Being away from the sport so long I felt once again like a novice. Arriving two hours before the race start, walking up to registration only to be told I was too early, no less than 4 stops to the washroom to relive myself, nerves running rampant throughout my stomach. With the registration and sign-on complete and race numbers in hand, I return to my car to begin the pre-race ritual.
Numbers securely attached to my long sleeve jersey, legs tingling from the Tiger Balm ointment; do I wear the jacket, tights and gloves now, its 5 degrees Celsius? I still have 30 minutes before the start but I want a decent warm-up and don’t want to be bothered or hurried into discarding the unwanted clothing. I choose to forgo the extra clothing and brave the temperature in shorts.
A good warm-up up and down the main paved road, it would be the only pavement we would see on the 8 laps of the 8km circuit. 4km are on packed dirt and gravel roads which I didn’t have the opportunity to see first hand.
Sitting there on the start/finish line for the Elite 3/Master 3 combined race I think to myself, what the hell am I doing? It has been 19 years since I road in a group with cyclist let alone race! Would I become one of those feared cyclist that everyone wants to avoid. Hey number 366, watch your line! Inside on your right, your left, jitbag! Jitbag, do they still use that term coined back in the late 80s to describe one that can’t ride in a group, opens gaps in the peloton, causes crashes and has poor bike handling skills? Was that going to be me? Well, time would soon tell.
Surprisingly I felt at ease on the start line. The nerves had gone; there was no immediate anticipation, just calm. Perhaps inside I was just happy to be back and to test the progress I had made over the last year and a half. The race announcer then begins to describe the course and give us fair warning of the hazards ahead. “Neutral start for the first 500 meters” he says; good ‘cause I always slip clipping into my pedals, “caution on the first right hand corner as we go from pavement onto gravel” he adds; okay here is where the race will start, “4km of twisting gravel roads and significant number of potholes; after all, this is what the race is known for” he says with a smile. Okay, so now the nerves begin… I’m going to puke!
3… 2… 1… and we’re off! The pace is moderate for the first neutral 500 meters and picks up significantly on the downhill stretch towards the first right turn. “Right hand turn” someone at the front calls out. I’m sitting in the first 3rd of the field, not the optimum position but better than at the back. So my initial thought is “Hey, this isn’t bad!” I’m sitting comfortably within the middle of the pack and not at all nervous and keeping a straight line. I can do this I say to myself. Right hand turn is taken quickly onto a narrow packed dirt road… brakes squeal, riders are up out of their saddles, pushing on the pedals and accelerating. I match the accelerations; this is good I keep thinking. Approaching a tricky S bend, two cyclists overshoot the corner in front of me and crash but I pass by without trouble. About 500 meters on, another cyclist beside me hits a deep section of loose gravel, his wheel turning perpendicular and he gets some good air when launched off his bike. He lands with a thud! That one, I think to myself, had to hurt. I feel like Mario in WII Mario Cart that I play along with my seven year old son. Except here, road rash, embedded gravel and broken collarbones are real! We pass by the registration area where I see my folks cheering me on, I still feel good! More than half way through lap one, so much has happened already. We cross the bridge and yet another crash. Man, I think to myself, at this rate, there won’t be many of us left at the end of this race.
Leaving the gravel road behind, we are now riding up towards the turn around 500 meters before the start/finish line. Over the next 4 laps it would seem apparent we use this time to recuperate as the pace although still fast is less explosive. At this point my lungs are burning from the cold and I feel as if my heart is bursting out of my chest. I want to drink but as I pour, it just runs out the side of my mouth, I am panting so fast. I try taking deep breaths to slow my breathing rate but we come to the turn around, a 180 degree corner. Back out of the saddle we begin accelerating. I want to be closer to the front before hitting the gravel roads so I begin making my way up the outside of the peloton. Sitting about 5 riders back, we make the right hand corner onto the gravel and begin the onslaught again!
Lap 2 behind us and into lap 3 I failed to position myself as close to the front as I needed to be. Approaching the S bend a 100 or so meters into the gravel section, two more riders come crashing down right in front of me and to my right. No where to go except straight into the trees or to a stop and manoeuvre around them, I lock up my wheels and come to a standstill. While still upright, I turn to my right and manoeuvre around them and push hard on the pedals to begin accelerating as a significant gap has now been established. To my surprise, I catch back on relatively quickly but at what cost? Its becoming apparent to me I’ve got the strength, but do I have the stamina to follow and maintain every acceleration this race has to offer? It feels more like a criterium than a road race!
Coming out of lap 4 off the gravel roads and back onto pavement, the pace this time remains high. I look ahead and can see 3 to 5 riders attacking off the front. The pace does not ease one bit. I’m not drinking enough I think to myself while at the same time my tongue is hanging out of my mouth as I try to hold the wheel in front of me. A gap begins to open, I accelerate then, it opens again and I accelerate, and again it opens, this is it I think! We approach the turn-around and begin our journey into the 5th lap except this time, without knowing at the time, I sit towards the back of a 23 man group, the remnants of the 61 man field we started with. Back onto the gravel and approaching the S bend, I am on the inside and lined up to head straight into the tree branches. I duck my head and feel the slap of the branches against my helmet; thank god they weren’t any thicker! The attacks and accelerations continue and I sink into a stretch of loose deep gravel. It feels like riding into sand while at the same time your bike slides to the right and then to the left. My speed slows to a crawl and I have to yet again, sprint to bridge the gap that has now opened. This time however I can’t close it. One, two, three riders pass by me, ah shit! I hear the engine of the following service car and my first thought is geez, isn’t he a little too close. I swing to the right and let him pass. He’s followed by the commissaries' car and I too let them by. I tuck into their draft. As we turn towards the race registration area, my speed picks up and I pass the commissaries' car now sitting comfortably behind the service vehicle. Rounding the bend and that’s it, my left calf begins to cramp. My speed begins to fade and I have no choice but to lower my gearing, coast at times to stretch my calf and peddle at a higher cadence. Race is over… at least with the front of the group.
I continue on, but pointed in the wrong direction by a race marshal. Dam kids I think to myself. I turn around and make my way back onto the course. I leave the gravel roads behind and back onto the pavement approaching the start of lap 6. As I approach the turn around, a trailing group of about 10 riders ride up to me. I accelerate and sit in on the back end. I ride with them through to the middle of lap 6 and as we pass by the registration area, I hear a ringing bell. “Is this the last lap” I ask someone, “No, just a lady with a cow bell” someone says. I feel disoriented. Again I can’t match the acceleration and drop off the trailing end of the group.
Back on the pavement, two other riders join me from behind. “Jump on” one says, “you can survive to the end with us.” he adds. “Thanks” I say chuckling. And off we go. For the final two laps we maintain a steady pace line, each taking turns on the front to shelter each other from the wind. Last lap and passing the registration area for the last time, now my right calf and quad begin to cramp. Argh! I pedal, then coast to stretch my leg, peddle again, then coast and stretch. It finally subsides. Good ridden to the gravel and back on the pavement, one of our compatriots does a little attack. Oh, you’re not going to fight to the finish are you? Yup sure enough the two of them get up and dance on the pedals and easily sprint away from me. I maintain my pace look up ahead and can see the finish. Passing through the finish line I see my parents. Many years ago they’ve watched me succeed in a lot of races. For me however, this was a bigger accomplishment as I have overcome something that has taken hold of me for many years, was become detrimental to my health and my family. I finished with a smile on my face from ear to ear. Now that was fun!
Thanks Chris and Tim for a great race!
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