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Saturday, May 26, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Heartbreak Hundred 2012
MAY 19, 2012
LEBEC, CA
The Heartbreak Hundred was a fitting end to the King of the Mountains Challenge. Not a terribly challenging course, but still hard enough to make the sprinters cry in the grupetto-- wait a second... make the sprinters cry? That doesn't sound like an easy course... Maybe I'm so jaded from all the climbing I've done in the past month that this course seemed easier. Hmm.. perhaps this needs some perspective. The course had a total elevation gain of 9,500 ft. That's equivalent to taking the stairs to the top of the empire state building, not once, not twice, but seven and a half times! Gosh, and I was going to call this an easier ride. Guess I'm crazier than I thought. But it's not like I had to pay money to do this race-- oh wait...
The day started innocently enough in Lebec, California; clear blue sky, calm winds, and a pleasant 70 degrees. I remember thinking that I was going to be able to enjoy the weather since I would be sticking around with the slower group. After my time off the bike, I was in no shape to start thinking about race tactics or my overall placement. This was just going to be a nice and easy training ride through the beautiful hills of southern California. Or that's what I thought was going to happen.
I started with the early group that estimated they could complete the course in 10-12 hours. I still don't know how someone could be in the saddle for that long, but hey, I wanted to make sure I started with a slow group to keep me under control. The ride immediately started with a long 7.5 mile category 2 climb averaging a 4% gradient and maxing out at just 8%. It was just a long constant drag up the foothills. The usual growls and roars of the asphalt seemed like gentle purrs, and the pain beast wasn't climbing on my back and sinking its claws into my legs during the climb. Wow, it looked like it was going to be just a nice ride through the mountains. I stayed in the peloton of 60-70 slower paced riders keeping my head turning from side to side to absorb all the scenery along the ride. The landscape was decorated with large boulders framed by large, wiry, bushes that varied from youthful green colors to morbid brown. Reddish sand filled the bald spots in between and completed nature's portrait. The desolate landscape inspired thoughts of cowboys roaming the west on their chocolate and ebony steeds. I suppose my experience wasn't too different to the western pioneers, only I was riding a mechanical horse.
I continued to save my energy among the throng of riders and let my mind wander from one western movie to the next. I replayed 'The Magnificent Seven', 'The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly', and 'For a Few Dollars More' in my head. I almost started whistling the iconic songs from each movie. After a long period of day dreaming, I looked down at my Garmin to see how much further we had left to climb. To my surprise we had only traveled a few miles. I swallowed nervously and frowned as I thought about how much longer I had until the top of the climb. By now, the rocks and bushes had lost their western charm and were about as interesting to look at as a brick wall. It looked like boredom, not pain, was going to destroy me during this race.
Just then, two riders picked up the pace next to me, and I quickly latched onto the back of their wheels. I needed to lift the pace to get out of there and inject some excitement into the race. I could hear my mind's internal dialogue:
"Kevin, this isn't part of the plan. Just say in the peloton."
"Stay in the peloton and lose my mind from boredom? Not bloody likely!"
"Kevin, if you go in this break, you'll have to do more work which your legs can't handle."
"Yeah? Well, I'll take my chances."
"Kevin, you're not listening!"
The pre-race plan quickly went out the window. I was going to try my luck in the breakaway. The pace wasn't unbearable, but certainly quick for my current level of form. I sat behind a rider that was already decorated with a polka-dotted jersey from the 2010 KOM Challenge. He was very tall and lanky, a typical build for most cyclists that excel in the mountains. I thought that this could be really good or really bad: Good since he would have some course knowledge that he could share with the rest of the group, bad because he might be a full blown climbing beast and tear us all to shreds.
My legs welcomed the faster pace and we quickly dropped the peloton like they were standing still. The pain beast was starting to wake from its cave, but hadn't emerged yet. I was feeling pretty strong and easily held the wheels of my breakaway companions, but it was a noticeable change from the free wheeling I was doing in the peloton. One by one, our breakaway companions were popped off the back during our ascent of the first climb. When we reached the summit, only myself and the polka-dotted jersey were left. We enjoyed a quick descent before starting a short, steep, category 3 climb.
The scenery had changed to a more alpine look and feel. Tall evergreen trees now lined the road and decorated the sides of the mountains. It certainly was more interesting to look at than the rocks and bushes on the other side of the mountain, but I didn't get to enjoy the scenery for long. We caught up to two other riders on the road and started stomping on the pedals to keep the pace up. The other two riders we caught cooperated well and told a few jokes here and there to lighten the mood. As we approached the top of the category 3 climb, we encountered a steep section of road tipping up to 12%. We all got out of the saddle and started dancing on the pedals to push our way through the steep section. The polka-dotted rider turned to us and cried with disbelief, "Are all you guys riding compacts? How are you turning the pedals over so easily?" We all laughed and responded that we were riding with standard 53-39 rings up front, but it was good to know that someone else in the group felt pain in their legs too.
We reached the first rest stop at the summit of the climb. It was only at mile 20, but it seemed like we had been riding for much longer. That is never a good feeling. We all refilled our water bottles and snacked on Gu gels and Cliff bars. Deciding that I was going to ride with these guys for most of the race, I broke the ice and started introductions. The guy in the polka-dotted jersey was named Graham and the two riders we caught were James and Andrew. James was built like a sprinter, thick, with tree trunks for legs. Andrew was of more typical climbing pedigree with his short and lean physique. After taking our fair share of water and food, we started the long descent to the central valley.
The descent was fast with long straights and very few hairpin turns. James lead us down most of the way since his heavily built body made him shoot straight through the wind. Along the way we were treated to fantastic views of the valley below and rolling hills of grass. There is something about cycling along country roads that is incredibly beautiful. Flying along the asphalt next to the fields that dance and breath in the wind is better than any kind of meditation or therapy. Andrew pulled up next to me and said, "I feel like I'm in France riding Paris-Roubaix with all these fields." I smiled and replied, "California, all the beauty of Paris-Roubaix, but without the cobbles."After the descent to the valley, we took turns on the front again as we worked our way to the rest stop at the 50 mile mark. The miles ticked by quickly and had made it to the second rest stop.
By this time, my legs were beginning to feel fairly heavy. A feeling that I was expecting, but I still didn't like that it came at the halfway mark of the race with 4,500 ft left to climb. We all headed back out onto the long false flat to the penultimate climb of the day, Heartbreak Hill. The false flat stretched out for a little over 20 miles staying fairly constant at 2-3% gradient. The flat played strange games with your head. Since we were in a valley with mountains on either side, it was hard locate the horizon. This made the road look perfectly flat and make you feel like you could crush this section. But the steady gradient would bite into your legs when you would try to accelerate to your usual flat cruising speed.
After a few miles, I decided to take my foot off the gas when I got to the front and set a more moderate pace to save my already fatigued legs for the climb. The boys weren't upset about the change in pace and Graham complimented the change. With the reduction in pace, we stopped our pace line and rode next to one another and swapped stories to make the miles tick by a little quicker. However, we mostly talked about our experiences of pain and torture in Malibu for the Mulholland Challenge. I shared my leg shut down story along Decker Road. Everyone immediately groaned in agony with thoughts about Decker-- exclaiming how steep and brutal that climb was. It was nice to commiserate with my companions about the previous races, but it only seemed to draw more attention to slow and gradual build up of acid in our legs.
As we continued up the long road to Heartbreak Hill, a fighter jet swooped into the valley. It couldn't have been more than a few hundred feet off the ground as it whooshed by leaving behind its signature roar and boom. We all howled like wolves at the moon as the plane came soaring past us. At least it was something to keep our minds away from the miles we had left. I noticed that Graham started to fall back from the group shortly after the fly-bye. Since he had completed the course before, I figured he knew just how challenging the climb ahead of us was, so I decided to pull up and ride with him.
It turns out that Graham was in a similar form situation. Shortly after Mulholland, he became ill with the flu and couldn't train for a few weeks. He limped through Breathless and told me he still wasn't 100% for Heartbreak. He decided to go through with the races since it was his last cycling hurrah since he was expecting a baby in a few months. I congratulated him on his new family and said it would be a hell of a way to go out. I explained how my business trip kept me off the bike for a few weeks and caused me to miss Breathless. At that point, we could tell that we were both hurting and we were going to do our best to bring each other to the finish line.
