Benton Park Classic

Monday's Gateway Cup Races featured a new venue: Benton Park. T had suggested the neighborhood to Mike and was right--it was outstanding. There were ten corners in the 1.7 miles course, including a chicane. We crossed I-55 twice and an almost perfect 200M finishing straight.

The women and men were once again split. I watched the men's race from the trainer and was surprised to see how strung out the field became. This should have given me an idea of what was to come.

We went 23 deep to the line today. Most of the girls had been in the three previous races, so were racing on legs as tired as mine. The first lap started fast. By the time we hit turn three, I felt like I was struggling to keep up. A good showing in this race was important to me; my brother was there, his first race this season. Lap 2 I was still struggling. Where were my legs? How did these girls all have it and I didn't? Lap 3 brought a prime. As we headed to the line, I was nowhere near in it, and it was gapping me. I was off the back. Holy Campagnolo! How did this happen? And why today?

I hit Corner 4 and Klucker was giving me gap times. I realized T was off as well. Hannah (Team Pegasus) was in front of me, but off the back too. T and I got together and took turns. Mike yelled to us to work together. We did. We caught up to Hannah. Soli joined us as well. Within a lap, of jumping on us, Soli took off. At that point, I was ready to let her go. I wasn't ready to go after her. T, Hannah, and I our turns. We eventually chased Soli down and she got on the group. It felt like we were falling further and further behind and the gap was growing. Klucker's time announced verified that. We were up to 20 seconds off.

We went around and got the three to go card. Hannah was pulling. I was reflecting. I had three choices, and not a lot of time to decide. I could stay where I was and work with these girls for the next three laps and hope they didn't out sprint me. I could go off on a flyer, and possibly blow up--I would end up back here. I could go off on a flyer, and try to get on the pack. To me, at that moment, worst case scenario was where I was. I knew after turn 4, the course got a bit technical: lots of turns in quick succesion. The pack would have to slow, a single rider would not. That was the time to go. I looked ahead and there was a girl off the back. She would be my first target.

We passed Klucker and he yelled five seconds. Ok, here we go. I jump, say to Hannah, come with me, let's shut this thing down. I took off. About 15 seconds in I began to question my logic. This freakin' hurt. My quick, little ti princess took the corners like she was on rails. (Why did I ever think about wanting a Scott?) I was close enough to tell the girl had Dumas on the back of her shorts. Turn 10 and I was on her wheel. I yelled to her I had her wheel and needed 30 seconds to recover and would take a pull. We were under the start finish when I moved around she and the moto and jumped onto the pack. I couldn't believe what I had just done. I couldn't believe how much that hurt. Two to go and I had to stay on now. I got myself mid pack and sat in. I saw Klucker's smile as we went by. I also realized Jeffrey had left already. He didn't get to see my push.

With one to go, I knew I could hang on. We weaved through the course and turned onto the finish. The sprint went early and I tried to go with it. By 150M, I was done. I sat down and pedal to the line, getting passed by two or three girls who still had something to give. It was a 10th place finish for me, but a victory in assessment. decision-making and determination.

My "bridge face." It hurt as much as it looks like it does. "Photo credit: Mike Dawson

Giro della Montagna: The Hill

The confusion from Saturday's race led to something good. On Sunday, the 3/4 Women and 4/5 Men got split. We each had our own race. Knowing that, I got to the course early so I would have time to ride it before the men raced. This course was again a basic four corner crit, more of a long rectangle this time. The trick to this course was that the roads were narrow, corners tight, and manhole covers a plenty. The backside of the course had a long uphill with a headwind, and the front side was a downhill to the finish.

I had to do most of my warm up on the trainer because the men were on the course. We rolled to the line 27 deep, another wonderful sized women's field. The whistle blew and we were off. I immediately saw why everyone warned me about the corners in this course. A wrong move here could easily have you meeting the pavement. We went out hot, but slowed down on the backside. And so it went for most of the race. At some point, Amelia from xXx attacked and Aubree went after her. I went after Aubree. There were lots of surges, and I frequently had to work to stay on after turn two. I spent a good deal of the race anaerobic. At some point there was a prime, I stayed with the group, but knew I had no business even attempting it.

