-timed, and the masters break passed just as we stopped. I rode up the last climb with a woman from OSU, and it was nice to have company.
Bike racing is funny. I had a bad day on Friday, I lost time in the crit (which most people manage not to do), and I lost more time on the final climb on Sunday. My TT was reasonably OK, but not so good that I made up for any of those other losses. In the end, I came out 10th in GC and also 3rd in the FIAC stage race national championships. Other riders had worser days than me, I guess. And Friday's weather took its toll on different people in different ways.Congrats to Allison for her win in our race. But special congrats to the old guy who counterattacked out of the neutral start in the masters race, stayed away in a break all day, and won solo at the top of Dooley! All the results will eventually be posted here. Special thanks to OBRA's Rob Anderson for his pictures and his endless patience in directing (cars and men on bikes) traffic around our peloton yesterday.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
HELLs Canyon alright
Friday, 22 June
78 miles. Out and back: mostly downhill on the Hells Canyon scenic highway to Richland (pop. 150), then mostly uphill back.
4 hours 20-some minutes. It was that amazing combination of headwind out, headwind back. There were significant stretches on the return where we were going 10 mph (not all of them uphill). When you've still got 20 miles to go and all you want to do is get off your bike, that's not a good thing.
92 degrees. Cooler by the time we finished (6:30), but hotter in the hellish, narrow little canyons of the Powder River. No humidity, either. It was the first time ever I was completely covered in salt after a race.
78 miles. Out and back: mostly downhill on the Hells Canyon scenic highway to Richland (pop. 150), then mostly uphill back.
4 hours 20-some minutes. It was that amazing combination of headwind out, headwind back. There were significant stretches on the return where we were going 10 mph (not all of them uphill). When you've still got 20 miles to go and all you want to do is get off your bike, that's not a good thing.
92 degrees. Cooler by the time we finished (6:30), but hotter in the hellish, narrow little canyons of the Powder River. No humidity, either. It was the first time ever I was completely covered in salt after a race.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Zero carbon farming
Wednesday, 20 June
The potatoes are coming along, too. I hear they're "done" when the plants start to bloom. I never know how much to water them, but since they thrive in Ireland, I guess you can't overwater 'em. My daddy and grandma taught me that one of the best early summer foods is fresh peas and new potatoes with a really light cream sauce--I can't wait!
No fossil fuels were burned to bring these raspberries to my cereal bowl. No chemical fertilizers, no electricity, not even any water out of the tap. Even the raspberry canes were given to me by local folks, not raised in some nursery five states away. Guilt free cuisine!
The potatoes are coming along, too. I hear they're "done" when the plants start to bloom. I never know how much to water them, but since they thrive in Ireland, I guess you can't overwater 'em. My daddy and grandma taught me that one of the best early summer foods is fresh peas and new potatoes with a really light cream sauce--I can't wait!Sunday, June 17, 2007
Ring around the volcano
Fathers Day
Happy Fathers Day, all you dads out there!
Just slightly lower on the scale of important events today was the Mt. Tabor Circuit Race in Portland. This is the only bike race I know of around the cone of an (extinct) volcano. I'm not exactly sure where that landmark is on the course, but they hype it up a lot. Other features of this almost-crit are 136 feet of climbing per 1.3-mile lap, a lot of fast descending with an almost-hairpin, decreasing radius turn toward the bottom, and a (short) flat spot in the middle of the climb where the start/finish is. There's a midweek series here ("Velo on the Volcano"), so all the local riders know what line to take, etc. It's a good course, safe (no cars--it's in the middle of a park), and good spectating. Oh, yeah, it's fun too--in the usual painful sort of way. If you want to see the course, some helmet-cam footage from the cat 3 men's race will eventually be posted on Kenji's blog.
We were looking for coffee and maybe some breakfast on our way to the race and came upon the Sweetness Bakery and Cafe. It's so new it doesn't seem to have its own website, but the coconut banana muffins are worth going out of your way to find. The cinnamon rolls looked decadent, but I managed to resist. I did get a second muffin, though, to snack on during the day.
