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: