Remember when you were a kid and you got home from school on a Friday and you could either do your homework right away, or you could do fun stuff and forget about the homework until Sunday night? I always did mine on Friday so I could enjoy the rest of the weekend. Some things never change. But not this. This one has definitely changed. So without further adieu, here's a quick recap of the last 7 races over the last 4 weekends aboard 3 bikes.
Ghost of the Gravel (118 km gravel race; 2085m/6842ft of climbing)
This race feels no less grueling than it sounds. Approaching this as a long training day, I lined up near the back of the group with Rocksi (cyclocross bike), not worried about speed or placing. And then we started. It was at that point my body divorced my brain. I surfed up through a few groups until I found one that was the pace I wanted; a quick group that would make me work to stick with them but not too fast that I was out of my element. Perfect weather, bike floating over the gravel, legs feeling good. And then my foot started to float around. Thinking I had a loose cleat, I decided I'd slow at the top of the hill I was climbing to adjust it. Only to be maintaining my balance a few pedal strokes later, with my right pedal still attached to my shoe, but not to Rocksi. Stripped thread on my right crank meant my day on the bike was done 50km in. Time for a burger and a beer.
Rundle Mountain Stage Race
Crit
Canmore is a beautiful setting for anything. But to race bikes there is truly a treat. Saturday started with a 4:45am wake up call, giving Rick and I plenty of time for our 8am criterium. With 30 guys lined up at the start line, I wanted to make sure I had a good start. I had good position going into turn one and tried to make sure I didn't slip off the back at any point in the race. I almost failed at that on laps 5 and 6, with a couple of required surges to hold on. But after that my legs settled in. By lap 15, the second last lap, the pace of the lead group picked up. A few more risks, the pierce of a few thousand dollars worth of carbon skidding across the road somewhere behind me, a few twitchy lines...it still amazes me how attuned my senses have become without seeing any of these things directly. Halfway through the last lap I was too far back, jumped out into the wind and onto the pedals to avoid being boxed in, and turned onto the finishing straight in 10th spot. Too far back to sprint for a podium, I had to be content with 8th place. Another couple of upgrade points. Another couple of confidence points.
Hill Climb
Here's all I'll say about this one. The beer was worth it. 1.94km as fast as you can up a hill that maxes out at 21%? Not my strong suit. Post-crit, post summit-cafe lunch, Rick and I went for a beer. Yeah, you read that right. Not ideal prep, but I don't think any type of prep would have helped at that point. Line up in fours. Go. Go too hard in the first 300m. Heavy breathing. Wait, is this thing working; I can't be feeling this gassed after 70 seconds. Lungs burning. Legs burning. Mentally hold on until the road flattens a wee bit. 1.4km mark. Almost there. Big ring. Accelerate. Ignore the burn. Few more meters. Phew more meters. Phew. How does 7 minutes 25 seconds hurt that much? My name was much further down the results list this time. But yeah, the beer was still worth it.
Road Race
After a soak in the hot tub, the steam room, and a solid sleep, I was feeling fresh(ish) Sunday morning. Last year I was spit out the back halfway through the hilly 63km race. Today's goal, don't get spit out the back until the last 400m. With 36 guys starting the race, there was no chance of a solo breakaway, but there wasn't too much struggle to hang with the lead group either. Held the surges, closed the gaps. And as we approached the final punchy hill of the day, I moved myself up to about 8th wheel. Not because I thought I had a chance of competing against these kids with legs 20 years younger and bodies 40lbs lighter. I just wanted to make sure I held on until the final 400m. Halfway up, someone jumped, and then another and another. I fought to the finish line, but that fight was with gravity. Good day in the saddle; 15th across the line.
Canada Day Criterium
This was a points race, meaning points were awarded to the first 4 riders across the line every 4th lap (20 laps total). With 38 of us lining up at the start line on the smooth, residential roads, the first lap was always going to be a bit twitchy. By lap 2 I wasn't happy with the "feel" of the race so I jumped to the front and picked up the pace despite having no teammates. We shed a handful of riders, giving me a better shot at a top 4 finish on at least one points lap as the race went on. But 12 laps later, I was the one off the back, watching the group get smaller as they rode into the distance. I put the hammer down for the rest of the race, surfing my way from solo wheel to solo wheel for a quick draft before continuing on. There was no hope of me ever rejoining the lead group, but the course allowed me to keep an eye on the peloton at various points, fighting off the dreaded "1 lap down" as I maintained 38km/h. I crossed the line ready for my beer and burger.
