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2008 Vacaville Gran Prix Race Report

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 20:20:20 -0700

The twisty course at Vacaville suits my bike handling skills, and the overpass-type hill compliments my skinny ass. I snatched 3rd place at Vacaville in 2007, even after crashing with three laps to go. My true competition in the race this year wouldn't be other riders, but the oppressive heat.

"A man from hell is not afraid of hot ashes." - Dorthy Gilman.

Unfortunately I am from Minnesota.

It was 95 degrees in the shade at 2pm when we toed to the start line. The heat wafted up from the pavement and beamed down from the cloudless sky. The pace wasn't killing me, but the temperature was. 30 minutes into the race I had already gone through both of my water bottles, and there was still about an hour left to go.

With my tongue hanging out of my parched mouth, I started to panic. I paced my efforts by following wheels, doing anything to keep my heartrate down and my body from overheating. The race felt easy on my legs, but my body was starting to shut down from the warm air. With 5 laps to go, I started to get dizzy and my need for water overcame my desire to race. I dropped out of the pack and started asking spectators for some fluids. I spent the rest of the race sitting under a tree next to a drinking fountain, wallowing in a shame spiral.

A big ole' DNF stamp on my forehead was the reward for the day. The winner of the race soloed the last few laps to take the District Championships Jersey. After crossing the finish line he burst into flames, grew huge black horns and pulled out a pitchfork – revealing his secret to tolerating the heat.

2008 Leesville Gap Race Report

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 02:02:01 -0700

I won Leesville Gap in 2007 by out-sprinting the other 9 riders from an all-day breakaway. That was in the Cat 4s, a win in the Pro 1/2 field would be much harder. Much much harder, mo-muchly, the muchliest.

Nate and I drove down the night before with the plan to sleep on the lawn outside Williams High School (where registration would happen the following morning). Our blissful ignorance led us to forget it was the evening of the 4th of July. Strike one, loud fireworks all night long. Fortunately it was relatively quiet on the High School soccer field, so we laid out our sleeping bags to catch some sleep. Within seconds of lying down, we were swarmed by mosquitoes. Strike two, an unbearable amount of bug bites. Not all hope was lost, as zipping ourselves completely inside our bags prevented harassment from the buzzing pests. Strike three, sweating to death inside sleeping bags because it was 80 degrees outside.

At 1am and dozens of bites later, we ran off the field and got a motel room.

The Leesville Gap course is a little over 60 miles in length and features the worst pavement of any race in Northern California. About half the race is on broken asphalt and loose gravel. The quality of the road surface is what makes this race difficult. 60 miles feels like 80 because you have to pour so much energy into your bike to maintain traction and a smooth power output. The worst parts of the roads are in the first 30 miles, leaving you utterly destroyed for the later-half of the race. The Copperopolis road race in March is called the "Paris Roubaix" of Nor-Cal - Leesville Gap is far more deserving of that title.

The attacks started right away with teams from McGuire, Cal-Giant and Webcor all trying to shake out a breakaway. I just stayed near the front as I knew the real fireworks would happen along the busted pavement before the big climb, with the final selection occurring on the big climb (3 miles, 1500' gain) itself. If you don't make the cut in these decisive first 25 miles, the race is essentially over.

I got stuck behind a large split in the field about a mile before the climb. I shot out of the pack and chased hard to latch onto the front of the race just as the climb started. As I was chasing, I knew that I was probably burning the match that would help me ascend in good position. I was right, the lead group pulled away from me almost immediately and I spent the rest of the climb watching them drift farther and farther away. There is enough downhill and rolling flats following the climb, that a decent sized group can stay away for the remaining 35 miles. But I put my head down anyways and started chasing.

A few miles down the road a McGuire rider flew by me at 30 mph, he was truly hauling ass. I saw that as my opportunity to at least end my suffering on the course a little faster, so I jumped on his wheel. We exchanged pulls for the rest of the race, catching and passing quite a few riders. The McGuire rider did the majority of work, taking monster pulls in comparison to what I was able to output. I finished the day in 18th place - I probably would have died in the heat out there if not for the super-draft of the McGuire rider.

