Collegiate Road Nationals, Men's Division 1 - 5-9-09
Two big things I learned in Colorado:
1. You have to commit to a counterattack if you’re going to try anything.
2. Cowboy hats are always a good choice.
I learned a lot of other stuff, but those are the two big ones. The other little bits I learned will be distributed throughout an epic race report. :)
My experience at Collegiate Road Nationals might be thought of as a comedy of errors. Even before I left New York City, I had quite a fright when I realized that my teammates, who were charged with the logistics of the trip: plane, hotel, etc., had forgotten to rent me a bike case. A quick phone call to the guys at Echappe Equipment, though, was all I needed to get a sweet Bike Pro USA case. The only thing I failed to realize was that it was designed for a bike with a normal removable seat post. I have a bike with an Integrated Seat Mast. Whoops. After freaking out that the seat mast was going to be snapped off en route by rough baggage handlers, I thought about the time that Transportation Security Agency had opened up a hardcase I had borrowed and failed to close it properly before loading it onto a plane. The bike survived in spite of the disaster. This bike fit, but there was a definite bulge where the end of the seat mast was sticking out. I’d just plaster it with fragile stickers and leave it to fate.
Getting off the plane and rushing to baggage claim to see the damage that was inflicted upon my bike, I was pleasantly surprised. The seat mast was still intact! The same could not be said of the food I had put in my checked bag. The soy milk had burst (no doubt due to being thrown onto the baggage cart) and the peanut butter jar had broken. Being a little obsessive, I had the foresight to bring along a lot of food, because I’m a strict vegetarian (no meat, no dairy, no eggs) and pack it in a canvas bag. Beyond that, I had compartmentalized everything using plastic bags to make it easier to count everything prior to leaving for the airport. As a result, the soy/peanut butter goop had only soaked my cycling shoes and cycling kits. w00t!
We got our Ford F-150 (ridiculous, I know, but two of my teammates are undergrads…) and drove out to Fort Collins, CO only to find that the house we had rented had been rented out to someone else. This was particularly bad news, because the Princeton Team had been planning on sleeping on the floor of the house we had rented. Sorry, guys. After a few frantic phone calls and a quick chat with the cute bleached-blonde girl working at Vern’s Custom Countertops, we scored a room in the race hotel: Fort Collins Hilton. We’d be living large on the top floor. After moving all our stuff into the room, we built up the bikes, and I found that the cable housing by my rear derailleur was shredding – most likely due to the damage inflicted on it during the Eastern Conference Championship Criterium. I stopped by Shimano neutral support, who had set up shop in the parking lot of the Hilton, to pick up some new cable housing and put electrical tape around the remainder of the housing. This isn’t a good long-term idea, because the housing is reinforced and electrical tape is not. I’ve had the cable housing on my front derailleur detonate on me in the past, and the resultant lack of tension on the cable meant that I was unable to shift into the big ring. This time was different, though, because I just had to get the cable housing to last for an hour or so.
The electrical tape held, but my tires did not. Flying to Fort Collins, I had only brought my tubular race wheels, because… well, I’m not made out of money, and I didn’t want to check a second set of wheels to the tune of a gazillion dollars. Maybe I should have, though. Twenty minutes into the warm up ride, my rear tire went flat. Here’s where it got a little dicey. I hitched a ride back with a CSU Vet student and triathlete, switched my damaged cable housing, and then proceeded to spent several hours getting the tire off the wheel. One hair dryer, one pocketknife, some nail polish remover pads, and 4 blisters later, my teammate and I had removed the tire, reglued the rim, glued my back up tire, and mounted it. This was a bad idea. Period. My coach, Aidan Charles of Charles Coaching and Nutrition Services, gave me a lecture on safety after I told him I raced on a tire that had only been glued 12 hours before. Do not do this. Seriously, guys. It’s not worth it. I just freaked out, because Shimano Neutral Support only had the tubeless Dura-Ace wheels. I know very little about tubeless technology, but the concept makes me a little nervous. I realize that it has worked on mountain bike wheels, but the concept doesn’t rub me the right way.
Talk about a good start to a Nationals weekend, right?
When I finally made it to the start line, it was a relief. I could just pedal my bike and stop worrying about little things. The race was nervous from the gun. Tentative attacks from riders very few people knew; swarming of the front by riders trying to stay safe; and questionable tactics of moving around inside the pack. A crash in the first couple miles took down a couple people, and I immediately gave it a big dig to move up in the wind. The first climbs of the race tore the field to shreds. The lack of oxygen and my relatively pedestrian hematocrit (40.7-42.3) meant that I was fighting just to maintain my mid-pack position after the first climb. Looking up the road, I was shocked to see the peloton in pieces. One hundred and thirty riders started the race, and in the first 15 miles the pack was spread out as far as the eye could see in small groups. Maybe the front group was still together, but I have no idea. It was more likely that the front group of 40 coalesced later on with very few people willing to work in the steady 20+mph winds with gusts of who knows how fast.