We finally made it to the base of Heartbreak Hill after what felt like an eternity. The climb is only a category 2, stretching out for 4 miles at a 5% average gradient. On a normal day, it certainly isn't anything special. It's not terribly long and has no steep section that cut down your legs and leaves you groveling. However, this wasn't a normal day-- The climb quickly turned into a sufferfest. A 5% gradient felt like a wall to my legs at this point. The pain beast was out of his cave and feasting on my legs, looking up every now and then just to give a wide, Cheshire cat like, grin; showing all of its sharp and crooked teeth before turning back down and taking another bite out of my thighs. As I climbed higher and higher, the beast would cackle and laugh in its imp-like voice as it clawed and scratched all over my body, looking for new places to sink its twisted fangs. Graham dropped me about a mile from the top, but the mountain was hurting him as well. I powered on through the last mile, twisting and contorting my face into a horrible grimace, trying to push through the suffering as best I could. I started channeling my inner Jens Voigt to push on through the pain. (See video below)
I made it to the peak and let out a loud sigh as I coasted down the road to the rest stop shortly after the summit. I joined up with Graham again and I made sure to take my time to eat and hydrate at the rest stop. He assured me that the worst part was over and that it was basically all downhill from there to the finish. This wasn't exactly true, we still had 15 more miles of rolling hills before the 10 mile descent back into Lebec. I felt surprisingly strong going up the steep rolling sections, often dropping Graham and having to slow up at the top to let him latch on again. I believe that the extra strength and energy came from knowing that the finish line was within reach.
The miles passed slowly, but they passed. My legs were still hurting, but eager to push on to the finish so they could finally have some respite. We made our way to the final descent through Frasier Park, and cruised along most of the way trading smiles knowing that our work was basically done. Mile 97, 98, and 99 passed---
POP!!
My rear tire had blown out. I slowed to the side of the road and kept control. I pulled out my spare tube and started to change the flat when I noticed that my tire had been damaged as well. A section of rubber had been ripped off so that the Kevlar lining was now showing. Uh-oh, this was not good. I showed Graham. He frowned and could only muster a small, "That sucks..." I decided to change the tube and just hope and that it could hold up for the last mile. I finished the change and hopped back on my bike, only to roll a few hundred feet before hearing that terrible popping noise again.
I stopped and told Graham to go on to the finish. I wished him well and thanked him for all the help. As he rode off, I pulled out my cell phone and called Kristen, who was waiting at the finish. I had just finished telling her to hop in my car to pick me up and escort me to the finish when another rider came screaming past me. He put on the breaks and asked if I was OK. I grumbled that I was fine, but I needed a new tire to make it to the finish.
"No problem. I have one! Here ya go!"
I couldn't hardly believe my eyes. He handed me a brand new tire and tube. "Just give 'em back when you get to the finish." I thanked him and began changing my flat with my newly borrowed equipment. I quickly called Kristen back and told her to cancel the emergency escort, I was going to finish on my own. I came rolling through the finish line and was greeted with cheers from Kristen, Graham, and my support rider. I gave back the borrowed equipment and thanked him wholeheartedly.
"Hey man. Lets get a picture, we went through hell together." Graham said. A picture was the least I could do. We really had been to hell and back but stuck together for the whole race. It's rare when you find that kind of comradery in a race. We had started out as total strangers, but by the end of the race we became what felt like brothers. It's really amazing what some shared pain and suffering can do to bring people together.
The Heartbreak Hundred hurt more than it really should have. I'm sure that if I had still been on my training schedule, I could have done much better with less suffering. But it turned to be quite the challenge both in terms of cycling form and mechanical difficulties. I was happy to at least end the season with a solid finish after running into heat stroke on the L'Etape du California and having to miss Breathless. I needed that finish just to salvage my first half of the season. I finished 114th overall out of 300 finishing riders. Graham had finished just inside the top 100 in 93rd. I'm sure we both could have easily finished around 75th overall if I didn't get that flat in the last mile.
I'm not disappointed with the results as I am more happy that I finished and can now start planning my training schedule for the second half of my cycling season.
Ride Statistics:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/180565988
LEBEC, CA
The Heartbreak Hundred was a fitting end to the King of the Mountains Challenge. Not a terribly challenging course, but still hard enough to make the sprinters cry in the grupetto-- wait a second... make the sprinters cry? That doesn't sound like an easy course... Maybe I'm so jaded from all the climbing I've done in the past month that this course seemed easier. Hmm.. perhaps this needs some perspective. The course had a total elevation gain of 9,500 ft. That's equivalent to taking the stairs to the top of the empire state building, not once, not twice, but seven and a half times! Gosh, and I was going to call this an easier ride. Guess I'm crazier than I thought. But it's not like I had to pay money to do this race-- oh wait...
 |
| Hearbreak Hundred starting line. |
The day started innocently enough in Lebec, California; clear blue sky, calm winds, and a pleasant 70 degrees. I remember thinking that I was going to be able to enjoy the weather since I would be sticking around with the slower group. After my time off the bike, I was in no shape to start thinking about race tactics or my overall placement. This was just going to be a nice and easy training ride through the beautiful hills of southern California. Or that's what I thought was going to happen.
I started with the early group that estimated they could complete the course in 10-12 hours. I still don't know how someone could be in the saddle for that long, but hey, I wanted to make sure I started with a slow group to keep me under control. The ride immediately started with a long 7.5 mile category 2 climb averaging a 4% gradient and maxing out at just 8%. It was just a long constant drag up the foothills. The usual growls and roars of the asphalt seemed like gentle purrs, and the pain beast wasn't climbing on my back and sinking its claws into my legs during the climb. Wow, it looked like it was going to be just a nice ride through the mountains. I stayed in the peloton of 60-70 slower paced riders keeping my head turning from side to side to absorb all the scenery along the ride. The landscape was decorated with large boulders framed by large, wiry, bushes that varied from youthful green colors to morbid brown. Reddish sand filled the bald spots in between and completed nature's portrait. The desolate landscape inspired thoughts of cowboys roaming the west on their chocolate and ebony steeds. I suppose my experience wasn't too different to the western pioneers, only I was riding a mechanical horse.
I continued to save my energy among the throng of riders and let my mind wander from one western movie to the next. I replayed 'The Magnificent Seven', 'The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly', and 'For a Few Dollars More' in my head. I almost started whistling the iconic songs from each movie. After a long period of day dreaming, I looked down at my Garmin to see how much further we had left to climb. To my surprise we had only traveled a few miles. I swallowed nervously and frowned as I thought about how much longer I had until the top of the climb. By now, the rocks and bushes had lost their western charm and were about as interesting to look at as a brick wall. It looked like boredom, not pain, was going to destroy me during this race.
Just then, two riders picked up the pace next to me, and I quickly latched onto the back of their wheels. I needed to lift the pace to get out of there and inject some excitement into the race. I could hear my mind's internal dialogue:
"Kevin, this isn't part of the plan. Just say in the peloton."
"Stay in the peloton and lose my mind from boredom? Not bloody likely!"
"Kevin, if you go in this break, you'll have to do more work which your legs can't handle."
"Yeah? Well, I'll take my chances."
"Kevin, you're not listening!"
The pre-race plan quickly went out the window. I was going to try my luck in the breakaway. The pace wasn't unbearable, but certainly quick for my current level of form. I sat behind a rider that was already decorated with a polka-dotted jersey from the 2010 KOM Challenge. He was very tall and lanky, a typical build for most cyclists that excel in the mountains. I thought that this could be really good or really bad: Good since he would have some course knowledge that he could share with the rest of the group, bad because he might be a full blown climbing beast and tear us all to shreds.
My legs welcomed the faster pace and we quickly dropped the peloton like they were standing still. The pain beast was starting to wake from its cave, but hadn't emerged yet. I was feeling pretty strong and easily held the wheels of my breakaway companions, but it was a noticeable change from the free wheeling I was doing in the peloton. One by one, our breakaway companions were popped off the back during our ascent of the first climb. When we reached the summit, only myself and the polka-dotted jersey were left. We enjoyed a quick descent before starting a short, steep, category 3 climb.
The scenery had changed to a more alpine look and feel. Tall evergreen trees now lined the road and decorated the sides of the mountains. It certainly was more interesting to look at than the rocks and bushes on the other side of the mountain, but I didn't get to enjoy the scenery for long. We caught up to two other riders on the road and started stomping on the pedals to keep the pace up. The other two riders we caught cooperated well and told a few jokes here and there to lighten the mood. As we approached the top of the category 3 climb, we encountered a steep section of road tipping up to 12%. We all got out of the saddle and started dancing on the pedals to push our way through the steep section. The polka-dotted rider turned to us and cried with disbelief, "Are all you guys riding compacts? How are you turning the pedals over so easily?" We all laughed and responded that we were riding with standard 53-39 rings up front, but it was good to know that someone else in the group felt pain in their legs too.
