Over the winter I thought about why I even had to make the decision to continue writing here. Approximately eight of my non-cyclist friends and aquaintances said I should keep doing it. Maybe they're the sum total of regular readers. But they're worth it. And it gives me a chance to think about something, and think about why I (and many other people) do some of the things we do.
What happened over the winter? Well, in December, late November, sometime around there I burned out and got tired of my bike(s). So I temporarily became a swimmer and also did some time in the gym and that wasn't too bad. Everybody I ride bikes with also likes cross country skiing, but we had no snow this winter so all those great group outings we had last year never really materialized.
Once getting over my burnout, I rode plenty over the winter. Someone already wrote somewhere that the only thing more boring than riding a bike on a trainer indoors is reading about someone riding a bike on a trainer indoors. For those of you who don't ride bikes very much, a trainer is just a stationary thing you lock your bike's rear wheel into, and then it becomes a stationary bike. And no, it's not terribly exciting on its own. So let's move on from there.
Last year when I started writing here, cyclocross season had just started. Road season now has just kicked off. Ironically my first ROAD race (and the first for a lot of my teammates) involved a lot of DIRT. The epic-distance, ever-hyped Tour of the Battenkill unfortunately left a few of my teammates battered. LiLynn and maybe 20 other riders became involved in a large crash in one of the women's Category 4 fields only 3 miles in due to an unexpected downhill attack shortly after the neutral start, followed by panicked overreaction in the field and failures to 'hold a line' (i.e. not ride in a straight line).
LiLynn *probably* should have stopped and had her chain-ring-gashed arm stitched closed and her other wounds cared for but she really wanted to keep going, having paid $100 to enter this race. So she did, until being intercepted by our teammate Margaret Thompson and Taliet Gerretsen in the feed zone at mile 40-something. They managed to convince her to call it a day.
My race in the Cat 3 women's field started out well. I ate and drank enough to avoid last year's cramping debacle and stayed out of trouble through the early climbs. Mostly this just meant staying in front of the people going backwards until the climbs eventually thinned out our numbers. As in previous years, the opening few miles of this race remained kind of a white-knuckle situation for reasons I still don't understand. Everybody fights for position to get through the covered bridge, which seems odd because what happens after the bridge? Not much. You make two right hand turns and go slightly downhill on a dirt section (where you can move up all you like). This year, I found a cozy spot mid-pack going through the bridge then moved along on that first dirt bit (which is downhill, by the way). No need to get run down in the bridge. In my experience the Cat 3 race has only ever been a race of attrition. Everybody starts together. You ride a steady tempo and surge on all the climbs, and that shells a few people every climb.
As usual several people figured the yellow-line rule was purely hypothetical and got whistled at by the moto-ref. He did a very good job enforcing this year, so kudos to him. After the first couple of climbs we made it safely through the s-curving descent into the village of Shushan, despite our lane narrowing suddenly through the third curve due to an ambulance parked on the right shoulder there. This prompted speculation later in the pack about the possibility of self-fulfilling prophecy-if you park an ambulance where it could cause a crash, at least there would be an ambulance if when people crashed, but maybe you shouldn't park the ambulance there in the first place. Maybe someone had already crashed, but I didn't have time to see if that was the case.
Sometime after the halfway point of the race our group contained somewhere around 14-16 riders (down from 54). So far, so good. Until we encountered some freshly graded dirt road sections. These had crowned surfaces like so many country roads, deep dirt all over them, and a single "lane" a few feet wide on the top and center of the roads where occasionally the dirt deepened and became sand pits studded with medium-size rocks here and there, with tire tracks running snaking and swerving through them. On the last dirt section before the feed zone, we picked up speed and strung ourselves out single file. I made my first and possibly only real mistake that day, which decided my race: NOT being in first or second wheel going through that section. Frankly you couldn't see too much of anything in the clouds of dust. I tried my best to stay light on the handlebars and "float" the front end of the bike despite the building fatigue.
A few shouts came out when the road dirt got deeper and the bikes started shimmying beneath us. "Keep pedaling! "GO!" "PEDAL!" And then the patches of deep stuff came and went. The road started downhill, we went faster and faster, the dirt got even deeper. Stayed deep. More shouting, and I don't know if someone braked or stopped pedaling or what. But we still rode single file at that point because we only had a very narrow path to ride on. So you rode at the mercy of the rider in front of you, for the most part. My friend Gabrielle Fisher, riding behind the someone who braked, swerved right, swerved left, skidded, plowed her front wheel and flipped over sideways. Behind her, the next rider swerved right. Next in line, I veered left and down the crown of the road, then stomped hard into my right pedal and hip-steered to try and come back over to the center, just praying I'd stay up. The rider right in front of me came back over, overcompensated, and down SHE went. Trying to avoid her, I lost control and in despair I just unclipped a foot and plowed my way to a near stop, got back to center, and had no momentum, got stuck in a big gear, and had to stop and shift while watching the front group move up the hill in front of us., pulling away. I wasted too much time panicking. Once I got started again I took off in a desperation-fueled cloud of dust.