Turns out coconut and bananas and coffee are a good combo for prerace food. My first race of the day was masters women. If you know me, you know that a few elements of the course description above sort of play to my weaknesses, so I didn't have any grand hopes. Second time up the hill the race split, with just three of us in the break. Also in the break were a woman I didn't know and Jenny from Medford who puts men to shame at the Mt. Hood hillclimb. I managed somehow to win not only the sprint for the prime, but also the sprint at the finish.
After sitting around for the better part of 2 hours, I got to race again with the senior women. My hopes here were even less grand. While the field was too small to be a "who's who" of Oregon racing, it was pretty stacked. And as a way to make up for the zero prize list (the race is a fundraiser for junior racing), we had a prime every lap. Still, it turned into a bizarre race: it was 1.25 miles of pedaling around the course followed by 200m of racing for the line. Not to my surprise, I got gapped off the second time up the climb...but I caught back on at the base of the climb a lap later. In total, I caught back on three times during the race, including on the last lap. However, when Melissa launched her final effort at 225m, I could only watch as first Tina and then Hilary tried to go too. Funny thing was that the gaps that were established by 200m didn't change all the way to the finish and nobody came around anybody else.
It was a fun day...no crashes, no rain, and 2 hats made. No tandem race on this course this year, but since tandems would probably hit 45-50 on that descent, my nerves were probably better off without that thrill. I also got to check out a couple of knitted hats two riders bought yesterday at the Eugene Saturday Market. They looked, well, very Eugene.
Happy Fathers Day, all you dads out there!
Just slightly lower on the scale of important events today was the Mt. Tabor Circuit Race in Portland. This is the only bike race I know of around the cone of an (extinct) volcano. I'm not exactly sure where that landmark is on the course, but they hype it up a lot. Other features of this almost-crit are 136 feet of climbing per 1.3-mile lap, a lot of fast descending with an almost-hairpin, decreasing radius turn toward the bottom, and a (short) flat spot in the middle of the climb where the start/finish is. There's a midweek series here ("Velo on the Volcano"), so all the local riders know what line to take, etc. It's a good course, safe (no cars--it's in the middle of a park), and good spectating. Oh, yeah, it's fun too--in the usual painful sort of way. If you want to see the course, some helmet-cam footage from the cat 3 men's race will eventually be posted on Kenji's blog.
We were looking for coffee and maybe some breakfast on our way to the race and came upon the Sweetness Bakery and Cafe. It's so new it doesn't seem to have its own website, but the coconut banana muffins are worth going out of your way to find. The cinnamon rolls looked decadent, but I managed to resist. I did get a second muffin, though, to snack on during the day.
Turns out coconut and bananas and coffee are a good combo for prerace food. My first race of the day was masters women. If you know me, you know that a few elements of the course description above sort of play to my weaknesses, so I didn't have any grand hopes. Second time up the hill the race split, with just three of us in the break. Also in the break were a woman I didn't know and Jenny from Medford who puts men to shame at the Mt. Hood hillclimb. I managed somehow to win not only the sprint for the prime, but also the sprint at the finish.
After sitting around for the better part of 2 hours, I got to race again with the senior women. My hopes here were even less grand. While the field was too small to be a "who's who" of Oregon racing, it was pretty stacked. And as a way to make up for the zero prize list (the race is a fundraiser for junior racing), we had a prime every lap. Still, it turned into a bizarre race: it was 1.25 miles of pedaling around the course followed by 200m of racing for the line. Not to my surprise, I got gapped off the second time up the climb...but I caught back on at the base of the climb a lap later. In total, I caught back on three times during the race, including on the last lap. However, when Melissa launched her final effort at 225m, I could only watch as first Tina and then Hilary tried to go too. Funny thing was that the gaps that were established by 200m didn't change all the way to the finish and nobody came around anybody else.
It was a fun day...no crashes, no rain, and 2 hats made. No tandem race on this course this year, but since tandems would probably hit 45-50 on that descent, my nerves were probably better off without that thrill. I also got to check out a couple of knitted hats two riders bought yesterday at the Eugene Saturday Market. They looked, well, very Eugene.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Sign up for Elkhorn
Wednesday, 13 June
**********
Thursday update: Deadline extended to Sunday. And, in case you're one of the few who races for the money, for the crit, prizes for the women's Pro/1/2 field will match the men's Pro/1/2; the women's Cat 3/4 field will match the men's Cat 3. Thanks to Beverly of Bella's (www.bellabakercity.com); she is an even bigger supporter of this women's race than I am. And she sells luscious wine and chocolate and etc.
