Nogales Bicycle Classic RR

The atmosphere in the peloton was friendly, warm, familiar.  Everybody, save me, knew one another.  Old friends would put their hands on another's shoulder and talk with an intimacy born through knowing and accepting another over decades.

And like conversations between old compadres, the race intensity ebbed. Sometimes people would surge, stretching the pack thin, then it would slow and grow wide and comfortable.

This is how the race went for 40 miles.  Sometimes we'd fly along at 35, sometimes at 22 mph.

Then, for reasons I didn't understand, it got quiet, dark. The group tightened.  It was as if something ominous was about to transpire.  

A battle was taking place with strategies I failed to comprehend and techniques I failed to recognize.  Mistakenly, I thought the 1200 feet of climbing in final 5 miles would do me in.  I wanted to hang on until then, and then see who was best prepared.

The race was the Inaugural Nogales Bicycle Classic.  This is the town's second attempt at hosting a cycling event.  The first date was postponed due to low participation.

I was hesitant to sign up as it came on the heels of a big race and during a very busy time of the year.  Beyond that, to put it delicately, I had an stomach bug for 10 of the previous 14 days.  I hadn't ridden my bike in two weeks, and the few runs I had were amazingly slow and difficult, leaving me inexplicably sore for days.  But I want this event to be successful, so I joined. 

Being a small race, I could easily place or come in last.  I had hopes of placing, but my real goal was just to finish in less than 3 hours, even if I couldn't keep with the fast group.  As I mentally prepared, I visualized falling in with the fastest group and trying to conserve energy where I could.  Fifty-five of the route's sixty miles cover my routine rides.  I imagined where I could catch my breath and where I would have to push hard.  But, also recognizing my lack of preparation, I told myself that if I was dropped, I'd just enjoy the rest of the ride and have a good time.

Like the last race, the day before race day this time was anything but ideal.  I never sat down at home, save breakfast.  I worked, had an emotionally taxing day, ran errands in the afternoon, and then attended my oldest daughter's final high school band performance.  When that was finished, I got home, prepared my bike and clothes, took a shower and hit the sack for a fitful night of sleep. 

In the morning I woke up tired and achey.  The quick 15 minute drive to the race was a real treat.  I usually have to drive 60-plus miles. Once there, I soon discovered my jacket wasn't needed for a warm up ride, it wasn't at all cold, even at 6:30 am.  That concerned me.

As I sat in the chute watching the clock count down, I glanced at my heart rate on the Garmin.  It read, 96, 97, 98 ...  excitement!

Count down ... race.

As you can see, there's a pretty nice climb to start the race, then it's a nearly uninterrupted shot downhill for 25 miles!  How sweet is that?

Down the first hill my Garmin recorded an average moving speed just over 40 mph on the first mile, and just over 38 on the second.  The top speed was 58 mph!  I'm not sure if that's accurate, seems incredible to me.  But, it was definitely too fast to look at the clock!

 At mile 14 it was my turn to pull.  I had my good luck socks on!  As you can see, the mood is relaxed and friendly.  I was excited to see my family (oldest daughter took the pictures) on the side of the road cheering!  They'd let the group pass, then drive ahead and find another place to cheer and photograph.  In fact, the public support and aid stations were superb!  A lot of people came to watch. 

Around mile 35 it grew warm.  There was a headwind as we started to climb back up to Nogales.  I made sure to slip to the middle or back of the pack, conserving my energy.

Then the eventual winners started doing something I'd not experienced.  They would sprint ahead, spreading the pack.  Some people couldn't match the pace would fall behind.  After creating an insurmountable gap for those dropped, the lead group would slow down.  The conversations died, the group tightened and dwindled from about 30 down to 15 or so.  It was all fun for the first 40 miles, but the next 20 would be racing, no doubt about it!

Had I known what was happening sooner I could've been smarter and kept up without full out sprints.  But I never tried to hang with fast guys before.  I was ignorant of such tricks.  I thought it was just foolish riders that would burn themselves out.  I didn't realize they were trying to burn me.  Falling into the trap, I'd ease in the back of the group hiding from the wind, then have to sprint forward, slipping between slower riders as the sprints continued.  I should've stayed near the front and just tailed them when they left, instead of having to sprint alone.

