Fringe

Yesterday I participated in the Cochise County Classic.  I'm out of shape and over weight, but have been riding for about a month and a half now.  I approached the ride as another workout, a step towards getting back in shape.  I have little hope of achieving my goal for El Tour de Tucson of getting a Platinum finishing time.  (Platinum just means fast, basically.)

I took some time off in the summer as I'd plateaued, big time.  Then, just after one week of training I became very sick, not exercising at all for the next six weeks.  I had to ease back into riding for a couple of weeks before having my first really good week last week, 231 quality miles.  The problem is, I'd been eating like I was riding 15 hours a week the entire time!  So, packing on the pounds I did!

My wife and I stayed at the Motel 3 in Douglas, AZ.  The rooms were all smoking and there were safety awareness placards posted on the walls.  They had helpful information about dead bolting the door, how to contact the authorities in case of an emergency and so on.  But, I knew the place was okay when I saw that there was a fixed bottle opener and a clean ash try.  The bottle opener suggested that the normal clients at this establishment drink quality beer, not twist tops!  

The hotel was next door to the Border Patrol Detention Facility and we had read that announcements were made over the loud speakers all night long.  We didn't hear any such thing.

A few nights before the race someone that remembered me from the Nogales Classic contacted me, asking if I'd like to help he and his friends out.  He said they earned platinum status last year (a time of 4:20), but would like to improve this year.  I was quite flattered.  I remembered who they were and looked to fall in with them on the ride.

The morning was cold, just above 40 degrees.  That's perfect running weather, but on a bicycle, a bit chilly.  Turns out I couldn't feel my toes for about 3 hours!  At the start of the race the national anthem was played and the announcer mentioned to keep in mind, while cycling, those who are suffering and dear to your heart.  He shared the story of his niece who is likely to succumb to a long battle with breast cancer this coming week.  I thought of my daughter off lonely in Missouri at Basic Training, and was saddened.  I like the message though, these types of endurance events are a celebration, if not an exploitation, of good health.

The Chubby Cyclist...fear the socks!

The ride started at 6:30 AM.  The route began in Douglas, AZ, went through Bisbee, towards Tombstone and then looped back to Douglas.  I had no sight of the people that asked me to sit in with them, (I'll call them the Nogales group).  But, I was sure that if they were there and they got platinum, I'd see them passing me eventually.  
I started the race out towards the front of the group.  I wanted to use what I learned in the Nogales Bicycle Classic, which was, stay with the front as long as possible, but don't do any work!

I had no problem sticking with the group until we got to the climb...in fact, it was quite pedestrian.  Everybody knew the climb was coming and it should've been an easy ride before that point!  I saw the five or six guys that I was to sit in with pass me as they worked up towards the front of the group, but I was quite comfortable inside the center of the peloton, protected from the wind, so I let them go.

Once we got to the climb I realized I should've worked to move up towards the front of the lead group.  That way, if I began to get dropped, which was likely, then perhaps I would end up at the back.  But instead I was in the middle and by the time we were half way up, I was out the back and soon dropped, over heating and nearly sick.  I dialed it back and just eased up the climb in granny gear.  I didn't see any of the Nogales group on the climb, so I figured they moved right on ahead.

The climb was beautiful as it viewed Bisbee just to the right of the road and then we climbed up and through a tunnel that went beneath the mountain.   The problem was, the climb was demanding and I couldn't focus on much of anything other than forward motion. Things got crazy on the climb, it was so long, that people were being dropped over a good 15 mile stretch.  The peloton went from about 100 riders down to 50 quickly, then down to 30 or so when I started to get strung out.

I desperately wanted a break, but no rest for the weary!  I remember thinking that I was intensely happy that I've been riding hills a lot, knowing that I'd be suffering far worse if I hadn't been.  I also remember thinking that this was the race right here...if I had been able to stick with the group, I'd probably finish with the lead group.

Eventually a few people caught up with me as I was sitting up and not pushing anymore.  I tucked in behind them.  When we finally reached the top my extra weight shot me down the mountain!  That was cool, several miles of fairly steep decline to allow me to catch my breath. 

A typical echelon is strung out, a sign that the group is going fast.