**********
You've got just two days left to sign up for the best regional single-bike stage race around:
http://www.elkhornclassicstagerace.com/
Why race Elkhorn?
**********
Thursday update: Deadline extended to Sunday. And, in case you're one of the few who races for the money, for the crit, prizes for the women's Pro/1/2 field will match the men's Pro/1/2; the women's Cat 3/4 field will match the men's Cat 3. Thanks to Beverly of Bella's (www.bellabakercity.com); she is an even bigger supporter of this women's race than I am. And she sells luscious wine and chocolate and etc.
**********
You've got just two days left to sign up for the best regional single-bike stage race around:
http://www.elkhornclassicstagerace.com/
Why race Elkhorn?
- Beer (at the finish).
- Cookies (at the Friday night pasta feed--there's pasta too).
- Empty roads (the only cars are race support vehicles).
- Spectacular scenery (Blue Mountains, green valleys, Oregon Trail, Hells Canyon).
- Great community support (everybody asks how your race is going).
- The excitement of racing with riders from all over the West Coast (but no pro teams).
- Tough racing. Good camaraderie.
- Best excuse for a rest week before all those crits over 4th of July weekend.
- Because it's FUN and you don't want to miss out.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Firsts
Monday, 11 June
Yesterday I did a tandem road race with my husband for the very first time. And--the short version of the long-winded version below--we finished in first place. Pretty nice.
The occasion was the Oregon tandem road race championship on a "new" course west of Eugene. Only one stretch--the most significant stretch--was on roads we haven't raced on many times. This section was about 5 miles: from Territorial Highway, stairstepping up through a pretty little valley of vineyards toward Briggs Hill, which is a steep, switchback climb of maybe 1.5 miles, then dropping off the backside of Briggs toward Spencer Creek Road. The feedzone was on a lesser hill, and there are a couple of longish drags and rollers, but otherwise the course is mostly flattish and somewhat windy. Showers were kept to a minimum on race day (a blessing considering the bends and paint stripe on the descent--okay, you're not supposed to cross it anyway, but, you know, just in case).
To my surprise, there were a total of 10 tandems for the start of our race (that's 4 bikes more than the senior women's race had!). The attacks began shortly after the neutral rollout ended but eventually we settled into a paceline rotation of about 5 bikes with the others just sitting on. Over the feedzone hill, which I don't think gapped anybody, then more rotating around the 10 miles of flat roads to the turn onto Briggs. This is a very narrow little road, and you wouldn't want to be caught at the back of a group even on your single bike. So we were at the front when we got to the serious climbing. We just rode a steady tempo--and had gap at the top. The descent is a little bit technical, and pretty high speed, and there were 5 bikes back together by the time we turned onto Spencer Creek and headed for the finish line at the end of the first lap (of 3).
Gradually all the other bikes caught back on, and most wouldn't pull through at all. (This is the problem with getting to the top of a hill first--you're marked, and everybody wants to tire you out.) We rolled over the feed hill, got to the bottom, and were just rolling along. I decided it would be a good time to eat and took a big bite out of my Odwalla bar. At this point we were on the front, my captain was fed up with nobody riding hard, and so he just pushed the pace--and voila, we had a gap. And I had my mouth full and couldn't breathe hard. Somehow I managed (chipmunk cheeks), our gap grew to several hundred meters, and one bike bridged up. They had been one of the bikes willing to work earlier, and we rotated steady, hard pulls. Nobody else tried to bridge (or we didn't see them if they did). Eventually, the official's car came up behind us, which is a good sign when you're trying to make a break stick.
At the bottom of the steep climb, our chain got tangled up, so we both had to get off the bike. I got it running the right direction, and then we had to get back on the bike. Getting two people on and off a bike obviously takes longer than just one, so we had some work to do to catch the other tandem. We were only about 50 meters behind them at the top of the climb, and we came together again after the descent. More trading pulls; they got gapped a little on the feed hill but got right back on. Finally we got around to the last time up the hill, and we knew had to give it everything we had left to get a gap that would be big enough to hold all the way to the finish.