Eventually there was a huge sprint and I got stuck behind some riders that were getting dropped.  I crossed into the far lane and just slammed it, breaking 35 miles an hour on flat ground to catch up!  That pretty much sealed my fate.  

In the picture to the right you can see the first three placing riders employing this strategy.  I'm stuck in the pack behind these guys about to make my sprint.

In the picture below I am moving to the outside to execute my biggest sprint.  

 

As we turned and went within a mile of my house I hit the wall.  I was cooked earlier but didn't realize it.  I slowed to form group of slower riders, but only three came.  I fell in with them and we worked together, riding in single file, taking short turns at the front.  We actually started closing the gap.  But I knew what lay ahead.  And the rolling hills ushered in some wonderful cramps.

Now knowing my chances of placing were now truly gone, I did as I practiced (mentally) and slowed down, trying to rest a bit for the big hills at the end.     

I finished the last 6 miles alone.  I worked through the rolling hills and then began the real climbs.  I was very concerned on three occasions that I lacked the strength to climb the hills.  I worried I was going to have to walk!  Steady and slow I went, only standing and pulling hard when it was required by gravity.  At one point I pushed so hard, at such a slow speed, I almost pulled a wheelie.  My average pace through those hills was about 10 mph, sometimes dipping as low as 5 mph.  

I came in at 2:57:57, in 11th place, just over 9 minutes behind the winners.  My name was called out and people cheered as I crossed the finish line.  A volunteer walked over with a cup of gatorade and ice for me and another came with a banana.  I stretched, shook hands with the three people I rode with for a while and cooled down.

Everybody asked where I lived and then, after realizing I'm a local, commented it was strange not having seen me riding before.  The winning rider came over and introduced himself.  He complimented me on my form and cadence.  He said he had been watching me during the race and liked how smooth and easy I was on the bike.  That made me feel good.

It was certainly the best bike race environment I'd been a part of.  I'm really hoping that the event is held again next year.  All told, there were just over 140 participants for the three distances, 10, 40 and 60 miles.  They organizers were very happy with this turnout.  I hope that's a good sign!

The Nogales Bicycle Classic far exceeded my expectations.  The support, both by sponsors and volunteers, and especially those just cheering, was fantastic.  The participants were outgoing and friendly.  The route was beautiful, roads in excellent condition, and it was very apparent that the organizers really cared about our experience.

I came away feeling charged and motivated to train harder this coming fall.  I found out that I can hang!  I will seek out other riders in the area and hopefully train with them.  Until then, I am going to take a couple of weeks off to rest and recover.

Yeah, that was tough.

Today I took a little lap around the Santa Rita Mountains. It turned out to be 119 miles and took me 7:15 of riding time.  I took pre-scheduled breaks and a few unplanned potty breaks.  It was an awesome experience, one that is unique in difficulty of all of the things I've done, and one I won't likely do again any time soon.

In the picture to the right you can see the mountains on the horizon, about 30 miles away or so.

The ride started at 7:40 this morning.  My hands froze for the first 6 miles.  I tucked them behind the handlebars and tried to protect as much exposed skin as possible by pulling my arms in tight against my sides.  I love running in cold weather, but riding a road bike is a bit different.

There was a slight breeze in my face as I made my way into the town of Patagonia.  I had really struggled, despite the beautiful route.  Many times I wished there was another GABA ride so I'd have people to chase.  But as it turned out, I managed just over 15 mph average.  I've not been that slow since ... March?

I hadn't planned on stopping in Patagonia but I needed to use the restroom and to think about why I was struggling.  My legs weren't tired and I was rested and had good fuel.  I was just kind of emotionally flat.  Not an appropriate state of mind for what lay ahead!

Patagonia is a neat place.  Everybody lives there by choice and it's community reflects such.  Above is a picture at the public restroom in the town park and it's obviously nicely decorated. When I walked into the restroom, I became aware that a previous rider had been having a crappier ride than I was.  Warning, it's kind of a gross picture, you've been warned.

I realized that my cadence had been too low, so I focused on keeping it over 90 and had much better performance for the rest of the day.  As I left Patagonia, about 4000 feet in elevation, to head the 12 miles up to Sonoita, about 5500 feet elevation, I was very disappointed to find that the top layer of the highway's asphalt had been removed.  ADOT was apparently going to resurface.  Ugh.  This was sure to be the hardest part of the ride anyway, as the wind is ALWAYS in my face on this ride, and the climbing is steady and relentless.