Photos are copyright Through My Eyes Photography.

2008 Nevada City Classic Race Report

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 20:05:48 -0700

It's probably obligatory to include the following quote when reporting on this race, "The Nevada City Classic is considered one of the most technically and physically challenging 1-day courses in America." While I have no idea who originally said that, I can personally attest to the truth of the statement. And to up the ante, add a bunch of top-tier domestic pros, 90 degree heat and thousands of spectators lining the route. While my knees weren't shaking as I rolled to the start line, they may as well have been.

I didn't plan on doing well at Nevada City. In preparation for the Cascade Classic stage race in July, I have been intentionally stacking long, hard hours in the saddle. This took all the pressure off my mind in terms of performance expectations. All I really wanted to do was finish.

Nate and I were warned to get to the start line as early as possible to secure a good position. The start/finish line is at the end of a long downhill, which takes a sharp 110 degree left turn directly into sharp climbing with 120 feet of elevation gain. Since the pace gets strung out from the first lap, it becomes very difficult to move up and close gaps if you start at the back. So of course by the time we show up the start, there are already 50 guys parked in front of us, and we get shuffled to the end of the line.

Right from the gun the pack was strung out, gaps were starting to open, and Nate and I were in panic mode to crawl to the front. My chain dropped several times while climbing in the first few laps, effectively nullifying any progress I had made moving up. By the 3rd or 4th lap, I had yo-yoed beyond the red-zone for too long and the pack rode away. So now I was off the back, with another 30 laps to go. Shortly thereafter I caught up to Nate who was in the same predicament and we proceeded to time trial for the next hour. My heart rate never dropped below 180, and I basically rode as hard as I possibly could for the duration of the race. In the final 30 minutes we had coagulated with a few other stragglers, but it was still essentially Nate and I taking all the pulls.

During our 90 minutes of losing, the field lapped us twice. Each time the lead motorcycle roared passed us, I assumed we would get pulled from the race – but they let us stay in. I remember wishing that something would happen; a crash, flat tire, broken spoke, etc – just to have an excuse to end the suffering. There were only a few things that kept me from jerking my wheel into a hay-bail and calling it quits. The announcer was yelling out our team name every time we rode past the finish line. The crowds were screaming out "Wild Cherries!" on every corner. Speckled around the course were several people I knew and they would shower us with encouragement every lap. And finally, I didn't want to abandon Nate, and I knew he wouldn't abandon me.

The final results put us in 29th and 30th overall, 7th and 8th in the Cat 2s. Although I think they screwed up some placings, as they omitted some riders who I know finished with us, and they placed some guys ahead of us – who I know were behind. According to the results, about 30% of the field dropped out, so I am fairly proud to say I finished.

Cat 2 Upgrade

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 22:34:03 -0700

Through a string of solid results, plus two wins I have begrudgingly upgraded back to Category 2. A few years ago I pursued a dream of racing my bike for money, as a professional if you will. Moving from the bleak beginnings of the snowy Midwest to the sunny shores of Californ'ayea armed with a Cat 2 license - I was determined to live the glamorous life of a pro bike stud. My eagerness and impatience led me to over-train myself into the ground, literally. After dropping out of my 4th consecutive race due my insane level of fatigue, I quit the sport entirely. Pissed and depressed, I then spent the next 6 weeks in bed recovering from my follies.

I didn't race again for over 2 years, and when I returned I asked for my Cat 4 license back. Now armed with the knowledge and hindsight of how-to-train-without-burnout, I have elevated my fitness higher than it has ever been. So back to Cat 2 I am, with the temptation of overachievement dangling as a tasty morsel once again. All aboard the over-train! Choo choo!

2008 Mt Hood Cycling Classic Race Report

Mon, 19 May 2008 22:00:00 -0700

The Gila was touted as a "pure climbers" race, with the entire race bible dedicated to accurately describing the difficulty of all the ascents. Meanwhile Mt Hood unassumingly snuck much steeper and longer climbing into every stage. Mt Hood was the true "climbers" race with the Gila being a fat-man's course in comparison. The ominous presence of a snow covered Mt Hood loomed over every stage of the race as a constant reminder of the painful parcours.