The last switchback is about 200 meters from the top of the climb, and I swear they were only 100 meters behind at that stage. But as we were cresting the top of the hill, I couldn't see them or the follow car anywhere behind us. By this lap, we were a little smoother on the descent. I tried to glance behind us when I could, but couldn't see anything. It's pretty hard to communicate from the back of a tandem when you're whooshing downhill at 45 [update: 48] mph, so I had to wait until the rollout at the bottom before I could yell that I didn't see anything.
After we made the turn at the bottom, it was 2.5 miles of flat road to the finish. Could we time trial it and hold them off? After 1/4 mile, I looked back and was positive I could see them just a couple hundred meters back, in front of the follow car. Mick saw the same thing, so we absolutely buried ourselves, thankful for the new 56 [it's only a 55] chain ring "borrowed" from a TT bike. Another look at about a mile to go revealed just the follow car behind us--but who knew if they were just out of sight behind it? Turned out that they were at least 90 seconds back, and the next group of 3 bikes was a couple minutes behind them. Mike (who won the masters 40-49 race that morning) and Sam (who is maybe 10) attacked the group and took third. In an odd twist, all the captains who medaled in our race were named Michael.
I had worried that the course would be boring (overly familiar), and someone had tried to tell us it was a 10-minute climb. Fortunately, I got to preview the course by driving lead car for the cat 3 men in the morning. And during our race, our lead vehicle was a motorcycle, which helped my confidence in the bends on the descent: if he can do it at this speed, so can we (maybe not the best philosophy, but helpful in this case). The climb looked significantly steeper from the car than it felt on the bike, and (except for the last lap) it seemed shorter on the bike than in the car. In three weeks, I get to do this all over again on my single bike (masters women RR championship), and then I think all the flat sections will get dull and windy and hard. Hopefully, I'll remember that the descent is not as bad as it looks!
Yesterday I did a tandem road race with my husband for the very first time. And--the short version of the long-winded version below--we finished in first place. Pretty nice.
The occasion was the Oregon tandem road race championship on a "new" course west of Eugene. Only one stretch--the most significant stretch--was on roads we haven't raced on many times. This section was about 5 miles: from Territorial Highway, stairstepping up through a pretty little valley of vineyards toward Briggs Hill, which is a steep, switchback climb of maybe 1.5 miles, then dropping off the backside of Briggs toward Spencer Creek Road. The feedzone was on a lesser hill, and there are a couple of longish drags and rollers, but otherwise the course is mostly flattish and somewhat windy. Showers were kept to a minimum on race day (a blessing considering the bends and paint stripe on the descent--okay, you're not supposed to cross it anyway, but, you know, just in case).
To my surprise, there were a total of 10 tandems for the start of our race (that's 4 bikes more than the senior women's race had!). The attacks began shortly after the neutral rollout ended but eventually we settled into a paceline rotation of about 5 bikes with the others just sitting on. Over the feedzone hill, which I don't think gapped anybody, then more rotating around the 10 miles of flat roads to the turn onto Briggs. This is a very narrow little road, and you wouldn't want to be caught at the back of a group even on your single bike. So we were at the front when we got to the serious climbing. We just rode a steady tempo--and had gap at the top. The descent is a little bit technical, and pretty high speed, and there were 5 bikes back together by the time we turned onto Spencer Creek and headed for the finish line at the end of the first lap (of 3).
Gradually all the other bikes caught back on, and most wouldn't pull through at all. (This is the problem with getting to the top of a hill first--you're marked, and everybody wants to tire you out.) We rolled over the feed hill, got to the bottom, and were just rolling along. I decided it would be a good time to eat and took a big bite out of my Odwalla bar. At this point we were on the front, my captain was fed up with nobody riding hard, and so he just pushed the pace--and voila, we had a gap. And I had my mouth full and couldn't breathe hard. Somehow I managed (chipmunk cheeks), our gap grew to several hundred meters, and one bike bridged up. They had been one of the bikes willing to work earlier, and we rotated steady, hard pulls. Nobody else tried to bridge (or we didn't see them if they did). Eventually, the official's car came up behind us, which is a good sign when you're trying to make a break stick.
