I won't recount the drama that unfolded before the race even began - Chris has documented it well, and I really don't want to relive the horror anyway. But here's my rundown of race day, my first race as a mighty Cat 4:
I guess living in CA has softened me up, because at the race start it was 40 degrees, and I was freezing. I layered up with nearly all the clothes I brought, and except for the fleece cap I was happy to have it all on. There isn't really a great place to warmup at Pine Flat, and I didn't have a trainer, so I just hoped that the first part of the race would be mellow. Not so - after the "neutral" 200' steep starting climb, the action got going, with godspeed riders instigating. The first 20+ miles (out-and-back portion) had lots of little surges that got my heart ramped up quick. I think I had some first race jitters, because I wasn't very focused and let a few gaps open up on some corners, which then required accelerations that were harder than they needed to be. After about 10 miles, things settled down a bit and I took a moment to enjoy the view of Pine Flat Lake. Overall, the field was content to stick together, and didn't much bother to chase when someone shot off the front. I tucked in near the back, and tried to remember to keep drinking despite the cold.
The long descent toward Belmont Road was a blast - great pavement and nice sweeping turns, and all the folks around me holding pretty good lines. For several miles, things were unevenful - I tried to take shelter from the moderate cross-winds, and very slowly moved my way to the middle half of the group as opportunities presented themselves. On a dead-straight section of road, there was a pretty nasty crash near the front of the field - I didn't see what happened, but the sound was awful as both bikes and bodies piled on one another - I was able to scoot around the carnage, but did get clipped by a flailing bike. I turned to make sure Chris wasn't down, and then found myself near the front of a now smaller field. I think nearly 10 guys went down, and a few of their teammates stopped to assist. The crash took some wind out of the sails of the group (or perhaps everyone was trying to save their legs for the climb to come), and for a few miles the pace dipped.
Our Saturday pre-ride of the last 10 miles of the course was really helpful, because when we did finally hit the main climb, I knew where it was going to hurt. I figured attacks would come as soon as we were on the climb, but that didn't really happen - Chris and about 4 other strong men did go to the front and slowly pull away, however. It was clear that this was going to be the winning move, but my legs didn't care, so I settled for cresting the climb alone in ~20th place as the field strung out. Some regrouping happened on the downhill, and about 5 of us got into a semi-organized rotation. The leaders were well up the road, and I knew we didn't have a chance to catch them, but I didn't want to get caught by the stragglers behind us either.
By the time we hit the final 1/2 mile climb, our group had swelled to 7, and I had a little left, so I pushed the pace right away at the 1km mark. This shed a few guys, but Webcor and Dolce Vita were right with me, and when they came around me with ~300m to go, I was toast. Getting to the finish line was painful, and I got nipped at the line by a hard-charging guy that I was too delirious to even hear coming. 16th place. 10 minutes later my sweat was turning to ice as we awaited the rest of our gang from the masters race. Thanks to Elmar for lending a jacket - otherwise I think I would have been in real trouble!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Pine Flat Road Race 2009
So, ever wonder what would happen if your bike flew off of the top of your car at 70 mph? Well let me set the scene for you….
Dustin, Mike, and I are on Hwy 152, just west of Los Banos. We’re in the fast lane making pace, but keeping it reasonable because it’s a holiday weekend. We are a half hour or so in front of the other car, planning to meet in Fresno before pre-riding the hill. Music is playing, we’re chatting it up, and we hear a loud thump. It almost sounded as if we had just hit a dog or something but with no shock to the car. Mike in the back seat says, “What was THAT?”. I check my mirrors and all seems in order. About 10 seconds later we hear and this time we feel another loud crash. Dustin is looking out the sunroof and says, “The BIKES!”, Mike lets out a “Holy Shit”.