Mt Hood was my second stage race in the span of two weeks. Following the Gila, I wasn't sure if I would be dragging or flying on the pedals. I'd had enough rest between the races, but I had never tried to stretch my form over so many consecutive race weeks. To reduce the number of racing categories, the organizers combined the Cat 2 and 3 fields. We were scored separately for each stage and the overall GC, but it still made for some really hard racing, as our peleton was powered by Cat 2s ready to make the jump to Cat 1/Pro. Right away Nate and I decided the best strategy was just to sit on wheels the entire race and ride the Cat 2 train to Cat 3 victory. Choo choo!

Stage 1, Cooper Spur Circuit Race. 61 miles, 8000 feet of climbing. Summit finish at Cooper Spur Resort.
The course profile was 9 miles up and 9 miles down. 9 miles of torture followed by 9 miles of relief. Repeat 3 times, with an extra 9 miles back up the climb to the finish. An evil person designed this course.

Right from the gun the pace was hard. We were doing 15-25mph up 10% grades, my heart rate was pegged just to hang on. By the end of the first lap our field was split in half, with each subsequent lap reducing it by another 50%. Each time we started our 9 mile ascent I thought I was going to get dropped, yet my legs kept coming back for more. By the time we started our final ascent into Cooper Spur, there were less than 30 left in the field, and I knew I would shake-out a top placing on the GC. With 3k to go I was popped from the group, and finished 58 seconds down in 13th place. Nate passed me on the climb (of course) to finish an amazing 3rd overall.

Stage 2, Columbia Gorge ITT. 18 miles, 2000 feet of climbing.
Our time trial started at 2pm, in 95 degree heat. It was flat for the first 5 miles then nothing but climbing and descending for the final 13. I knew I wouldn't lose time or my placing on the GC, but I really wanted to move up in fear of the intense climbing of the following stage.

Within the first 5 miles I caught and passed my 30 second-man and then spent the rest of the race trying to catch my minute-man. I felt strong the entire TT, so when I saw the 5k to-go sign, I let myself drift so I could finish strong in the last 3k. Except the 3k to-go marker never came, nor did the 1k to-go. I saw the finish line banner at 400 meters, screamed out "FUCK!" and sprinted across the line. I probably lost at least 30 seconds letting my pace slide for the final 5km, as I finished with too much gas left in my tank. 16th in the TT and I moved up to12th overall. Nate finished 24th and moved down to 10th overall.

Stage 3, Wy'East Road Race. 72 miles, 8000 feet of climbing. Summit finish at Mt Hood Resort.
With temps once again reaching 95 degrees, the penultimate stage of the tour was an epic death march to the top of Mt Hood. From the gun we started climbing and I was immediately put into the pain cave, thinking I would get dropped at any moment. I continued to feel this way until the first feed zone where the pace finally slowed down, my legs recovered and I was able to move to the front of the pack to actually participate in the race (instead of just hanging on for dear life).

On the drive up to Hood River, Nate and I checked the last half of the course from our car. The final 50 miles were all uphill, with the last 8 being fairly steep and the closing 2 through the finish being super steep. So all day I knew what was coming at the end of the race; an all-out showdown the last 10 miles up to Mt Hood Resort.

And of course that is exactly what happened. As soon as we made the final right-hand turn onto Highway 35, some jackass attacked and the pack absolutely exploded. I was about 5 riders from the front when this happened after 1 mile of barley hanging on, my legs gave out and I got pooped out the back of the pack. Fortunately by this point the lead pack I got shot out of was only about 20 riders large, with the rest of the field scattered much further down the climb. So I put my head down, and slid as deep as I ever have into the pain cave for the rest of the race. All I had to do was limit my losses, as I just focused on keeping the lead riders within my sights.

At this point I realized I hadn't seen Nate for a long time. I assumed he was ahead of me in the lead group, but I had my doubts. Halfway up the climb a car passed me and I heard some guy inside mumble, "Hey there's another Cyclepaths rider!" Uh oh – either I was climbing better than I ever have before, or Nate is behind me having problems.

