Tour of the Hilltowns (M Cat 4)

Windsor, MA, etc., Tour of the Hilltowns – MA State Championship Road Race.

Race info & elevation profile

Changing weather from completely overcast to blazing sun, then back. Temps were in high 70’s to low 80’s, humidity in the 80’s to high 90’s, no wind at all, rain for the last six miles or so – light at first, then a steady downpour for the last four miles.

As I write, some 34 hours after the race ended, I’m still not sure what to make of it.

Update: The results finally got posted – 48 hours after the race. I finished in 15th, 1:41 back of the winner. That’s three spots better than last year, but 10 seconds further back. Looks like I was 9th among the Massachusetts riders, three spots further back than last year. So, pretty much a wash all around.

Chapeau to Colm McMahon, up in the Cat 3’s, for finishing same time as riders 3-20. Julian and I had been chatting at the start that the less Colm trains, the better he does. We both agreed that he’d be in the top 20 today. And, while he missed that by one spot in the bunch sprint, that’s an impressive ride for an overworked Dad who’s got a newborn to tend to.

Anyhoo, as for the race, I had prepped and planned well, I thought. Had everything packed and ready to go. All I had to do was get up, eat, stretch, grab the filled bottles out of the fridge, put the bike on the car, and head out. Had planned the timing of wake up & departure to get me to the parking lot 90-100 minutes before race time.

Got to bed on time to get 7.5 hours of sleep, and fell asleep near instantly. Woke up, however, at 3:30, an hour & a half before my alarm, and couldn’t get back to sleep. Tried for an hour, then got up at 4:30, feeling completely uninspired to race, had my oatmeal, did a light stretch, then went back to bed at 5:15. Set the alarm for 5:45, just in case I fell asleep, which I didn’t. Felt wiped out and debated blowing off the race, but finally talked myself out of that. I think that the evening email from the race director, with the detailed warning of all of the road hazards/conditions, after having earlier written that the roads were in much better condition than last year, stuck in the back of my head. Maybe that, coupled with general pre-race nerves, and lingering thoughts of my crash at Fitchburg, all coalesced to keep me from falling back to sleep, and putting doubts in my head.

Blarg. Got up, grabbed everything, and headed out. Stopped at Starbucks for a double espresso to help wake me up, and grabbed a slice of pumpkin bread for the road, as the 5 AM oatmeal probably wasn’t going to hold me until the 10:30 AM start and a 2.5 hour race. Nice to bump into Julian at the Starbucks, too – always good to see a teammate early in the day. The drive west went fine – mostly foggy/cloudy the whole way, with no traffic. Had my warm-up music playing, and was mentally reviewing the course, trying to get into the race mode. Ate the slice of pumpkin bread, and drank two bottles of water.

Got to the parking lot right on time at 8:45, giving me 1:45 until start time. Signed-in, pinned on the numbers, took the bike for a very short spin down an access road, then hopped on the trainer for the 25-30 min. warm-up. All of that seemed to go fine, but I felt slightly detached from it. The weather kept changing from clouds to sun. Went with regular bibs & jersey – no rain gear. Drank a bottle of Endurance mix while warming-up, and ate a banana and a Clif Bar. Hopped off the trainer, slammed a carton of VitaCoco, packed up, rolled to the line with a brief pit stop. I was carrying a bottle of water, a bottle of Endurance, and two gel flasks.

Lined-up mid-pack with, Julian, and with some guys I know who used to be on our team. Listened to the race director go over all of the road hazards again, and tried to focus – again – on what I needed to do to be successful this year: get to the front before the climb so that I didn’t have to pick my way through the whole pack; sit-in as much as possible – especially if I was with the lead pack; drink and eat regularly; sit tight in the pack toward the finishing climbs, and get ready to accelerate so as to not get dropped at the end this year. One last warning from the race director: there was a crash after the turn onto 8A, so watch out for emergency vehicles.

With that, off we went. Very slight climb, then downhill to the first turn onto 8A. I wanted to move up (and not back), so I picked the inside edge and moved up a few rows. As we neared the turn, the shoulder disappeared and there was a large pothole, so I moved back into the group, and took the turn tight. Decent pavement with shoulder on 8A. Downhill rollers. I stayed on the white line and tired to hold/move up. A fair number of storm drains in the shoulder, so I couldn’t just fly down it to the front – sort of a pick & weave deal. As I was moving up as we crested one roller, there was an ambulance about 20 yards ahead on the shoulder, with other cars around. So, lots of slowing and moving left. Rider down on the shoulder being attended to, not moving, bleeding from the left side of his face. Not what one wants to see in the first 2 miles of the race when the road’s perfectly fine and straight.