We reached the first rest stop at the summit of the climb. It was only at mile 20, but it seemed like we had been riding for much longer. That is never a good feeling. We all refilled our water bottles and snacked on Gu gels and Cliff bars. Deciding that I was going to ride with these guys for most of the race, I broke the ice and started introductions. The guy in the polka-dotted jersey was named Graham and the two riders we caught were James and Andrew. James was built like a sprinter, thick, with tree trunks for legs. Andrew was of more typical climbing pedigree with his short and lean physique. After taking our fair share of water and food, we started the long descent to the central valley.
The descent was fast with long straights and very few hairpin turns. James lead us down most of the way since his heavily built body made him shoot straight through the wind. Along the way we were treated to fantastic views of the valley below and rolling hills of grass. There is something about cycling along country roads that is incredibly beautiful. Flying along the asphalt next to the fields that dance and breath in the wind is better than any kind of meditation or therapy. Andrew pulled up next to me and said, "I feel like I'm in France riding Paris-Roubaix with all these fields." I smiled and replied, "California, all the beauty of Paris-Roubaix, but without the cobbles."After the descent to the valley, we took turns on the front again as we worked our way to the rest stop at the 50 mile mark. The miles ticked by quickly and had made it to the second rest stop.
By this time, my legs were beginning to feel fairly heavy. A feeling that I was expecting, but I still didn't like that it came at the halfway mark of the race with 4,500 ft left to climb. We all headed back out onto the long false flat to the penultimate climb of the day, Heartbreak Hill. The false flat stretched out for a little over 20 miles staying fairly constant at 2-3% gradient. The flat played strange games with your head. Since we were in a valley with mountains on either side, it was hard locate the horizon. This made the road look perfectly flat and make you feel like you could crush this section. But the steady gradient would bite into your legs when you would try to accelerate to your usual flat cruising speed.
After a few miles, I decided to take my foot off the gas when I got to the front and set a more moderate pace to save my already fatigued legs for the climb. The boys weren't upset about the change in pace and Graham complimented the change. With the reduction in pace, we stopped our pace line and rode next to one another and swapped stories to make the miles tick by a little quicker. However, we mostly talked about our experiences of pain and torture in Malibu for the Mulholland Challenge. I shared my leg shut down story along Decker Road. Everyone immediately groaned in agony with thoughts about Decker-- exclaiming how steep and brutal that climb was. It was nice to commiserate with my companions about the previous races, but it only seemed to draw more attention to slow and gradual build up of acid in our legs.
As we continued up the long road to Heartbreak Hill, a fighter jet swooped into the valley. It couldn't have been more than a few hundred feet off the ground as it whooshed by leaving behind its signature roar and boom. We all howled like wolves at the moon as the plane came soaring past us. At least it was something to keep our minds away from the miles we had left. I noticed that Graham started to fall back from the group shortly after the fly-bye. Since he had completed the course before, I figured he knew just how challenging the climb ahead of us was, so I decided to pull up and ride with him.
It turns out that Graham was in a similar form situation. Shortly after Mulholland, he became ill with the flu and couldn't train for a few weeks. He limped through Breathless and told me he still wasn't 100% for Heartbreak. He decided to go through with the races since it was his last cycling hurrah since he was expecting a baby in a few months. I congratulated him on his new family and said it would be a hell of a way to go out. I explained how my business trip kept me off the bike for a few weeks and caused me to miss Breathless. At that point, we could tell that we were both hurting and we were going to do our best to bring each other to the finish line.
We finally made it to the base of Heartbreak Hill after what felt like an eternity. The climb is only a category 2, stretching out for 4 miles at a 5% average gradient. On a normal day, it certainly isn't anything special. It's not terribly long and has no steep section that cut down your legs and leaves you groveling. However, this wasn't a normal day-- The climb quickly turned into a sufferfest. A 5% gradient felt like a wall to my legs at this point. The pain beast was out of his cave and feasting on my legs, looking up every now and then just to give a wide, Cheshire cat like, grin; showing all of its sharp and crooked teeth before turning back down and taking another bite out of my thighs. As I climbed higher and higher, the beast would cackle and laugh in its imp-like voice as it clawed and scratched all over my body, looking for new places to sink its twisted fangs. Graham dropped me about a mile from the top, but the mountain was hurting him as well. I powered on through the last mile, twisting and contorting my face into a horrible grimace, trying to push through the suffering as best I could. I started channeling my inner Jens Voigt to push on through the pain. (See video below)
I made it to the peak and let out a loud sigh as I coasted down the road to the rest stop shortly after the summit. I joined up with Graham again and I made sure to take my time to eat and hydrate at the rest stop. He assured me that the worst part was over and that it was basically all downhill from there to the finish. This wasn't exactly true, we still had 15 more miles of rolling hills before the 10 mile descent back into Lebec. I felt surprisingly strong going up the steep rolling sections, often dropping Graham and having to slow up at the top to let him latch on again. I believe that the extra strength and energy came from knowing that the finish line was within reach.
The miles passed slowly, but they passed. My legs were still hurting, but eager to push on to the finish so they could finally have some respite. We made our way to the final descent through Frasier Park, and cruised along most of the way trading smiles knowing that our work was basically done. Mile 97, 98, and 99 passed---
POP!!
My rear tire had blown out. I slowed to the side of the road and kept control. I pulled out my spare tube and started to change the flat when I noticed that my tire had been damaged as well. A section of rubber had been ripped off so that the Kevlar lining was now showing. Uh-oh, this was not good. I showed Graham. He frowned and could only muster a small, "That sucks..." I decided to change the tube and just hope and that it could hold up for the last mile. I finished the change and hopped back on my bike, only to roll a few hundred feet before hearing that terrible popping noise again.
I stopped and told Graham to go on to the finish. I wished him well and thanked him for all the help. As he rode off, I pulled out my cell phone and called Kristen, who was waiting at the finish. I had just finished telling her to hop in my car to pick me up and escort me to the finish when another rider came screaming past me. He put on the breaks and asked if I was OK. I grumbled that I was fine, but I needed a new tire to make it to the finish.
"No problem. I have one! Here ya go!"
I couldn't hardly believe my eyes. He handed me a brand new tire and tube. "Just give 'em back when you get to the finish." I thanked him and began changing my flat with my newly borrowed equipment. I quickly called Kristen back and told her to cancel the emergency escort, I was going to finish on my own. I came rolling through the finish line and was greeted with cheers from Kristen, Graham, and my support rider. I gave back the borrowed equipment and thanked him wholeheartedly.
"Hey man. Lets get a picture, we went through hell together." Graham said. A picture was the least I could do. We really had been to hell and back but stuck together for the whole race. It's rare when you find that kind of comradery in a race. We had started out as total strangers, but by the end of the race we became what felt like brothers. It's really amazing what some shared pain and suffering can do to bring people together.
 |
| Sufferfest Brothers |
The Heartbreak Hundred hurt more than it really should have. I'm sure that if I had still been on my training schedule, I could have done much better with less suffering. But it turned to be quite the challenge both in terms of cycling form and mechanical difficulties. I was happy to at least end the season with a solid finish after running into heat stroke on the L'Etape du California and having to miss Breathless. I needed that finish just to salvage my first half of the season. I finished 114th overall out of 300 finishing riders. Graham had finished just inside the top 100 in 93rd. I'm sure we both could have easily finished around 75th overall if I didn't get that flat in the last mile.
I'm not disappointed with the results as I am more happy that I finished and can now start planning my training schedule for the second half of my cycling season.
Ride Statistics:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/180565988
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Pre-Race Update Heartbreak Hundred
MAY 18, 2012
SAN DIEGO, CA
Guten Tag!
I just got back from a two week business trip to Germany. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring my bike along for the journey. This prematurely put an end to the first half of my 2012 season since those two weeks were effectively my transition period. And to make things, umm... more "complicated," I have the last stage in the King of the Mountains Challenge, The Heartbreak Hundred, in a few days.
