I remember talking with Neil before my first race back in February. He told me that my goal should be to "learn something." I also remember laughing about that later and deciding to add my own goals in too: Finish the race, and don't be last.
Well, things have changed and I'm beginning to appreciate the importance of "learn something." Tonight was a GVCC criterium (1 mile course, 30 minutes plus 5 laps). Last time I raced this course, it was 10 minutes shorter and I suffered miserably the whole time. This time I went into the race knowing that I would get dropped. There was no way around, so I decided to just put everything I had into hanging on for as long as possible, holding nothing back for the end. What does it matter if you've got energy left and you're sprinting for last anyway? So, with my goal being, "learn something" and my plan being, "Hang on for dear life and leave nothing in the tank," here's what I learned:
1. My maximum heart rate is actually 194. I figured that once I wore the monitor for a race I would discover a higher max HR.
2. It is physically possible for me to spend 20+ minutes with my HR over 170. It just hurts an awful lot.
3. A heart rate that high for that long will induce stomach heaves and retching, regardless of the fact that I am traveling at 25mph on a bike and so anaerobic that I can barely stay upright. Also, I can stay upright while my stomach tries, but thankfully fails, to spew Gatorade all over spectators.
4. A high cadence is the key to following people's moves. By keeping my cadence up, usually around 90-100, I was able to respond faster to accelerations, corners, and hills. Also, my muscles were burning less (though my lungs were burning just as much).
5. I've got the pure power to stay with the fast women, I just don't have the stamina. On the first lap, the group split in half. I managed to stay with the front half for almost a full lap. After they dropped me, I was still managing to work with the other chasers to help us all get back together and start moving up. Then we all started falling off the back one by one, and I was among the first to go.
6. Working with other people makes things much more interesting and fun. I spent almost half the race moving among the chasers, sometimes in the front few, sometimes dangling off the back, but there was always a goal with the others around. Find the wheel ahead of you and hang on until you can get around them. Then move up to the next wheel. It was the first time I've had the opportunity to do that and I really enjoyed it.
7. Spectators are a godsend. By the end of the race, I was suffering so badly that I couldn't even think. Every time I went past the finish line and heard people yelling, "Go get her wheel!" or "Move around her and catch the one in yellow!" I would realize that they were right, that's exactly what I should do, and I could do it. Without them telling me that, I would have been completely at a loss, since my brain had shut off. Also, a little bit of cowbell goes a long way.
9. I like crits. They're super fast, tricky, strategic, and basically sum up everything that I love about bike racing. Oh, and there are spectators. I really want to try a crit with a full-sized field of women at my level.
8. Perhaps the most important thing I learned tonight: I'm getting stronger. Compare this post with the one linked above. And then realize that this race was 10 minutes longer, fewer neutral laps, and everyone else is in much better racing condition than at the beginning of the season. I may have been dropped, and lapped, and I think I even finished last, but I'm still feeling pretty good about myself tonight.
So, that's what I learned. I'd say I reached, and possibly even surpassed my goal for the evening. Maybe next week I'll do it again and learn more.
Showing posts with label GVCC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label GVCC. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
The Pain Cave
A brief description of The Pain Cave by one of my favorite bloggers:
So, that's where I was for a much too short a time yesterday during the race. But I should start from the beginning. The group decided that since it was going to be the most daylight we'll have all year that the men would do 5 laps and the women would do 4. I'm sitting there thinking, "One lap almost killed me last time, how am I going to do 4?" But then they suggest that the first lap be neutral because there were enough new people that we didn't want anyone getting lost. So I think, "Okay, one lap will just be an easy warm up and then I can do the other three. No problem."
To put it bluntly, I was wrong. The neutral lap started off pretty easily, with the experienced racers showing the newbies how to ride a paceline. But once they got the paceline (sorta) down, things started to speed up just a little. Then a little more. Let's just say that our supposedly neutral lap averaged 18.5mph on an 9 mile course with 2500ft of climbing. That's pretty fast. I was starting to get left behind on the hills. So much for neutral.
