With the race done we hung around Saturday to watch some events, mainly the expert race, the pro women's race and the pro men's race. Our friend Scott Feltmate had made a fast progression from a mid pack sport rider to a top level expert rider, in just over 1 season. We got out and cheered him on at the steep up hill, I ran beside him ringing the cowbell and shouting. He pulled in a 3rd place finish in a highly competitive expert field. Congrats to him on some great riding.
Next up was the pro women's race.
Also watch the field complete the small North loop on the opening lap.
After the fast start a few of them began to pull away and stand out. We jumped around a few places on course to get some different views, mostly of downhill sections. At one point, the now retired but formerly a top pro rider, Alison Dunlap randomly showed up at a section I had climbed to. The coolest thing was that she is an absolutely down to earth nice person. She had no problem just talking with some of the other spectators in the area. During our climb back to the start/finish area we caught the beginning of the sprint between Mary McConneloug and Georgia Gould for the win. Over the loudspeaker we heard that Mary took the win by 0.003 second.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Victory or Death
This post will consist of a tale by Taylor the Great, a.k.a Taylor Valentine. An alternative point of view was certainly called for, as there are so many different stories on the day. Stay tuned, videos are to appear in the next few posts, and if you haven't already figured out how to see them I think you'll thoroughly enjoy them. Without further ado, Victory or Death.
Victory or Death - An epic tale of undue suffering and hardship for no particularly good reason
I think the story of my ride at U.S. Mountain Bike Nationals starts about two weeks ago, when I decided to crash on my bike yet again. The problem is, that I really like corners. Ever ride with me? I like em' fast and hard (did you catch that innuendo? I put it on pretty thick). So one fine day, I threw the knobby tires on the 'cross bike and went tearing around the grassy fields at the bottom of East Rock park. I had totally committed myself to a particular corner (probably could have reached out and dragged a knee, moto-gp style) when I rolled over a piece of fallen tree branch submerged in the grass. The front of the bike lifted up, and I was not able to get the wheels back under me in time. I went down hard. Right knee to the top-tube. Sternum to the handle bars. Damage assessment: Glasses bent but not broken, knee bruised but not broken, chest sore but not broken, handlebars bent. Then I started coughing blood. Fortunately that didn't last too long, unfortunately, my lungs were full of all sorts of funk for several days after the incident.
About a week later, I was back to full lung capacity and pedaling using both legs. I put in a few solid days of riding to salvage some lost fitness before shutting things down to taper into the race.
Thursday nights I have class in Hartford. I left my car at work and got a ride from a classmate (thank, Jenelle!). The Scotty-mobile swung by at 8 to pick me up, and we drove the remaining two hours to Mt. Snow.
On Friday morning while warming up, my legs feel like complete trash. Maybe I slept poorly. Maybe I didn't eat well enough. Maybe I'm not fully recovered. Maybe I just suck at life. Whatever. Screw it. Pedal hard. Ride fast. Victory or death.
12:00 Friday. High noon. I'm standing on the line trying to convince myself that I'm not at all nervous. The announcer butchers my name on the loudspeaker. Whatever. 60 seconds. 30 seconds. 15 seconds. The whistle blows. We're rolling. Crap, where's my right pedal? Can't clip in. *click*, found it. There's the usual mad dash off the start that no one can sustain. Morons. Don't they know they have a mountain to climb? Up the North Loop climb, I pass a bunch of riders, and try to hold position on the descent. Now for the monster South Loop. Legs are feeling better. Time to put the screws to these fools. Someone is standing on the side of the trail puking. I can see the front of the race now. Scott yells something at me. Wow, this hill is steep. Some dudes are walking. I'm still on the bike. Pedal hard. Victory or death. Nuts, I think it just got steeper. I wonder how long I can hold this pace. Now we're out of the woods on onto some ski slope again. I think I can hear my own heart beating. It's freakin' hot out. Do I smell something burning? Sirens and flashing lights are going off in my head. It's not looking good. The machine is grinding to a halt. System shutdown. Blue Screen of Death. The field passes me.
To briefly recap, I completely blew myself out in the first lap while ascending the climb on the South Loop. I spent the second half of that lap trying to regain control of my heart rate and pump the accumulation of battery acid out of my legs. Coming through the start finish line, I felt considerably better, but figured I was running pretty close to DFL (dead f***ing last). At that point, there wasn't much else left to do but settle in and ride my own race in damage control mode. I rolled across the finish in 6th which isn't too shabby, all things considered. I was gunning for top 5, but I think I can live with it.