The trip forced me to miss the second stage, Breathless Agony, in Redlands, California. Moreover, since I missed that stage, I am disqualified in the GC (general classification) for the King of the Mountains Challenge. However, I'm sure if I didn't have to go on the trip, I would still be close to peak form for Heartbreak. But after a nice and easy training ride this week, I can tell that I lost a lot in those 14 days. My power output in heart rate zone 2 has dropped by 20-30 watts. It's really quite shocking how much fitness you lose, but I'm ready to start building it back up for the second half.
Back to the race! Heartbreak isn't as grueling as Mulholland or Breathless. Exactly 100 miles with 9,500 ft of climbing. It still is a substantial amount of climbing, but nothing like the 13k and 12k found in the previous two stages. Furthermore, the climbing is more gradually distributed along the course with a long, 20 mile section of road that stays at a 2-3% gradient, but I'm nowhere near peak form, so it's still going to sting the legs quite a bit.
I've decided to ride Heartbreak more like a training ride rather than a race. After all, it won't do me any good to race it only to have my legs explode at mile 50. I mean, I do "enjoy" torturing myself, but not to that extent. Time to punch my ticket for the autobus and enjoy my ride to the top.
My race tactics are pretty simple:
1. Find a moderately paced group
2. Make a friend in the group
3. Talk his ear off to help keep me distracted from the climbing
That's it! Nothing fancy. No breakaway, no attacks, no nothing. Now let's see if I can actually follow my own advice...
SAN DIEGO, CA
Guten Tag!
I just got back from a two week business trip to Germany. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring my bike along for the journey. This prematurely put an end to the first half of my 2012 season since those two weeks were effectively my transition period. And to make things, umm... more "complicated," I have the last stage in the King of the Mountains Challenge, The Heartbreak Hundred, in a few days.
The trip forced me to miss the second stage, Breathless Agony, in Redlands, California. Moreover, since I missed that stage, I am disqualified in the GC (general classification) for the King of the Mountains Challenge. However, I'm sure if I didn't have to go on the trip, I would still be close to peak form for Heartbreak. But after a nice and easy training ride this week, I can tell that I lost a lot in those 14 days. My power output in heart rate zone 2 has dropped by 20-30 watts. It's really quite shocking how much fitness you lose, but I'm ready to start building it back up for the second half.
Back to the race! Heartbreak isn't as grueling as Mulholland or Breathless. Exactly 100 miles with 9,500 ft of climbing. It still is a substantial amount of climbing, but nothing like the 13k and 12k found in the previous two stages. Furthermore, the climbing is more gradually distributed along the course with a long, 20 mile section of road that stays at a 2-3% gradient, but I'm nowhere near peak form, so it's still going to sting the legs quite a bit.
 |
| Heartbreak Hundred Elevation Profile |
I've decided to ride Heartbreak more like a training ride rather than a race. After all, it won't do me any good to race it only to have my legs explode at mile 50. I mean, I do "enjoy" torturing myself, but not to that extent. Time to punch my ticket for the autobus and enjoy my ride to the top.
My race tactics are pretty simple:
1. Find a moderately paced group
2. Make a friend in the group
3. Talk his ear off to help keep me distracted from the climbing
That's it! Nothing fancy. No breakaway, no attacks, no nothing. Now let's see if I can actually follow my own advice...
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
L’Etape du California 2012
APRIL 28, 2012
ONTARIO, CA
ONTARIO, CA
I
remember having fond memories of the L’Etape du California after competing in
2011. The overall course was challenging with just over 11,000 ft of climbing
over 79 miles with a mountain top finish at Mt. Baldy. The most thrilling
aspect of the race is that you are riding on the actual stage 7 course that the
pro peloton will be riding in May. They creatively structured the race such
that the only competitive timed portions of the race occur up two designated
king of the mountain (KOM) climbs: Glendora Mountain Road and Mount Baldy Road.
You are still given an overall start-to-finish time, but there is no prize or
ranking for that time, it is just nice to compare your time to the pros. I came
prepared this time with electrolyte tablets that you could drop into your 16 oz
water bottle and would dissolve. I tried them out before during the week and
they tasted pretty good. The orange tasted like orange, but you could still
taste a slight hint of salt. I figured it was worth it since I definitely
didn’t want my legs to shut down again like they had during the Mulholland
Challenge.
The
morning started in Ontario. I remember getting ready in my hotel room and
checking the weather report: sunny with a high of 85 degrees. Finally, some
warm southern California weather! Sure beats the near freezing start at Solvang
or the brisk, cloudy, ride in Malibu. I went out for a quick warm up as usual
and headed to the staging area for the start. I decided to start with the fastest
pack this time around, unlike Mulholland. I figured that it would do me some
good to always be with a group of riders throughout the race to help drag me to
the finish. Even if these guys proved to be real race category 1 studs, there
would be no problem dropping off the back and hooking up with the next group
coming up the roads. The fastest starting group was categorized as 18 mph
average speed. I thought this would be a little fast, considering there was a
lot of climbing ahead of us, but I figured I wouldn’t be doing much work at the
front.
I was
one of the first riders to enter the staging area. A few others trickled to the
front as it got closer to the race start. We chit chatted a bit and all made
jokes about how crazy we were to pay for this tortuous race. The VIP’s started
to line up in front of us and we all got a good look at NBA legend Bill Walton.
Turns out he liked the race enough to do it again this year too. Some of the
volunteers asked to take photos with us believing that we were all hot shots and
favorites to win the race. This made me chuckle a bit knowing that the real
pros would blow all of us out of the water, but it was still nice to have a
mini paparazzi group snapping photos of us all. Right before we were going to
head out on our way, the MC doing the start countdown pointed out last year’s
second place finisher. He was a few riders away from me and smugly nodded to
the acknowledgement. ‘OK, let this guy go, he’s pro’ I thought after hearing
that.
After some fanfare and music, we
were on our way and took a right onto G street out of the staging area. I was
about ten riders back from the front and saw one guy jump to the front and take
a right turn onto Vineyard. Huh, that’s funny I thought we were supposed to
stay on G street. The rest of the riders in front of me followed him and I
figured that they all knew the correct route and I must have overlooked
something in the course. I saw the second place pro briefly talk to the guy
that sprinted to the front and throw one of his hands up in the air in
frustration. He slowly pulled back and in an annoyed tone cried, “Anyone know
the right way to go? This guy doesn’t know the route.” HA! So I was right!
Guess that was a funny psychological experiment on how easy it is to second
guess yourself and go along with the mob. I piped up and told everyone that we
needed to make a left and take one of the cross streets to Euclid. We all turned on 4th street and
were shortly back on course once we reached Euclid.
One could say that the climbing
started there. Euclid Avenue was a long 6-7 mile stretch that was at a steady
gradient of 3%. Some false flat! We all cranked it out at a steady pace of 18
mph, nothing too hard or fast, but we weren’t taking it easy either. One by one
the elastic snapped from the yo-yoing riders in front and they were quickly
swallowed up by the charging peloton behind them. My legs felt really strong
and didn’t have much trouble holding the pace with the group up to the foot of
the climb up to Mt. Baldy Village.
This was the first major climb of
the day. I can’t recall if it was a category 2 or 1, but the road up to Mt.
Baldy Village is long and steep. The road mostly barked, or roared rather, with
6-8% sections of road. Every now and then it would snarl and bite you with a
12% section just to let you know it was still the boss and couldn’t be tamed
without a fight. The climb did more to splinter the group, and I remember
focusing on not staying with riders as much as just stamping out my own rhythm
around 80 rpm and keep my heart rate under control. Unfortunately, my bottom
bracket was in need of a bit more grease and would emit a small popping noise
with every revolution of my pedal stroke when we reached a steep section. I
sheepishly apologized to my new found riding friends for the metronome I
installed on my bike. My legs still felt strong, even though the climb was
proving to be more of a test than originally planned. Furthermore, it still
felt good to see that we were swallowing up the lonely souls that were being
popped off the groups in front of us. Funny, I hadn’t remembered this climb
being that difficult… I’m sure my brain happily erased those memories of pain
with the ebb and flow of time over the past year. We reached the village with
some huffing and puffing and turned onto Glendora Ridge road but still had
about a mile of climbing at 6% before it leveled off and we got to enjoy a nice
rolling hill descent.
Most of the riders had fallen back
from our original group once we started the descent. My new friend from La Grange
cycling team, Joe, and I took turns leading along the sweeping bends and
corners of Glendora Ridge. There weren’t many hairpin turns along Glendora so
it became quite fun to skillfully maneuver each turn at speed and feel the wind
blow through your hair. We reached a short uphill section and I needed to shift
down to my small chain-ring after pushing a big gear throughout the descent
section. KA-CHINK! I looked down and saw that I had dropped my chain on the
shift. I calmly told Joe that I had dropped my chain and pulled over to the
side of the road. He wished me luck and pushed on. I was back on my bike in 30
seconds at the expense of getting my fingers a little greasy and hooked up with
a small group that had originally started the Mt. Baldy climb with me.