Suffer Like a Dog ITT
Our annual Bicisport club race on a hilly 16.3km course. I've always faired better at time trials than other disciplines in general due to my triathlon background. But I underperformed on this course the last couple of years. (20th in 2015, 8th in 2016). Going in 6 points shy of an upgrade to Cat 4 this year, I was confident in my ability to put up a good time. And by the time I made the first turn at 8km into the race, I knew that long overdue result was going to materialize. The wind was favourable and the speedometer was showing I was well ahead of my target pace. As I crested the final hill, I dropped back into the hardest gear and The Flying Scotsman hurled me towards the finish line at 71km/h. Just over 2 minutes faster than last year! Final result - beat by a couple hundredths of a second to finish second overall. First podium of my cycling career, and enough points to move up to Cat 4! (Also, congrats to Ari for taking the top step on his first ever ABA race. Jammy wee bugger).
Stampede Road Race
I finally decided to sign up for this hilly 99km race two days beforehand. Being Master's Provincials, my goal was to hang on as long as possible. We started at a fast pace, averaging 39km/h over the first 20km. Climbing one of the hills that I fought with last year, I was firmly seated mid-pack and feeling good. And then I didn't. My legs, for lack of a better description, decided to take a unionized coffee break on the downhill. I watched one, two, three bike lengths open up. By the time I made the right hand turn into the headwind, the peloton was about 10 seconds ahead. The legs decided at that point to return to work. Had there been a tailwind, perhaps a big effort would have gotten me back on. But the efficiency and speed of a 30-man peloton riding into a headwind far exceeds a solo rider. As I watched the group pull further away, I settled in for a long, hard effort. Over the next 78km I reeled in a few guys off the back and worked with them for a few minutes, only to see them fade off the back as the road pitched up. The "enjoyable" thing would have been to sit up, share the work, and ride it in with a bit of a chat. But where's the fun in that? And yeah, I sprinted to the line. In slow motion.
If you made it to this point, congrats and thanks. That would have been a harder slog than any of my races. I'll commit to getting back to timely post-race roundups and save you the pain.
Allez, allez!
David
Ghost of the Gravel (118 km gravel race; 2085m/6842ft of climbing)
This race feels no less grueling than it sounds. Approaching this as a long training day, I lined up near the back of the group with Rocksi (cyclocross bike), not worried about speed or placing. And then we started. It was at that point my body divorced my brain. I surfed up through a few groups until I found one that was the pace I wanted; a quick group that would make me work to stick with them but not too fast that I was out of my element. Perfect weather, bike floating over the gravel, legs feeling good. And then my foot started to float around. Thinking I had a loose cleat, I decided I'd slow at the top of the hill I was climbing to adjust it. Only to be maintaining my balance a few pedal strokes later, with my right pedal still attached to my shoe, but not to Rocksi. Stripped thread on my right crank meant my day on the bike was done 50km in. Time for a burger and a beer.
Rundle Mountain Stage Race
Crit
Canmore is a beautiful setting for anything. But to race bikes there is truly a treat. Saturday started with a 4:45am wake up call, giving Rick and I plenty of time for our 8am criterium. With 30 guys lined up at the start line, I wanted to make sure I had a good start. I had good position going into turn one and tried to make sure I didn't slip off the back at any point in the race. I almost failed at that on laps 5 and 6, with a couple of required surges to hold on. But after that my legs settled in. By lap 15, the second last lap, the pace of the lead group picked up. A few more risks, the pierce of a few thousand dollars worth of carbon skidding across the road somewhere behind me, a few twitchy lines...it still amazes me how attuned my senses have become without seeing any of these things directly. Halfway through the last lap I was too far back, jumped out into the wind and onto the pedals to avoid being boxed in, and turned onto the finishing straight in 10th spot. Too far back to sprint for a podium, I had to be content with 8th place. Another couple of upgrade points. Another couple of confidence points.
