Heartbreak

Pisgah goodness today. Plans fell into place from the mtbr forums for a meetup to ride Heartbreak Ridge. Oddly enough, the two that joined me were guys that I had ridden heartbreak with before, so it was good to see them again. I'll not mention who bailed... Sidney! You know who you are. Anyways, we met up at the Geyser, kitted up and headed up Mill Creek Road. We chatted it up on the way, and made quick work of the gravel that had me nearly in tears at the ORAMM a few years ago. After heading down towards Montreat, we cut up through Ridgecrest, and onto Rattlesnake.

Bottom of Rattlesnake

This was mostly a hike-a-bike section, I would guess the gradient is above 30 percent. Thankfully, for all its steepness it gains elevation quickly, and is over just as quickly. After about two or three miles of off and on the bike antics, we made it to the old toll road

Old Toll Road (7 miles more or less of this grade, this rocky)



Overlook on the Toll Road, pointing to where we are headed.



As opposed to the Curtis Creek gravel route, this is significantly more fun, and more challenging. When we left the geyser it was about 75 and cloudy, by the time we reached the old toll road we had been stormed on once, but it went by quickly. After climbing up the majority of the toll road, the skies opened up a second time and we were scrambling for some shelter under the rhododendron. After the storm passed, we continued our climb past Old Man Toyota's shanty in the woods (dude actually lives here, miles up a gated road that is super rocky...must be interesting in the winter). Anyways, we regrouped at the top, grabbed some food, shivered a bit and then decided to head down Heartbreak. At 5200', the temp was probably in the low 50's and it was raining, amazing what elevation does.

The top of Heartbreak is to the far right, you can see the clouds/storm we were in at the top.



As we descended, it was incredible to see the change in the foliage; at the top it still looke essentially like late winter with next to no green aside from the rhododendron and laurel.



About halfway down, things started to green up, everything was budding, then by lower heartbreak, we were riding through tunnels of rhododendron in full bloom. Pretty amazing. The descent was great, trying to hang onto Peter's wheel had me at the very edge of control, and hitting almost 30mph on the dirt. Madness! Great ride Matt and Peter, we'll get together again soon!

Boone Roubiax 2011

Here's to you, Mr. Packfill!


Another installment of having fun on the bike, and performing in a mediocre manner was had at the 2011 Boone Roubaix. I finished 33rd of about 85, which is significantly better than my performance from last year.

The race started with a neutral roll out from Todd, and was considered game on when we crossed the bridge on Castle Ford road. Castle Ford starts with a decent little climb that isn't too terribly steep. The pace quickened across the one lane bridge and things started to stretch out. In a scene reminiscent of the Battenkill, I found myself in less than optimal position. I was able to accelerate around those being dropped off the back of the lead pack and tag on for the remainder of the first climb. I looked back to realize I was the last man in the lead pack, and there were only 22 people ahead of me. The field was shattered on the first hill.

We crossed the river a second time and hit the next hill, I knew I was in trouble because I was still pretty high in the red zone, and I slowly fell off along with about three others. The three of us regrouped, finished the climb strong, but in a bit of recovery mode and were caught by two others. the five of us worked together for the remainder of the little loop keeping the lead pack in sight. We let it all hang out on the descent back to the river on Big Hill road. We motored along in a single paceline and caught the leaders on Railroad Grade. Again, the first climb on Castle Ford was quick, and I was reeling from having chased. I quickly found myself alone on the second climb, and for most of the remainder of the second small loop. By the end of Big Hill, I had caught two others off the back of the leaders and a couple of others that were otb caught back onto me. Our group of five headed back into Todd to start the first big climb on gravel of the day: Carter Miller.

There was a short feed going into the gravel, and I snagged a bottle from an elderly woman on the side of the road. (she was intending to hand it up, I wasn't mugging her). Our group fell apart on the gravel and I soon found myself essentially alone. The climb up 194 found me back in a group, some from in front of me, some from behind. We worked together to the top and I killed it on the descent. Regrouping at the bottom, our crew worked together until the big climb on Mill Creek. After the paved Mill Creek climb, we again turned onto gravel and were faced with the steepest climb of the day, Big Flatts Church. There are climbs that riders can muscle over, some that they can gain a rhythm...this is neither. Riders simply survive this climb in whatever way they can...some walk. I finished up the climb and was able to catch onto a few on the gravel descent, then onto the paved descent back to Railroad Grade.

By the time we got back onto the finishing straight of Railroad Grade, we were a group of seven. We worked hard on the remaining eight miles of flat, fast, windy railroad grade in order to catch as many as we could, and not get caught by anyone. We got to the 2k to go sign, and the pace quickened a bit, but everyone was in a tight spot at this point after such a brutal race. Our group sprint was pretty tame, and since we were sprinting for a place in the high 20's-low 30's I figured it wasnt really worth the risk of getting tangled up and wrecking, so I rode in sitting up. A great day on the bike, many high points, and for the first time in any of my road races, I felt like I was actually racing, not just surviving. Satisfying.

New Kit

The new CLM kits came in the other day, so I met up with Mitch last night and picked it up. Looks/fits great, kept me comfortable on today's ride. When I got back from the ride, Lorien was excited to see me. She had a bit of a rollsesh in the backyard afterwards.