We reached the first full rest stop
and I filled up my water bottles. I made sure to try and drink a lot of water
and finish a bottle an hour as a rule of thumb. I filled up, popped a few
electrolyte tablets in, and I was on my way again this time descending the
windy East Lake Road. I had forgotten how much fun descending wide, well-paved
roads could be! Feeling the thrill of leaning into each tight bend and having
the lateral g forces push you slightly into your seat was enough to make you
smile with excitement.
After having fun on the descent, I
continued onto the flatter, rolling hill section of the course. I ran into a
team of six or seven cyclists as well as a few random riders that had hitched a
ride to their train, just like I was going to do. Again, they were going fairly
fast, but not pushing the pace along. Furthermore, we just let the team do all
the work at the front since they were well organized and wanted to control the
pace. As Phil Ligit would say, I was in the ticket collector’s position, where
I would do no work and just make sure everyone was safely on board.
Unfortunately, this period of a ticket collecting didn’t last long. One of the
members of the team encountered a puncture flat, and they all stopped until he
had fixed it, while the other two riders and I continued up the road.
That was when things got hairy. As
a small group of three riders along the flat, but still rolling hill section of
the course, it became critical that we each do our turn on the front to
conserve our energy while still keeping up the pace. However, things got crazy,
fast… The other two riders were really stomping out a fast tempo going 27-28
mph along the flatter sections. It was fast enough where I had to skip my turn
at the front a few times just to keep up. But when I was in their slip-stream,
I was able to stay in my tempo to sub-threshold heart rate zone. I figured I
could keep the pace up and that it would be in my best interest to stay with
the fast group instead of letting them race ahead and have to do all that work
by myself. So I gritted my teeth when I was in front and kept on cranking out
the miles with those guys. We quickly approached the rest stop on Sierra Madre
Blvd and coasted in to refill our water.
While at the rest stop, one of the
riders in the group turns to me and says, “Wow man, great job!” With a puzzled
look that I’m sure was hidden by my sunglasses, I thanked him not really
knowing what I had done to incite such a comment of praise. I figured that he
was just telling me good job for staying with them since I was skipping turns
at the beginning. With some more water on board and a quick bathroom break, we
were off again, slowly riding now towards the first KOM climb up Glendora
Mountain Road. This time the pace was much more manageable. We were all riding together
and chit chatted a bit. The other rider exclaimed, “Man did you see that team
with us? They were really good, all out of my league.” Now I’m confused. The
pace set by the team wasn’t blistering like theirs. I thought these two guys
were pro! After all, they did start in the fastest group like me. Then as we
turned on Glendora Mountain Road, just before the start of the climb, the same
rider that praised the team tells us that he isn’t much of a climber and is
just going to doddle up the climb to save some energy for the final ascent to
the summit of Mt. Baldy. Now I’m really
confused! If he wanted to save energy, why was he pushing so hard on a
section of the course that wasn’t even competitively timed? Now I know how a
calculator feels when you try to divide by zero…
Glendora Mountain Road is a
category 2 climb that becomes more of a war of attrition than a heavy-weight
slugfest. It keeps a pretty constant gradient of 6% for nearly the whole climb
with no real steep sections to make your legs cry. It just keeps that 6% going
for 6.6 miles… It’s like cycling’s version of Chinese water torture where they
tie you down and just drip a single droplet of water on your head every few
seconds. At first, you laugh at it, “Ha! That’s it? This isn’t so bad.” But
after an hour, you are ready to tell them anything just to make that relentless
dripping stop. Knowing that the final climb up Mt. Baldy road was the real
test, I decided not to kick it into race mode, and just rode tempo up Glendora:
fast, but nothing in the red. I talked to the remaining rider with me and he
had the same thing in mind, so we ascended together.
I immediately noticed that my heart
rate was higher than usual for the amount of power I was putting out. I was
spinning at around 200 watts while my heart rate steadily climbed up to high
sub-threshold. Usually I’m in the tempo heart rate zone that is below
sub-threshold at that kind of watt output. I figured it was the effects of
fatigue from the previous efforts put in on the rolling hills. I decided to
back off a little until my heart rate settled down and let the other rider do
all the pace making. There wasn’t a lot of tree cover going up Glendora, only
rocky, desert-like mountain walls with mangled shrubs protruding from the
weathered cracks. This made for a very warm and toasty climb since you aren’t
going terribly fast to help cool you off. I remember sweating quite a bit as we
started the climb and every now and then feel the intense sting of one of the
salt filled beads fall into my eye.
About 2.5 miles into the climb, my
heart rate continued to rise to my threshold level. My legs weren’t complaining
more than usual, just the normal level of dissent that my brain easily handled
and told them to quit whining and get back to work. I knew I wasn’t going to
have a shut-down again like Mulholland, but I guess my heart wanted me to back
off more after cranking it with those other two guys. Ugh... great! Those two
guys wore me out just before the important section! I shifted into my granny
gear and decided spin up the rest of the way and let the guy I was riding with
go. My legs enjoyed the easier load and were happy to keep on spinning. Just
after I passed the 5km to go (3.2 miles) sign I looked down to check on my
heart rate and power output again. My heart rate had increased to a super-threshold state, while my power was dipping
around 180 watts. This was really weird I thought, but it is hard to lower your
heart rate on a climb after you get going. About 500 meters later I noticed
something else, I had stopped sweating… I no longer saw the glisten of
perspiration on my tanned forearms or felt the moisture on my eyebrows. Damn!
Dehydration?! I thought I had been drinking plenty of water! I drank enough
even to have to use the restroom at the previous rest stop. I sipped on some of
my water slowly, making sure not to drink too much and get sick. That tied me
over for a little while, but I hit another wall 500m down the road. All of a
sudden, I became extremely tired. Not tired as in fatigued from riding a bike,
but tired as in my body wanted to fall asleep. My eyes became very heavy and my
arms were weak, almost like my body wanted me to take a nap while still
pedaling on my bike. After this I knew something wasn’t right: the steadily
increasing heart rate, abrupt stop in perspiration, and now drowsiness.
I pulled over to the side of the
road and stopped. I knew that there were SRAM support vehicles and ambulances
patrolling the climb to give struggling riders help. I turned to look back and
wait for one to come up the road. As I waited, none of the symptoms subsided; I
was still very weak and tired with my heart beating very fast. Luckily, I
didn’t have to wait long before an ambulance came around the bed and I waved
them down. I told them I thought I had heat stroke or dehydration and described
my symptoms. The roughly agreed and offered to transport me to the rest stop at
the top of the climb. We loaded up my bike and I sat in the back with one of
the EMTs and enjoyed the air conditioning. I was still very drowsy and weak,
but the air conditioning of the van felt amazing and I quickly calmed down. The
EMT started asking me questions like if I had a headache or vomited. I told him
that I hadn’t, but I felt like I had no energy left and was very sleepy. He
just nodded and told me to relax. After a few minutes, we started chit chatting
about the race and how long it was, how much climbing was involved, and that it
was a stage in the Tour of California. With every description of the races
difficulty the paramedic’s eyes seemed to get wider and wider. “80 miles?!
That’s nuts!” he exclaimed once. I chuckled a bit since it was actually shorter
than most races and we headed to the top.
Once at the rest stop, I got out
and drank lots of water and ate plenty of food just to cover my bases. I was
feeling much better after the cool five minute car ride, and the peanut butter -
banana sandwiches tasted amazing. I went back to the van and told them I was
feeling better, but wanted to know if I should be transported back to the
starting line or needed to go to the hospital. The EMT said that he noticed I
started sweating again after a few minutes in the van and said I was very
coherent when talking to him so he didn’t think I had a serious case of heat
stroke nor needed to go to the hospital. They offered to let me rest in their
van as they tried to figure out a transportation plan. Unfortunately, there was
no cell phone reception at the rest stop at Glendora Ridge road, so we couldn’t
arrange for anyone to pick me up. Legally, they were only able to transport me
to the hospital, and since I didn’t need to go, they could only look after me
at the top. After waiting in the van for 10 minutes or so, I decided I was
feeling good enough to limp along up Glendora Ridge and then turn to head back
down Mt. Baldy Road to the start in Ontario. They wished me good luck and I was
back on my bike with plenty of water and feeling much better.
