Cycle North Carolina

Last week I packed the two bags allowed and joined about 1500 others in a week-long bicycle tour of North Carolina. Cycle North Carolina started in West Jefferson (in the western, mountainous region of the state) and ended in Currituck in the Outer Banks on the Atlantic coast. The plan was to ride 7 days and average 60 miles per day, but that was just what we were promised.

The first few days were beautiful. I love the Appalachians, and riding my bike in them is always a treat to me. The routes were relatively easy, and I especially loved crossing the Eastern Continental divide and descending like the proverbial bat out of hell into the rolling valleys. It was on day 3 that I found some people to ride with. At least, I think it was day 3. The days all kind of roll together now, blending into one long, wonderful experience.

The fellows however were Scott and Rich. On day 3 Scott and I chilled for 50 miles at a medium pace, prepping for a harder ride the next day. Scott and Rich swept me into their pace, and their pace was both good and sometimes challenging. It was a 73 mile day in long rolling terrain, and we motored through it with what Scott claimed as an 18.5 mph average. I decided the next day needed to be at recovery pace though, so I let them go on their way and I did my thing. Now, since I have no computer to judge my pace, I force recovery pace by singing. If you're going to hard to sing clearly and without difficulty, you're riding too fast for recovery.

I made several new "friends" that day. Most of them were too busy laughing to get my name. Something about making up the words as I ran out of songs.......

Anyway, the 6th day was the serious day. Rich, Scott, myself and a cadre of others had agreed that we were doing the full 100 mile option. We were looking at a sub-five hour ride, and by golly we got it. It wasn't easy riding into a strong headwind, but we worked as a team and pulled it off. I paid for it in pain and suffering, but made up for it by spending some time exploring, getting a boat ride and generally being proud of the accomplishment.

The final day was ugly though. After our sufferfest, two of the fellows from the 100 mile day, Mark and Sean, stuck with me for the final 60 mile ride of doom. We were all three in pain, tired, and ready to be done but lacked the oomph to do it fast. I felt vaguely ill most of the way and realized somewhere along the line that my nutrition had fallen out. I struggled in, standing much of the way, and yet we still managed to pull an 18mph average.

So, there I found myself in Currituck and then on the Outer Banks, camping under the light house with the ocean and his crashing surf in walking distance. I could not resist the pull, and early Sunday morning I was up and scurrying to the beach. No one was there yet, so I did what I'd wanted to do from the moment we got there. I stripped down and walked out. The pounding waves of an incoming tide forced me to brace myself in the water, and I let it slam into me time and again. When I emerged (as a few other folk were starting to find the beach, and they used flashlights, the bums), it was with a smile of complete contentment.

I need to see that beach again, or one very like it.

So, here I am, home again. 7 days, 500 miles later and I want very much to get back on my bike tomorrow and ride a bit. Sadly, some issues in the shipping have left him currently out of commission. I'll have to wait till I can get him fixed. So much for keeping my base!

Vacation!!

Next week I go on vacation. Much like two years ago when I went on my bike ride across Tennessee, this year I'm going on a bike ride through North Carolina.

The ride starts in West Jefferson, NC and ends in Currituk. I can't wait!

Criterium: River Gorge in Chattanooga

Today I experienced my first criterium. I went into it with low expectations, in part because I've never done one, seen one, or anything and in part because it was a mixed field with some incredibly strong Cat 1/2 women along with the 3/4, and some of the 4's should have been popped up to 3 a while ago. So, my entire goal was to finish without getting lapped and not be dead last.

