PIR Mstrs 1,2,3

After such a beautiful weekend it was depressing to read the weather forecast and see they were predicting rain and wind just hours before PIR. But I was determined and loaded up my gear into my water proof bag and went to work under sunny skies prepared for rain. And rain it did. I rode to PIR with only enough time to sign up, throw my pack on the ground and line up. I was already cold and would have liked a bite of something just to trick my stomach into thinking I was prepared.

12 souls lined up. A small group to be sure. For me I was pleased, small group means less chance of a crash. (Although the reason I like the masters group is that to this day…knock on wood…I have not been in, nor witnessed a crash). The race was interesting. I was only wearing my skin suit (everything else was being washed) and each time I got behind someone it was like standing under a frigid mountain water fall…in the winter…in the evening…naked. The experience kind of takes your breath away. But a draft is a draft.

Erik Voldengen seemed to be having fun as he was constantly shooting off the front. I decided to do the same and looked back to find Erik and another chap on my wheel. This was for a preem so we forged ahead leaving the pack behind. Heading down the final sprint I knew my position was foolish as I could feel my legs burning and the two guys behind me where rested and itching to go. The thought did cross my mind that maybe, just maybe they’d let me have the win out of pure gratitude for me pulling them around for half a lap. But alas this was not to be. (Can’t blame them, it’s how the game is played) Id did get my revenge later when Erik was off the front, quite a distance away. I dug deep and managed to bring the whole group back up to him. :-p

The race went on like this for some time. One guy off the front, the pack would work together to reel them in. After each preem the pace would slow to a crawl. On each preem I tried to position myself but just don’t have the legs nor the timing to pull off a sprint. And it was this thought that crossed my mind on the final lap. I found myself in front heading down the backside of the loop. The wind is at our backs and I was grappling with my situation. Do I ease up and reposition myself. I knew all to well how that turns out. It occurred to me that I could and probably should just attack. So far, each person who has attacked has survived for at least a half a lap, and that is all I would need. But this is the final lap..surly they wouldn’t let me get away…add to that there is no element of surprise, I’m at the front for all to see. I decide with my poor sprinting skills it was better to try and get caught than to hold up and finish in the field.

Off I went. I didn’t stand, I just picked it up enough to get away. When I looked back to see that it was working, I pushed harder out of sheer joy and the thrill. I kept saying to myself this was a death sentence. My legs where burning, my lungs bursting and I had not yet turned into the dreaded wind tunnel. As I was rounding the corner I looked back to see the pack still a ways back. Far enough to give me hope. This made me dig deeper. The final straight into the wind is the longest damn stretch. You can see the finish but it’s far and distant. By now my breathing is audible. I’m looking back every 3 seconds. The pack seems far but I fear it’s just deceiving and that once fully ramped up it was only a matter of time.

Crossing the finish line, alone, and in first was a thrill. I realize the circumstance where different with a small group, bad weather and such but it’s my first official win since moving to Portland and everyone came up afterwords and congratulated my win. That warmed me up more than anything.

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Derwyn, April 27th 2010 | Tags: , ,
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End of the Cross Season 09

I did not post my USGP race because it was something I’d rather forget. It wasn’t that things went badly but more that it represented the bottom of a slow downward spiral since this start of the cross season. I felt for this season I had trained reasonably well and after my first two races felt confident my fitness would improve, but it didn’t. there was a moment in USGP where I was riding in the front of a group and someone, in the group, yelled – “are we on a Sunday stroll?”. At the start of the race I felt as if I was half asleep only going through the motions because I’d paid to be there. Any time I felt I was warming up I’d get passed. Each lap I kept looking back to ensure at least SOMEONE was behind me. There always was, but moments later I’d look back again to see them all backed up behind me. They’d pass and I’d try and stay on the the last wheel only to loose it on the first corner. There are many factors but the sum of it all made for an unpleasant day. So on Sunday for the second USGP I called a friend and we went for a leisurely ride with a stop for coffee in the middle.

Fast forward to Nationals. I was nervous, hesitant and not 100% committed. The snow, cold and ice only served to shake me up more. My race was at 9:30am on Saturday. I arrived Friday to watch many people crash hard. I just wanted it to be over so I could finish the season and move on to other things (XC Skiing). Saturday morning arrived and I headed out at 7:30 to pre-ride the course. It was beyond slick. Many others had also come out with the weak dawn light to slide around. It was almost comical. I did two laps and went home crippled with fear. As 9:30 approached I headed back out to warm up a tad and then line up. 127th to be specific. My goal was simple, no injuries and try to place somewhere better than 127th.

The sun had come out and there had been a race just before mine. Unbeknown to me the course had softened quite a bit. The gun went off and all 200 of us took off in a flash. At the start there was a pile up, I can still hear the sound of tires, metal and many grunts and exclamations. I was far enough back to react and not fall prey to the carnage. My main worry was the group behind me (although there were not that many people to be honest). Having survived I navigated around the blur of bikes and people. By the time I as on my bike the group ahead was rounding the first corner. A quick sprint and I was on a wheel.