I had to go back up Glendora Ridge
road to Mt. Baldy Village, the same road I went down near the beginning of the
race. Needless to say, it was much more fun to descend than go back up. Oddly
enough, it isn’t categorized since it has some short downhill sections, but it
is mostly an uphill climb at around 4-5% in most sections. I made no effort to
push it and just happily spun along in my lowest gear, barely pushing 150
watts. I hooked up with one guy that was going around the same pace and we
silently went up the road, but we were silent for different reasons. He was
thinking about the pain and torture that awaited him on the road up to the
summit, and I was thinking about keeping everything together long enough so I
could head back down to the start. Oddly enough I felt really strong going up
Glendora and contemplated making a run at the finish. But I quickly decided
against it since going to the summit of Mt. Baldy is torture when you’re
feeling good, let alone recovering from heat sickness! Furthermore, I was
disqualified from the competition since I was given a ride to the top, so I
really didn’t have anything to gain by finishing.
I made it to the final rest stop at
the top of Glendora Ridge fairly easily and took my time at the rest stop. I
filled up on water and ate some more. I grabbed a seat in a nice tented area in
the shade and enjoyed my drink and food. I noticed that the others sitting down
all had a spaced out zombie like look on their faces. Their expressions
conveyed the dread and terror of the climb that awaited them. For once I was
glad I wasn’t going up to the top of the mountain. After I finished my meal, I
got back onto the saddle and made my way back down to Ontario. It was a nice
and easy descent the whole way down.
When I made it back to the hotel,
part of me felt empty inside. This was the first race I’ve entered and couldn’t
make it to the finish. That wasn’t an easy feeling to shake, but I had to tell
myself that I hadn’t really given up as much as I was a victim of bad luck.
There wasn’t really anything I could have done to combat the heat and prevent what
happened. I drank plenty of water and ate my normal fill of food along the
race. I guess it just wasn’t in the cards for me to finish the race that day.
Most of the time, bad luck comes in the form of a flat tire, broken spoke or
chain, but that day it came in the form of heat sickness. It’s a tough pill to
swallow when something like that happens to you, but part of developing as a
rider is knowing that those things happen sometimes. You just have to roll with
the punches and get back in the saddle to try it again…. One thing is for sure,
my stomach is full of anger and I will have my revenge next year.
Mulholland Challenge 2012
APRIL 13, 2012
MALIBU, CA
The Mulholland Challenge turned out to be exactly how it was named, a challenge. I knew the race was going to be tough, and it certainly makes your legs scream in pain just from reading the description on paper: 115 miles, 13,000+ ft of climbing. My legs knew it was going to be hard, my head knew it was going to be torture, but this went far beyond my expectations.
I did a few recon rides to test out the climbs in the challenge, specifically the four big ones: Topanga Canyon, Rockstore, Decker Canyon, and Stunt Road.
The ride started out... cold, really cold. The starting temperature was 40 degrees F. I thought this was southern California? The place where it doesn't dip below 60 at night! Luckily I had brought arm and leg warmers, but that still didn't do much to truly warm me up. After registering and getting settled in the morning, I headed out for a quick warm up and waited at the start line at 7 AM. This was the suggested starting time for riders who estimated they could complete the ride in 8-10 hours. I thought I would go a little faster than this, but I figured it would be better to start with a slower group and save my energy, than to start with a faster group and burn all my matches trying to keep up with them on the flats and not on the climbs. After completing the ride, I don't know if this was a tactically good or bad decision.
I waited to head out with a relatively large group of riders. About 20 or so, most riding for the same club team. The first 20 miles were a breeze. I just sat in behind their wheels as we descended towards the PCH. I could tell that everyone was nervous about the long day ahead of us when the pack would slow down to almost a crawl at every small 6% grade section on the way down. No one wanted to push their legs at the beginning, and with good reason. We made it down to the PCH and enjoyed our last bit of flat section before the first climb, Topanga Canyon.
Topanga was a good climb to start the day. It starts gradually with a 2-3% grade and then kicks up into the meat of the climb at around 6% with a nice false flat thrown in between to break up the steep sections. My legs felt great along this climb. I had to make sure to tell myself not to push the pace too much at the beginning to leave something in the tank for the other climbs, so I up shifted to a lower gear and was happy to spin along up the climb. However, I had misjudged the strength of my starting group. I started to go off the front of the group, but not from attacking, just from spinning my lower gear. I looked over my shoulder every now and then to see if the group was catching up or if another strong rider was going to come up along side me, but only empty road seemed to follow me. I shrugged my shoulders and sighed knowing it was going to be long, lonely 90+ more miles to the finish. As I passed all the riders that started at the earlier starting times, I found a guy that was climbing at a good place that was only slightly slower than mine. I figured this was the best person I was going to find during the climb, so I sat up a bit and rode the rest of the way up with him.
His name was Collin, and he was crazy enough to do the double century. He looked like he was 40, lived in Orange County, and had a heavy British accent. Funny, you always seem to meet Europeans at these bike races. We chit chatted and worked together on the rolling hills on Mullholland highway before the first rest stop at mile 40. He skipped the first stop and continued to the Rockstore climb, while I stopped to fill up my water bottles. I was back on the road and climbing in a few minutes.
Rockstore was nothing too bad, nothing too steep, but nothing flat either, just constant 5-7% the whole way up. I got back into my usual climbing rhythm and started to look for Collin up the road. By this time the sun was out and warming the canyons a bit, but it was still cold, around 60 degrees. I noticed the wind was picking up too. Great, if the climbing wasn't hard enough, I needed to fight the wind too? I was feeling really good going up Rockstore... er... well... as good as suffering up a climb can feel. I caught up to Collin at the top of the climb. He turned to me with a wry smile and said "I thought I'd might see you again." We continued to work together until Yerba Buena. He sat up and let me go off on my own. I wasn't too surprised since he had almost 150 miles left.
Yerba Buena was an extremely rough road. The pavement was cracked and broken with major bumps and dips in between. I got a mild taste of what some of the pros feel in the spring classics going over cobblestone roads. The worst part wasn't the road however, but it was going over the short steep climbs on the cracked pavement. The short rises seemed to break all of your rhythm and the bumps along the way up seem to take more power to conquer than they should. And after 5-7 miles of these rolling cobble-like hills, it started to deaden the legs a bit. Finally, I reached Deer Creek Road and descended to the PCH. The descent was steep and fast. I made sure not to take any risks going around the bends since it had just rained the night before and there was some gravel and debris on the road. I thought the last thing I needed was to slide out on a turn just because I was trying to shave off a few seconds from my finishing time. But at least we were rewarded with a beautiful view of the Pacific Ocean as we descended. By the time I finished going down Deer Creek, the wind was really howling from the west. Luckily, we turned onto the PCH so that it was a tail wind and finally helping me.
At this point, all the climbing efforts, rolling hills, and cold descents had taken their toll on my legs. I knew I wasn't turning over my pedals as easily as I should, and with Decker Road approaching, I knew this was a bad time to start feeling fatigued. I quickly ate an extra Gu and washed it down with some water as I enjoyed the help from the tail wind before the climb.
Decker Road is a snarling beast of a climb. It digs its claws deep into your legs right at the beginning with a sharp 12% section straight off the coast. It then bites your already aching legs by tipping up to 17% for a few hundred meters before "leveling" back out at 8%. It's relatively short at only 4.4 miles, but it makes sure it takes as much out of you as possible in those miles. I started the climb already in the pain cave and I knew I was going to have to go deeper... much deeper to make it to the top. Each pedal stroke on the steep beginning sections made my legs cry in agony. "Just keep going," I told myself, "dig deep." I would like to describe the scenery on the climb, but I honestly can't remember. I was so focused on the pain that all I saw in front of me was steep, twisting, asphalt. I remember my body becoming numb to the suffering, 5% then surely would have felt like a flat. I gritted my teeth and made it past the steep sections, only to find myself in a new room of the pain cave. A room that is reserved for a special kind of torture: a body shutdown.... My legs had given up... It was a full blown mutiny... Seemed that they had enough of my brain telling them to shut up and keep going. It wasn't so much of a lactic acid burn that made them stop, but a dull numbness. Where telling the legs to turn was more of a challenge than overcoming any sort of muscle burn or fatigue. My power plummeted, and my cadence dropped to a terribly slow 40 rpm. My heart was still on board and ready to work, showing only a modest work rate of 150 bpm, wondering why the rest of my body wasn't turning it up a notch. I immediately thought I had a major problem on my hands. I had always been able to push my body, but I had never thought that it was going to shutdown on me. I quickly ran some numbers in my head and grimly realized I had 35 more miles left to the finish with Stunt road left to climb! There was no way I was going to be able to carry this on to the finish! Thoughts of pulling out my cell phone and calling Kristen to pick me up and abandon the race came surging forward. It was like a siren's song saying, "Why put yourself through all this pain when relaxation is only a phone call away?" I shook them off as much as I could, but their words became louder and more powerful with each pedal turn.