As soon as we crossed the line to start lap #2, the experienced ladies just took off. I don't know how they can accelerate like that on hills, but all that mattered is that they could and I couldn't. I was completely and utterly shot off the back by the second hill. Which left me to do another individual time trial to try to catch back on. Someone else got dropped too, but she wasn't time trialling like I wanted to, so I passed her and did my best to keep the pack in sight. That's where I found my pain cave. Nothing hurts like chasing a group that's always just barely in sight. I couldn't gain any ground, but for about half a lap I didn't lose any ground either.
I did finally lose them when we hit the hilliest part of the course again. By then I had done some serious spelunking in my pain cave and was forced to back down because I knew the situation was hopeless and I really wanted to get in at least 3 laps. When I had almost finished lap #2 the other one that had been popped off on the hills caught me and we rode together for the third lap. I didn't have the energy or motivation to go for lap 4, especially because that would just force the other women to wait for us after they had finished.
So, it's time to do some even more serious goal revision. And some serious recovery. My legs are trashed.
Sal and his cycling teammates talk about the “Pain Cave” a lot. It’s that place you go where you are enveloped by a complete and raw brand of pain. You reach it after feeling the seering inside of you and then ignoring it. You reach it when every voice inside of you has screamed for you to stop and you have silenced them all. The quiet of the pain cave is eerie and horrific.
It’s still but not calming. It’s excruciating and peaceful all at once. It’s simultaneously transcendent and brutally immediate. The agony is almost tangible.
It is the best and the worst feeling.
So, that's where I was for a much too short a time yesterday during the race. But I should start from the beginning. The group decided that since it was going to be the most daylight we'll have all year that the men would do 5 laps and the women would do 4. I'm sitting there thinking, "One lap almost killed me last time, how am I going to do 4?" But then they suggest that the first lap be neutral because there were enough new people that we didn't want anyone getting lost. So I think, "Okay, one lap will just be an easy warm up and then I can do the other three. No problem."
To put it bluntly, I was wrong. The neutral lap started off pretty easily, with the experienced racers showing the newbies how to ride a paceline. But once they got the paceline (sorta) down, things started to speed up just a little. Then a little more. Let's just say that our supposedly neutral lap averaged 18.5mph on an 9 mile course with 2500ft of climbing. That's pretty fast. I was starting to get left behind on the hills. So much for neutral.
As soon as we crossed the line to start lap #2, the experienced ladies just took off. I don't know how they can accelerate like that on hills, but all that mattered is that they could and I couldn't. I was completely and utterly shot off the back by the second hill. Which left me to do another individual time trial to try to catch back on. Someone else got dropped too, but she wasn't time trialling like I wanted to, so I passed her and did my best to keep the pack in sight. That's where I found my pain cave. Nothing hurts like chasing a group that's always just barely in sight. I couldn't gain any ground, but for about half a lap I didn't lose any ground either.
I did finally lose them when we hit the hilliest part of the course again. By then I had done some serious spelunking in my pain cave and was forced to back down because I knew the situation was hopeless and I really wanted to get in at least 3 laps. When I had almost finished lap #2 the other one that had been popped off on the hills caught me and we rode together for the third lap. I didn't have the energy or motivation to go for lap 4, especially because that would just force the other women to wait for us after they had finished.
So, it's time to do some even more serious goal revision. And some serious recovery. My legs are trashed.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Ouch
My ego got left somewhere along the side of the road tonight. The course was brutally hard, the other women are simply stronger and faster than me, and my stomach was cramping. Before the race started I was actually feeling pretty good, but I only managed to hang on for about 6 miles before the wind and hills completely overpowered me. I was the third to get dropped, so that's something at least. Sadly, I didn't finish the race. The stomach cramps turned nasty and I was choking back vomit on my last hill, so I decided that I had had enough. It was my first DNF, and hopefully my last.