Stayed mid-pack on the rest of 8A to the right hand turn onto 116. The pack had strung out a bit, so I was able to move left and take the corner wide without braking. 116 was in much better shape than last year. I only heard one flat this time, unlike the constant pops & hisses of last year. I was mid/mid-back of the pack, surfing the smoother pavement toward the right. I kept thinking that I needed to move up, but with the narrow lane and rough spots, I was hemmed in – and didn’t feel that this was the time/place to really try and force anything. This is where I was having the internal conflict of knowing that I’d be better off in front, so that I could have good lines and sight lines, but also knowing that I would have a hell of a time trying to hold my place on the coming descent. As we were heading up one of the hills, there was a crash mid-front pack, right in the middle of the lane, five or six guys down. I slowed – hoping no one would slam into me from behind this time, then caught back on.

We made the left onto W. Hawley Road, the fast curvy downhill with the bad pavement, and I was getting passed pretty quickly – 122 lbs do not go downhill as fast as more gravity-friendly bodies. I was at the back of the pack, but not off the back, as were a number of riders. I didn’t feel particularly comfortable on this part, and wanted to give myself good sight lines (and routes of escape if needed). As we were heading down one of the faster parts – and roughest – sure enough, another crash. 6-8 guys and bikes on the ground sliding out in all directions across both lanes. I managed to slow and dodge, then had to put in a serious effort (it felt) to catch back on.

A mile or so later, as we popped up over a small rise on a curve, there was another crash just in front of me. Three more guys on the pavement. Slowed, moved, and back at it for another chase. Worked with two guys and we caught up just as the group was going across the 1-lane bridge (still under reconstruction from the flood damage of two years ago). I managed to move up a bit as we approached the right hand turn onto the road to the steep hill. I knew it was going to be a tough climb, and that I was farther back than I’d wanted. The sun was out now, and it was feeling pretty toasty.

I worked toward the center line, or where it would be if it were there, and started moving up as the climb began. I followed a few wheels, but zipped around them as soon as they slowed. I could see the leaders a bit ahead of me, but there wasn’t a real gap yet. I kept pushing, and it was definitely a struggle. I was passing a lot of riders, but also getting passed by a few guys. I kept pedaling, but just didn’t have it. From the file, it looks like I cracked about five minutes in, and then tailed off again about five minutes later. Really laboring, and trying not to slide too far back. The leaders were definitely pulling away. All I could feel was the sun and the heat. My breathing seemed really loud to me. Still passing a few guys – I must’ve been really far back at the bottom – as we hit the second steep section. A guy behind me said, “C’mon, Boston, keep pedaling. We can catch them,” but I waved him through. I felt like I had nothing left. After another minute or two, I found something, and picked it up a bit. I could see the leaders, but there was a small group of five riders ahead of me, so I aimed for them, caught on, and passed.

They came back to me, and we formed a li’l sextet of chasers. After a mile or so, over the crest and down the start of the rollers, we dropped a couple of them, and it was four of us on the chase. We worked a decent rotation but I was still recovering and sat out a few pulls. At one of the turns, the marshal said we were 50 seconds back, so we tried to pick it up a bit. I pulled through on one of the climbs to a left hand turn, and realized I’d dropped the other three. Figuring they’d catch me on the descent/flats, I kept going. Sure enough, they caught back on, and we got the rotation working again. But, a few miles before the right hand turn onto 112 and the feed zone, we all seemed to crack at once and the rotation broke down as the rollers started back up. I was trying to catch the young guy ahead of me, but was struggling again – the quads had been fluttering in that pre-cramping way for a few miles now. I drank more water, and some Endurance, and tried to spin an easier gear. About this time, we got picked up by about 10 riders from behind – all the guys we’d dropped on the top half of the climb. So, we had about 14 or so, and I opted to sit in, and to try and recover – screw doing a paceline at this point. I was soaked, beat, and more than a little discouraged about the way the day was going. I was clearly destined to be an observer, not a contestant today. I grabbed a bottle of water in the feed zone from one of the 545 Velo supporters (Larry Alford said I could). Had already polished off my water, and was half-way through the Endurance with 20 miles to go. I squirted some of the new water down my back and over my head to try and cool off. The clouds were back, but it still felt really warm. I tried to be smart, and just sat in at the back of the group and let them do the bulk of the work on the rollers up to the turn onto 9.