During the later half of the race in turn three someone rubbed my back wheel sending me over towards the Hannah, the Pegasus girl. We rubbed arms and I quickly apologized. We started counting down laps and I was happy. This course was taking a toll on me. I was working to get set up, because I knew I would be at a disadvantage on a downhill finish. Around turn one I heard it and saw it all at once. The Fusion girl slid out, taking Amelia with her. I was on Amelia's wheel. I quickly got around her and stood up to get back to the group. We took turn two and at the small flat in the middle of the backside, I moved into position. I wanted to go at the intersection before turn 3. We got there and I was stuck. I was second wheel, but they were spread five wide across the road. There was no getting through. I eased up going through turn three and four and lost position. We hit the downhill and I prayed I could make up my losses. The ladies in front sped away from me; I was around 12th position at this point. I was not ready to quit though. I added gear until I ran out. We hit the bottom of the hill and I stood and went. One by one, I passed girls, not easing until I crossed the line. Sixth place! I'd take it.

The Moral of the Story: When You Hear a Bell--Sprint!

It was actually a little chilly when I got to the course this morning. The breeze made me wonder if I should have had arm warmers for the warmup. The course was a basic four corner crit, slight uphill off the start/finish, flat short end, downhill on the long back side, and short end. The wind was a head on the short end.

We lined up about 28 deep, many of the women were the same as last night. We were again on the course with the 4/5 men. The men went off and we got our whistle. I could not get clipped in. I was gapped off the line. It took me about 30 seconds to get in my pedals and then I had to work to get back to the field. I had a wheel by the time we hit turn one and was moving up to a good position after turn two. It took me about three laps until I felt settled in the race. A few laps later, a xXx girl went off the front. I have to admit, we all were knitting and watched her go. By the time, we tried to organize, she had 20 seconds on us. Aubree tried to get us organized, but no one wanted to take turns at the front. Finally when she was up to about 25 seconds, Aubree went off the front. I knew if she got away, she'd hunt the girl down and we'd be fighting for third. I think I said aloud, "Eff this, come with me if you can." I pulled the field up to Aubree, but eventually girl's lead grew, and we never got her.

Somewhere around 25 minutes in, we got a bell for a prime. I always love a prime, but I also wanted to play it smart. I moved into a good position and waited. We rounded turn four and I was sitting about fourth wheel. The sprint went and so did I. There was one other girl in front of me and I just kept adding gear until I put daylight in between us. It was mine. I sat up because I knew I didn't have it to stay out there alone, the wind would have worn me down. The field caught me after turn one. We did another lap or two and the moto neutralized us for the men to pass. As that was organizing, one of our local racers did something and her skewer was in my front wheel. I held on and told her to watch her line--her reply was that it wasn't her fault.

After we got passed, it wasn't long until we got the five to go on the cards. Lots of movement for position, but nothing crazy. We came around on what should have been two to go. I was sitting mid-pack I watched as half the pack went through, the lap card changed to one and the bell was rung. I was confused. Was there a guy off the front that mixed in with us? What lap were we on? I asked out loud, but no one responded. We got to the backside of the course, and Aubree took off. The chase was on. We hit turn four, and I didn't know if we were chasing or sprinting. I was not in place for a sprint. We went under and the lap card still read 1 to go so we kept racing.

Around again and it got even hotter after turn 3. We were onto the finishing straight and this was definitely a sprint. I turned it up and went hard. I came across the line 6th, so I thought.

We did a cool down lap and Carrie said we needed to talk to the officials because they didn't score our last lap, they scored the one before. We went en masse to the chief official. He ranted about his decision being final and that the bell was the ultimate authority. He stormed away when we asked for the rule book. Aero, the chief judge, came out and told us he thought we were the men and so he changed the card. The "first" finish would be the official one. That meant, instead of 6th, I finished 20th. I didn't think about it when we protested, but in essence it means he pulled the entire field because we all finished before the woman who won the race. I still don't agree with decision, but I have to give Aero props for owning up to what happened and listening to our concerns and reacting kindly and professionally.

I learned some lessons in this race. First, when I hear a bell, sprint. Second, on the lap that was scored, I shouldn't have been sitting so far back. I should never be in that position in a race. This year has been about positioning and sprinting for me, this race, I didn't adhere to what I learned.