Wilmington

I just got back from the annual 8th grade field trip to Wilmington. Taking a phalanx of pubescents to the beach 250 miles from home always spells a good time, impressively no one got hurt this year and we managed not to get ticketed or kicked out of any museums!

Spring break beckons, and saddle time will be the norm!

Tour of the Battenkill 2011

This weekend feels like it was a total blur, so there may be details and events that I have omitted, but the experience of the whole race was cathartic. I've had basically three months of training mentally and physically for this race that has been pent up looking for a release. Battenkill was it. I may not have achieved the goals that I had originally intended, but even as a ride, the race was an experience of mirth. I'll leave out some of the write up over the trip up to New York, but needless to say, it was an exercise in hilarity. There were some low points along the road in New Jersey as we lost our way and ended up in rush hour traffic on a two lane road, but overall the trip was fun. When we arrived at our lodgings for the weekend, I was thrilled. Built in 1779, the house and subsequent barns served as a small inn, and later was the home of Susan B. Anthony.



We were set up in the barn that serves as an art gallery, it was perfect. Just Spartan enough to clear you of the clutter of life and dissolve technology, but also plush enough to be comfortable. No distractions, one weekend, one real purpose: the 'kill.

Resting before the madness



Fast Forward:
E and I got checked in Saturday after doing some scouting of the course. Carney and Cassiday had just been regraded, so it was pretty loose and sketchy. Jill and Sarah were tailing along behind us on our pre-ride and had to back off on a couple of the descents because we were dropping it like its hot. (yes, I just made that reference).




After some great dinner at the Old Jonesville Store just outside of Saratoga Springs, we headed back to the barn and met up with Frank and Stephen and talked tactics, turns out it didn't matter a whole lot for E or I, but it's still fun to plot and scheme.
Sunday morning brought an excellent breakfast at the main house, unfortunately though the well ran dry, and we were out of luck for drinking water. Some scrambling ensued, but we drove up the road to a gas station and bought some bottled and the problem was dispelled. We hitched a ride with the girls over to the start line and after a brief warm up toed the line with the crew. Out of town and everything was jovial for the first 5 miles to the bridge. The first dirt section, Roberson Road, went by without any real drama. After making the turn onto Perry Hill things got heated and I quickly found myself in a spot of bother. I recovered a bit on the descent afterwards only to be faced with Juniper Swamp. At this point I was towards the back of those left in the lead group after Perry Hill. I should have worked to get myself into better position for the beginning of the climb, but I thought I'd be okay where I was. I wasn't. A small gap opened in front of me at the crest of the hill and the pack took off down the other side. I chased them for a very long time. Longer than I should have before backing off and trying to work with others. All the way out onto the tail end of 64 (about 7 or so miles) I was in sight and working hard to catch back on. I burnt too many matches in this portion; I would definitely regret it later in the day. The next eventful section was the turn into the hamlet of Salem. I nearly went down in the corner, only to keep it upright much to the amusement of those standing by watching. This may be the only round of cheers I ever receive in my very humble racing career. I worked in with a few small groups over the next few miles, but everyone at this point was either spit off the back of my group and reeling or off the back of the group that started ten minutes before us and really hurting. On Joe Bean Road, it looked like a bomb had gone off. There were shattered men barely making it up over the climb looking miserable. I worked in with one other guy at this point that I would hang with for a while (Nelson, maybe?) Thrills were had on the new section Carney and Cassidy, then on back to pavement.

Unfortunately Jill and Sarah found themselves in one of the trafic hold ups between turns and weren't able to make it to our feed zone. I had run out of water at about mile 40 knowing that there would be a feed zone at mile 42 to get a new bottle. I continued through the feed zone and commited myself to finishing even though I wasn't going to have water for over an hour. About a mile past the feed zone I was riding alongside a guy who noticed I didn't get anything in the feed and he offered me a partial bottle. I tried to make it count, but drank up the three or four ounces in a matter of about three miles. Over the dirt sections of Mountain, Becker and then onto Meeting House Road I was still feeling alright, but trying to keep myself out of the red in hopes that I woulnd't cramp up. The second climb on Meeting House ended those hopes for me, and I could watch my quads cramping with each revolution of the pedals. At the top, I did everything I knew to try to settle them and was able to recover without having to get off the bike to stretch. Through some more uneventful and mostly solo paved roads, and then onto the final climb on the dirt. Stage Road. I will never forget this section. I had said many times on this trip that I couldn't remember this road from the pre-ride, but I cramped up so bad I'll not soon rid my memory of this narrow lane. I humbled myself and got off the bike to stretch a bit. A few passed me, still others were walking their bikes looking shelled. Once back on the bike and back in reality, I caught up to most everyone that passed me while in my sad state. I crested the climb and got onto Turnpike and was able to enjoy the descent. I cruised on into town with a tailwind and a descent and found myself in the finishing chute with essentially only one other racer in sight. A rather uneventful end to a very eventful, if not mostly lonely, race.




A definite thanks to Erich for being my training partner for three months. I've only known one other person that can handle spending this much time with me and I'm married to her, so thanks E for enduring my idiosyncracies. Jill, coach, thanks for working with me and making me a stronger cyclist than I have ever been. And thanks Lis, for eating so many dinners without me, and taking care of me after my hard training rides! Lastly, thanks Kristin for the mascot, dubbed Fausto Dice Clay.


At the end of it all, my legs were: