May 02, 2015 at 07:48 PM
"It seemed like a good idea at the time."
So for the first time ever, my family and I decided to make this a whole weekend affair. Before the bike races kicked off at a civilized 10:20am, hundreds of 5k and 10k road runner took to the rolling hills of "in the middle of nowhere, Lancaster, PA." My wife was one of them. She used to do a lot of running and fair amount of racing before my son Peter came into the picture, and just like me, she's been back on the training "train" of late. Today was, we think her first race in about 4 years. Very proud of her for her giving it her all. And finishing in the top 30% of both men and women is quite impressive if you ask me!
After her race, I took advantage of all the free Turkey Hill goodies, and "pre-loaded" with a bottle of chocolate milk and an ice cream sandwich. It seemed like a smart move. Even though it wasn't my normal pre-race routine, I figured: Easily digestible sugars and carbs plus some protein? What could go wrong? Did I ever mention to any of you that I'm what I would call "borderline" lactose intolerant.
And as I lined up against at least 63 riders (not including day-ofs) including pros from Optum, Astellas, and World Champion track medalist Bobby Lea (I overheard the Optum dude say there were 5 pros in our field), plus the usual mid-atlantic hammer heads from DC and PA, I was praying that the enormous rock in my gut would just fade away. Please, please fade away...
The 10k loop is, in a word, hard. Slow pavement, several tricky turns that you descend into coasting because they are that fast, then its a 90 degree right turn into an out of the saddle climb that is only fun for the first 10 or so riders who get to go full speed through the apex. The rest of us are hammering the breaks then max wattage sprinting up the hill. Ugh. Plus there is a long sustained stretch of of rollers that I am forever scarred by the time Joe Papp and his doping team killed us in the way-back-machine. And lots of wind and gutter ball. Classic Belgian Kermesse style racing.
But the thing about being scared and scarred and riding around with a big rock in your gut? It means, you can't be stupid, or lazy. You have to take every opportunity to rest, hide and recover. You know that slow easy spin on the downside of a roller is your only hope to switch your nervous system from "fight or flight" to "rest and digest" mode. And if you are at the back of the field, chasing up every roller, you will get no rest on the downside. NONE.
And so I did, and for 5 of 10 laps I was good. Or rather good enough. Right where I needed to be. Ish. Not actually that close to the front, but in a few laps we had already burned off a lot of the weaker riders in the peloton. To the point where I was not worried as much about getting gapped off during the single file stretches. My wife sees a lot of bike racing. She sees a lot of me, and she said that I "looked like I belonged." That's a pretty nice compliment coming from someone who doesn't let me bullshit myself about my racing performance on any given weekend day.
The belly was still bad. There were some tough moves off the front, an eager field chasing. Lots of single file into crosswinds. When I saw 5 laps to go, I suffered a mental breakdown.
I had started the race thinking there were 6 laps, and after 3 or 4 times around I just couldn't figure out what was going on. The "math" just wasn't adding up in my head. Why? Because sometimes I'm just an idiot. "We were supposed to hit the Gamber's Wall extension 2 laps ago, what is going on!?" And that confusion and frustration coupled with a main field that had split in efforts to bring back a dangerous move, plus my friend "rock gut." And I was done. Dropped on a stretch of rolling 3-5% climbing.
I chased for a couple of laps, picking up, passing other dropped riders (my stomach finally started to loosen up abit when I was just riding threshold/Low VO2), but it was too late. With 3 laps to g, (the first lap I was to climb the 20% Gamber's Wall) I was yanked. I was confused and upset. Would I be pulled and placed?" I asked the official. "No," he responded non-nonchalantly, "just pulled." A bit of a back and forth ensued that ended when some other guy, not in an official's shirt got nasty and made a crack about listing me as a DNF, "How about that?" he spits out. Jerk.
Mental note, don't talk to anyone but my wife immediately after a race. No good comes of it. It's not like cross, I don't need "the points," It doesn't actually matter. But it kind of does. Drop the needle now on "broken record" Marc: I still wanted a finish. I wanted to know where I stood.
Epiloge: The best I could do was count riders the next lap through. 39 left. Okay, I'm going to call me in 40th place. And while I can wonder "what would have been?" Had I done this or that or not, the reality of the matter is that if I had done this same race last year, I would have been dropped on the first or second lap, instead of surviving 1/2 the race against a field of that caliber.
And so while I wanted to make a big jump on my training curve, to perform above what was realistically expected of me, I probably finished pretty close to the curve of what I "should" be doing right now. Which is how it's always been in my racing "career."
From that entire first season as a Collegiate Cat D getting DNFs/DFLs EVERY race, to finishing DFL in Cat 5/Citizen crits...I've sort of clawed my way to some respectable finishes here and there over years and years of training and racing, but never any "leaps" that would have my competitors asking for my biological passport. So why should this year, what I'm calling my "comeback" year be any different? It shouldn't, it won't be...and I'm just going to have to be okay with that.
Tomorrow looking forward to fun family time (not that all the free food, bouncy castle extreme, mascots, giant cow figure wasn't fun family time) riding an old time steam engine train, and visiting some train museums with my son who currently knows the NYC Subway system better than me and most of you too!