On the way back to the condo, we stopped at the SOBE tent in the expo area. They had some kind of goofy bike-powered-blender setup, upon which I vented my frustrations in the form of a high wattage smoothie. Cold and tasty. Victory.
Victory or Death - An epic tale of undue suffering and hardship for no particularly good reason
I think the story of my ride at U.S. Mountain Bike Nationals starts about two weeks ago, when I decided to crash on my bike yet again. The problem is, that I really like corners. Ever ride with me? I like em' fast and hard (did you catch that innuendo? I put it on pretty thick). So one fine day, I threw the knobby tires on the 'cross bike and went tearing around the grassy fields at the bottom of East Rock park. I had totally committed myself to a particular corner (probably could have reached out and dragged a knee, moto-gp style) when I rolled over a piece of fallen tree branch submerged in the grass. The front of the bike lifted up, and I was not able to get the wheels back under me in time. I went down hard. Right knee to the top-tube. Sternum to the handle bars. Damage assessment: Glasses bent but not broken, knee bruised but not broken, chest sore but not broken, handlebars bent. Then I started coughing blood. Fortunately that didn't last too long, unfortunately, my lungs were full of all sorts of funk for several days after the incident.
About a week later, I was back to full lung capacity and pedaling using both legs. I put in a few solid days of riding to salvage some lost fitness before shutting things down to taper into the race.
Thursday nights I have class in Hartford. I left my car at work and got a ride from a classmate (thank, Jenelle!). The Scotty-mobile swung by at 8 to pick me up, and we drove the remaining two hours to Mt. Snow.
On Friday morning while warming up, my legs feel like complete trash. Maybe I slept poorly. Maybe I didn't eat well enough. Maybe I'm not fully recovered. Maybe I just suck at life. Whatever. Screw it. Pedal hard. Ride fast. Victory or death.
12:00 Friday. High noon. I'm standing on the line trying to convince myself that I'm not at all nervous. The announcer butchers my name on the loudspeaker. Whatever. 60 seconds. 30 seconds. 15 seconds. The whistle blows. We're rolling. Crap, where's my right pedal? Can't clip in. *click*, found it. There's the usual mad dash off the start that no one can sustain. Morons. Don't they know they have a mountain to climb? Up the North Loop climb, I pass a bunch of riders, and try to hold position on the descent. Now for the monster South Loop. Legs are feeling better. Time to put the screws to these fools. Someone is standing on the side of the trail puking. I can see the front of the race now. Scott yells something at me. Wow, this hill is steep. Some dudes are walking. I'm still on the bike. Pedal hard. Victory or death. Nuts, I think it just got steeper. I wonder how long I can hold this pace. Now we're out of the woods on onto some ski slope again. I think I can hear my own heart beating. It's freakin' hot out. Do I smell something burning? Sirens and flashing lights are going off in my head. It's not looking good. The machine is grinding to a halt. System shutdown. Blue Screen of Death. The field passes me.
To briefly recap, I completely blew myself out in the first lap while ascending the climb on the South Loop. I spent the second half of that lap trying to regain control of my heart rate and pump the accumulation of battery acid out of my legs. Coming through the start finish line, I felt considerably better, but figured I was running pretty close to DFL (dead f***ing last). At that point, there wasn't much else left to do but settle in and ride my own race in damage control mode. I rolled across the finish in 6th which isn't too shabby, all things considered. I was gunning for top 5, but I think I can live with it.
On the way back to the condo, we stopped at the SOBE tent in the expo area. They had some kind of goofy bike-powered-blender setup, upon which I vented my frustrations in the form of a high wattage smoothie. Cold and tasty. Victory.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
The Thin Red Line
What a great weekend, it's too bad every weekend, or even every day can't be like this weekend. The USA Cycling Mountain Bike National Championships were held at Mt. Snow, VT and not much is better than a bunch of fat tire riders gathering to ride their bikes.
We arrived at our condo Thursday night, and everyone was pretty ecstatic about the place. An awesome kitchen space for cooking real food, some comfy living room space, and ground level sliding doors directly to outdoors.