I glance up at the rear view mirror. My stomach hits the road… The entire roof rack with about 12k of our precious carbon cargo is somersaulting down the middle of the highway. Absolute chance had left the lane behind us empty of traffic. I watch the bikes tumble to a stop as I slam on the brakes and pull off the road. We back up to the bikes, which have conveniently landed upright on the shoulder of the road. Mike’s Giant had ripped out of the rear tire strap, but the front fork is still engaged in the clamp. Both Dustin’s bike and mine are still fully strapped in to the racks. We do a quick visual inspection of the bikes. Mike’s bike certainly seems the have taken the major punches. The broken rear strap allowed it to swing back and forth as it tumbled down the road. The front levers are both collapsed inward. My beloved Cinelli was on the other outward side of the rack but stayed completely connected to the rack. It's come to rest with only having a few grams of carbon shaved of the left brake lever. Dustin’s bike, in the middle of the rack, has absolutely no damage.
We make a phone call to Mr. Rossi who is now only about 10 minutes away and we wait for them to show up. We pull the wheels off of the bikes, move their luggage to my car and put the bikes in the back of his station wagon. We head to the hotel to unload gear and meet up with John S. who is already there. Later that afternoon we reassemble the bikes, and give things a twice over. Everything is working, not a single component is broken on any of the bikes! We pre-ride the last 10 miles of the route, making sure the bikes are "ok".
Race Day…
As the high for the day is only forecasted to be 44 degrees at noon, deciding what to wear is easy. My strategy is to just sit in at the back of the field and wait for the hill. I know anyone that attempts a breakaway is going to be toast by the climb, at least I'm hoping it's so.
Two riders, each on his own individual breakaway are somewhere out in front of the group for quite a while, as the group turns on to Watts Valley Road. Shortly after the turn something happens and a pile of what looks like 8-12 guys is in a mound in front of me. Water bottles, bodies and bikes are all over the place. Those that are still up fan around the crash, and a few teammates stop to help their own.
The pace slows as everyone’s bodies absorb some adrenaline. It’s not clear exactly what happened to cause the pile up, but the pace is slow and doesn’t really pick up for a mile or so as people get their legs back. By the hard right on WVR, everyone is alert again, and it’s back to race pace. The tempo is very reasonable and I just sit in waiting for someone to go. The front of the pack where I’m at is a total mess. No one wants to pace set and we just inch our way to the start of the real climb. On the way we pick off a few dropped riders and one of our breakaway guys. By now I’m ready to split the pack up. I put on a little pace and a group of 4 other riders hop on. A CVC rider hops to the front of the pack and pace sets up the climb. I settle into a comfortable pace, while watching and listening to the other riders around me. I can tell some of the other riders are hurting. I remember there’s still five miles of rollers after the hill. Rather than pushing the pace some more, I opt just to sit in and ride with the group over the hill.
Descending, we catch the other breakaway guy, and work pretty well as a group for 2-3 miles. At least two riders seem to be hanging on by a thread or just are sitting back in the rotation. At one point I rode up to the CVC rider who was taking a huge pull (because the rotation wasn’t pulling through) and told him to ease off and let the other rides move to the front or he was going to shell himself. Looking over my shoulder occasionally I could see a chase group behind us. After talking with the CVC rider and signaling to the guys behind us to pull through with no results, I dropped an f-bomb at the other riders. I apologize for that… but it did seem to get people working again.
We roll up to the 1km marker and the pace picks up a little. At the base of the hill I singled out Roland from Webcor and the CVC rider as contenders. I move to the front, checking over my shoulder to see who would match my pace. Webcor and CVC are right there. I ramp it up a little and the group starts to string out. It’s just Roland and I at the 200m mark. I stay seated and maintain a constant pace. I can hear Roland’s breathing picking up. He’s out of the saddle but drifting back. I keep it comfortable for myself to the finish line.
Coming up to the finish line
Picture by K. Weixel
Dustin and Kim's husband at the line
Photo by K. Weixel
--
Chris K.
Dustin, Mike, and I are on Hwy 152, just west of Los Banos. We’re in the fast lane making pace, but keeping it reasonable because it’s a holiday weekend. We are a half hour or so in front of the other car, planning to meet in Fresno before pre-riding the hill. Music is playing, we’re chatting it up, and we hear a loud thump. It almost sounded as if we had just hit a dog or something but with no shock to the car. Mike in the back seat says, “What was THAT?”. I check my mirrors and all seems in order. About 10 seconds later we hear and this time we feel another loud crash. Dustin is looking out the sunroof and says, “The BIKES!”, Mike lets out a “Holy Shit”.