I accomplished that goal, but it wasn't easy. It started hard and fast, and I was caught behind some girls that were just slow enough and squirrelly enough to make it nigh impossible to get around them and back up on the front group. So, for the first few laps I burned to try catching that pack, and I wasn't able to do it. I wound up riding with my teammate Beth and two other women.. Mary Beth of Sorrella and Marsha from Gran Fondo. Realizing we weren't catching that group (tantalizingly ahead by two blocks) we settled in and started working together. Well actually, everyone else settled on my wheel for a few laps, but I looked around for help and Beth jumped in to pull me for a while.... and after she and I traded back and forth a time or two Mary Beth took a turn, as did Marsha. We kept our lines and kept each other motivating till Pat Allison's sign said "1." Knowing that we were on the last lap, I let someone else pull for the first 1/2 or so, then as we came around the final turn I got up front and started ramping up the speed, pushing harder and harder. I thought "if I can just ramp it up hard enough, Sorrella won't be able to sprint me out" and I *almost* did. She edged me out, barely, at the finish line. One wheel length. I was gasping and she rode a good race so I don't hold it against her, especially since I just had no idea what I was doing and she's done crits before.

I've decided that I liked it though. Truly, it was intense as all get out, and I finished shaking from head to toe from that final punch, and there were times during the race I thought I didn't want to keep going, but there were friends cheering on every corner, and I wasn't out there alone, and I just kept my head down and kept trying. When it was over, I realized I'd had more fun doing that crit than I ever had on a road race. No, I didn't place high (even among the cat 4 women, I was nowhere near the head of the list) but it was FUN.

I might be hooked.

Allanti, Chattooga, and more

Somewhere along the lines, my desire to compete left me.

Now, normally I'm a pretty competitive sort and look forward to hammering some poor slob into the dirt with a show of sheer power, but lately... I've not had it in me. So, rather than compete in the Allanti Omnium two weeks ago in Nashville, TN, I got hold of a cowbell and went to cheer my teammates on.

Let me tell you, being a spectator was fun. I did what I could to help two of my girls with some basic coaching stuff (you know, like getting one into the cool air conditioning after the time trials so she didn't get heat exhaustion and discussing how best to start the time trial to overcome the cramping starting up), but mostly I was there to support my teammates and let them know I appreciated their willingness to compete in 100+ degrees.

I suspect the 100+ degrees is what happened to my urge to compete.

Then this past weekend was the Chattooga Century. I discussed this with several of the girls and we all agreed that for the heat, it would be best to do the metric, not the full 100. So, five of us gathered up and headed out on what we quickly turned into a bit of a training ride. It took very little time to form up into a nice, efficient pace-line, with us controlling the pace. At one point I looked back and it seemed we had at least 20 men hanging in a peleton behind us drafting our wheels and backing off rather than taking a pull. There were a few however that willingly worked with us, joining in the peleton and doing their fair share. Working together we finished in excellent time, dropped all but a few of the hangers on (and the ones that stuck with us were the ones helping work) . It was a great ride, despite the heat.

There is one last possible race I could put on my calendar. I have to decide if I feel the desire to compete, and if so in what capacity. A time trial or a crit, just to try a criterium, I might be into. Aside from that, I am rolling back to long, slow distance and looking simply to get the joy back in my pedal time. I'm doing pretty well at that so far, just not enough to want to push for speed. Yet.

Avery Trace: My Notta Time Trial

The Velo Vixens arrived in force for the Avery Trace Cycling Classic, fielding our champion Gina Tolbert, Dreama, Lisa, Cathi, Leah and myself. With one exception, it was like the Women's Cat4 Dream Team assembled at the line to release with the Cat1-3 women and Masters 50+ men.

That one exception was me. Some folks are simply not built to climb, and this again was a climbers race. As a result, I really can't give a great amount of detail about how the race went. I wasn't close enough to see it. The results cannot be denied though, with Velo Vixens sweeping the Cat4 women's standings, taking places 1-5, and myself coming in a few minutes later for 7th place. Gina took 2nd overall, beating all but one of the Cat 1-3 women. The other Vixens came in together, having worked hard to drop another girl along the way.

As for me, after the first two hills I found myself dropped off and riding alone. I was aware of at least two Cat 4 women behind me and had no desire to slow down to work with them, they were better on the climbs and this race ended on a climb. So, my race was a long, drawn out time trial. Unable to bridge the gap to the other girls (I could occasionally see them ahead for a while between the climb I lost them on and the next climb where they gained time on me again) and with no one to take shifts, I settled into a good tempo, occasionally giving myself a nice little power interval to break up the monotony and gain a little momentum. By the time I reached the final climb to the finish there were no women in sight.