With 2 miles to go, from seemingly out of nowhere, Nate appeared next to me. He had flatted right before the decisive climb and had been chasing for last 15 miles, what a super stud. We were within striking distance of a group of 6 riders, including the yellow jersey so Nate started pouring on the speed up the final ascent. My efforts on the climb thus far had made me legally retarded, and all I could do was glare at his rear wheel and mash the pedals to stay with him. It probably took several years off the end of my life, but I managed to somehow hang with Nate as we caught and passed the 6 riders within the last kilometer. The last few hundred meters across the finish were sheer agony. I rode over the line and directly into a snow-bank, where I laid down in the cold dirt-laden snow for several minutes, recovering from my attempted suicide.

I came around Nate in the final 400 meters for 10th on the day, officially beating him for the first time in my life up a climb. Now I know the secret is to flat one of his tires. We moved up on the GC to 7th and 8th overall.

Stage 4, Downtown Hood River Crit. 50 minutes
When we first arrived in Hood River, we previewed this course by driving around it a few times. It featured a finish line atop a steep hill, followed by a twisty 120 degree turn downhill and another 4 corners climbing back up to the line. As soon as I saw the complexity of the course, I knew I could win this race. And like Babe Ruth pointing to distant spot on the outfield before his home runs, I called it spot on.

From the gun all I did was focus on staying in the top 10 of the field. Years of ski racing, video games and chasing Gregg Betonte down Donner Summit have given me the ability to handle my bike like an extra limb. Plus I have a death wish, with no regard to my or my fellow racers safety – so I do really well on scary courses like Downtown Hood River.

Every few laps there was a crash on the 120 degree turn, so the effort to stay at the front proved to be worth it. I kept clipping my pedals through the corkscrew downhill, and eventually the crowd caught on to my scary riding. Some guy started yelling at me each lap, "don't clip yer pedal!" With 10 laps to go and a smile on my face I knew for certain I had this race wrapped up. On the final lap sitting in 2nd position, there was a crash in one of the final turns. I scream "GO" to the rider in front and we took it all the way to line. I couldn't make it around him at the finish, but he was a Cat 2, and I was a Cat 3. So while I finished in 2nd place overall, I officially won the Cat 3 race.

Nate had crashed in one of the final laps and broke his frame, but still retained his 7th placing overall. I finished 8th overall, taking home a stage win and a huge purse of 80 American dollars. Enough winnings to almost pay for one tank of gas. To top off a great week of racing, my bike fell off the roof of our car on the way home and broke too. Bike racing is awesome, fucking punishingly, bitter-sweetly awesome.

2008 Berkeley Hills Race Report

Sun, 11 May 2008 22:00:00 -0700

Seven days post Gila and three days pre Mt Hood, the Berkeley Hills Road Race would serve as a fitness reassurance between major stage races. It was a looped circuit, 17 miles in length with roughly 1700 feet of climbing per lap. Each loop had two short-but-sweet climbs in succession, with the summit of the second climb representing the finishing line. The ascents were named Mama Bear and Papa Bear respectively. A few Baby Bears were scattered around the rest of the course, but didn't represent much of an effort in comparison to the parental climbs.

Nate and I drove down the night before to the gracious hospitality of Paul and Janet. With eggs and oatmeal in our gullet and an espresso made by Paul that just about knocked me on the floor, we were ready to race.

After the first time up the Bears, Nate and I both sensed we had great legs. However the pack was gruppo-compacto after the first round of climbing. So we decided the only way to dictate the outcome of this race was to drive it from the front. Entering the Bears on the second lap we surged to the front and started trading hard pulls. Hoping to start shelling riders we kept the pace at maximum all the way over Mama Bear, through Papa Bear and down the other side. It was a fireworks display of pure Cyclepaths/Wild Cherries power, with my GPS later denoting our ascent the fastest of the four laps. Nate declared it the "pain train" – all aboard choo choo! It was enough to break up the group, but then the negative racing began.