At the bottom of the steep climb, our chain got tangled up, so we both had to get off the bike. I got it running the right direction, and then we had to get back on the bike. Getting two people on and off a bike obviously takes longer than just one, so we had some work to do to catch the other tandem. We were only about 50 meters behind them at the top of the climb, and we came together again after the descent. More trading pulls; they got gapped a little on the feed hill but got right back on. Finally we got around to the last time up the hill, and we knew had to give it everything we had left to get a gap that would be big enough to hold all the way to the finish.
The last switchback is about 200 meters from the top of the climb, and I swear they were only 100 meters behind at that stage. But as we were cresting the top of the hill, I couldn't see them or the follow car anywhere behind us. By this lap, we were a little smoother on the descent. I tried to glance behind us when I could, but couldn't see anything. It's pretty hard to communicate from the back of a tandem when you're whooshing downhill at 45 [update: 48] mph, so I had to wait until the rollout at the bottom before I could yell that I didn't see anything.
After we made the turn at the bottom, it was 2.5 miles of flat road to the finish. Could we time trial it and hold them off? After 1/4 mile, I looked back and was positive I could see them just a couple hundred meters back, in front of the follow car. Mick saw the same thing, so we absolutely buried ourselves, thankful for the new 56 [it's only a 55] chain ring "borrowed" from a TT bike. Another look at about a mile to go revealed just the follow car behind us--but who knew if they were just out of sight behind it? Turned out that they were at least 90 seconds back, and the next group of 3 bikes was a couple minutes behind them. Mike (who won the masters 40-49 race that morning) and Sam (who is maybe 10) attacked the group and took third. In an odd twist, all the captains who medaled in our race were named Michael.
I had worried that the course would be boring (overly familiar), and someone had tried to tell us it was a 10-minute climb. Fortunately, I got to preview the course by driving lead car for the cat 3 men in the morning. And during our race, our lead vehicle was a motorcycle, which helped my confidence in the bends on the descent: if he can do it at this speed, so can we (maybe not the best philosophy, but helpful in this case). The climb looked significantly steeper from the car than it felt on the bike, and (except for the last lap) it seemed shorter on the bike than in the car. In three weeks, I get to do this all over again on my single bike (masters women RR championship), and then I think all the flat sections will get dull and windy and hard. Hopefully, I'll remember that the descent is not as bad as it looks!
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Work places
Thursday, 7 June
It's a fine time of year where I work:
A mountain laurel between my bike locker and my office.
UW Commencement is this Saturday in Husky Stadium (avoid that section of the BGT!), so lots of departments are having their own ceremonies this week. Finally, students prove that they DO have clothes besides jeans and (too-tight, muffin-top-revealing) t-shirts and flip-flops. And next week they'll all be gone and a few of us will have this gorgeous park all to ourselves!
Oh yeah, here's my hat workshop. (Not so pretty, eh?) Lots of racing in Oregon coming up, so too many hours will be spent here. Get your order in now....
Oh yeah, here's my hat workshop. (Not so pretty, eh?) Lots of racing in Oregon coming up, so too many hours will be spent here. Get your order in now....
Monday, June 04, 2007
Launch
Monday, 4 June
If you know anyone with a tandem in the garage, please pass along this link:
There are plenty of opportunities to get out and race!
If you know anyone with a tandem in the garage, please pass along this link:
There are plenty of opportunities to get out and race!
Monday, May 28, 2007
Three seconds
Memorial Day
Yesterday was Ski to Sea, the biggest thing that happens in Whatcom County each year. Those of us who pop in and pop out only get a little jolt of the huge buzz that energizes Bellingham for weeks. It is the biggest throw down, smack talkin' event I know of. People try to mess with your mind--and admit to messing with others'. It is by far the funnest racing+socializing thing I do all year long. Thanks especially to Janet and Brian and Holly for making it all come together for me!
