Posted by Dan on 12. August 2010 04:28
After spending a month kicking around France, I was looking forward to getting back to racing. Despite having one of those fancy international licenses and a foreign permission letter from USA Cycling, the French didn't want me racing with them unless I joined a local team and applied for an FFC license. Moving around each week made that difficult so I made due with L'Etape du Tour Mondovelo and a ton of long rides up and down various mountains. My first race after returning was scheduled to be our Campus Crit at ODU, but a misunderstanding between campus and city police departments killed that one. Page Valley would have to do.
Not exactly the French Alps, but it'll do.
I've been looking forward to the Page Valley Road Race all year. My first attempt last year came to a miserable end when my heart rate approached its max while coasting deep in the pack on a flat section. It was hot and I was sick. I completed one and a half laps. This year I'd do better despite it being my first race since crashing at Reston and my first Cat 3 race.
Come race time, I was feeling good. Things got started with a neutral roll-out. Once we were firmly planted on the course and in the right lane, the pace turned up a bit but remained manageable. We had 63 miles to go - no point in burning matches now. I had absolutely no idea what to expect from this group. I didn't know any of the faces and had no clue which wheels were the ones to watch. My strategy was heavily dependent on attrition from the climbs and trust that the field would reel in any breaks in due time. With each lap, we'd shell a few riders and the main field quickly shrank from its original 75+ while none of the breaks stuck.
Trudging up the second climb on each lap, we were afforded the opportunity to take on food and water. Lydia and Frank were working the zone to bring me the various bottles of race-time nutrition. I rode through the zone twice and took bottles the other times.
On the fourth lap, I passed on fresh bottles and worked my way toward the front. Once near the front, I tried my favorite Cat 4 move - the one where you try to sneak off alone while others feast on gels and bananas. No big attacks, just a nice consistent effort. I didn't get away; not even a little bit. I eased off the gas and eventually pulled off to the left. Immediately, my left hamstring cramped something fierce. Relaxing the left leg, I drifted to the back forcing the muscle to release to minimize the work I'd have to do to catch back on. Fortunately, the timing was perfect and I jumped on the last wheel just as I regained use of the leg. I immediately consumed everything in my pockets and bottles and planned to take whatever bottle was offered when we made it to the feed zone.
As we approached the feed zone, I dropped back and got both bottles out. I handed them off to Frank because I just couldn't justify throwing them while doing 6 mph at the back of the feeders. I took something from Lydia and set out to catch back on as the main field Contadored me and left me for dead. With the ever present threat of an aftershock, I favored my left leg making the catch a little harder. With a little help on the false flat following the descent, I did catch back on and set out to recover the best I could before the final attack on the final climb. The first climb was easy enough and I began moving up. We hammered down the descent and around the second-to-last corner, then delicately took the final turn. A hundred meters or so and we'd begin the final ascent. A hundred meters beyond that and the sprint would begin. Trusting that the center-line rule would relax during the sprint, I positioned myself on the left side, about 15 wheels off the front. As the left-hand bend came into view, the sprint began. 27 of us stood up and hoped we'd chosen the gear that would get us to the finish before the rest. As the main field quickly picked up speed, one rider remained behind with an awful grimace on his face. This rider was in terrible pain and completely shocked that his legs would betray him at such a crucial time in the race. The pack rode off at 15 mph while he paper-boyed his way up the hill at 3. Yes, that guy was me. Frank crossed the road to offer the support of a cold water bottle and was greeted with the threat of a punch to the mouth if he did it. Frank isn't afraid of punches to anything so he dumped the water on my head. Instantly, the cramps were gone and I motored up the hill to finish the race in 27th place, about 30 seconds behind the main field.
So goes my first Cat 3 race and my second attempt at the Page Valley Road Race. Third time's the charm, right? And no, Frank never did get that punch in the mouth.
Frank did however get a chance to contest the other Cat 4s on the same course a few hours later. Steve Monk and Mike Shipp both lined up with him and a bazillion others. All three would finish the race after four and a half laps despite an attrition rate of nearly 50%. Frank hung in with the lead group and finished 16th - one place away from omnium and BAR points. Frank likes to be reminded of this fact often.
Photo by Dave Cobb of Team Traveller
Flash forward to Sunday and Luray, VA. The inaugural running of the Luray Criterium was looking like a winner. The course resembled Waynesboro with a steep 7% climb lasting roughly one block followed by a short little climb and then a lot of descending before doing it all over again.
Photo by Jim Wilson
I got things rolling with the Masters 35+ 3/4 race. This was the only masters race of the day and I really don't know why it was scheduled, but I'm not one to turn down a race so away we went. There were twenty or so of us in the first race. I failed to clip in and found myself on the back of the pack right out of the gate. It took me three laps to reach the front and I didn't leave that position for the rest of the race. There were a few riders that would move around, sharing the work, but I feel like I was out there an awfully long time. The field was decimated and only about ten of us remained on the bell lap. I was on the front headed into the final turn and was quickly passed as we began the climb for the last time. I wound up in 6th place and won a pair of socks as a prime.
Frank did the Cat 4 race later that afternoon. His race was a lot like mine - a herd of 30 riders started. More than half fell victim to a gnarly pace up that hill leaving only eight riders in the lead group and a few stragglers which were eventually pulled. The final sprint found Frank in 4th place. He was very happy with that, though a mis-shift at the front derailleur might have cost him a better finish.
Photos by Dave Cobb of Team Traveller
Finally, my Cat 3 race felt a lot like penance for things that I would never ever do. This field was larger than my earlier race, composed of riders seriously jockeying for omnium points. That would mean we'd be sprinting for KOM points on the prime laps and team tactics would be much more prevalent. Hanging out near the back (because I'm cool like that), I had a great time burning matches on each corner and muscling my way up the climb while a small break went off the front from the gun. That break would eventually be nullified due to a flat only to regenerate - again unnoticed by me as I desperately clung to the back of the main field. Riders dropped off with each lap until there was one rider in a solo break, one chasing and a group of about eight. Everyone else was presumed pulled. Moments before we were lapped, the leader crossed the finish line for the last time allowing us to sprint for 2nd. The chaser took that and I launched myself up that hill one last time to secure 6th place - again. No socks this time.
With that came the end of our big adventure in Page Valley and my return to racing. Clearly I needed more time in the Alps and Pyrenees as the climbing I did didn't take. This week calls for high temps and a little recovery before the Chesapeake Crit on Saturday and PLT #3 on Sunday.