I glance up at the rear view mirror. My stomach hits the road… The entire roof rack with about 12k of our precious carbon cargo is somersaulting down the middle of the highway. Absolute chance had left the lane behind us empty of traffic. I watch the bikes tumble to a stop as I slam on the brakes and pull off the road. We back up to the bikes, which have conveniently landed upright on the shoulder of the road. Mike’s Giant had ripped out of the rear tire strap, but the front fork is still engaged in the clamp. Both Dustin’s bike and mine are still fully strapped in to the racks. We do a quick visual inspection of the bikes. Mike’s bike certainly seems the have taken the major punches. The broken rear strap allowed it to swing back and forth as it tumbled down the road. The front levers are both collapsed inward. My beloved Cinelli was on the other outward side of the rack but stayed completely connected to the rack. It's come to rest with only having a few grams of carbon shaved of the left brake lever. Dustin’s bike, in the middle of the rack, has absolutely no damage.
We make a phone call to Mr. Rossi who is now only about 10 minutes away and we wait for them to show up. We pull the wheels off of the bikes, move their luggage to my car and put the bikes in the back of his station wagon. We head to the hotel to unload gear and meet up with John S. who is already there. Later that afternoon we reassemble the bikes, and give things a twice over. Everything is working, not a single component is broken on any of the bikes! We pre-ride the last 10 miles of the route, making sure the bikes are "ok".
Mike's bars post crash
Race Day…
As the high for the day is only forecasted to be 44 degrees at noon, deciding what to wear is easy. My strategy is to just sit in at the back of the field and wait for the hill. I know anyone that attempts a breakaway is going to be toast by the climb, at least I'm hoping it's so.
Two riders, each on his own individual breakaway are somewhere out in front of the group for quite a while, as the group turns on to Watts Valley Road. Shortly after the turn something happens and a pile of what looks like 8-12 guys is in a mound in front of me. Water bottles, bodies and bikes are all over the place. Those that are still up fan around the crash, and a few teammates stop to help their own.
The pace slows as everyone’s bodies absorb some adrenaline. It’s not clear exactly what happened to cause the pile up, but the pace is slow and doesn’t really pick up for a mile or so as people get their legs back. By the hard right on WVR, everyone is alert again, and it’s back to race pace. The tempo is very reasonable and I just sit in waiting for someone to go. The front of the pack where I’m at is a total mess. No one wants to pace set and we just inch our way to the start of the real climb. On the way we pick off a few dropped riders and one of our breakaway guys. By now I’m ready to split the pack up. I put on a little pace and a group of 4 other riders hop on. A CVC rider hops to the front of the pack and pace sets up the climb. I settle into a comfortable pace, while watching and listening to the other riders around me. I can tell some of the other riders are hurting. I remember there’s still five miles of rollers after the hill. Rather than pushing the pace some more, I opt just to sit in and ride with the group over the hill.
Descending, we catch the other breakaway guy, and work pretty well as a group for 2-3 miles. At least two riders seem to be hanging on by a thread or just are sitting back in the rotation. At one point I rode up to the CVC rider who was taking a huge pull (because the rotation wasn’t pulling through) and told him to ease off and let the other rides move to the front or he was going to shell himself. Looking over my shoulder occasionally I could see a chase group behind us. After talking with the CVC rider and signaling to the guys behind us to pull through with no results, I dropped an f-bomb at the other riders. I apologize for that… but it did seem to get people working again.
We roll up to the 1km marker and the pace picks up a little. At the base of the hill I singled out Roland from Webcor and the CVC rider as contenders. I move to the front, checking over my shoulder to see who would match my pace. Webcor and CVC are right there. I ramp it up a little and the group starts to string out. It’s just Roland and I at the 200m mark. I stay seated and maintain a constant pace. I can hear Roland’s breathing picking up. He’s out of the saddle but drifting back. I keep it comfortable for myself to the finish line.
Coming up to the finish line
Picture by K. Weixel
Dustin and Kim's husband at the line
Photo by K. Weixel
--
Chris K.
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