I called Neil after I got home and he gave me some much needed encouragement. I'm revising my season goals from "podium placement" to "pack finish". I have to keep reminding myself that I'm racing way over my head with Cat 2 and 3's and they SHOULD be dropping me every race. At least I get a good workout on Tuesday nights. Oh, and one of the other women lives just down the street from me, so I now have a carpool to races. That alone almost makes tonight seem like a success.
I called Neil after I got home and he gave me some much needed encouragement. I'm revising my season goals from "podium placement" to "pack finish". I have to keep reminding myself that I'm racing way over my head with Cat 2 and 3's and they SHOULD be dropping me every race. At least I get a good workout on Tuesday nights. Oh, and one of the other women lives just down the street from me, so I now have a carpool to races. That alone almost makes tonight seem like a success.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
My First Crit, or, How to Improve Your Cornering
I was very nervous for my first GVCC race. What if they're all faster than me? What if I don't like anyone? What if I make a fool of myself? Many bad scenarios got replayed in my head over and over again.
When I arrived I realized my first big mistake. I had hardly eaten anything since noon. It was now 6 and my body was used to eating every 3-4 hours. This was a big problem, but there wasn't much I could do about it. We rode around the course several times to warm up. It was a 0.6 mile loop, with only two real corners. One half was slightly downhill and the other half was slightly uphill and into a headwind. Within a lap or two I realized my second big mistake. My legs were toasted from the ride on Monday. Maybe that has something to do with the crazy headwinds, but I bet it also had to do with going out dancing and only getting 7 hours of sleep before my insane first day of class. Just maybe.
I did my best to work the kinks out of my legs, but they were having none of it. The muscles were sluggish and already burning on the uphill. The race was going to be 20 minutes plus 5 laps. We started with a few neutral laps, which were nice to continue trying to coax my legs into good behavior. It didn't work. Then the racing started. At first I was fine, in the middle of our small pack (only 10 women) and breathing hard but not dying. I lost some ground on the uphill each lap, but I always do. The difference this time is that I couldn't make it up on the the downhill. After about 3 laps I was dangling off the back, gasping for air. After 5 laps, the pack was barely even in sight around the corners.
There are few things more demoralizing than putting every ounce of energy you have into just clinging to the back of the pack, and then getting dropped anyway. But, I have the voice of Neil in my head telling me over and over again, "If you get dropped, it's still good training. Just keep riding." So I kept riding. For a little while I made futile efforts to get back to the pack, but I never gained any ground. At one point someone else got dropped and I spent the rest of the race chasing her. I never caught her, but I never let her gain ground on me either. I owe her a lot of thanks, because having someone visible in front of me was just enough motivation to keep me going.
Throughout the race I also got to practice high-speed cornering. Cornering and I are not comfortable with each other yet, but I figured I might as well make the best use of my solo training race and practice. I started out taking the corners at about 19-20mph, and by the end I was pretty confidently taking them at 25mph. I call that good practice.
At some point along the way I got lapped. That was about the point that my energy reserve kicked in. Or maybe I was just mad about being lapped. Either way, my speed picked up significantly. There were only a few laps to go by then, though, so it hardly mattered. Shana ended up winning the race, and I was shocked to find out that I hadn't actually finished last. Someone else who was racing a crit for the first time had been dropped before me. That was also when I found out that in the pack had been three Cat 3's and a Cat 2. I felt a little better after that.
That race wasn't fun. There's no way to twist it around and make it seem fun. I got shelled off the back, heartily embarrassed, and was suffering badly the whole time. Luckily, I was stubborn enough to keep riding. I think I earned some respect for that, even if my bad judgment and lack of fitness were blatantly obvious. Next week it's a regular road race, and my goal will be very simple and very modest: Finish with pack.