When I pulled into Sonoita, which was my first scheduled stop and 40 miles from home, my feet, seat and hands were all numb.  I grabbed a few goodies and replenished my fluids.  How is that for a healthy mid-morning snack?  Chocolate milk, snickers and nutter butters?  The joys of riding.

I hit the road going north with a bit of anticipation.  I'd never ridden this route before.  It had the single largest climb according to the research I'd done.  I just knew that the scenery would be unparalleled.  The high desert grasslands are incredible.

This road, AZ highway 83, was in excellent condition, though it had a small, ever narrowing shoulder.  The surface was smooth and flat, a welcome change for my rear end.  With the new surface my speed picked up and I rolled along at an easy 18 to 19 mph until I hit the hills again.

In the picture above and right you can see that I'm now on the other side of the Santa Rita Mountains.  I really enjoyed this part of the ride, though I had to pee again only twenty minutes after leaving Sonoita again.  I've been trying to become more efficient with fluids by hydrating more fully before a long ride.  Today was the first time in a while I had trouble.

It was all fun and games until I hit the hills.  I'm not sure if this picture will really capture the climb.  It's not that it was so steep, I've ridden steeper, but this was steep and long, about a mile and a half without break.

I love climbs like this though, really.  When I'm at the top it's an accomplishment to be sure.

Now of course what goes up, must come down.  And down I came.  For the next thirty miles I was cruising downhill.  Unfortunately the shoulder completely disappeared and the road became in disrepair shortly after leaving Santa Cruz County and entering Pima County.  But, what a rush.  That first downhill made the entire ride worth the effort.

How sweet of a sign is that for a cyclist?

I dropped in elevation from just under 6000 feet to just over 2000 feet pretty quickly.  The road wound down through a narrow canyon, the road carved out of solid rock on each side.  Eventually I shot out onto a gently downhill sloping flat covered in cactus.  It looked like something in a scene from The Hills Have Eyes.
I pulled in for my second planned stop at bought some sunscreen and some more fluids.  I was waiting in line to pay when some young teenaged girls asked me if I'd ridden there.  They shared that they too had ridden, and almost died.  It was TWO HORRIBLE MILES!  I didn't share how far I'd gone.  I was at 68 miles.

At this point I was beginning to create small goals.  Get here and maintain your average pace all of the way and then we'll evaluate how things are and make another goal.  I continued down the hill into the Santa Cruz Valley and the temperature continued to rise.  I couldn't wait to be done.  This road was getting worse, the traffic heavier and the sun was ROASTING!

I finally reached my turn and headed south through some pecan groves.  The groves are interesting as they add some humidity to the local area, which has a cooling effect.  The road again was smooth and the shoulder was sufficient.  There was a slight breeze at my back and I hoped it would remain there for the final 45 miles of my ride.

I stopped in Green Valley and bought pretzels.  They sounded, and were, fantastic.  I was also thirsty for just water.  No more Gatorade or Powerade.  Weird how that happens. 

Now I was really at the point of just picking places to stop.  I had one more scheduled stop in Tubac.  I made it there going well.  I was tired but strong.  I bought a peanut butter cookie and a banana.  I hit the road just wanting to make it to the north side of Rio Rico, then I'd evaluate what I had left and create a game plan.  

The last five mile stretch before I hit the residential area is on the interstate.  The frontage road is flat dangerous, busy, fast and has no shoulder, often the white line is painted over broken asphalt.  Over the last two miles on the freeway I decide to open it up with whatever I had left.  I had been maintaining between 16.5 and 17.5.  At first I'd have been happy maintaining that as the road began to incline.  But, I pushed and brought the speed up to 20, 21 and sprinted to finished at 22.5.  That was a hugely taxing effort that will have a huge dividend to be collected on 11/19 (El Tour de Tucson).  

When I got home I was as tired as I can ever remember being from a bike ride.  My wife said a friend of her's husband rode a lot in California, touring the Sierra Madres.  The story went, he was used to elevation and chose my route today as his first Arizona ride.  It turned out to be his last serious ride in Arizona.  Too much climbing and too much heat, he said.

Next weekend I'm riding El Tour's route with my brother-in-law.  That's going to be no walk in the park at 111 miles, but by comparison, shouldn't be nearly as bad.