Tour de Lafayette

Nothing could have prepared me for the race that was the Tour de Lafayette. I've raced some pretty large races this year, fields of 50+ women, but never have I raced in front of such an awesome crowd.

Cat 3/4 women went to line with Men's 4/5. I've raced with juniors on the course, but this was a whole different ballgame. The men were at least 50 deep, and we brought 28 to the line. As I lined up, I heard a disembodied "mommy, mommy." Peeking out from under the banner was my boo. Nothing makes me feel better than having my kids at a race. They are the ultimate fans!

I was about three deep on the line and Steph looked back at me and said there's a spot here. That's all I needed to hear. "Excuse me, pardon me. Bike racer coming through. Must be in the front row!" Being that aggressive is something new for me. I have often felt like I didn't belong up there. Tonight I knew I did.

Lafayette Square is a basic four corner course. There is a slight downhill after turn one. A long slow uphill on the back and a slight uphill after turn three. The finishing straight is flat and fast. We got a whistle and were off. Around turn one and the headwind hits. Positioning would be everything for this race in that staying out of that wind was necessary.

My shadow for the weekend on my wheel...
Sky gave me the best compliment ever in telling me I had a great wheel to follow.

We had a few attacks and surges early on. There were some crazy wheels a few times, but nothing too dangerous. We got a prime bell fairly early. To go or not to go is always my question. For me the goal of the weekend was to hold onto, and possibly gain more points in the MOBAR lead. Finish place was more important than cash. I was ready to sprint to stay on, but not wanting to blow up. I held my place in the lap.

Most of the race was unremarkable. I went out and helped chase down one attack. We were lapped by the men's field twice. I was actually happy when this happened. It gave us about a minute of recovery in what was a very quick field.

All of a sudden we were counting down laps. This, for me, is always where the fun begins. Let's play cat and mouse. Let's move and get a good position. Grab a wheel and hold tight! This is also where I noticed the crowd. It had grown and grown and grown. Each time we passed through the start/finish, the cheers were deafening. Finally the sweet, sweet bell rang. It's all or nothing on the last lap. I worked my way to the front of the group and looked to hold onto Jamie or Aubree. They would definitely be the ones to beat tonight, and all weekend. We rounded the last corner and I hit what I knew was the sweet spot for my sprint. Up and out and turn 'em over. I saw my mark for the weekend, and I overtook her. In my mind it was by inches, the photos show a full bike length. Those power sprints I've been doing paid off. I took fourth with a huge smile!

Boo's Big Day

You always know this day will come--the first day of kindergarten. It's a rite of passage for all of us, starting school. I still remember my first day. At that time, we only had half day kindergarten and our orientation was the first day of school, so my mom was there the whole time. I did fine without her on day two and the rest of the year, but I was "that kid" that generally liked school--heck well enough that I haven't really left it. But the first day of school as a mom, that's something different.

If you know me well, it shouldn't surprise you that as soon as I got the supply list, it went in my purse with a highlighter. As things went on sale at Target, I picked up what he needed. I felt a little guilt that I didn't make the big deal of taking my boy to get his supplies, but the practical side of me usually overtakes the sentimental side. Boo is so used to me being that way he honestly thinks he picked out his own backpack and told his dad he got yellow because they were all out of orange.

Monday night was Orientation. Sissies weren't allowed so Sam and I packed him up and headed to the school. We got there and I had forgotten the backpack so home we went and back again. There were no cars in the parking lot when we left. It was almost full in the 10 minutes our side trip took! We walk into the newly renovated gym and took a seat near the front. (yes, I was that kid.) As we walked through Boo saw lots of friends and I saw lots of former classmates. Memories flooded back because this was the building I was in for first through eighth grade. It's definitely a lot nicer now! It was interesting to watch another principal in action. I've had to do the same schtick for sixth grade parents and it was fascinating that it's much the same for the little ones. The mass meeting was done and it was time to go to the classroom. Just like a good kindergarten teacher should, the room was decorated, labeled and organized. And Boo's desk is front and center...did someone warn her about my clown? Klucker put away the supplies while I made the rounds signing up for conferences, room parties, and email lists. (I'm avoiding PTA right now, although I feel guilt for that as well.) We chatted with parents of other kids from pre-school and headed home.