When I arrived I realized my first big mistake. I had hardly eaten anything since noon. It was now 6 and my body was used to eating every 3-4 hours. This was a big problem, but there wasn't much I could do about it. We rode around the course several times to warm up. It was a 0.6 mile loop, with only two real corners. One half was slightly downhill and the other half was slightly uphill and into a headwind. Within a lap or two I realized my second big mistake. My legs were toasted from the ride on Monday. Maybe that has something to do with the crazy headwinds, but I bet it also had to do with going out dancing and only getting 7 hours of sleep before my insane first day of class. Just maybe.
I did my best to work the kinks out of my legs, but they were having none of it. The muscles were sluggish and already burning on the uphill. The race was going to be 20 minutes plus 5 laps. We started with a few neutral laps, which were nice to continue trying to coax my legs into good behavior. It didn't work. Then the racing started. At first I was fine, in the middle of our small pack (only 10 women) and breathing hard but not dying. I lost some ground on the uphill each lap, but I always do. The difference this time is that I couldn't make it up on the the downhill. After about 3 laps I was dangling off the back, gasping for air. After 5 laps, the pack was barely even in sight around the corners.
There are few things more demoralizing than putting every ounce of energy you have into just clinging to the back of the pack, and then getting dropped anyway. But, I have the voice of Neil in my head telling me over and over again, "If you get dropped, it's still good training. Just keep riding." So I kept riding. For a little while I made futile efforts to get back to the pack, but I never gained any ground. At one point someone else got dropped and I spent the rest of the race chasing her. I never caught her, but I never let her gain ground on me either. I owe her a lot of thanks, because having someone visible in front of me was just enough motivation to keep me going.
Throughout the race I also got to practice high-speed cornering. Cornering and I are not comfortable with each other yet, but I figured I might as well make the best use of my solo training race and practice. I started out taking the corners at about 19-20mph, and by the end I was pretty confidently taking them at 25mph. I call that good practice.
At some point along the way I got lapped. That was about the point that my energy reserve kicked in. Or maybe I was just mad about being lapped. Either way, my speed picked up significantly. There were only a few laps to go by then, though, so it hardly mattered. Shana ended up winning the race, and I was shocked to find out that I hadn't actually finished last. Someone else who was racing a crit for the first time had been dropped before me. That was also when I found out that in the pack had been three Cat 3's and a Cat 2. I felt a little better after that.
That race wasn't fun. There's no way to twist it around and make it seem fun. I got shelled off the back, heartily embarrassed, and was suffering badly the whole time. Luckily, I was stubborn enough to keep riding. I think I earned some respect for that, even if my bad judgment and lack of fitness were blatantly obvious. Next week it's a regular road race, and my goal will be very simple and very modest: Finish with pack.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Getting Schooled
I've been emailing with Todd, the guy that runs the GVCC. At one point he offered to show me some good roads to ride on, and I jumped at the chance. He then says, "I can swing by after I hit up the some hard training." Alarm bells should have gone off at this point.
So, at the designated time, he ride up to my house, wearing full kit and riding a rather beautiful bike (I'm embarrassed to admit I didn't notice what kind). He pulls off his Rudy Project glasses (yes, I did notice that) and introduces himself. We head south from my house, and I immediately come to the conclusion that I'm in trouble. It wasn't so much our speed that tipped me off, but I made the mistake of checking out his legs. Perfectly shaven to display a level of muscle definition that strikes both awe and fear into my heart.
We're chatting and cruising along, and I notice that my legs are burning a little. I think I'm just stiff from the ride yesterday and having been off the bike for so long. Then I glance down at my speed. Turns out we're cruising at about 21mph, before I'm warmed up. I think to myself, "I'm sure we'll slow down once we get away from traffic, and I'll be fine once I'm warmed up," so I don't say anything. Todd is continuing to chat about racing, school, and all kinds of stuff in a way that proves he's not even a little bit out of breath. I try to keep up my end of the conversation, but it comes out in half sentences, since I have to catch my breath every 4-5 words.
