2011 Road Season in Review

I’m big on reflection.  I’ve seen as a classroom teacher and as a staff developer that people learn best once they have time to process and put their learning in a context.  That’s what I’m trying to do now, as a cyclist, with this past season.

I went into this season being nervous.  I upgrade to Cat 3 after Gateway Cup last year.  That meant, for most of my races, I would be competing against Cat 1/2/3 women.  I was worried about being sorely out classed.  To compound this, I had a dismissal cross season last fall and winter.  One more variable in the equation is that I was job hunting at the beginning of the season as well. 

In spite of all of that, my season started well.  I was holding my own in most races.  I won the time trial at Hermann.  While I cracked in the crit, I had been expecting that.  My Tour of St. Louis and Belleville Crit went great as well.  Then came Tour de Grove. 

Tour de Grove, Midtown Alley was not my night.  I went down hard in the sprint and tore my left side to shreds.  In spite of that, I was able to come back and podium at Dutchtown that Sunday.  I was feeling good about my racing until late July.  That’s when the bottom dropped out.

I am attributing the problem to a dietary change.  I cut out all processed refined sugar.  However I don’t know if that was the actual culprit.  All I know is that I struggled through Edwardsville, the MO State Timetrial and Crit.  I was outclassed by the competition and I was hating racing.  Fortunately I have a great coach who gave me constructive feedback and worked to keep my head in the game and my fitness where it should be.  With some adjusted nutrition, by the time I raced Sedalia and Otterville, I felt like I was back and was looking forward to GWC.

Gateway started out fine.  I planned to race all four races, with Monday being my day to shine.  Friday night I sat in for most of the race and had a decent sprint for 11^th.  Saturday started out well.  I was sitting in the pack and was moving into place in the final lap when I went down.  I’m not sure how or why, I suspect someone hit me. Regardless my left side was again trashed.  I managed to race Sunday and Monday, but my performance mimicked Jeff City. 

So what have I learned from all of this:

• I can hold with Cat 1 & 2 ladies on any given day.
• Tough Pads work better than Tegaderm for road rash.
• A great manicure can survive a crash at 30mph.
• I will not screw with my nutrition mid season ever again.
• I love my team, my teammates.
• None of this matters if it stops being fun.

So cross begins in three days.  I don’t have a lot of high expectations for myself for cx.  I want to race.  I want to work hard.  I want to smile. I want to get muddy. I did upgrade to Cat 3, but not because I think I’m a dirty goddess.  I upgraded because I’ve raced two full seasons and I’m no longer a beginner.  I know I’ll get lapped.  I know there will be races where I’m DFL.  I know I will laugh and have good times with my friends.  And I hope that the disappointment I’m feeling now will fade and that I will have my head wrapped around the idea of racing hard, fast and aggressive when February gets here.

Race Day Prep

I think most competitive athletes have "race day" rituals--those little things you do to get ready to compete.  They help you get in the right frame of mind and make sure you have everything you need.  When I was a runner, it was usually having my clothes laid out the night before, a half cup of coffee and half of a peanut butter sandwich. I'd head to the race, get my number and pin on, pee twice and be ready to run.

When I was a Cat 4 racers, it was very similar.  Most Cat 4 races are early . . . I think because promoters know that it's typically only family or friends who come out to watch.  I would get up and eat (usually a bagel or oatmeal), have several cups of coffee and head out the door.  Because bike racing is a gear heavy sport, I have a "race bag". So besides throwing in a clean kit, my bag was always race ready.  I would try to get to the venue 90 minutes before my start time.  That gave me enough time to get my number and pin on, put my bike together, kit up and warm up before going to the line.  And usually, I would be home by noon.

Then I upgraded or "catted up".  Now I race with a group I lovingly refer to as the big girls.  There are so few women racing, as compared to men, three of our categories are grouped into one.  So although I'm only a Cat 3 racer, I race with typically much faster, stronger, Category 1 & 2 racers.  And because we're the women's "main event" we typically go right before the Men's Pro/1/2 race.  That means an afternoon start time.  I've been trying to adjust to this change for five months now and still don't feel like I've found my groove.