The road bike leg is a 36-mile, draft-legal time trial. There are three legs before the bike (cross country ski, downhill ski [which is mostly an uphill sprint carrying skis], 8-mile downhill run), so seldom does one cyclist get to start with another. Each year I secretly hope that a cyclist a little faster than me will have slower teammates up the mountain so that I go off first, get caught, and then get a nice draft to the finish.
The one fact of this race that's never in the race guide is that it will be raining at the start of the bike leg. Some cyclists get dropped off at about 7:30 by their skiers and runners driving farther up the mountain--and then have to sit there, with no shelter, until they start at maybe 11:00. Realizing this makes me appreciate all the support I get.
The course has a net elevation loss with two fairly decent hills in the first 10 miles and about 5 rollers in the last 8 miles. There are flat sections and some scary-fast technical descending. I rode in my 55x12 a lot. It is a great mix, never gets boring, and is always hard. One of the funnest parts for me is the pockets of people standing at the ends of driveways, in the rain, cheering as you go by (this is the Mt. Baker highway, not a highly populated area). Another fun part is that the first woman to start (that's been me the last couple of years at least) gets her own escort of two State Patrol officers on motorcycles (cuts down on my fear of being attacked by a bear). I'm pretty sure the first guy does too. Is that true, Ian?
The funnest part this year was getting caught by my husband. It didn't happen until the rollers at the end of the course (he was on a veterans team--average age 50+), and I couldn't stay with him for more than a mile or so. The canoe leg follows the bike leg, and one of my canoers is married to one of his canoers, so we had been joking the night before about who was going to get to the transition first. Even when I couldn't hold his wheel, he was a great rabbit to chase and I had him in my sights all the way to the finish. In turn, we passed a guy who had passed me earlier (on Alan's wheel). This guy was sure not going to ride behind a woman so he pulled in front of me after I passed him--and we slowed down. I knew we were down to the last 1.5 miles, which are dead flat, so I put my head down and left him behind.
The official results show that I managed to go 3 seconds faster this year than last year. Over 36 miles. My ride was technically a little faster because my time started when my runner scanned our team's "chip" in the last 20 feet of her run before handing off to me, and my time didn't stop until the canoer got the chip from me and scanned it. This was the first year for chip timing at Ski to Sea, and while there were some bugs and unhappiness (no posted split times at the finish, for one), it went pretty well.
In spite of the rain for pretty much the entire 1:29:23 of my ride, the awards ceremony at 5:45 p.m. was the warmest I remember. My team, Boundary Bay Brewing Co., won the open women's division and managed to hold off the local challengers, a Whatcom County women's team (a new division this year, I think, so that more glory could go to the pure local teams not sponsored by big, bad corporations who bring in ringers). Oops, though. We skipped out to go my husband's team party before the awards were all done and missed out on a new award this year. "Top Gun" medals went to the competitors with the fastest split times for each leg. And that was me!
Results of the road bike leg are here. If you read this page, you should know that the guy in 7th place overall is really our favorite local nonblogger. You can navigate from that page for results for other teams and other legs of the event.
Yesterday was Ski to Sea, the biggest thing that happens in Whatcom County each year. Those of us who pop in and pop out only get a little jolt of the huge buzz that energizes Bellingham for weeks. It is the biggest throw down, smack talkin' event I know of. People try to mess with your mind--and admit to messing with others'. It is by far the funnest racing+socializing thing I do all year long. Thanks especially to Janet and Brian and Holly for making it all come together for me!
The road bike leg is a 36-mile, draft-legal time trial. There are three legs before the bike (cross country ski, downhill ski [which is mostly an uphill sprint carrying skis], 8-mile downhill run), so seldom does one cyclist get to start with another. Each year I secretly hope that a cyclist a little faster than me will have slower teammates up the mountain so that I go off first, get caught, and then get a nice draft to the finish.
The one fact of this race that's never in the race guide is that it will be raining at the start of the bike leg. Some cyclists get dropped off at about 7:30 by their skiers and runners driving farther up the mountain--and then have to sit there, with no shelter, until they start at maybe 11:00. Realizing this makes me appreciate all the support I get.