Of course, I was also trying to save some leg for the evening time trial. I'd entered that figuring it was a somewhat better course for me and would not afford the competition a nice draft off me to help speed them with minimum effort. It was my theoretical chance to shine.

Instead, my time on the road race sufficed as the time trial. A thunderstorm came through and after several delays, the course marshals were forced to cancel.

So, Vixens rule the road yet again. I think I've even found my next race. I'll be breaking away from the team plan to hit a race a bit more suited to my riding strengths. Stay tuned next month for my next race report!

Tour de Cure

This was my fourth Tour de Cure. The first one was on Dad's old Schwinn Varsity. A hard ride that I survived on grit and determination. The second was better, I rode with my pal Kelvin and he kindly gave me his wheel for the last twenty miles. The third was almost too easy, I rode with Kelvin again only this time I held back in the last twenty so he could have my wheel.

Of them all, I never rode hard both days. I would ride easy Saturday, then Sunday give it my best ride, though that first year it sure *felt* like I rode hard both days. This year though, I had no team mates to ride with, so I had no one to wait for on Saturday, so I planned on riding my own pace on in. Then a flat tire at the start line left me late to head out, but I eventually did find myself towards the front of the pack, and finished about 3-4 minutes behind the front runners. I then merrily soaked in the hot tub for a while and relaxed in the hotel. Dinner had the usual cheer leading for the cause, and a bike prize won by the highest fund raiser donated by Owen Cycles out of Hixson, TN. Since the fellow who won the bike has won one rather often, he offered it up to auction with all proceeds going to the American Diabetes Association.
No one seemed to want to bid. One fellow called out that he'd like the auction to end at the end of the night. He was on the phone and did counter the first bid, but it was apparent he was trying to get the funds together. I suggested making it a silent auction.
The bike sold for $675. A good $275 over the opening bid.
After dinner, a group of us went to get ice cream. I had no cash with me, but my team mate Kim had offered to cover me till we got back. Instead, the Owens Cycle owner, Erik and his wife, picked it up for both Kim and I.

Sunday is always a rough ride. The route is more rolling, the body isn't fresh by any means. I had no flat so I got to the front at the start line. I stayed there. All day. My friend John Haywood and I started at a relaxed pace, and as we warmed up started moving a bit more, more, all the time keeping it steady. After the first ten miles we looked back and realized we had a pack of 15-20 with us, some of whom were close enough to start working with us. In the next ten miles, that pack was shaken down a good bit more as the majority pulled in to stop. We motored on. I had a plan, and I informed those with us that I was stopping at the next stop to refill bottles. Then I started teaching them proper team paceline etiquette and form. John H, UTC John, Bob Church, Thunder-Calves Joel, and Jimmy came along with me and shook out into a pretty efficient team, rolling steadily and eating miles. All agreed the stop I chose was perfectly placed in the park, and then we got back out on the road. It was in the next 10 miles that we started to fracture out. We lost UTC John at the next stop, and soon after we lost Bob in the steeper rollers. We did for a while pick up another man, but he refused to pull. He stayed back and opened a hole each time someone rolled off the front. I dubbed him "lazy-ass." We dropped him by the time we rolled past our next stop, roughly 20 miles from the finish.

By now, I was starting to hurt. John H. was starting to hurt. We had Joel (whose calves seriously were as big as some women's waists) and Jimmy. Jimmy was very strong through the rollers, and Joel pulled some extra oomph from those legs and started passing me on them. A few times I thought I was about to see the last of them, but John would grab my wheel on the downhill and we would find ourselves right back with Jimmy and Joel, then John would pull to the next hill where we would fracture again. He knows who has the best downhill muscle and draft to ride! We bounced around that way for the next few miles until the road evened out again to easier rollers, and we got back into paceline form. At this point, I was starting to focus merely on the wheel in front of me until my turn to pull. John would pull for about 30 seconds and drop with apologies. I would pull about the same and drop. Joel would then pull for a while longer, and then Jimmy would pull, taking the lions share of wind battering. We all were starting to struggle though, else Jimmy would have easily left us. Then we hit a nice roller with me on the front. I pulled up it, and as soon as we leveled off, as I started to try regaining the pace and with Joel behind me calling out "you can do it," my legs cramped up and I admitted I couldn't. I told them I thought I had to drop off now, 4 miles from the finish.