After only 15 minutes or so of riding, we come to an area that is made up of beautiful fields, backroads and old farmhouses. Perfect cycling country. I would have been enjoying the view, except Todd was maintaining his cruising speed of about 19-21mph. I should point out that we were riding side by side the entire time, in order to hold a conversation, so I couldn't just draft off his wheel. I should also point out that my typical cruising speed on this kind of terrain is in the 16-18mph range.
About 30 minutes into the ride I was feeling warmed up. There comes a point when the muscles just get loose and happy and I can feel the blood pumping without feeling much of a burn at all. I hit that point, and felt really good. It didn't last. About the time the good leg feeling was fading Todd says, "If I'm going to fast or too slow, make sure you tell me." Being as competitive as I am, he might as well have said, "I dare you to keep up with me." So I did. The good legs went away and the burn started to creep in.
As we turned onto my road, with Todd still chatting amiably and without sign of fatigue, I realized that I had done almost no talking for the last few miles. He either didn't notice or, more likely, was kind enough to not point it out. We got back, I thanked him profusely for coming out to show me around, and watched him ride off into the sunset. I check my computer. Turns out we had gone over 18 miles in about an hour. When you factor in stoplights, etc. that amounts to pretty darn fast. My last race in Portland was a 20.4 mile time trial that I did in just over an hour. His cool down was my tempo workout. I believe that I got schooled tonight. The great thing? I feel like I could've gone farther. Maybe those two weeks without my bike weren't so terrible after all.
My first race is on Tuesday. With luck, maybe I can do a little schooling of my own.
So, at the designated time, he ride up to my house, wearing full kit and riding a rather beautiful bike (I'm embarrassed to admit I didn't notice what kind). He pulls off his Rudy Project glasses (yes, I did notice that) and introduces himself. We head south from my house, and I immediately come to the conclusion that I'm in trouble. It wasn't so much our speed that tipped me off, but I made the mistake of checking out his legs. Perfectly shaven to display a level of muscle definition that strikes both awe and fear into my heart.
We're chatting and cruising along, and I notice that my legs are burning a little. I think I'm just stiff from the ride yesterday and having been off the bike for so long. Then I glance down at my speed. Turns out we're cruising at about 21mph, before I'm warmed up. I think to myself, "I'm sure we'll slow down once we get away from traffic, and I'll be fine once I'm warmed up," so I don't say anything. Todd is continuing to chat about racing, school, and all kinds of stuff in a way that proves he's not even a little bit out of breath. I try to keep up my end of the conversation, but it comes out in half sentences, since I have to catch my breath every 4-5 words.
After only 15 minutes or so of riding, we come to an area that is made up of beautiful fields, backroads and old farmhouses. Perfect cycling country. I would have been enjoying the view, except Todd was maintaining his cruising speed of about 19-21mph. I should point out that we were riding side by side the entire time, in order to hold a conversation, so I couldn't just draft off his wheel. I should also point out that my typical cruising speed on this kind of terrain is in the 16-18mph range.
About 30 minutes into the ride I was feeling warmed up. There comes a point when the muscles just get loose and happy and I can feel the blood pumping without feeling much of a burn at all. I hit that point, and felt really good. It didn't last. About the time the good leg feeling was fading Todd says, "If I'm going to fast or too slow, make sure you tell me." Being as competitive as I am, he might as well have said, "I dare you to keep up with me." So I did. The good legs went away and the burn started to creep in.
As we turned onto my road, with Todd still chatting amiably and without sign of fatigue, I realized that I had done almost no talking for the last few miles. He either didn't notice or, more likely, was kind enough to not point it out. We got back, I thanked him profusely for coming out to show me around, and watched him ride off into the sunset. I check my computer. Turns out we had gone over 18 miles in about an hour. When you factor in stoplights, etc. that amounts to pretty darn fast. My last race in Portland was a 20.4 mile time trial that I did in just over an hour. His cool down was my tempo workout. I believe that I got schooled tonight. The great thing? I feel like I could've gone farther. Maybe those two weeks without my bike weren't so terrible after all.
My first race is on Tuesday. With luck, maybe I can do a little schooling of my own.
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