The course has a net elevation loss with two fairly decent hills in the first 10 miles and about 5 rollers in the last 8 miles. There are flat sections and some scary-fast technical descending. I rode in my 55x12 a lot. It is a great mix, never gets boring, and is always hard. One of the funnest parts for me is the pockets of people standing at the ends of driveways, in the rain, cheering as you go by (this is the Mt. Baker highway, not a highly populated area). Another fun part is that the first woman to start (that's been me the last couple of years at least) gets her own escort of two State Patrol officers on motorcycles (cuts down on my fear of being attacked by a bear). I'm pretty sure the first guy does too. Is that true, Ian?
The funnest part this year was getting caught by my husband. It didn't happen until the rollers at the end of the course (he was on a veterans team--average age 50+), and I couldn't stay with him for more than a mile or so. The canoe leg follows the bike leg, and one of my canoers is married to one of his canoers, so we had been joking the night before about who was going to get to the transition first. Even when I couldn't hold his wheel, he was a great rabbit to chase and I had him in my sights all the way to the finish. In turn, we passed a guy who had passed me earlier (on Alan's wheel). This guy was sure not going to ride behind a woman so he pulled in front of me after I passed him--and we slowed down. I knew we were down to the last 1.5 miles, which are dead flat, so I put my head down and left him behind.
The official results show that I managed to go 3 seconds faster this year than last year. Over 36 miles. My ride was technically a little faster because my time started when my runner scanned our team's "chip" in the last 20 feet of her run before handing off to me, and my time didn't stop until the canoer got the chip from me and scanned it. This was the first year for chip timing at Ski to Sea, and while there were some bugs and unhappiness (no posted split times at the finish, for one), it went pretty well.
In spite of the rain for pretty much the entire 1:29:23 of my ride, the awards ceremony at 5:45 p.m. was the warmest I remember. My team, Boundary Bay Brewing Co., won the open women's division and managed to hold off the local challengers, a Whatcom County women's team (a new division this year, I think, so that more glory could go to the pure local teams not sponsored by big, bad corporations who bring in ringers). Oops, though. We skipped out to go my husband's team party before the awards were all done and missed out on a new award this year. "Top Gun" medals went to the competitors with the fastest split times for each leg. And that was me!
Results of the road bike leg are here. If you read this page, you should know that the guy in 7th place overall is really our favorite local nonblogger. You can navigate from that page for results for other teams and other legs of the event.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Mt. Hood SR
Sunday, 20 May
Short story: If you're going to the Mt. Hood stage race in 10 days:
1. Make time to see the TT course before you race (you can drive most of it and ride the rest as out and back from either end of the trail portion--don't be a doof and try this on race day).
2. Take your winter cycling gear: neoprene booties, goretex gloves, rain jacket, everything. And if you're doing the 1-2 men's or women's race, remember that everybody on the team has to have matching clothing, including rain jackets, vests, etc. Per USAC.
Long-winded story:
On Saturday afternoon, I got to preride the TT course for the upcoming Mt. Hood stage race. It starts at the Discovery Center in The Dalles and ends just outside of Hood River (notice that you race east to west, into the prevailing headwind--the same wind that makes Hood River a windsurfing mecca). Point to point. You can drive the portion of the course between The Dalles and Mosier (which I recommend), but the Old Cascade Highway is closed to cars so you'll have to preview this on your bike (which I also recommend).
You can read the technical details about the course on the race website. But here's how I'd describe it:
The first 3 miles are slightly downhill to flat, really windy, I couldn't have stayed in my aero bars if I tried. You go through the community of Rowena and then up the biggest climb, about 3 miles. It's twisty, mostly not steep, and mostly sheltered. But it's a real climb, not just some little power hill like you usually find in a TT. You round the corner at the top and you're back in the wind. So much wind that I could not keep the bike on the right side of the yellow line and had to clip one foot out and push myself along whenever the gusts subsided. Then the course rolls, mostly downhill I think but with the wind it's tough to tell because you have to pedal hard just to keep the bike going in some sort of line. Finally you come to the cliffs just above Mosier (part of last year's TT course). This is a fast descent that was described to me as "technical"; I guess the wind blows over the top of the cliffs, and you just fly down the slightly twisting road. You roll through Mosier (watch out for traffic with all those driveways and businesses!) and turn right on the Old Cascade Highway. You turn right again (uphill) onto the portion of the highway that's now a bike trail. This is the smoothest asphalt you could ever hope to ride on! There's some more climbing, and then you ride down through the historic tunnel (still smooth asphalt, and no drippy ceiling--the promoter promises lights in here) and then through the bendy colonnade after the tunnel. This is like a snow shed but keeps rocks from the cliffs above from falling on your head. It's supported by square concrete columns maybe 10 feet apart down both sides of the 8?-feet-wide trail. There are a couple of gentle bends, but you are descending at a pretty good clip. The course rolls some more, but this portion is pretty sheltered and wind won't be such a factor through here.