Shortly at the start of the third lap we either starting catching the Masters 35+ group, or they were catching us. Because of the mix of categories, the moto referee neutralized us for 5+ minutes and the entire peleton, dropped riders included, and came back together. This cycle of catching or being caught by other categories continued for the rest of the race. We would charge hard, drop riders, break up the group and then get neutralized at 15mph by the moto referee so it could all come back together. "Racing" became utterly pointless.

By the time we hit the final ascent of Papa Bear to the finish line, the whole fucking peleton was the same size as when we started the race. Fat guys included. This 75 mile race came down to one final uphill drag. It might as well of been a one-mile long race starting at the bottom of Papa Bear.

My legs were spent by the end, with my earlier efforts affecting my final kick. Nate passed me on the way up (of course) and we finished somewhere in the top 15, outside the points and outside the money.

2008 Tour of the Gila - Stage 5 Report

Sun, 04 May 2008 18:00:00 -0700

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.

2008 Tour of the Gila - Stage 4 Report

Sat, 03 May 2008 20:00:00 -0700

For as much as I train, eat and race as skinny climber – deep down inside I may bear the soul of a fat, angry crit sprinter. I know that when the shit-hits-the-fan, I can surprise other racers (myself included) with a blazing sprint. When I saw the layout of the Stage 4's Downtown criterium, I knew I could do well. It featured about 80 feet of climbing per lap with four 90 degree corners and a high speed downhill. Sitting at 48th on the GC, I had absolutely nothing to lose and was determined to go balls-to-the-wall all day.

So of course I woke up this morning feeling more tired than I have all week. I did not want to get out of bed today, my legs hurt, my stomach hurt and I was suddenly unmotivated to do anything. But I got up anyway, hoping I would feel better as the morning went on.

We arrived at the course in downtown Silver City with about an hour to warmup. After setting up our trainers and suiting up, Nate discovered that his bike wouldn't shift – at all. His derailleur was fixed in his 50x11, and the shifter was doing nothing but creating slack in the cable. We went into panic-mode as we frantically tried to fix his bike. We both needed to warmup, but getting Nate into the crit on a working bike to preserve his GC placing was more important.

It has taken me years of racing to be able do my entire pre-race preparation with complete calm and relaxation. The more stressful you make your pre-race warmup, including suiting up, filling water bottles, lubing chain, pumping tires etc – the more energy you will drain from your body prior to the race. I have a specific order in which I do everything from putting my shoes on, to oiling my legs, even always putting my helmet in a specific place near my trainer. So when something unexpectedly catastrophic happens, like a bike breaking – I go fucking insane.

After checking shifters, derailleur and cables we figured out that something in the derailleur was seized. We sprayed the entire body down with lube, wrenched on it a bunch of times and finally it started to move freely. After another cable adjustment it was shifting like new again. We now had about 20 minutes to warmup, normally I need about 40 before a hard crit. With Allie pinning our numbers we did our half-ass warmup and flew off to the course.

On lap 2 I tore off the front to chase down a $40 prime, and allowed another rider to out sprint me. I was afraid that if I did a full-bore sprint I would blow myself up and get left behind by the pack. A few laps later I went off the front again with the same rider, and once again let him take the prime. This continued for the next 12 laps as I kept leaping off the front into breakaways with other riders. Unfortunately nothing stuck and no primes were won, but all that attacking allowed me to get a good feel for how fast and for how long I could hold solo speed on the circuit.

For the last 4 laps I sat in and found Nate at the front of the pack. I asked him to lead me out on the final lap. I sat right on his wheel for the next 3 laps. On the final lap someone tried to take his wheel from me and I had to shove the guy off and yell, "That's my fucking wheel!" He was forced to go around Nate and take a pull at the front of the peleton, which took us all the way up the hill into the 3rd corner. At that point a huge crash occurred right behind us and I screamed out to Nate, "Go, Fucking Go Now!" And he did! Nate charged super hard through corners 3 and 4. Lining the final straightaway into the finish line were reflective shop windows and I could use those to see we had a 10 foot gap on the group. I was screaming at Nate like a drill sergeant to keep going. 200 meters from the line, I saw the rider behind us through the shop windows start his sprint. So I got out of the saddle and wound it up around Nate to roll in for the win, with Nate coming in right behind me for second.