Friday was the big day, the showdown for the Sport class national championship. My class; the age 25-29 Sport class. The showdown was at high noon, on a bright sunny day, and a bit toasty to be honest. As to be expected, most of the field shot off like rockets at the start while Taylor and I sat back a bit knowing that start meant nothing in this race. There would be no single track for a while, and a non-trivial climb within a quarter mile. And with the nerves I was already feeling like my muscles were short on oxygen, the body must send it elsewhere when anxious. So I hung in there till the trail turned skyward. Sure enough, as soon as we hit the climb guys started shifting gears and going backwards. I moved up to 5th after sitting in 11th out of 12 off the start. Then we hit the steep spot of the North loop and one guy spun his wheels on the 5 yard kicker that began the final grunt for the top of this short climb. The top 4 guys, all bunched together, were forced off their bikes from the one guy's spin out, affording me the chance to pull up through them. I found myself in 2nd upon completing the short North loop. On to the South loop and the source of significant climbing and pain. Despite my surge through the field I still wasn't feeling like I had legs or that my breathing was comfortable and a few guys passed me up the initial easy slope. Then we turned up the steep nonsense that began our quest for the highest point on course. Already sucking wind, this pitch pushed me to the red line. I caught some loose gravel on the upper section and despite a late push from a fellow rider I couldn't recover from the spin out. I didn't walk very far though, just enough to get away from the loose rocks. I was still red lining as I turned into some single track a short bit later and I looked back to see Taylor just behind me looking strong. At that glance I was pretty sure he was catching me quickly and was on his way to victory and sheer domination. Apparently he was at the red line too, as we separated in the trees somewhere. During the rest of the climb I lost a few places and maybe gained a few back. I wasn't completely sure where I stood, but I knew which guys had been in first and second.
The technical descent was the source of my demise the previous year. I was mentally defeated by it as I'm not a great descender, especially through technical rooty stuff. But this year, things were to be different. I blew down the hill like a pro, undeterred by the assortment of roots and rocks trying to take me down. In fact I almost taunted them as the elevation dropped. I finished lap one in 2nd or 3rd and promptly lost a few spots on the short North loop.
I was feeling a little better though and I came into the 2nd and final lap wondering if I had enough to get those spots I'd lost back. One guy from my class was just ahead but seemed to be slowly pulling away, but as we worked up the hill I started to close on him ever so slowly. I passed him at one point, only to be countered and slightly gapped. I had the feeling I'd catch him easily on the long technical downhill though. Sure enough I did, but it's difficult to get close enough to make a move for the pass and maintain good visibility on the line you'd like to take. I finally had my chance, and once I got by, promptly left him behind. Not long later I unexpectedly caught another guy in my class. I tried to surge by him on the last piece of climbing but he counter attacked and opened a little bit of a lead. But back into the technical down-hilling I promptly caught back up. I thought I'd be able to ride his wheel on the dirt road to the finish and take him on the sprint, but last bit of down hill was some open dirt road which he gravitationally, slightly more adept at. He opened just enough of a gap on me. As the road flattened out I tried to catch him, but couldn't. I finished strong though and rolled in for a 4th place ride.
A satisfactory ride. Strangely my usual strong suit of climbing was not my source of strength on the day, conversely it was my descending in the technical single track where I really made up ground. I was only able to maintain my place and limit my losses on the climbs. I'll say that my legs weren't at their best, they've been much better on climbs and I can only wonder what I might have pulled off had the legs really been there. But what's done is done, I still rode a great race, and I felt great about the way I'd ridden.
Big props to Chris for running a pro pit/feed zone for me. The bottle hand-off was almost botched but we got it without slowing down and the time splits and info were great.
You can take a look at how close a few of us were at the finish, take a look at the results page.
There will be yet more pictures to come but for now you can see what I've got here.
We arrived at our condo Thursday night, and everyone was pretty ecstatic about the place. An awesome kitchen space for cooking real food, some comfy living room space, and ground level sliding doors directly to outdoors.