After that turn, it’s 15 miles to the finish, the first 5 of which are mostly downhill on decent pavement, then 6-7 miles of uphill rollers before the last 3+ miles of serious climbing. Every time I started to do any hard pedaling, my quads – front, top, inner, started cramping. I tried to stretch, but it didn’t help a lot. The pace seemed OK – we didn’t seem to be chasing very hard – no one knew how far back we were. A couple miles into the downhill, though, two guys from one team started making moves to go off the front. Another rider pulled through, and then the team guys stayed on his wheel, not pulling through – just following all of his moves. So, we’re a group of Cat 4’s, no idea how far behind we are, nor exactly how many riders are up the road, doing 30-some mph down the hills, and these guys decide to start playing cat & mouse games 12 miles from the finish. I resisted the urge to smack them, and just did my bit to stay fourth wheel, ready to bail if these idiots crossed wheels.

(I’m not sure that participating in races during the Tour de France is a great idea. It seems like everyone’s been watching hours of coverage, and believe that in doing so they’ve achieved supreme insight and abilities to ride like the elite pros. Other than in some heads, however, Phil & Paul are not covering the race, nor are there smokin’ hot podium girls waiting to smother us with multiple – if ever-changing – numbers of pecks on the cheeks.)

This messing around kept up for a bit, and just as we got to the bottom, with the 10-mile bridge in sight, we saw the lead pack about 3/4 of a mile ahead of us. No one could believe it. We were actually going to catch them. And then the flipping screwing around started up again. No one wanted to pull, one guy zoomed up on his own, the team guys were still doing their thing of staying on this other guy’s wheel. So, I had a quick discussion with myself: sit in and don’t expend, and maybe we catch the leaders, and maybe we don’t; or, go to work, see who comes, and bridge solo if need be – and risk burning a lot of matches of an already depleted book, and already cramping legs.

The latter voice won, not surprisingly. I didn’t suffer this much just to get close to the lead pack, and then watch them ride away. Yeah, this was going to hurt, and may be quite foolish, but I had to try. So, off I went. And, the legs cramped, and no one would pull through. So, quick recovery, and back at it. Still not a lot of help, but got a bit, and just kept at it. Push, cramp, ease up, flick my elbow, wave my hand through, listen to guys behind me saying, “Dude, I’m spent. I’ve got nothing left.” Rinse. Lather. Repeat. It took three miles (?), but we finally caught on, (as it started to rain), got greeted by the official in the car, who said, “Welcome back boys, nice of you to join us,” and I felt like asking for gratuities from all the guys who now passed me into the lead group. Instead, I tried to recover and to get the legs back. The cramping was pretty constant. I tried to spin easier on the efforts, but that trick seemed to have worn out. Thankfully, I was able to take it fairly easy for a couple miles. I wanted to get up to the front, but did not have the legs. Every effort brought cramps.

I knew I needed to stay on wheels and to be ready to accelerate. I drank what I could, and was into my second flask of gel, hoping for something to help. As we neared the base of the first of the three climbs to the finish, the pace picked up, and I moved up. The pack moved faster than me, however, and faster than a bunch of guys ahead of me. Guys were getting dropped right and left. I felt like I was going backward through shrapnel, but I was going backward slower than the guys right in front of me – they just blew up. Six, seven guys shed right in front of me. So, a big gap opened, and I couldn’t close it. I gave it what I could, but couldn’t accelerate enough to close it. Passed guys in the pouring rain, but not fast enough. The legs were dead and cramping with every stroke. I could feel that my socks and shoes were thoroughly saturated with rain, had to take off my sunglasses so that I could see; yet I didn’t mind the rain – I was finally cool for the first time in the race. Two guys were on my wheel, and wouldn’t pull through. I waved them through and moved left, easing up, and they just stayed there. While my stomach may not have been filled with anger, my brain certainly was. So, I kept charging – seeing the back of the splintered lead pack, cursing myself for getting dropped in the same place as last year, cursing (quietly) the guys on my wheel.

