The final day of the Gila featured a reverse route of Stage 2. It was 73 miles of a few rollers, followed by a final decisive climb, fast descent and a final gentle uphill to the finish in Pinos Altos. The major climb near the end decided the entire stage, either you had your climbing legs or you didn't. Nate and I decided the best strategy was to sit in all day, eating and drinking and hope that we had the juice for the final uphill showdown.
One thing you must absolutely do at all times during a stage race is to be eating or drinking. It's so easy to create a calorie deficit throughout multiple days of racing that you really need to keep on top of your food intake to maximize your daily recovery. But day after day of the same flavor of bars, gels and salty Gatorade, I grew pretty tired of the stuff. I'm sure some variety would have helped, yet you don't have a choice but to eat portable food. Eventually it all starts to taste like sawdust in your mouth. Nate had bought some Little Debbie Zebra Cakes for the trip, and for the final stage I had Allie hand me a pack of them at the feed zone. I sucked down both cakes in one bite and it was pure sugary bliss. If they weren't prone to melting in my jersey pockets, I would probably switch my race nutrition to 100% Little Debbie product. Furthermore, if they weren't prone to making me fat, I'd probably switch my entire diet to Little Debbie product.
After sitting comfortably all day in the pack we approached the final climb and the race exploded. I went straight into the red zone and just couldn't hang on with the leaders. I was riding at maximum, and half the peleton rode away from me. Nate passed me along the way up the climb, and gave his obligatory words of encouragement and all I could do was grunt in response. The brief interaction of Nate passing me on a decisive climb with encouraging speak, followed by my mumbled and labored response seems to have happened in almost every race this season. It's like some twisted planned joke every race, and I can always feel it coming when I get popped on climb.
With 10 miles left to go in the race, I went into survival mode to try and preserve some sort of placing. I was able to keep the pack within my sights the entire climb, but I knew as soon as they hit the downhill I would never be able to catch up. As I dug deeper and deeper I started to feel better. By the time I crested the climb I was flying, albeit solo, but I kept turning a huge gear. Finally I started passing other dropped riders and I somehow thought in the back of mind that I could catch the pack, so I charged even harder.
Everyday Nate and I would write down the top 15 GC numbers on a small piece of paper and tape it to our top tube. The top 15 GC didn't really matter to me, but it was crucial to keep track of these riders to preserve Nate's placing. About 5 miles from the finish I caught a rider and noticed on my top tube that he was ahead of Nate on the GC. This rider sat on my wheel as I passed him hoping I would pull him to the line. Since I wanted this guy to lose as much time as possible with the idea that Nate could move farther up the GC, I started to attack him so he couldn't benefit from my draft. I did this several times and after every attack he would slowly crawl back to my wheel. Finally he pleaded out to me, "What are you doing!? Stop attacking me!" All in the most pathetic begging tone. At this point, 2 miles from the finish, I was pissed about my placing but still riding strong. I then got even more pissed that such a petty douche was ahead of me on the GC. His remarks tipped the pissed off meter into all-out-anger and I turned back at him to yell, "Stop crying you whiny little bitch, I'm gonna do it again!" And with that I fired another bullet into my pedals, shot up the road and didn't see him the rest of the race.
I finished in 32th place, 4 minutes down on the winner. I wasn't even tired at the finish, just angry.
And with that the Tour of the Gila was over, 43rd overall, but I walked away with a stage win. At the end I still felt fresh and strong, like I could keep racing day after day. Hopefully that is sign of proper training, and that I may have not yet hit my peak in New Mexico.
On the 21 hour drive home we vowed to eat nothing but fast food, and managed pretty well with a stop at Sonic, In-and-Out and Quiznos. Next major stop is the Mt. Hood Cycling Classic on May 15th, a 4 day stage race feature nothing but hills and mountains.
Article was last edited on Wednesday, August 6th, 2008 @ 2:07 PM