A small group of 8 to 12 riders formed and we worked together for the rest of the ride, kind of.   We formed an echelon and took turns taking pulls.  That means, we were in a straight line, each person with their front wheel directly behind the rear wheel of another rider, save the person in front.  The person in front would break the wind, creating a slip stream for the other riders.  Since that's a lot of hard work that person would stay there for a short period of time, called a pull, then move over and the next person in line would pull.  If everybody was doing an equal share, the person pulling would drop to the back and get a good 5 to 6 minutes of easier work.

And while this makes the group go way faster than they could alone, make no mistake, rolling along at 24 to 30 miles an hour, having to surge forward as the riders in front perhaps start descending while you're still climbing, keeping in mind that you must keep contact with the rider in front or else you're out of the slip stream and must sprint to catch up, is not easy work!

A few riders instructed the group on how long to pull and that each puller should make sure not to lose contact with the group.  I was all ears, never having done much of this before, certainly not for any amount of time.  I got scolded for not signaling that I was done with a pull, then misread the gap as I tried to get back in line, nearly bumping another rider off the road.  I apologized personally each time.  The last thing I wanted to do was make a fool of myself (says the guy with the Where's Waldo socks).

I quickly learned the most effective way to move over and keep my speed so I can catch on the back of the echelon without a huge effort.  I saw how some people are "courteous," allowing those that just pulled to slip in front of them, thus ensuring they never have to pull.

At one point, someone allowed me in front, saying, "I'm gassed, need a bit more of a break."  That was fine.  But there was one particular rider doing no work.  Now, I know he was probably gassed too, heck, after a while we all were.  But, he was doing no work at all.  So, I took a risk and didn't cut in front of him.  I stayed behind him and everybody else that pulled then dropped in behind me.  This forced him forward and he had to work.  Soon after he lost contact.  I'm not sure of the etiquette required in such a situation, but part of me says, "No Free Rides."

Eventually we came away from the mountains and it got windy.  Crosswind, headwind.  Repeat.  A headwind sounds worse, but it's not bad.  Your front tire cuts through it nicely and if you tuck in, you make a small profile, the wind makes you work harder, but you can get a rhythm.

Crosswinds, however, are different.  I think it's because the wind hits the broad side of your wheels, slowing your spokes.  Not to mention, it pushes you sideways.  Regardless of the physics, it is the worst.  It's a lot of work to move forward in a crosswind and the benefits of an echelon are negated, almost entirely.  The picture to the left shows how an echelon stretches out sideways as each rider tries to get into the slip stream created by the next ride as they cut across the wind, instead of head on.

About this time I secretly wished for a flat tire.  Our group was too small to provide any shelter from the crosswinds.  However, the group still maintained about a 24 mph pace through the winds.  I toughed it out, but when I felt a strange sensation I looked down at my tire, kind of relishing the idea of catching my breath.  Then, someone took their turn to pull and took off.  The group surged.  I stood to sprint, cramped and sat down.  I caught back on the back, totally shot.  It happened again, and again.  I was done for.  I got dropped.

I rolled up to the last aid station, just about a half mile ahead.  I planned on refueling, getting some water and catching my breather.  Two other riders were there, one from the group that just dropped me.  I barely filled my bottles, choked down a cup of raisins and the other two were leaving.  I had to catch on.  I threw a banana in my pocket and took off, hoping I wouldn't cramp again.

Surprisingly, I felt fine.  We turned into the wind immediately after the aid station!  If I had just held on a half mile, about another 60 seconds, I'd probably have stayed with that group.   Still, the three of us worked together, taking fairly long pulls.  We caught a pair of riders from the group that dropped us and formed a group of five.  We moved quickly, 28 to 30 mph most of the time, directly into the wind.  But then, we turned into the crosswind again and I got dropped.

I thought about letting them go, but knew that I had a chance to catch them if I worked steadily.  I caught them and am glad I did.  They knew the route, and somehow hearing a description of what lay ahead comforted me.  I forgot about how bad I hurt and just went for it.

I crossed at 4 hours, 19 minutes and change.  I thought my clock was wrong!  The man I rode with most of the ride was also a Chubby Cyclist.  People came in after us, amazed at our time.  They commented that it was crazy to see two heavy weights move that fast on such a difficult court.