The first thing you need to know is that I'm a morning person.  Weekdays typically start at 4AM and weekends at 5AM.  I like to get my stuff done before lunch, whether that be chores, working out or racing.  I like to go shopping or veg after lunch.  On race days, I don't know what to do with myself.  I get up and coffee and breakfast.  While I consider sleeping in (today I stayed in bed till 6:30!), having two little early risers who start kissing and tickling me by 5:30 doesn't bode well for such a luxury.  I typically figure out what time I need to leave to get to the race on time.  Now I've got to factor in finding a spot to park because that spots are typically near full by the time I get there.  I may start a little laundry, check Facebook and Twitter, and start driving myself nuts.  I think of stuff I'd like to do, but probably shouldn't pre-race.  I wander aimlessly around my house.  I check on my kids while they play, go back to Facebook and Twitter, and generally get disgruntled because I want to get the race over with.  I need to leave today by 10:45 to get the kids to my mom's and get to the venue on time.  My bike is already on the car, my bag is sitting by the front door.  All I have left to do is to let the dogs out one more time and put my bottles in the cooler.  I have to eat a second time, because my breakfast won't sustain me until my 1:45 start time.  And finding something that doesn't screw with my digestion or make me want to puke when covering the first surge is tricky.

I'm sure with time, and growing kids who learn to sleep till 9AM will help.  Until then I need to find TV better than "Meet the Press" or find a low energy hobby to entertain me as I wait and pace.

111/365: MOBAR

This the sum of the results of my 2010 road season.  My goal for the season was two fold, to win the state championship races and to win Missouri Best All Around Racer (MOBAR).  My efforts for a state championship jersey did not produce the results I wanted, so for the last month of the season, I focused on the other piece of my goal.  I'm happy to say those efforts paid off.

I raced a lot in 2010.  I believe I only missed four MOBAR races.  By the end of cx season, that sustained effort took a mental and physical toll on me.  And then waiting for the final results of MOBAR to be calculated took an even bigger mental toll.  While I believed my ciphering to be correct, there are nuances to MOBAR calculations, especially for Cat 4 women, that I still don't understand.  While I may never own a state championship jersey, I will hang this proudly on the wall in the basement and race MOBRA races for free this year . . . just not all of them!

2010 Season in Review

And just like that, with the click of a mouse, my 2010 racing season ended yesterday. It was actually very anticlimactic. I made the decision to go out of town next weekend instead of racing Washington CX. A few things weighted my wavering decision regarding the MO state cx race this weekend, so unless an early January race pops up, I'm done. Considering my season started about 275 days ago, I think I'm ready for a little break.

If I had to sum up the entire gamut of racing I did in 2010 in a phrase, it would be it was a season of learning. Last year I was too much of a neophyte to really do more than experience the pain and suffering that goes with bike racing.

My first ah-ha started February 28 with Froze Toes. Last year, it was all I could do to hang on through the surges in the corners, and that didn't last long. This year, I knew I wanted to stay up in front. I looked up, and I was getting dropped off the break, to realize that I had made the break. I then learned how to work through a paceline to make the rest of the race tolerable.

The next learning was my next race at Forest Park. Last year Cory and Steph attacked early for the sprint and I was left wondering what happened. This year, Kate and I controlled the pack and patiently rode a wheel before doing pulling that same move. For me it was the beginnings of understanding tactic versus raw athleticism.

Hillsboro was a hard race for me mentally. I learned I do not like road races. My attention span is that of a crit racer and I get easily distracted by the BS that goes on when you put 50 women in a confined area. I was ready to take my bike and go home.

Hermann taught me that I could persevere. Three races in two days is hard, given the hills of Hermann, it's miserable. Fighting back during the crit to take second was a huge gain for me as was finishing with the pack for the road race after getting dropped on the last climb. The road race was good for me mentally after the misery of Hillsboro. It also gave me my first "win" as I was able to hold onto the omnium lead.