Time to chase, and 14 miles left. They weren't that far away, just far enough that I alone couldn't catch on. I came up through the feed zone. Margaret Thompson gave me a smooth bottle handoff and yelled something encouraging. I saw Taliet Gerretsen there too. Hi Taliet! The last 14 miles of that race rolled by slow as molasses, predictably. I rode hard as I could but it wasn't fast enough. I joined up with fellow Cat 3 Karen Mackin and together we played time-trial. We discussed sprinting, and eventually decided to "drag-race" and ride abreast to the finish line, no silly maneuvering or wheel-sucking, and I knew I'd have no legs to sprint. I got up in the drops and acted like I would but didn't have the legs or the willpower to try. Karen ended up 10th, and I came in 11th. We came in safely, uninjured, and you can't complain about that. I'd rather start the season out with an unbroken body and bike and an 11th-place finish than the various alternatives.
Gabby Fisher broke her right hand and ruptured the ligaments in her left thumb, and is currently recovering from surgery. LiLynn's chain-ring gash will heal into a permanent tattoo.
The Corning women have agreed to consider viable, safer, more affordable and possibly more fun team-building experiences next year, apart from Battenkill. I agree that there are diminishing returns when you factor in the expense of this race, lodging, and possibly some additional medical expenses. I will never believe again that "course conditions are ideal." Not for this race, at least.
Next up are the usual early-season local races: Bloomfield Spring Classic (GVCC), Binghamton Circuit Race, Hollenbeck's Spring Classic, Bristol Mountain Road Race. Stay tuned.
What happened over the winter? Well, in December, late November, sometime around there I burned out and got tired of my bike(s). So I temporarily became a swimmer and also did some time in the gym and that wasn't too bad. Everybody I ride bikes with also likes cross country skiing, but we had no snow this winter so all those great group outings we had last year never really materialized.
Once getting over my burnout, I rode plenty over the winter. Someone already wrote somewhere that the only thing more boring than riding a bike on a trainer indoors is reading about someone riding a bike on a trainer indoors. For those of you who don't ride bikes very much, a trainer is just a stationary thing you lock your bike's rear wheel into, and then it becomes a stationary bike. And no, it's not terribly exciting on its own. So let's move on from there.
Last year when I started writing here, cyclocross season had just started. Road season now has just kicked off. Ironically my first ROAD race (and the first for a lot of my teammates) involved a lot of DIRT. The epic-distance, ever-hyped Tour of the Battenkill unfortunately left a few of my teammates battered. LiLynn and maybe 20 other riders became involved in a large crash in one of the women's Category 4 fields only 3 miles in due to an unexpected downhill attack shortly after the neutral start, followed by panicked overreaction in the field and failures to 'hold a line' (i.e. not ride in a straight line).
LiLynn *probably* should have stopped and had her chain-ring-gashed arm stitched closed and her other wounds cared for but she really wanted to keep going, having paid $100 to enter this race. So she did, until being intercepted by our teammate Margaret Thompson and Taliet Gerretsen in the feed zone at mile 40-something. They managed to convince her to call it a day.
My other Cat 4 teammates Dany (Daniela Floss) and Tami (Tamara Lewis) safely finished their races-Dany in particular felt very perturbed by the deep sand on some of the freshly graded road sections. She had ridden our team's Connecticut Hill training ride, so had only some limited experience on dirt there. Normally that ride is more difficult, technical and dangerous than Battenkill. Not so this year. The starter told the Cat 3 women before rolling out that course conditions on the dirt roads were ideal. This was mostly true, since most of the dirt roads were hard-packed and clear, but certain parts of some roads were frankly ideal only for a cyclocross course. Rather than telling everybody that course conditions were "ideal," I would have felt obligated to inform people that there were dangerous sand patches and say exactly where those were. Since Bob had to work half a day on Friday, we didn't have the luxury of time to scout the entire course. My mistake.