For me, this was a new things.  Not for the other guy.  He's been on the cusp of getting the platinum for a year now.  He said to look for him at El Tour de Tucson, said he has a group of friends that are all Fringe.

A few minutes later, the Nogales group came in.  I never noticed that I passed them, but guess I did on the climb.

I found a bench and laid down, put my legs up.  They hurt intensely.

Now, 24 hours later, I'm still elated with the race.  I'm hopeful that I will drop some weight between now and mid-November, for El Tour de Tucson.  Maybe I have a shot at platinum there!

EDIT:  The official results were posted, finally.  I missed platinum designation by 9 whopping seconds!  NINE! 

Platinum, by the way, means that (1) you're fast, and (2), you don't have to wait in line at 3 AM at El Tour de Tucson.

Wouldn't It Be Cool If ...

Endurance sports can be a lonely endeavor.  There are very few people I can call and say, "Hey, I just rode Gold Hill in under 15 minutes," and have it mean something to them.

Of course the internet has made it less lonely, and I could share with internet friends, "Hey, I had a PR or KOM."  But, unless they're ridden Gold Hill, they don't really understand.

This is a view from Gold Hill

Lately I've been riding with a friend of mine who is new to the sport, but eager to get into it.  I've been showing him my favorite local routes and when he pauses to appreciate some view or vista, it makes me see it all over again.  And living where I live, one of the biggest pluses in the cycling category is the stuff you get to see!

Last night I bought a bottle of wine, to celebrate and reward myself for a monster week.  I put in over 230 miles on the old bicycle this week and am feeling very great.  As wine often does to me, I woke about 3 AM.  I wasn't sick or hung over, just not sleeping.  Ugh.  I started on of my favorite hobbies under such conditions, imagining different routes and courses.  I got to thinking, what about a Tour?

You know ... a tour, like several days, covering the challenging and scenic routes in the county.  Maybe it could be a week long, maybe spread over a few weekends.  I started thinking and planning, how would it work, wondering if it would work, wondering if I really cared that it would work, it might be awesome to do alone anyway (though company would be better).  It would be a come one-come all type of thing, amateurs would really be the focus.  I remembered reading in a magazine how people were getting very tired of spending $120 to run or ride a race ... yeah, it goes to charity, supposedly, but whatever.  The article was showing how there was a trend of small groups getting together and running their own events at the actual cost of the support for the event.  Applying that idea, here's what I came up with:

• The Santa Cruz County Cycling Tour would take place over four weekends, including seven total rides and a party.
• Minor support would be provided, but each rider is essentially responsible for themselves. 
• Riders could participate in any portion of the rides, but a point system will be assigned.

While it would be a Santa Cruz County Tour, not all rides would be 100% contained inside the county.  After all, this is the smallest county in the state!  Here's how it would work:

Weekend 1:  Date:  TBD
Ride 1:  Pena Blanca to Kino Springs to Josefina to Pena Blanca  (90 miles)

This ride obviously needs a better name!  This ride contains some incredibly scenery and challenging terrain and quite a bit of climbing.  The ride begins at Pena Blanca Lake, which includes a Cat 4 climb, that is way harder than any Cat 4 I know of!  After the Cat 4, it's a fast and smooth downhill for about 7 miles, before hitting some rolling hills and then Gold Hill, which is a Cat 4 climb as well.  This would undoubtedly be a much higher category if it weren't for an incredibly steep quarter-mile down hill right in the middle of the whole thing!

After Gold Hill, there's a fast downhill for another 5 miles or so before the winding Cat 4 climb heading past Kino Springs Golf Course to the village.  Then the ride shoots down the very fast and smooth River Road before entering the Rio Rico area where the ride hits a Cat 3 and a Cat 2 climbing on Camino Josefina.  The ride finishes by returning to the starting point at the lake.

Elevation Profile, Categorized Climbs Inaccurate Here

Weekend 1, Ride 2:  Patagonia - Elgin (50 miles)

90

Day 2's ride is shorter and easier than the first day's ride.  The ride starts in beautiful and historic Patagonia, Arizona, loops through and around Sonoita and Elgin and then back to Patagonia.  There are no categorized climbs on the day, though the scenery is stunning.  Sonoita and Elgin are rich in agriculture including livestock and vineyards.  On a lucky day one may spot prong horn!