Friday was the big day, the showdown for the Sport class national championship. My class; the age 25-29 Sport class. The showdown was at high noon, on a bright sunny day, and a bit toasty to be honest. As to be expected, most of the field shot off like rockets at the start while Taylor and I sat back a bit knowing that start meant nothing in this race. There would be no single track for a while, and a non-trivial climb within a quarter mile. And with the nerves I was already feeling like my muscles were short on oxygen, the body must send it elsewhere when anxious. So I hung in there till the trail turned skyward. Sure enough, as soon as we hit the climb guys started shifting gears and going backwards. I moved up to 5th after sitting in 11th out of 12 off the start. Then we hit the steep spot of the North loop and one guy spun his wheels on the 5 yard kicker that began the final grunt for the top of this short climb. The top 4 guys, all bunched together, were forced off their bikes from the one guy's spin out, affording me the chance to pull up through them. I found myself in 2nd upon completing the short North loop. On to the South loop and the source of significant climbing and pain. Despite my surge through the field I still wasn't feeling like I had legs or that my breathing was comfortable and a few guys passed me up the initial easy slope. Then we turned up the steep nonsense that began our quest for the highest point on course. Already sucking wind, this pitch pushed me to the red line. I caught some loose gravel on the upper section and despite a late push from a fellow rider I couldn't recover from the spin out. I didn't walk very far though, just enough to get away from the loose rocks. I was still red lining as I turned into some single track a short bit later and I looked back to see Taylor just behind me looking strong. At that glance I was pretty sure he was catching me quickly and was on his way to victory and sheer domination. Apparently he was at the red line too, as we separated in the trees somewhere. During the rest of the climb I lost a few places and maybe gained a few back. I wasn't completely sure where I stood, but I knew which guys had been in first and second.
The technical descent was the source of my demise the previous year. I was mentally defeated by it as I'm not a great descender, especially through technical rooty stuff. But this year, things were to be different. I blew down the hill like a pro, undeterred by the assortment of roots and rocks trying to take me down. In fact I almost taunted them as the elevation dropped. I finished lap one in 2nd or 3rd and promptly lost a few spots on the short North loop.
I was feeling a little better though and I came into the 2nd and final lap wondering if I had enough to get those spots I'd lost back. One guy from my class was just ahead but seemed to be slowly pulling away, but as we worked up the hill I started to close on him ever so slowly. I passed him at one point, only to be countered and slightly gapped. I had the feeling I'd catch him easily on the long technical downhill though. Sure enough I did, but it's difficult to get close enough to make a move for the pass and maintain good visibility on the line you'd like to take. I finally had my chance, and once I got by, promptly left him behind. Not long later I unexpectedly caught another guy in my class. I tried to surge by him on the last piece of climbing but he counter attacked and opened a little bit of a lead. But back into the technical down-hilling I promptly caught back up. I thought I'd be able to ride his wheel on the dirt road to the finish and take him on the sprint, but last bit of down hill was some open dirt road which he gravitationally, slightly more adept at. He opened just enough of a gap on me. As the road flattened out I tried to catch him, but couldn't. I finished strong though and rolled in for a 4th place ride.
A satisfactory ride. Strangely my usual strong suit of climbing was not my source of strength on the day, conversely it was my descending in the technical single track where I really made up ground. I was only able to maintain my place and limit my losses on the climbs. I'll say that my legs weren't at their best, they've been much better on climbs and I can only wonder what I might have pulled off had the legs really been there. But what's done is done, I still rode a great race, and I felt great about the way I'd ridden.
Big props to Chris for running a pro pit/feed zone for me. The bottle hand-off was almost botched but we got it without slowing down and the time splits and info were great.
You can take a look at how close a few of us were at the finish, take a look at the results page.
There will be yet more pictures to come but for now you can see what I've got here.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Tuning up and tuning in
After a week of good hard training and excellent rest I was feeling pretty good. The plan was for another hard week, but as things worked out, I was pushing the limits of over training. It was pretty clear after the tell tale sign, increased resting heart rate when laying in bed. It was time to tone it down a bit anyways, the tapering has started for the USA Cycling MTB National Championships. My race is Friday, high noon, for the sport class race.
The goal of course is to win. Well, before I get to far ahead of myself, the real goal is to ride better than last year. If I'm riding better then we can worry about winning. A top 5 is also highly regarded, as that is supposed to be an automatic upgrade to Expert class, which in turn means an upgrade to Cat. 3 cyclocross. Riding 'cross in cat 3 means no riding in the early morning race. And of course, moving beyond the early morning race is a noble goal.
A little primer for the upcoming weekend, the start of the Pro Men's race from the 2007 National Championships.
The goal of course is to win. Well, before I get to far ahead of myself, the real goal is to ride better than last year. If I'm riding better then we can worry about winning. A top 5 is also highly regarded, as that is supposed to be an automatic upgrade to Expert class, which in turn means an upgrade to Cat. 3 cyclocross. Riding 'cross in cat 3 means no riding in the early morning race. And of course, moving beyond the early morning race is a noble goal.
A little primer for the upcoming weekend, the start of the Pro Men's race from the 2007 National Championships.
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