Wednesday came quickly. The plan was for Klucker to take Bell to school and I would drive Boo. He had a half day so I would pick both of them up from the pre-school when he got off the bus. (Another tinge of Mommy-guilt was there when I saw other parents listing that Mom or Dad would be picking up daily....is it bad my kindergartner is a bus rider?) Sissie wasn't happy with the whole situation. She hadn't slept well the night before and now was in a tizzy over it all. Things were calm once they were out of the house.

7:45AM--time to go. We grabbed the backpack and headed outside. I had to take the requisite photos in front of the house. Into the car and to the school we went. There were already lots of parents and kids there. Time for more photos and we began the walk to the door. One more shot by the school sign before going inside the building. Boo remembered where his room was and we walked outside. Mrs. S gave directions on what they should do if they were early. He sat in the hall and I stood across taking photos. Finally time to go in the room. I hesitated. Should I go with him? Should I just wave? I went in the room and helped him unpack. He put his backpack in his locker (little shorty has to have it moved because he can barely open the ones on the top row!). He came back and I took a few more pics. Mrs. S told the kids they could open their Playdoh while they waited for the bell. I took the seal off the can and that's when it began--the hot burning sensation just below my eyes. The tears were forming. I was going to leave my boy there, in a big kid school. I know what goes on in schools, I see it all the time. Today I was beginning to lose a part of him. Eventually I will no longer be the most important person in his life and this is when that process starts.

I hadn't expected these feelings. Where was this coming from? I knew I needed to get out of there before he saw my tears. It would upset my sensitive one and ruin his day. I quickly hugged him and told him to have a good day and started out the door. "Mommy, can you open the lid? I can't get it." Damn it, I didn't know how long I could hold it back. I popped off the lid and took another hug and kiss. "Mommy loves you. Have a great day." And out I scurried, quickly down the hall, avoiding eye contact. I was on the sidewalk and to the car. Once inside I let go. The tears rolled. I got them stopped by the time I got home. I seriously wondered if I should call or email to check on him and then realized how ridiculous I was.

I kept myself busy through the morning, handling details of my Tuesday evening bike mishap. I headed to pre-school to pick up Sis and wait for the bus. Those 2o minutes took forever, and it didn't help that we saw three other busses pass by. Finally, around the corner it came. I had to laugh when the door open. Boo had been telling me Ms. A (a part time teacher at the preschool)was going to drive him to and from school. I kept telling him he was mistaken, she would probably be putting him on and getting him off the bus. The doors opened and there was Ms. A, she's also a bus driver. The kids poured off. Where was he? Certainly he didn't get on the wrong bus? I was getting a little anxious. No, the little snot, just like his dad, sat in the back of the bus. I barely had time to snap a picture as he jumped out and ran towards us.

We had a special McD's lunch to celebrate. He was full of conversation, but short on details. I knew he had a great day, didn't lose recess time, and saw his cousin in the hall. By the end of the evening, we learned that Olivia got a time out, he went to PE, and colored. I'm sure we'll eventually get other pieces.

Today was the first full day, he rode the bus and all. I'm anxious to get home and see how this went as well. I want him to love school. I want things to be easy for him. I want this transition to get easier for me as well. While I'm excited for him to grow up, I'm scared of him pulling away. There are so many variables out there I can't control for him and now that he's starting school, they will grow exponentially. I guess that's the heartache of being a parent. At sometime you have to let go and trust they are prepared. I'll get there.

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.

Gaining Perspective

I've trained hard this season. My focus in life has been family and racing. I get up early on weekend mornings and spend long hours in the saddle. I've raced in rain and blistering heat. I watch what I eat and drink so that I can perform well. I schedule social events around my racing and workout schedule. None of this is because anyone is making me. I don't want people to admire me because of my passion for my sport. It's the lifestyle I have chosen because I love to race my bike.