Belleville gave me some inclination as to how fit I've become over the last several years. I was able to chase down a break, doing most of the work by myself in the 4 race. I still didn't win, but I carefully did a risk analysis and decided it was the best move. Moreover, I jumped in the Open race afterwards, bridged up to a break and finished 5th.

Tulsa gave me comfort in racing in large fields. It was also the first time I had to go around a major crash. I was able to set myself up for a field prime as well. It reinforced pack positioning and tactics. That seemed to be a theme over and over and over again for my races.

The Grove let me know I could race with the "big girls". It was a 3/4 race and I was able to have a top 5 finish. Again, placement and tactics were key. That weekend also showed me how to come back from bad racing. I didn't race as well at the Midtown Alley and Street Sprints on Saturday. However I was able to refocus for the Sunday and play.

My first individual race win came at the O'Fallon Gold Cup. I truly felt like I controlled what went on in the race. I decided if and win I would take a prime and when I would go for the W. It was a strong, strong race for me.

Springfield allowed me to see what I would do if I crashed. I had always wondered how I would handle it. I now know it will take more than road rash to get me to quit. I went down in my second race of the day, got up and back on with help from teammates and finished fifth.

The state crit taught me how to handle disappointment and how no matter how well planned and executed my race plan is, one small error can make a huge difference. I also learned how much better my bike handling skills have become. I didn't give up on my machine when it skidded, I rode it out. I still have a long way to go with handling, but I'm getting there.

Gateway Cup was about strong fields and sprinting whenever I hear a bell, no matter what the lap card says. It was also about never giving up on a race. Benton Park I was dropped early, as were many. It was hot and my fourth straight day of racing. I pushed myself to the edge physically to make the bridge back to the group. I may not have finished high, but I finished strong.

Cyclocross I will sum up with one word, humility. An amazing friend of mine said to me earlier in the season that you have to learn to win with grace and you have to learn to lose with grace. I didn't realize how unbelievably hard the latter is. I had high expectations for the season. I came off an extremely successful road season and my fitness was never better. And although my bike handling has improved, it is not as good as it needs to be. That was so evident. I was timid and skittish in many conditions. I fell, a lot. I pouted. I wanted to quit. I yelled at Klucker and I whined. And then I remembered that I am visible and "out there" in our cycling community and what was I showing women new to the sport. And I remembered my dear friend's sage advice and finished my last three races by losing with grace and having fun.

For now, racing in 2011 will start in 87 days. My season's schedule will look much different in that I'll be choosier in what I race. I'll probably hit every MO crit, but only do Hermann and Froze Toes road races. I'll look for more TTs again, which is how I started this crazy sport. And I may struggle since I'll be racing the "big girls" all the time now. Whatever I do, I hope to do it with perserverance and grace and to continue to have fun while I suffer.

Taking Time to Enjoy the Ride

I'm a goal-oriented person. I decide what I want, I plan backwards and strategize and plot a course of action as to how to obtain my goal. I make sure I have short term benchmarks to stay on track and I adjust if necessary. This process typically has served me well both personally and professionally. There's very little I can't do if I set my mind to it.

Lately, I've been plagued by something though. I am typically in such a hurry to reach my goal (after all, good SMART goals are time bound) I don't enjoy my journey and reaching my short term strategies. And I think it's taking some of the fun of grabbing the silver ring.

I'll give you a cycling related example (big surprise!). As I've said before, I've been extremely focused on two goals this season, the state crit and MOBAR. I made a plan in December about what I would do to accomplish these goals. I rode my bike in nasty, cold weather. I rode in rain and wind. I spent hours on the trainer. I suffered through heat. I followed my workouts doing intervals and long rides. The state race came and I almost got it. My plan was sound, my own execution error is what's to blame. I was extremely disappointed. And trust me when I say I don't handle disappointment well.

I'm a professional developer, and I work extensively with adult learners, so I know and believe what Art Costa says about adults learning best through reflection. I love Jack Mezirow's (Columbia University) quote "A defining condition of being a human being is that we have to understand the meaning of our experience." Since April, I've been using my Monday morning runs and my blogs as my means of reflection. I critique my racing--fitness, strategy, and execution--and use the insights to help me get better, stronger, faster. Steve Austin watch out! I ran this past Monday morning and reflected. I pinpointed my strengths and weaknesses from the two races, but I still didn't feel much better about it. I didn't reach my goal. There was, is nothing I can do about it but try again next year. It wasn't until this morning that my thoughts changed.