Weekend 2, Ride 1 (3rd total):  Whipple Visitor's Center to Madera Canyon (63 miles)

The second weekend of riding will begin at the Whipple Observatory Visitor's center, as pictured above.  The ride will begin very fast as the course will drop down to the valley below some 300 feet in about 7 miles.  Then the ride will make it's way up the most significant climb of the entire tour as it winds up Madera Canyon (category 1 climb).  It's common to see wild turkey and sometimes coatamundi in the canyon.

The route will descend from the canyon and return back up to the observatory's visitor's center, which is a category 2 climb.

Weekend 2, Ride 2 (4th total):  Tumacacori to Tubac Loop (22 miles)

Time trial!  Flat, fast and beautiful!  Tumacacori and Tubac are beautiful and very interesting.  After the short ride there's plenty to see and do. 

Weekend 3, Ride 1 (5th total):  Amado to Arivaca (46 miles)

This out and back begins in Amado, goes to Arivaca and returns.  This ride weaves in and out of Santa Cruz and Pima counties.  The route is full of winding road, rolling hills, interesting properties and majestic views.  The ride is challenging but fast.  There's one significant climb, though it is uncategorized.

Weekend 3, Ride 2 (6th total): Parker Canyon Lake (60 miles)

 This is the only ride I've not personally done, on a bicycle.  I've ridden it on a motorcycle several times, as well as in cars.  It's a beautiful ride.  There's quite a bit of climbing, several categorized climbs.  The software MapMyRide uses to calculate elevation is highly inaccurate, so I'm not sure exactly the nature of the climbs, but it's a hilly ride.  Certainly not as tough as some of the other rides in the tour though.

Weekend 4, Ride 1 (7th total):  The Santa Rita Mountains Loop (115 miles)

This route loops around the Santa Rita Mountains.  It is by far the longest ride on the tour.  It's a beautiful route, lots of rolling hills and scenery, including two very prolonged downhill segments!

By the time it's all said and done, the tour will have covered about 450 miles in seven rides

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.

First Marathon ... Planning

Forgive me, it’s my first day and I’m a bit excited!  Yeah, I know it’s May, I get that.  

I’ve been reading, studying, thinking, planning, re-planning, reading, thinking, talking, listening, planning, re-planning … get it?

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I want to run my first marathon in the fall or early winter.  The marathon I wanted to run is just three weeks on the heels of a bike ride I’d like to do well in.  The consensus was that it’s probably a little too close to my first marathon, unless I want to put up a bunny of a ride.  Yeah, I could plan on doing that … but I know myself.

I decided on moving the marathon from early December to late January, giving me much more time in between and allowing me to maximize my performance in both.

I planned the bike schedule as I normally would, not stretching it out to allow extra time for rest and also having to worry about doubling up long runs and long rides in one weekend.  Then I worked the weeks for the marathon training schedule (Hal Higdon) backwards, maneuvering different runs to fit around previously scheduled races, both running and riding, as well as leaving room for the tapering before the bike race.

And the timing, on paper, looks great.   I have the next three months to work on a running base, get that 5K goal knocked out (sub-20), and drop some weight.  After that, the bike training starts.   As I’ll get into the 200 mile weeks on the bike my long runs will only be about 12 to 14 miles, which I can handle.  

The weeks leading up the bike race will have one two-a-day per week, on Tuesdays, featuring a recovery run (which I could skip) and a bike ride in the afternoon.  That’s actually less than I have been doing as I usually do two, two-a-days per week.  

The longest run before the bike race on 11/19 is a 15 miler, which occurs in the first week of the taper for the bike ride.  I think that’ll be okay.  After the bike race is done, the next 8 or 9 weeks line up almost perfectly with the Hidgon plan, save the half marathon I’d like to run six weeks before the marathon.

Either way, this plan feels right.  I’m excited about it.  

Now to figure out what my marathon pace will be!

A Bit of a Special Day

Tunnel Vision:  (noun)

1. Defective sight in which objects cannot be properly seen if not close to the center of the field of view.
2. The tendency to focus exclusively on a single or limited goal or point of view.

Yeah, that's what people develop on race day.  It's supposed to be that way.