I crawled to the top of Decker and stopped at the SAG stop which seemed like an oasis in the middle of a desert. My thoughts diverted from giving up to refueling. I ate anything that I could get my hands on that I thought would help get my legs back. Cliff bars, Gu's, a banana, and water. The attendant asked if my legs were alright. I modestly responded, "I think they are cramping up a bit." to hide my pain. He quickly grabbed a bottle and responded "Here! We have electrolyte tablets!" He gave me three and I took them down with some water. I then hopped back on the saddle and spent more time going through torture. It just so happens that I forgot to start my Garmin again to record the climb up Encinal Canyon, but it felt every bit as painful as Decker, but it was only 5-6%. At this point the voices telling me to abandon were screaming. I knew if I was struggling up this very short 5-6% grade climb, there would be no way I could endure Stunt in 20 more miles. Oddly enough, my logical reasoning saved me. At the time, I decided to push myself until I got over the top of the climb and abandon after I finished the descent down the Rockstore climb since it finished at a nice cross road with a parking lot for a near by park on the side. I decided that would be the easiest place to communicate to pick me up as well as park to take care of loading my bike. However, all of a sudden, as I was going up Encinal Canyon, my legs seemed to come back and function again. I looked down at my power meter and I was doing 225 watts with a cadence of 70! I was back and ready to ride! The electrolyte tablets had kicked in and I was functioning properly. To say that I was back to 100% would be a huge exaggeration. I was still in pain, like you would be after 80 miles of riding and climbing, but it felt like I was a completely new rider after taking those pills. The thoughts of abandoning were quickly washed from my conscience as I set my sights on the long descent.
On my way to the start of Stunt road, I ran into a few cyclists out for their Saturday afternoon ride. One came up next to me and asked what event I was doing. I told him all about the Mulholland Challenge and course statistics. He then asked when I started, and I told him I had started at 7, so I had been riding for 6 hours. Another rider in the group muttered, "Riding for 6 hours and he's STILL kicking our butts? geez" That made me smile and reassured me about my conditioning. If it was this though for me, it must be this tough for everyone else. I rode with the group until I turned onto Stunt. They all wished me good luck as I started the climb.
Stunt is a hard climb any day, but nothing terrible. It starts out gradually and rises to 8% where it stays for a few miles. I was in some deep pain, but had switched from race mode, to survival mode. I wasn't pushing it up the climb, but just going at a pace I knew could bring me to the finish line. Last thing I needed was another meltdown. I doddled up the climb at a reasonable 5-6 mph and gave words of encouragement to all the elite men that passed me going up the climb. These were the guys that started later and had bridged the half hour gap to me.
I made it to the top still feeling horrible, but I gained more strength in knowing I was closer to finishing and that the hardest part of the day was all over. I did the same thing at the SAG stop on Stunt as I did at Decker where I ate a bunch and took some more electrolyte tablets. I decided to eat some crackers that they had there too since I was over eating mostly sweet food and wanted something salty. These took a while to eat, and prevented me from getting back on my bike quickly. I probably could have shaved 5 minutes off my time if I didn't eat those crackers, but I wasn't thinking about my finishing time as much as just plain finishing. I got back on my bike and conquered the short Piuma climb before descending all the way down to Cold Creek and taking that back up to Mulholland. The climbs hurt, but I was in a zombie like state, where I just knew I was going to finish and could endure the suffering for just a little while longer. When I turned on Mulholland, there were only 6 miles left to the finish, but the wind would be directly in my face the whole time. Guess I just couldn't get a break! At about 4 miles from the finish a small group of six riders caught up to me and I decided to turn off the gas to let them catch up so I could find some shelter from the wind. With 400 meters left to the finish line, I had made my way to second position in the pace line and decided to sprint and gun it for the finish. I down shifted and exploded away from the pack putting in everything I had. With about 100 meters to go my body cried out "You idiot! Why are you doing this! You're in pain! You can't be sprinting like this!" I could no longer continue my sprint and I looked over my shoulder to see who had followed me and was sure to pass me in the end since I was out of gas. But to my surprise, no one in the group had matched my effort, all I saw were grimacing faces farther down the road. I guess they were all tired too. I crossed the finish line and saw Kristen jumping and screaming to cheer me on. She was one of five or six supporters waiting at the finish.
I was glad I had made it to the finish and most of all I was glad it was over. There weren't many riders at the finish, maybe 20 to 30 had finished before me, some I recognized from passing me on Stunt. That made me feel better about my performance since I was in some elite company at the finish line. When the results came in, I had finished 50th overall with a total time of 8:11:22. I don't know how many riders started the race, but the results showed that 331 riders finished. Not too bad, top 15% of finishers. I was surprised to see that I did so well since I had a major body breakdown in the middle of the race, and makes me wonder what I could have done if I added those electrolyte tablets to my cycling diet throughout the race. I guess we'll see next year... :)
MALIBU, CA
The Mulholland Challenge turned out to be exactly how it was named, a challenge. I knew the race was going to be tough, and it certainly makes your legs scream in pain just from reading the description on paper: 115 miles, 13,000+ ft of climbing. My legs knew it was going to be hard, my head knew it was going to be torture, but this went far beyond my expectations.
I did a few recon rides to test out the climbs in the challenge, specifically the four big ones: Topanga Canyon, Rockstore, Decker Canyon, and Stunt Road.
The ride started out... cold, really cold. The starting temperature was 40 degrees F. I thought this was southern California? The place where it doesn't dip below 60 at night! Luckily I had brought arm and leg warmers, but that still didn't do much to truly warm me up. After registering and getting settled in the morning, I headed out for a quick warm up and waited at the start line at 7 AM. This was the suggested starting time for riders who estimated they could complete the ride in 8-10 hours. I thought I would go a little faster than this, but I figured it would be better to start with a slower group and save my energy, than to start with a faster group and burn all my matches trying to keep up with them on the flats and not on the climbs. After completing the ride, I don't know if this was a tactically good or bad decision.
I waited to head out with a relatively large group of riders. About 20 or so, most riding for the same club team. The first 20 miles were a breeze. I just sat in behind their wheels as we descended towards the PCH. I could tell that everyone was nervous about the long day ahead of us when the pack would slow down to almost a crawl at every small 6% grade section on the way down. No one wanted to push their legs at the beginning, and with good reason. We made it down to the PCH and enjoyed our last bit of flat section before the first climb, Topanga Canyon.
Topanga was a good climb to start the day. It starts gradually with a 2-3% grade and then kicks up into the meat of the climb at around 6% with a nice false flat thrown in between to break up the steep sections. My legs felt great along this climb. I had to make sure to tell myself not to push the pace too much at the beginning to leave something in the tank for the other climbs, so I up shifted to a lower gear and was happy to spin along up the climb. However, I had misjudged the strength of my starting group. I started to go off the front of the group, but not from attacking, just from spinning my lower gear. I looked over my shoulder every now and then to see if the group was catching up or if another strong rider was going to come up along side me, but only empty road seemed to follow me. I shrugged my shoulders and sighed knowing it was going to be long, lonely 90+ more miles to the finish. As I passed all the riders that started at the earlier starting times, I found a guy that was climbing at a good place that was only slightly slower than mine. I figured this was the best person I was going to find during the climb, so I sat up a bit and rode the rest of the way up with him.
His name was Collin, and he was crazy enough to do the double century. He looked like he was 40, lived in Orange County, and had a heavy British accent. Funny, you always seem to meet Europeans at these bike races. We chit chatted and worked together on the rolling hills on Mullholland highway before the first rest stop at mile 40. He skipped the first stop and continued to the Rockstore climb, while I stopped to fill up my water bottles. I was back on the road and climbing in a few minutes.