One of the things that has been significantly different for me and my training over the past nine months is that I frequently ride with a group. My Saturday custom, when we don't have a race, has become for the women racers to head together. The Hub ride is the normal choice and we ebb and flow with our numbers. We ride, try to hold on with the boys through at least Geyer, and then settle in and spin together. We have breakfast, we ride more. It's a lot of fun. I have spent endless hours with Steph, Kate and Alice on these trips and never come away in a bad mood. I have a weeknight tradition as well--I spend an evening spinning and playing with my favorite tris. (That one is really amazing because I typically lament about multi-sporters poor handling skills!)

As I clicked in this morning, I realized that the fun of this bike season has been my journey: my hours with my friends, the epic, silly situations we create, the strange things we see and odd conversations we have. I missed my goal but I have gained so much more. You see, these three women, along with a whole lot more, have become my friends. They're my teammates on a different team. They're a big reason for my addiction to the bike. I've gotten so caught up in pursuit and achievement that I didn't truly appreciate the race I was winning all along.

I've set a new goal for myself. This one will be a truly long range achievement. My new goal is to enjoy my journey. I want to take time to notice how wonderful the short term strategies are and not miss out on the happiness they bring me.

The Aftermath

I hurt. I don’t like hurting. I can’t run, ride, move or breathe without being reminded of my crash. Showers are uncomfortable. Taking off a sports bra brings tears to my eyes. I cringe when my kids are on my right side because I’m afraid they’re going to bump the wrong area. I haven’t slept well in days because moving or rolling over wake me up because I jostle a sore spot.

I’ve tried to be proactive about my injuries. I diligently iced my hip 15 on/15 off during my drive home from Springfield. I stopped every hour and stretched as well. I spent more money than I won on good first aid supplies to protect my road rash. I’ve seen the world’s most wonderful chiropractor twice for adjustments, ART, kinesiotaping and muscle stimulation, but I still hurt.

I feel like a guy. I don’t like being injured and I don’t take it well. I don’t lay on the couch and whine, but I can’t sit on the sidelines either. And then I get crabby because I hurt or can’t perform as well as I think I should. My friends and family outside of the racing community don’t get it. They just tell me to rest. They don’t understand that my last seven months have been building for the two races coming up this weekend. I’m not going to be 100% for them. The best I can hope for is 80%. Is my 80% going to be enough to take against everyone else’s best form? I will be a Cat 3 racer next year, I will race hard, but I know my chances of taking a state race will be slim. This is my last best chance for a jersey.

I did power sprints this morning. The deep breaths weren’t as painful as I expected, but getting out of the saddle made me wince every time. I know the girls against whom I am competing, and as much as they care about me, they won’t take it easy on me and they shouldn’t. How will I react to the attacks? Can I stay on? Can I give the sprint I’ll need to give at the end? I don’t know if I can even support my weight in the aero position for the tt .

I believe there are a reason and a purpose for everything. I am trying to maintain a good perspective on this. I now know how I will react if I go down; I’ll get back up and race. I know my injuries could have been worse—the girl who hit me/ran over me has a broken wrist. I know this weekend I will give my all to my races and I will learn something about myself and my skills. I always do. And I know that even if I was healthy, I would be going up against tough competition and anything could happen.