During this climb, where I wasn’t surrounded by other bikes, I kept hearing a squeaking/grinding sound, and thought for a minute that it was my bottom bracket – drenched to the gills – but realized it was coming from my wheels. I reached down and half-undid my front brake lever – and the sound lessened. So I unflipped it completely, and then reached for the back brake. Same thing. Not sure when, why, or how the brake pads had started rubbing, but they were. So, now they weren’t – I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to use the brakes for the rest of the ride.

Got a brief respite on the false flat to the second part of the hill, recovered enough to put in another charge. I think I dropped one of the guys there. Passed three or four other guys – but they were from a different Cat., so no help there. Kept surging, then recovering for a few seconds, trying to work through the cramps and to close the gap – I could see three or four riders off the very front, then a few more, then a few more. No idea how many were ahead of me. All I knew was that I wasn’t going to let myself get caught by anyone behind me, and that there was no way in Hell that I was going to let the wheelsucker come past me, even I was sprinting for 25th place.

At the 1K sign, I could see that some riders had made the turn onto the finishing climb. I tried to pick up the pace once more – not a lot left, but I did what I could. I took the wet turn easy, pedaling lightly, then tried to power through the cramps up the hill. It felt like I was putting out a ton of Watts – but not really. I peaked at 436 W over the last 200 m and averaged just under 300. I’m never going to win a sprint with that, but I finished ahead of the guy who’d been on my wheel, and that was all I cared about at that moment.

Rolled up the hill to the car, and just stood there for a good 5-10 minutes with my head on my handlebars. Pretty wiped out. Nearly as much as in the final stage of Tour of the Gila, and with the same disappointment/anger with having been dropped so close to the end. And filled with a bunch of what if’s, as well.

So, even after doing this write-up, I’m still not certain as to how to feel. I finished in nearly the exact same time as last year, but used 240 some more kJ of energy doing so; didn’t stay with the leaders on the big climb, but managed a successful catch; and got dropped in the same place as last year.

I had dreams of finishing in the Top 10 this year, up from 18th last year. And, while I think I’m a better rider this year, I don’t have the result to show for it.

I made mistakes early, and didn’t get good position. But, would it have mattered? The last 37-miles of this route suits me, but not the opening 18-20. If I could’ve gotten into the front 10, that would have been ideal, but would I have been able to hold that spot on the fast descent? Probably not. So, how can I handle this race better next year?

All of the chasing that I had to do – early, on the climb, then after the climb until getting caught, then trying to reel in the leaders with 9 to go – used a lot of energy. If I’d been with the leaders going up the big hill, I could’ve conserved that energy for the end. But, I’d have also needed to put out more energy on the climb to stay with the leaders. Not quite a wash, however. I did burn too much chasing.

Should I have made the effort to take charge of the chase group for the catch? Maybe not. Maybe we would’ve caught on, but I had no confidence in the guys around me. This is where having a teammate or two up with me would’ve helped. Or, being more confident in the riders around me.

How much better would I have done with a full night’s sleep? How can I get rid of some of this pre-race anxiety? is it the crash issue, or just knowing how bad the roads are?

Given how I felt in the morning, I’m actually surprised that I did as well as I did – whatever that may be. That said, I didn’t have the power on the big hill that I needed. That, I’ve got to address.

What can I do about the cramping? I’m stretching daily, eating a lot of bananas, drinking VitaCoco daily, staying hydrated, drinking a lot before and during the race, but still cramping just 30-some miles in. I’m not cramping at Wells, and that’s a hard effort, and I’m well into the 30+ total mile mark in the latter half of the A & B races. What else can I do, or do differently, to not have this cramping? Does it have to do with my being especially light for hill climbing season? (Although, even when I was 3-5 lb heavier earlier in the year, I was still cramping.) This may not be an issue for my next few races, as they’re all hill climbs, but I definitely need to get this sorted out – it’s a performance killer.

One positive, other than the brake issue, no flats! As I was driving home, I saw a bunch of the Pro/1/2 riders sitting on the guardrail at the base of the last climb, waiting for wheels, or a ride. Or, they were completely spent, and couldn’t make the last climb (they’d done a 90 mile course, not 57).

Alright, that’s enough naval gazing. Bed now. Rest day tomorrow. Hill accelerations on Tuesday and Wednesday.