Rockstore was nothing too bad, nothing too steep, but nothing flat either, just constant 5-7% the whole way up. I got back into my usual climbing rhythm and started to look for Collin up the road. By this time the sun was out and warming the canyons a bit, but it was still cold, around 60 degrees. I noticed the wind was picking up too. Great, if the climbing wasn't hard enough, I needed to fight the wind too? I was feeling really good going up Rockstore... er... well... as good as suffering up a climb can feel. I caught up to Collin at the top of the climb. He turned to me with a wry smile and said "I thought I'd might see you again." We continued to work together until Yerba Buena. He sat up and let me go off on my own. I wasn't too surprised since he had almost 150 miles left.
Yerba Buena was an extremely rough road. The pavement was cracked and broken with major bumps and dips in between. I got a mild taste of what some of the pros feel in the spring classics going over cobblestone roads. The worst part wasn't the road however, but it was going over the short steep climbs on the cracked pavement. The short rises seemed to break all of your rhythm and the bumps along the way up seem to take more power to conquer than they should. And after 5-7 miles of these rolling cobble-like hills, it started to deaden the legs a bit. Finally, I reached Deer Creek Road and descended to the PCH. The descent was steep and fast. I made sure not to take any risks going around the bends since it had just rained the night before and there was some gravel and debris on the road. I thought the last thing I needed was to slide out on a turn just because I was trying to shave off a few seconds from my finishing time. But at least we were rewarded with a beautiful view of the Pacific Ocean as we descended. By the time I finished going down Deer Creek, the wind was really howling from the west. Luckily, we turned onto the PCH so that it was a tail wind and finally helping me.
At this point, all the climbing efforts, rolling hills, and cold descents had taken their toll on my legs. I knew I wasn't turning over my pedals as easily as I should, and with Decker Road approaching, I knew this was a bad time to start feeling fatigued. I quickly ate an extra Gu and washed it down with some water as I enjoyed the help from the tail wind before the climb.
Decker Road is a snarling beast of a climb. It digs its claws deep into your legs right at the beginning with a sharp 12% section straight off the coast. It then bites your already aching legs by tipping up to 17% for a few hundred meters before "leveling" back out at 8%. It's relatively short at only 4.4 miles, but it makes sure it takes as much out of you as possible in those miles. I started the climb already in the pain cave and I knew I was going to have to go deeper... much deeper to make it to the top. Each pedal stroke on the steep beginning sections made my legs cry in agony. "Just keep going," I told myself, "dig deep." I would like to describe the scenery on the climb, but I honestly can't remember. I was so focused on the pain that all I saw in front of me was steep, twisting, asphalt. I remember my body becoming numb to the suffering, 5% then surely would have felt like a flat. I gritted my teeth and made it past the steep sections, only to find myself in a new room of the pain cave. A room that is reserved for a special kind of torture: a body shutdown.... My legs had given up... It was a full blown mutiny... Seemed that they had enough of my brain telling them to shut up and keep going. It wasn't so much of a lactic acid burn that made them stop, but a dull numbness. Where telling the legs to turn was more of a challenge than overcoming any sort of muscle burn or fatigue. My power plummeted, and my cadence dropped to a terribly slow 40 rpm. My heart was still on board and ready to work, showing only a modest work rate of 150 bpm, wondering why the rest of my body wasn't turning it up a notch. I immediately thought I had a major problem on my hands. I had always been able to push my body, but I had never thought that it was going to shutdown on me. I quickly ran some numbers in my head and grimly realized I had 35 more miles left to the finish with Stunt road left to climb! There was no way I was going to be able to carry this on to the finish! Thoughts of pulling out my cell phone and calling Kristen to pick me up and abandon the race came surging forward. It was like a siren's song saying, "Why put yourself through all this pain when relaxation is only a phone call away?" I shook them off as much as I could, but their words became louder and more powerful with each pedal turn.
I crawled to the top of Decker and stopped at the SAG stop which seemed like an oasis in the middle of a desert. My thoughts diverted from giving up to refueling. I ate anything that I could get my hands on that I thought would help get my legs back. Cliff bars, Gu's, a banana, and water. The attendant asked if my legs were alright. I modestly responded, "I think they are cramping up a bit." to hide my pain. He quickly grabbed a bottle and responded "Here! We have electrolyte tablets!" He gave me three and I took them down with some water. I then hopped back on the saddle and spent more time going through torture. It just so happens that I forgot to start my Garmin again to record the climb up Encinal Canyon, but it felt every bit as painful as Decker, but it was only 5-6%. At this point the voices telling me to abandon were screaming. I knew if I was struggling up this very short 5-6% grade climb, there would be no way I could endure Stunt in 20 more miles. Oddly enough, my logical reasoning saved me. At the time, I decided to push myself until I got over the top of the climb and abandon after I finished the descent down the Rockstore climb since it finished at a nice cross road with a parking lot for a near by park on the side. I decided that would be the easiest place to communicate to pick me up as well as park to take care of loading my bike. However, all of a sudden, as I was going up Encinal Canyon, my legs seemed to come back and function again. I looked down at my power meter and I was doing 225 watts with a cadence of 70! I was back and ready to ride! The electrolyte tablets had kicked in and I was functioning properly. To say that I was back to 100% would be a huge exaggeration. I was still in pain, like you would be after 80 miles of riding and climbing, but it felt like I was a completely new rider after taking those pills. The thoughts of abandoning were quickly washed from my conscience as I set my sights on the long descent.
On my way to the start of Stunt road, I ran into a few cyclists out for their Saturday afternoon ride. One came up next to me and asked what event I was doing. I told him all about the Mulholland Challenge and course statistics. He then asked when I started, and I told him I had started at 7, so I had been riding for 6 hours. Another rider in the group muttered, "Riding for 6 hours and he's STILL kicking our butts? geez" That made me smile and reassured me about my conditioning. If it was this though for me, it must be this tough for everyone else. I rode with the group until I turned onto Stunt. They all wished me good luck as I started the climb.
Stunt is a hard climb any day, but nothing terrible. It starts out gradually and rises to 8% where it stays for a few miles. I was in some deep pain, but had switched from race mode, to survival mode. I wasn't pushing it up the climb, but just going at a pace I knew could bring me to the finish line. Last thing I needed was another meltdown. I doddled up the climb at a reasonable 5-6 mph and gave words of encouragement to all the elite men that passed me going up the climb. These were the guys that started later and had bridged the half hour gap to me.
I made it to the top still feeling horrible, but I gained more strength in knowing I was closer to finishing and that the hardest part of the day was all over. I did the same thing at the SAG stop on Stunt as I did at Decker where I ate a bunch and took some more electrolyte tablets. I decided to eat some crackers that they had there too since I was over eating mostly sweet food and wanted something salty. These took a while to eat, and prevented me from getting back on my bike quickly. I probably could have shaved 5 minutes off my time if I didn't eat those crackers, but I wasn't thinking about my finishing time as much as just plain finishing. I got back on my bike and conquered the short Piuma climb before descending all the way down to Cold Creek and taking that back up to Mulholland. The climbs hurt, but I was in a zombie like state, where I just knew I was going to finish and could endure the suffering for just a little while longer. When I turned on Mulholland, there were only 6 miles left to the finish, but the wind would be directly in my face the whole time. Guess I just couldn't get a break! At about 4 miles from the finish a small group of six riders caught up to me and I decided to turn off the gas to let them catch up so I could find some shelter from the wind. With 400 meters left to the finish line, I had made my way to second position in the pace line and decided to sprint and gun it for the finish. I down shifted and exploded away from the pack putting in everything I had. With about 100 meters to go my body cried out "You idiot! Why are you doing this! You're in pain! You can't be sprinting like this!" I could no longer continue my sprint and I looked over my shoulder to see who had followed me and was sure to pass me in the end since I was out of gas. But to my surprise, no one in the group had matched my effort, all I saw were grimacing faces farther down the road. I guess they were all tired too. I crossed the finish line and saw Kristen jumping and screaming to cheer me on. She was one of five or six supporters waiting at the finish.
I was glad I had made it to the finish and most of all I was glad it was over. There weren't many riders at the finish, maybe 20 to 30 had finished before me, some I recognized from passing me on Stunt. That made me feel better about my performance since I was in some elite company at the finish line. When the results came in, I had finished 50th overall with a total time of 8:11:22. I don't know how many riders started the race, but the results showed that 331 riders finished. Not too bad, top 15% of finishers. I was surprised to see that I did so well since I had a major body breakdown in the middle of the race, and makes me wonder what I could have done if I added those electrolyte tablets to my cycling diet throughout the race. I guess we'll see next year... :)
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