I wasn't allowed. John decided that if he blew up doing it he'd still have me to ride with and pushed me back up into the line, with me at first merely spinning, then catching again and putting some work back into the pedals. Apparently that was all the recovery I needed to stay with them for the last four miles, but it was an important few yards. If it hadn't been for John pushing me back on and Joel and Jimmy not busting away, I'd have had a lonely last few miles. So, there at the finish line I joked that I'd sprint for the finish, but I just didn't have it. Joel said he voted we all finish together, since it had definitely been a team effort. John agreed and Jimmy... well I think he agreed but still he motored a few bike lengths ahead of us to cross first. I sat back and said I figured he deserved it, he'd taken some very long pulls on the last 10 miles, and if he wanted to cross first, I was ok with that. The other two and I crossed side by side.

We were the lead pack.

Bob was only a few minutes behind us. He had dropped his chain, else he probably could have finished with us.

We all enjoyed our post-ride massages, and the post-ride meal was provided by Carrabba's grill. Carrabba's showed real class and kindness. Its an Italian grill, but upon realizing that I need to be gluten free, they told me the chicken used a gluteny grill baste, then cooked up some chicken JUST for me, even washing the knife and cutting board before cutting my chicken up for me.

Awesome food, and a serious riding. This year was, by far, the best 150 miles I've ever ridden.

Rolling rolling rolling, keep them wheels a rolling!

I've had some interesting riding the past few weeks. Since I now work in Atlanta, I've gone seeking someone to ride with on Tuesday to afford myself two power workouts per week. Tuesday and Saturday. Sure, other days are utilized to ride, but at an easier pace rather than a "lets overtrain!" pace.

So, Tuesdays have been finding me riding with the amateur racing men of Aaron's Home Furnishings. Make no mistake, calling them amateur doesn't mean they're not damn good and damn fast, it just means they're not getting paid to do it. Aaron's also supports a pro women's team y'see, so I made a distinction here.

Anyway, the Aaron's guys have gotten used to me over the past three weeks of hooking into their ride. Like many rides in Atlanta, much of it could be confused with a really odd criterium due to the number of riders, turns (though one route doesn't turn as often), and traffic. This past Tuesday we included Piedmont Park for a little added excitement. Let me just say that 30 or so cyclists going at speed (we slowed down A Little) through a crowded park where walkers and dogs vie with cars, then throw in the occasional planter or pole in the middle of the road, and you get some serious need for bike handling skills. The guys have apparently decided I'm "ok" though and ride with the assumption that I can handle whatever they throw at me. This time, for instance, I found myself having to jump a curb (the ramp was taken) had a near miss with a pole, and one of the guys bumped into me in his attempt to avoid getting hit by oncoming traffic. A move like THAT could easily have sent me into the guy on MY right, but I held steady and no one wrecked.

This was a good reminder course for today's ride which started with 24 and dropped to 15 as we continued on, most dropping off to avoid the second mountain climb, that took us over 70 miles of Tennessee Back-country. As we shot down the first mountain, the guys discovered that my downhill muscle knows no peer. As I was flying down with a gleeful grin, one of the guys tried to come around me on my left. I was already coming around another dude on my right, and a third was on my wheel taking advantage of my draft to improve his own time down the mountain. He said he thought there would be trouble when the dude on my left ran into me on a turn. Most women he knows that ride would have reacted badly to that. Me, I just kept flying without skipping a beat.

I think that one act alone secured my name in his "wow" memory banks. I noticed after that I had a New Friend on the road.

Now, if I could get the rest of my teammates comfy with a little knockaround....