But after I finished my race today, I thought about what else was going on. I realized that it was a very special day.  My wife participated in a charity ride!  After last year's El Tour de Tucson, she talked to me about the emotions and feelings she saw in the faces of the participants.  She wondered what they felt, what they thought, what they had experienced.  It looked powerful to her.  Today, she completed the 27 mile course, her longest ride to date, in 2:12.  She's been having some problems keeping down water due to an ulcer, and hasn't been able to ride at all, save last weekend.

As she crossed the finish line I was there, with my parents, cheering her on.  She said, "I hurt in places I'm not supposed to hurt."

To sweeten the pot, my brother-in-law participated in the big ride today, 73 miles (they called it a metric century).  And, my father ran a 5K this morning with my sister.  My dad PR'd and won 2nd in his age group, my sister won first in hers.  Apparently they executed a reeling-in of a particular runner that my sister wanted to catch.

Last night my youngest daughter ran in a track meet, her final of middle school.  She's a bit saddened by the closing of that chapter in her life, but says she doesn't want to run in high school.  I spoke with her about it, tried to make it clear that I will support her in whatever decision she makes, don't really care if she runs or not, but that she is really loving the sport and should consider for her own reasons.

This is quite a special day (or weekend) because last year at this time I was riding my first "race" (really a charity ride, but hey, it's got a timing chip and you can beat other people.)  Anyhow, at the time, nobody in my family had done anything at all of the sort.  I wanted the challenge and along the way discovered how much fun they (and similar events) are.  It's great to see my family discovering the same things.

Racing is a whole different level of celebration compared to what we used to do!

As for my particular experience ... I wore the coolest socks in the race, hands down.

 

I got tons of comments from, "I've found Waldo," to "You need red pig tails to match!"

For the race I wanted to finish in 3 hours or less, but figured that with everything that's gone on, I'd be around 3:20.  What I discovered surprised me.

There's a lot more strategy involved with riding fast than running fast.  A lot.  Who you "go" with makes all the difference!  Let me explain.

While I arrived early, it wasn't early enough.  The platinum group (platinum riders have completed authorized rides within certain time limits, meaning, they're fast) lines up at the front.  Those that wish to qualify for platinum show up early, stage immediately behind them.  I was stuck around a bunch of people riding in tennis shoes.

My plan had been to start easy.  Now I'd have to fight through traffic and sprint around people.  To make matters worse there was a significant headwind to start the race.  Nothing crazy, but enough that moving along at 15 mph was work.  And since I wanted to catch people I had to go a lot faster than that. 

At the start I pushed ahead and tried to catch the group out front, but no dice.  The wind was too much.  Soon I found myself in a bad situation...alone.  Nobody around me at all.  That means that I was working way harder than anybody else!  The group I'd left was a long way behind and the one in front...just as far ahead.  Exactly what I didn't want to do.

I knew I'd burn up if I caught my target group (if I could) and get dropped anyway.  However, they weren't widening the gap, so I also knew that if I had started with them, I would've kept up.  Next time!

I slowed, as I learned in the last race, and a large group formed, and stayed together throughout the race, growing to about 50 people or so.  I just stayed in the middle unless the group stretched out too far.  Sometimes a rider that is getting dropped forms another pack, all of whom get dropped.  The problem is, none, save the front guy, know they're being dropped until it's too late!

This happened on hills.  I found that my hill training paid off in spades!  People were standing and pumping, shifting, dying going up the hills ... but I was calmly in the seat and passing people whenever needed.

At the hardest climb I found myself 3rd from the front of the group ... NOT where I wanted to be.  We crested the hill and shot down.  I was fresh and downhills, well, that's why we ride, right?  I soon found myself out in front, again.  DOH!  I had fun for a bit, cranked it out then backed off and got swallowed by the pack again.

I had gotten through the toughest part of the race without too much effort, though I was sweating.  And apparently, I was not drinking enough.

At mile 36 I cramped.  The same exact leg, same exact spot as the previous two rides I've done.  This time I had been taking electrolytes all week.  I brought salt tablets, took 4 over the next half hour or so and drained 2 liters of accelerade.  It kept the cramps from being debilitating, but it often felt like they were right there at the surface.  I punched and massaged the cramping muscle and rested as much as possible.  I also pedaled one-legged for a long time, even unclipping my left foot at a point.