Hill Climb
Here's all I'll say about this one. The beer was worth it. 1.94km as fast as you can up a hill that maxes out at 21%? Not my strong suit. Post-crit, post summit-cafe lunch, Rick and I went for a beer. Yeah, you read that right. Not ideal prep, but I don't think any type of prep would have helped at that point. Line up in fours. Go. Go too hard in the first 300m. Heavy breathing. Wait, is this thing working; I can't be feeling this gassed after 70 seconds. Lungs burning. Legs burning. Mentally hold on until the road flattens a wee bit. 1.4km mark. Almost there. Big ring. Accelerate. Ignore the burn. Few more meters. Phew more meters. Phew. How does 7 minutes 25 seconds hurt that much? My name was much further down the results list this time. But yeah, the beer was still worth it.
Road Race
After a soak in the hot tub, the steam room, and a solid sleep, I was feeling fresh(ish) Sunday morning. Last year I was spit out the back halfway through the hilly 63km race. Today's goal, don't get spit out the back until the last 400m. With 36 guys starting the race, there was no chance of a solo breakaway, but there wasn't too much struggle to hang with the lead group either. Held the surges, closed the gaps. And as we approached the final punchy hill of the day, I moved myself up to about 8th wheel. Not because I thought I had a chance of competing against these kids with legs 20 years younger and bodies 40lbs lighter. I just wanted to make sure I held on until the final 400m. Halfway up, someone jumped, and then another and another. I fought to the finish line, but that fight was with gravity. Good day in the saddle; 15th across the line.
This was a points race, meaning points were awarded to the first 4 riders across the line every 4th lap (20 laps total). With 38 of us lining up at the start line on the smooth, residential roads, the first lap was always going to be a bit twitchy. By lap 2 I wasn't happy with the "feel" of the race so I jumped to the front and picked up the pace despite having no teammates. We shed a handful of riders, giving me a better shot at a top 4 finish on at least one points lap as the race went on. But 12 laps later, I was the one off the back, watching the group get smaller as they rode into the distance. I put the hammer down for the rest of the race, surfing my way from solo wheel to solo wheel for a quick draft before continuing on. There was no hope of me ever rejoining the lead group, but the course allowed me to keep an eye on the peloton at various points, fighting off the dreaded "1 lap down" as I maintained 38km/h. I crossed the line ready for my beer and burger.
Suffer Like a Dog ITT
Our annual Bicisport club race on a hilly 16.3km course. I've always faired better at time trials than other disciplines in general due to my triathlon background. But I underperformed on this course the last couple of years. (20th in 2015, 8th in 2016). Going in 6 points shy of an upgrade to Cat 4 this year, I was confident in my ability to put up a good time. And by the time I made the first turn at 8km into the race, I knew that long overdue result was going to materialize. The wind was favourable and the speedometer was showing I was well ahead of my target pace. As I crested the final hill, I dropped back into the hardest gear and The Flying Scotsman hurled me towards the finish line at 71km/h. Just over 2 minutes faster than last year! Final result - beat by a couple hundredths of a second to finish second overall. First podium of my cycling career, and enough points to move up to Cat 4! (Also, congrats to Ari for taking the top step on his first ever ABA race. Jammy wee bugger).
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| Higuchi Photos |
Stampede Road Race
I finally decided to sign up for this hilly 99km race two days beforehand. Being Master's Provincials, my goal was to hang on as long as possible. We started at a fast pace, averaging 39km/h over the first 20km. Climbing one of the hills that I fought with last year, I was firmly seated mid-pack and feeling good. And then I didn't. My legs, for lack of a better description, decided to take a unionized coffee break on the downhill. I watched one, two, three bike lengths open up. By the time I made the right hand turn into the headwind, the peloton was about 10 seconds ahead. The legs decided at that point to return to work. Had there been a tailwind, perhaps a big effort would have gotten me back on. But the efficiency and speed of a 30-man peloton riding into a headwind far exceeds a solo rider. As I watched the group pull further away, I settled in for a long, hard effort. Over the next 78km I reeled in a few guys off the back and worked with them for a few minutes, only to see them fade off the back as the road pitched up. The "enjoyable" thing would have been to sit up, share the work, and ride it in with a bit of a chat. But where's the fun in that? And yeah, I sprinted to the line. In slow motion.
If you made it to this point, congrats and thanks. That would have been a harder slog than any of my races. I'll commit to getting back to timely post-race roundups and save you the pain.
Allez, allez!
David