My race in the Cat 3 women's field started out well. I ate and drank enough to avoid last year's cramping debacle and stayed out of trouble through the early climbs. Mostly this just meant staying in front of the people going backwards until the climbs eventually thinned out our numbers. As in previous years, the opening few miles of this race remained kind of a white-knuckle situation for reasons I still don't understand. Everybody fights for position to get through the covered bridge, which seems odd because what happens after the bridge? Not much. You make two right hand turns and go slightly downhill on a dirt section (where you can move up all you like). This year, I found a cozy spot mid-pack going through the bridge then moved along on that first dirt bit (which is downhill, by the way). No need to get run down in the bridge. In my experience the Cat 3 race has only ever been a race of attrition. Everybody starts together. You ride a steady tempo and surge on all the climbs, and that shells a few people every climb.
As usual several people figured the yellow-line rule was purely hypothetical and got whistled at by the moto-ref. He did a very good job enforcing this year, so kudos to him. After the first couple of climbs we made it safely through the s-curving descent into the village of Shushan, despite our lane narrowing suddenly through the third curve due to an ambulance parked on the right shoulder there. This prompted speculation later in the pack about the possibility of self-fulfilling prophecy-if you park an ambulance where it could cause a crash, at least there would be an ambulance if when people crashed, but maybe you shouldn't park the ambulance there in the first place. Maybe someone had already crashed, but I didn't have time to see if that was the case.
Sometime after the halfway point of the race our group contained somewhere around 14-16 riders (down from 54). So far, so good. Until we encountered some freshly graded dirt road sections. These had crowned surfaces like so many country roads, deep dirt all over them, and a single "lane" a few feet wide on the top and center of the roads where occasionally the dirt deepened and became sand pits studded with medium-size rocks here and there, with tire tracks running snaking and swerving through them. On the last dirt section before the feed zone, we picked up speed and strung ourselves out single file. I made my first and possibly only real mistake that day, which decided my race: NOT being in first or second wheel going through that section. Frankly you couldn't see too much of anything in the clouds of dust. I tried my best to stay light on the handlebars and "float" the front end of the bike despite the building fatigue.
A few shouts came out when the road dirt got deeper and the bikes started shimmying beneath us. "Keep pedaling! "GO!" "PEDAL!" And then the patches of deep stuff came and went. The road started downhill, we went faster and faster, the dirt got even deeper. Stayed deep. More shouting, and I don't know if someone braked or stopped pedaling or what. But we still rode single file at that point because we only had a very narrow path to ride on. So you rode at the mercy of the rider in front of you, for the most part. My friend Gabrielle Fisher, riding behind the someone who braked, swerved right, swerved left, skidded, plowed her front wheel and flipped over sideways. Behind her, the next rider swerved right. Next in line, I veered left and down the crown of the road, then stomped hard into my right pedal and hip-steered to try and come back over to the center, just praying I'd stay up. The rider right in front of me came back over, overcompensated, and down SHE went. Trying to avoid her, I lost control and in despair I just unclipped a foot and plowed my way to a near stop, got back to center, and had no momentum, got stuck in a big gear, and had to stop and shift while watching the front group move up the hill in front of us., pulling away. I wasted too much time panicking. Once I got started again I took off in a desperation-fueled cloud of dust.
Time to chase, and 14 miles left. They weren't that far away, just far enough that I alone couldn't catch on. I came up through the feed zone. Margaret Thompson gave me a smooth bottle handoff and yelled something encouraging. I saw Taliet Gerretsen there too. Hi Taliet! The last 14 miles of that race rolled by slow as molasses, predictably. I rode hard as I could but it wasn't fast enough. I joined up with fellow Cat 3 Karen Mackin and together we played time-trial. We discussed sprinting, and eventually decided to "drag-race" and ride abreast to the finish line, no silly maneuvering or wheel-sucking, and I knew I'd have no legs to sprint. I got up in the drops and acted like I would but didn't have the legs or the willpower to try. Karen ended up 10th, and I came in 11th. We came in safely, uninjured, and you can't complain about that. I'd rather start the season out with an unbroken body and bike and an 11th-place finish than the various alternatives.
Gabby Fisher broke her right hand and ruptured the ligaments in her left thumb, and is currently recovering from surgery. LiLynn's chain-ring gash will heal into a permanent tattoo.
The Corning women have agreed to consider viable, safer, more affordable and possibly more fun team-building experiences next year, apart from Battenkill. I agree that there are diminishing returns when you factor in the expense of this race, lodging, and possibly some additional medical expenses. I will never believe again that "course conditions are ideal." Not for this race, at least.
Next up are the usual early-season local races: Bloomfield Spring Classic (GVCC), Binghamton Circuit Race, Hollenbeck's Spring Classic, Bristol Mountain Road Race. Stay tuned.
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