After winning the TT national championship last July, Kristin Armstrong said the course at Seven Springs was the hardest TT she'd ever done. That one was hard because it was unrelentingly up and down and twisty and you couldn't ever get in a rhythm. This year's course at Mt. Hood is, I think, more challenging. It will reward the gutsy, aggressive rider who can battle the wind, but the long climb offers something for the mountain goats. At 18 miles, it is long for a stage race TT, and there's a significant amount of climbing. I realized that if I had raced in the conditions on Saturday, I would've lost more time to the GC leaders in the time trial than in the crit in downtown Hood River on the last day of the race. But I also learned a couple of things about how to better handle my bike in the wind.
As we were riding the course backward to get back to our car, we encountered the LFG on his way home from work (he commutes on this course!). He admitted that sometimes the wind does blow out of the east, which will make for some scary fast racing. The trick to a fast time if the wind is out of the west is knowing when you can stay in your aero bars...and, for lightweights, keeping your bike on the road.
Sunday's plan was to preview the new Wy East road course that starts at Cooper Spur and finishes at Mt. Hood Meadows. The first climb starts as soon as you hit the highway below Cooper Spur. It continues, steeper, when you turn left on Road 44. The first 2 miles on 44 are the steepest, but it's a good long climb. The pavement gets worse near the top, so that the descent is kind of bumpy. The descent has some uphill sections (kind of like stage 4 at Columbia Plateau after the big climb) but generally it's wide open and not technical. And fast. Guys go 50 mph on the bottom of this descent. There's a smooth, flat section before you get to Dufur, a feed zone on a very short little bump, a couple of miles on 197, then you turn off the highway and ride down a little valley. First it seems flat, then uphill false flat, then gradually climbing. It's never steep but it's always twisty. Finally you come to the sign for the summit of the Tygh ("Tie") Ridge and get back onto 197 for a long descent (wide open highway). Turn right, a half mile of flat road takes you into the town of Tygh Valley, and you start climbing again. I suppose you could say the final climb starts here, but really there's a lot of flat stuff after this climb past the town of Wamic.
The road after Wamic is punctuated by some of these and a whole bunch of cracks across the
road (remember the ones from the finish of Elkhorn stage 1 back into Baker City?). The road gets narrower and starts to go up, and this is what I would consider the start of the last climb. But there are some significant descents, and it's not steep for a long, long time. It twists through forest and it kind of all looks alike. Eventually you come out onto the highway, keep climbing, turn right for Mt. Hood Meadows, and keep climbing some more. The promoter says the grade in this final section gets up to 12%, and I'm sure it will feel like 20% by that point in the race, but it sure didn't seem like 12% to me.
road (remember the ones from the finish of Elkhorn stage 1 back into Baker City?). The road gets narrower and starts to go up, and this is what I would consider the start of the last climb. But there are some significant descents, and it's not steep for a long, long time. It twists through forest and it kind of all looks alike. Eventually you come out onto the highway, keep climbing, turn right for Mt. Hood Meadows, and keep climbing some more. The promoter says the grade in this final section gets up to 12%, and I'm sure it will feel like 20% by that point in the race, but it sure didn't seem like 12% to me.Today we encountered snow flurries at the top of the first and last climbs, and there was lumpy rain at Mt. Hood Meadows. Hence I encourage you to take your collection of warm clothes for wet weather to the race; if you don't need them, just be happy that you don't. The two Mt. Hood SR veterans with me said that this new course will be more about racing; the climbs aren't as steep as the old epic road course, and there are places to catch back on. I also see a lot of places to go out the back....
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