"Nick Schaffner from Truckee California – 1st place," screamed the announcer over the loudspeaker.

It couldn't have been a more perfect win, combined with Nate coming in second. We do nothing but train for stage racing, climbing and time trialing all year long, and our biggest results of the season come out of a criterium.

2008 Tour of the Gila - Stage 3 Report

Fri, 02 May 2008 20:00:00 -0700

With my GC hopes in the toilet, sitting in 50th place overall and 25 minutes down on the leader, today's stage presented itself as a pseudo rest-day. It was an individual time trial, 16.14 miles in length with 1600' of climbing. It would be impossible in 16 miles to bring back 25 minutes, or even 5 minutes so I decided to just go out and cruise the course to save my legs.

Since Nate was 14th on the GC, I let him use my time trial bike while I used my road bike with aero bars clipped on. I managed to sneak my ipod into my skinsuit (they are illegal in these races) and rolled out to the start line after a weak 15 minute warmup. As I was being held at the line ready to go, an official demanded that I take out my headphones. So I unplugged the cord from the back and had to "promise" not to plug it back in.

I made an agreement before I started to keep my heart rate under 160 bpm, about 20 bpm below my lactic threshold. The course started with a 4.4 mile climb, and I was able to settle into a comfortable rhythm – still maintaining a low heart rate. 2 miles into the ascent I had passed the rider who started 30 seconds ahead of me. And then by the top of the climb I had passed my 1 minute man and was on the tail of the guy who started 90 seconds earlier. By the time I hit the turnaround I had passed 10 riders, and yet I still wasn't working hard and was keeping my heart rate low.

At this point I realized I had super legs and super form today. I picked up the pace a little bit on the way back because I was having lots of fun riding fast and passing more riders. I hammered it up the final steep climb before the 4.4 mile downhill with a smile on my face. This was the first time I've ever enjoyed myself during a time trial. Usually it's a nonstop suffer-fest, with snot, spit and sweat splayed all over my face. Typically I can't walk when I'm done and often have trouble just getting off my bike from the effort.

I finished with a time of 42:26, good enough for 17th place. I wasn't even short-of breath when I crossed the finish line. My average heart rate was 158 bpm, my normal TT average is 178 – 185 bpm. As I spun my legs out afterwards I started to kick myself for not actually trying. I could have easily knocked 2+ minutes off my time and finished on the podium had I actual ridden at my limit.

Nate started 15 minutes behind me and rolled in with a time of 42:15 for 14th place.

2008 Tour of the Gila - Stage 2 Report

Thu, 01 May 2008 20:00:00 -0700

I woke up this morning determined to do well. I knew today would be the hardest stage of the whole race, and I wanted to make sure everyone felt it too. No more fucking around hanging out in the middle of pack getting a free ride, if I wanted to move up on the GC – I needed to take the race into my own hand. My legs still felt fresh from the previous day's effort, and the constant up and down profile of today's stage fit my riding style. Nate and I discussed going on the attack the entire day to shake a larger breakaway group loose and create some time gaps to move us up on the GC. What we didn't factor in were the constant 30 – 50 mph head winds for the last 30 miles of the race.

Fort Bayard Inner Loop Road Race – 77.9 miles, 5800' climbing

Warming up on the trainer before the race I amped myself up with music and thoughts of putting some hurt into my competitors. By the time I reached the start line I had already committed myself to attacking for an all-day breakaway.

The pace was high right from the gun as our race headed up the first big climb of the day. It was roughly 15 miles of uphill which concluded with an extremely dangerous 3 mile descent – so dangerous it had its own section in the race bible. With a mile or two to go on the first climb, a rider launched out and I went after him. I had to chase for the rest of the climb, but when I finally caught him we had a large gap and one more breakaway companion. I knew we could pickup loads of time on the descent, as 3 guys are a lot quicker around hairy corners than the entire peleton.