Race Report: Centaur TT

I got out to the Chesterifeld bottoms and got my number and chip. I went back to the car to pin on and get the bike ready and guess I spent a little too much time kitbitzing because all of a sudden it was 25 minutes to my race time. I headed out for a warm up and made sure I got my heart rate a bit agitated before heading to the line. There was a ghost rider in front of me, so I chatted with Aero. I really think he would have talked me up past my start time if I hadn't asked about a holder. It was like a light came on and he realized I had to race. I rolled up to the actual line and the holder grabbed me with 30 seconds to go. I clipped in and back pedaled to get a good start position and my chain dropped. I stayed calm, hopped off and got it back on. 10 seconds to go. I couldn't get my left foot back in my pedal. Come on, come on, come on. Buddy started counting me down from 10. I got the go sign and took off. I fumbled, fumbled, fumbled to get in my pedal. I rolled off the start mat and tried to take off without being clicked in. Finally I felt it lock. I imagine my mistake cost me about 8-10 seconds, though it felt so much longer. I stood up and gave it all I could. I got my speed up and dropped in to my bars. My heart rate was over 170 at that point. With some self-talk and controlled breathing, I got it down to about 168. I felt comfortable in my gear and got settled in on the bike.

I rolled down the straight away and into the trees. The railroad tracks would be coming up soon. I knew from last year that the railroad tracks should be covered. I hit them doing about 22mph and heard a clunk and hit something. There went my water bottle. The mat wasn't as plush as last year. I kept going, debating if I should tell a volunteer, but didn't know how to yell it out for them to understand me in such a quick pass. I made the short turn/jog in the road and prepared for the small risers. The course appears to be flat, but in actuality, it climbs oh-so-gradually. I concentrated on my cadence and focused on breathing through the lactic build up. When I started seeing the racers who started in front of me coming back, it gave me a mental boost.

I got passed about 14 minutes into the race, just before the 500 meters to turn sign. I made the turn easily, stood up, added gear and took off. It was nice to have the gradual downhill and tailwind. At some point I was rolling between 27 and 28 mph. I was about 8 miles in when a dump truck turned in front of me. There was a recreational rider in front of him and I assume the narrow roads made him too skiddish to pass her. I knew I was closing in on him and would have to cross the yellow line to pass. As I got up on him, I made sure it was clear and turned it on as fast as I could to get by. I used that momentum to keep myself going. I went around the jog in the road and headed to the tracks. Yep, my bottle was still there in the middle of the road. (This is the 4th race this year where I've dropped a bottle out of the cage...first time on the tt bike). After the tracks, I added gear. I felt good and wanted to finish strong. At the 1000, 500, and 250 meter mark, I added gear. My finish was strong, although I'm not quite sure which line was the finish.

I had hoped to break 30 minutes on this race, but realized after seeing everyone else's time that may have been an unrealistic goal. Overall, I'm pleased with the results, the improvement and the recovery from the fumbled start. I was over two minutes quicker than last year and six places higher.

Photos are at: http://www.timlaytonphotography.com/wwcentaurtt #5, #23, #29, #41, #116(the ones with my skinsuit unzipped are when I was retrieving the wayward bottle!)

All the Things I Missed

When I started as a school principal, a colleague of mine told me that the first she was completely overwhelmed. It was all she could do to keep her head above water and survive. Since she was in her third year as principal in that building, I asked her if it got any better. Her response was that the second year, you realize all those little things that you missed the first year.

That's a lot like bike racing to me. Last year, in most of my race, it was all I could do to survive. If I finished with the pack, it was by the sheer will, adrenaline and the grace of a higher power. This year it's as if a veil has been lifted. I see things I know I surely missed last year. I see tells of what racers are planning on doing. I notice when we work together as a pack or fight like a group of spoiled sorority girls. I hear gears being added and feel when someone is on my wheel.

I feel like a better racer this year. I know much of that has to do with increased off season training and fitness, but much of it has to do with being smart. Fitness is important, but being a smart racer is crucial. That being said, I'm close enough to last year to be humble as well. I know what it's like to barely make it through a race and I know the time is coming when I cat up and struggle all the more.

Racing is a never ending journey and not a smooth continuum. For every gain, I know pitfalls await. For each lesson learned, there are five more to come. I welcome the learning and the journey. I welcome the successes and failures along the way. Nothing in life is as simple as it seems. We might just ride around in circles, but there is an intricacy, a dance if you will, that is impromptu, just carefully choreographed. Just when you think you know it, a new step is added.

My years as a principal were filled with joy and heartache, success and failure, pride and shame. Each of those moments more important and valuable as the last. I'm sure my years of bike racing will be the same.