I fought the good fight whipping my chase group into shape, but I saw several strong sea-level riders succumbing to the altitude. Alex Bremer (Empire/Columbia), Scott Dolmat-Connell (MetLife/UVM), Alex Cox (CCB/UVM), and Thom Coupe (Bikereg.com-Cannondale/UNH) were among the early casualties. At altitude, the lower partial pressure of oxygen leads to hypoxemia, and the body responds with increased heart rate and increased ventilation rate. The increased ventilation rate, though, decreases the pCO2 in the blood which leads to respiratory alkalosis and an increase in the pH of the Cerebrospinal Fluid. This signals the respiratory center in the brain to slow the hyperventilation while the kidneys work to excrete bicarbonate (HCO3-), which process takes a couple days. Unfortunately, if you take a few days to acclimate before exercising, the pulmonary arteries react to the low partial pressure of oxygen in the inspired air by constricting the pulmonary arteries. The pulmonary arterial vasoconstriction is meant to improve ventilation perfusion matching, but while this may be good if you’re just hanging out, it is not necessarily a good thing if you’re trying to race your bike.
The altitude hit me at about mile 25 of the 70 mile race. I went from taking the longest pulls in my chase group to being dropped within 3 minutes. After the next chase group dropped me as I was struggling to push 3mph up a 5% gradient, I called it a day and rode back to the truck.
The criterium went slightly better. My warm up was interrupted with a frantic call from a teammate. Our rider in the Women’s Division 1 field, who the previous day had finished 8th in the road race, had crashed. Maggie Shirley (Radical Media/Columbia) has mad skillz, and it’s frightening when a woman for whom you had a lot of respect crashes. Her report? “It’s not the course that’s sketchy; it’s the riders.” Great. I would have to stay near the front. The only problem with this was the fact that the team’s captain, Alex Bremer would go with the first wave of call ups, and I’d be in the second wave. Beyond that, the call ups were based on year-long standings including Cyclocross and Mountain Biking (neither of which Columbia participates in). Just lining up on the start line, I got nervous. I was in about 80th position.
We took off and in the first couple laps, there was a crash. There was a nice big gutter on the very edge of the road on the second straight. Flying through the start/finish, many people tried to move up on both the inside and the outside, but most of those riders who moved up on the outside were unwilling to ride in the gutter. These guys must not have been very smart, because lap after lap I saw guys slam on the brakes and move into the field to avoid riding in the gutter. After only a few laps, two riders collided and went down. I hope they’re alright.
From my terrible starting position, it took me 25 minutes to find the front third of the race. From there, it took me another 15 minutes to get into the top-20 positions. I was moving very well. I could move up a couple positions as the pace ramped up so that I could hold my position when it went single file. Beyond that, I was feeling out the race well and pre-empting the swarming of the front when the pace slowed. With 15 minutes to go in the 75 minute crit, I was 5th wheel when a break started coming together just off the front of the race. In this break was Jamey Driscoll (Rock Racking/UVM). The day before, he had won the road race in a 10-mile solo effort with high winds after attacking the depleted peloton of just 18 riders. Also in the break was Chris Ruhl (PA Lightning/Penn State), who had taken 2nd in the Easterns Criterium and competed at the World Championships on the Track as a junior. This was serious business. I bridged up to the break only to find that everyone had stopped pedaling. I presume that nobody was willing to work in a breakaway with Driscoll. With the break slowing, I flew by them on inertia alone and just gave it a good dig.
Half-a-lap into my solo effort, I looked back to see Driscoll and a Fort Lewis(?) rider chasing me with the field hot on their heels. Unfortunately, I freaked out and stopped pedaling. Here’s another learning point. I should have pushed it and given the move a chance. At that point, I had already committed to being off the front, so if I didn’t give it a big effort I was essentially burning matches for no reason. Hindsight is 20/20. When the UVM rider and the Fort Lewis rider caught me, they also stopped pedaling and the move died. I buried myself to stay in the top-20 and eventually found the wheel of Colin Jaskiewicz (CCB/UVM), who would end up winning the race.
As my move came back, a dangerous break of 5 riders launched off the front. With 4 laps to go, I was on Jaskiewicz’s wheel as the UVM team rolled to the front and lifted the pace to bring the break back. These two riders – Jamey Driscoll and Will Dugan (CCB/UVM) – proceeded to:
1. bring back the break of 5
2. out maneuver riders who were trying to swarm the front with competing lead out trains
3. lead out Jaskiewicz for the win
UVM put together the absolute most professional team move I have ever seen in an amateur race, and they had just two riders. I guess it helped that these two guys had taken 1st and 2nd in the road race the day before. As for me, I was pushed off Jaskiewicz’s wheel and ended up in about 15th position with 1.5-to-go. At that point, a big surge came, and I totally missed it. I lost any hope of a podium spot during that 12-second surge. Starting the last lap in 40th position, I was out of the hunt and didn’t even sprint for the finish line rolling in for 52nd place of the 110 starters.