I slowed down briefly, looked at both of my breakaway companions and said, "I have a deathwish going downhill, STAY ON MY WHEEL." And with that I took off hoping they would keep up. And because I meant what I said, I went down the descent without any regard for life or limb. Braking at the last possible second and then sticking like glue through the 180 degree turns only to fire out like a rocket at the other side. On the worst corner of the descent the race directors had an ambulance and several EMTs setup assuming that someone would go down. As I flew towards them, they were screaming at me to slow down and an EMT ran out in the middle of the road to try and stop me – but I railed by them unscathed and devoid of my breakaway partners.

At the bottom of the descent I waited around for several minutes soft pedaling while my break companions caught up. We then made introductions; I was with Chris and Brett – 7th and 8th on the GC respectively. Our goal was to stay away and gain time, and to do this we would have to work together for the next 50 miles. We had a great rhythm going and it seemed like the perfect move, something that would stay away until the finish. But fast forward to a few miles later and they dropped me on a steep climb. I was yelling out "WAIT UP" – but apparently they thought they didn't need me – because they didn't WAIT UP.

So now I was in no-man's land. I had a 5 minute gap on the peleton, my break partners rode away from me, and I was all by myself in the wind. I didn't know what to do. Should I stop and wait for the pack, or keep going? My decision was to keep going, hoping another break would have formed (hopefully with Nate in it) and would catch me. 10 miles later and I was still alone, still no peleton, no other breakaways and no race referee to give me time gap updates. This was the weirdest time I've ever had in a race, I've never just sat out, not-chasing and not-charging for so long. I started to think I made a wrong turn and was off the race course. At this point my legs started to give out, and I was slowly burying myself. I had about 5 miles of gradual climbing to go before a long downhill and I was afraid that if the pack caught me during the climbing, that I would get dropped. In the final two miles of climbing through the Gila forest, I finally saw the pack creeping up behind me. I had to put in a huge effort in those last two miles so I didn't get caught out on the climb. Just as I reached the Continental Divide sign and the downhill – the pack grabbed me and was able to sit in a draft for the first time in 25 miles.

By this time my legs were shot, Nate found me in the group and I was so tired that I had trouble talking to him. Over the next 15 miles I slowly drifted farther back in the pack until I was hanging on by the very last wheel. We hit the beginnings of the 30 – 50 mph cross and headwinds and I blown off the back. With 20 miles to go in the race, the majority of it uphill and into the wind - once again I was all by myself. This was the setup for the worst time I've ever had on my bike.

Turning a corner into the final climb of the day, with 17 miles to go the finish, the wind poured into me at a constant 30+ mph. A half-mile into the climb was the feedzone, and Allie was waiting to hand me a bottle. Since I was bringing up the rear of the field she was able to practically drive alongside me the entire climb. It was great to have someone with me, even if they weren't on a bike – but there wasn't anything she could do to make it any easier. (and all I wanted to eat were Little Debbie Zebra Cakes, which she didn't have) It was a gradual uphill, 4-6% grades the entire way, but I was crawling along in my drops, head down at 6 mph, grinding my 39x26. The course remained like this with no respite from the wind or gradient for the next 12 miles. I just wanted to fall off my bike and quit. I knew I was loosing huge amounts of time and that my breakaway escapades had destroyed any chances I had for the GC.

At some point into the climb with my nose on my stem, I noticed a rubbing sound. As it turns out my front brake was "on." As soon as I loosened it felt like I had a new set of legs. I have no idea how long my front brake was slowing me down, but I suspect it had something to do with my royal blowout out the back of the pack. Was it a factor in me doing so badly in the race? Had it been sucking my power out all day long? I don't know for sure and it certainly didn't matter now. All I had to do was finish so I could stay in the race.

I finally crawled into the finish line 20 minutes down on the winner, in 50th place for the day and I was moved down to 50th overall on the GC. I was completely destroyed and just about fell off my bike at the line. Nate finished 27th and moved up to 14th on the GC. The breakaway I was in was caught with about 5 miles to go; I bet we would have made it with a third person to take pulls.

Now that I am completely out of contention for the overall, I can change my focus to winning stages, winning money and helping Nate preserve his GC placing. The time trial is tomorrow, and since my GC hopes are long gone – I get to ride it for fun and use it as an extra rest day. I think I'll ride it with my aero helmet on backwards just to fuck with people.