Last season was a challenge. I didn't see a lot of success in racing in terms of results. I learned from my races, my mistakes, and I grew as bike racer. I hated crit and road racing. I struggled through them because I wanted to get better at them. I loved time trialing because it was me against a clock and I didn't have to worry about anyone else. Still, my results were weak. I decided to take up cyclocross so that I could maintain fitness over the winter. I didn't want to lose the physical gains I had made. Something changed during the fall. While cx races are similar to crits, they're very different as well. I fell in love with cyclocross. My results in cx were no better than my results in crits, but I was having fun. I looked forward to Sunday at noon. I had withdrawals when the season ended in December. It propelled me enough to keep riding, it kept me going in 12 degree weather. I trained through the cold. I was ready for Froze Toes. I actually made the break on that race. The first crit of the season arrived and something was very different. I was competitive and I was having fun. All season I've built on my successes. I still don't like road races, but have grown to love the fast-paced tempo of the crit.

I've planned this season with the end in mind. I had two goals: win the mobra competition and take home a state jersey. I didn't care which of the three state jerseys I took, I would be happy with any of them. The state road race was first, and I bonked terribly. That was okay because there was still two to go. Then I crashed last week. I have put pressure on myself to rehab and recover from it so that I could be my best. I skipped no workout and took more acetomeniphin and ibuprofen than I have in the past year. I raced the time trial yesterday and did the best I could. I knew going into the race I hadn't focused on training for time trialing, so my goal was to be strong. I was. But I didn't win.

It all came down to today. I felt great this morning, nervous, but great. I got to the course, registered, dropped off my wheels and got ready. I got a great warm up and pulled to the line. There were only four of us: Britta, Kate, Nicole and me. Instructions, whistle, go. Kate and I sat on the front for about half a lap and Britta pushed passed. She wanted to work, fine with me. She pulled three laps before she sat up. I moved in line and took a lap. Kate took her turn. Somewhere Nicole fell off. And that's how it went. We took our turns, did our work and went round and round. Six to go, five, four, three, two and I took my pull. We came around the last turn on the course and I sat up to let Kate take her pull. I moved in behind Britta. We went past the start finish, around turn one and into turn two and Kate took off. I stayed on Britta's wheel and she reacted well to Kate. She was back on Kate's wheel by the bottom of the hill. The pace stayed high as we climbed and did the small descent before the steep climb. On the climb, Britta went around Kate. I stayed on her wheel. I was going to let her lead me out. We zigged through the parking lot portion and made the final turn. I went close on the inside. Scraped, slide, fear. My pedal hit the curb. My back tire fishtailed. I held onto the bike and recovered. I went wide and came close to the curb on the other side but straightened out. Britta was riding away with it. I was up and working. Spin and gear, spin and gear. I was gaining. Spin and gear. I was driving that bike as hard as I could. I was on her wheel. Up to her pedal. There's her fork. There's the finish. I didn't make it.

I dropped my head in disbelief. All of this for second; no jersey. My spirit dropped. I congratulated Britta and Kate for good racing. I smiled as I talked to teammates who told me I raced well. But it wasn't what I wanted. I text and emailed the people who needed to know my result and headed up for a medal. I pushed Kate to check about the jersey from yesterday and she won it. I'm so happy for her because she'd focused on the tt all season and her work paid off. I'm glad she and I rode to the race together, because it would have been a long two hour drive home alone in the mood I was in. I put my bag down when I got home and pouted. Klucker tried to boost me. He and Steph had already reminded me that I have a strong, solid lead in Mobra and that's more impressive than one race. Yeah, whatever. I was still down. I wanted the win. I wanted the jersey. (Maybe I should have listened better to that "Thou shall not covet" message in Sunday school.)

I finally went to shower and put my wet clothes away. As I was cleaning out my bag, I grabbed my medal to show the kids. They love any bling I bring home and are always happy for me. Then I went to hang my medal on the mirror where I keep them. Wow, so that's what I've done this season. And oh my, those are all from this season. Ok, so today didn't end how I would have liked. I wanted the jersey. I may never win one, I realize this. For me, this seemed like my best chance. What I did do today, was race well. I held a wheel and worked how I wanted to work. I positioned myself where I wanted to be. I answered the attacked. I held through a skid and recovered. I sprinted like I stole the bike. I will be ok. I will race Gateway Cup and finish my season strong. And, barring something unforeseen, I will win Mobra. It's a good perspective to have.