I never felt right again.  I stayed in the last part of the pack, just ahead of those being dropped.  But cramps or not, at that point it wouldn't have mattered.  I had wanted to open up a bit after the climbing was finished, but the group I was in stayed about the same speed.  The other group did what I wanted to do and sped up as the course got easier.  They finished with a solid 10 minute gap before the group I was in...not a soul in between!

At the end of the race the pack filled all lanes of the road.  I wanted to hammer out the last two miles, but couldn't pass due to the congestion.

And they were slowing...25, 22, 20, 18 mph!  WTH!!!!  MOVE PEOPLE!

Finally I had my shot and said, literally, "Cramps be damned," and slammed it.  I went from the back of the pack to the front, slipping around on the far left side of the white stripe on the edge of the road, a strip about 2 inches wide.  Things thinned out with about a quarter mile left.  It was awesome because these two guys sped up as I passed them, that made me push harder still.  I left them behind, too.  That was fun!   I finished behind just a few other people but just a few feet.  I'd have caught them too with just a bit more time.

When I finished I felt great.  I was happy and off the bike had no cramping issues.  I went back to the finish line to cheer people and take some photos.

I think I have the conditioning to qualify as "platinum," which means you're fast.  I just don't have the experience.  I needed to drink more and needed to show up earlier.  I had a lot of juice left at the end of the race, too much gas in the tank really.  And yeah, while I had cramps, ultimately, they made no difference.  I couldn't have caught that front group anyway.

I think the cramps were partly fatigue, partly dehydration.  I drove over 150 miles yesterday, was outside a lot, and finally arrived at my in-laws' house (where we slept) just after 10 pm.  I still had to get everything ready for the morning, which came at 4 am. 

In the end I finished 120 out of 514.  The time was 3:20, making for an average speed of about 22 mph. 

I think I raced smart, didn't compound my mistakes.  I handled the cramping issue as well as I think was possible.  I definitely had a great time, especially at the end.  I had an even better time cheering on my wife and brother-in-law!  And hey, that's what it's about!  Getting outside, enjoying good health and competing a little. 

Race Day Strategy

That's right folks, tomorrow is race day.  Months of preparation and work, with tomorrow's performance as the sole focus, will be put to use. 

I am ready.

I am pumped.

I have a goal.

I have a plan.

The plan is to forget about the goal during the race.  The thing with time-related goals is that circumstances have to be perfect, and I cannot control or even influence those circumstances.  Will there be wind, will I get a flat tire, will there be accidents, what about the temperature?

It's best just to focus on my charges.

The race course is a loop, 73 miles.  It begins in the town of Marana, AZ, just north of Tucson, and heads south.  The first 10 miles or so are relatively flat, but the road surfaces are less than friendly.  Then there's a small climb and about 15 miles of slightly uphill with, generally speaking, terribly riding surfaces.

From there the route turns west and climbs for a few more miles.  Up until this point I'll hope to have fallen in with a decent group where I can conserve my energy and cruise along with my heart rate around 135 or lower.

On Ajo Highway the course peaks and then shoots down hill for about 15 miles.  That's where I'll open up a bit.   Eventually the course turns back north and is quite fast for a good 10 miles stretch before hitting very mild rolling hills. 

Once through those small hills I'll go all out over the last 8 miles or so.  The course lends itself to a negative-split because the first half is rough roads and slightly uphill.  The second half is much smoother roads and, generally, downhill, if not flat.

I've been taking electrolytes for a week and have eaten carbs like crazy the past two days.  I've slept as much as I can.  I'm packed.  The bike is tuned but needs a little washing.  Need to look good on race day, eh?

My wife is riding in the 27 mile event.  I'm excited for her and hope she has a good ride!

Unfortunately for both of us, today isn't really going to be restful.  I took the day off, but she could not.  Even so, I had to run errands this morning and will be driving 60 miles this afternoon to pick up the race packets.  Then I will drive 60 miles home, volunteer and watch my daughter's final track meet, then we'll drive to Marana, 75 miles north, to stay the night at my in-laws' home.  It'll be a trick to maintain proper hydration for sure!

Either way, tomorrow is going to be awesome.  I can't wait!