DSC_0069

Much to my delight the course was surprisingly tacky and fast. I moved up the field passing, passing, passing. I felt great. Each corner I’d shoot the inside and get the lead of those in front of me. On the first lap I ran the hill on the far end and even ran it all the way down the return. This worked great the first lap but proved to be more effort than was necessary. Subsequent laps I would ride the whole thing as was everyone else.

Feeling great and completely enjoying myself it was about lap 3 or 4 that I came down a sharp drop off and heard the oh so telling sound of Pfffffft sffft sfft sfft followed by the jarring sound of dirt and rock to metal when only separated by a piece of rubber. Time to run… To be honest I feel like I’m a good runner and can hold my own speed wise, but somehow with a bike on one shoulder and hard ass shoes with metal spikes on the front I found every step felt like a hammer to my heel. By the time I made it to the pit I had lost a good 15+ places and literally strolled up to the Shimano tent. They reacted with speed and efficiency while I took a moment to gather myself.

Back on the bike the rest of my race went just fine. I regained a few of my lost places due to the flat but otherwise felt like my first Nationals experience was a success. Final result 75th.

That same day Sabine and I went XC Skiing with the dog. While I was tired from the race it was great to be on ski’s surrounded by clean white snow. I have great plans for next year…I know, I know, I say that every year but I honestly feel like I learned more this year than any other.

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Derwyn, December 14th 2009 | Tags: , , ,
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PIR 08.03.09

Aaaaarrrrrgh! Yup, that about sums up my PIR experience today. A DNF! That totally sucks. I just don’t get it. Am I getting weaker or is everyone else getting stronger? Ok ok, I’ll cut myself some slack. I mean, hell, last week was about the most lethargic week off one can imagine. 100 degree days with little relief at night. I still diligently rode to work each day but my motivation beyond that that this side of zilch. AND THEN! (That’s right more excuses) today as I’m leaving to ride to PIR (Uh huh, I rode to PIR!…excuse count 2) I notice my tire is a bit squishy. I’ve been noticing little nicks of glass and it’s been on my mind so I take a closer look. Well wadda know, there is a section of tread missing down to the guts of the tire. I search for a wheel in the garage, but this is a 10 cog so, um, no. I have a 9, can I throw a 9 on there? Not sure, best not risk it. Do I have a tire? Yes, but it’s an all weather beast and it’s on another rim. Best take that. (excuse count 3) Umph, grunt, pull, prod, pump….shit! Pumps not working. Where’s my second pump!? Ah! it’s in the car, with the wife, drat! Hmmmm? How broke is the pump? It seems to get the tire to 50psi and begins to piss air out the side. Have I mentioned that this is the heat of the day and I’m starting to run out of time so the stress level is rising (excuse count 4).

Breath. I’m getting all worked up over nothing. If I don’t make the race who cares. Anyhow, new beast of a tire on, 50psi and I’m off with 45 minutes to get to the race. If I hustle I can make it. I’m pushing hard (excuse count 5)…really hard. Legs burning hard. Some guy (George) hooks on the back. Turns out he’s going to PIR too. Cool. No I mean reeeeally cool. I was going a route I had only gone once and was obviously confused. He showed me the way. Thank you. This was a huge blessing because through the max and bus mall at the rose garden the lights refused to turn. 3 light turns later cyclist began to run them. Darn city lights. Of course this sent my panic state to a new frustrating level.

Anyhow, after all that I make it to the race and find myself hanging out in back with the hairies. (I just made that up…no offense, I realize the absurdity and geekiness of shaving my legs). I’m hurting and hanging on after only two laps. I do spend some time up front. It was interesting. There was this moment of euphoria where it seems my legs popped and not the popped as in we’re done but a clarity, a rejuvenation, a spring. They felt cool and comfortable, strong and willing. I was quickly moving towards the front. Of course this only lasted about 2 or 3 laps but it was pure bliss. Can’t explain it. Well, 5 laps to go I fell back…waaaay back. The last guy said “I’m the last hop on”. I did and then 1/2 laps later I popped. This time it was a pain in the legs kind of pop. There is a side of me that says I could have fought through the pain, I know I’ve done it before but with the ride home, my neck muscles hurting, cramp in my calf, blah blah wine wine. So I popped 5 excuses later.

I did, however, ride home strong. I must say, I was feeling and looking like a racer after a tough race. My legs are getting tan from the riding (mostly commuting) and garden work and the grime from changing the tire, sweat and road debris just added to the post stage race look. It motivated me as I pushed the 12 miles home. It was a cycling geek moment.

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Derwyn, August 4th 2009 | Tags: , ,
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PIR 07.20.09

Hot, dry, windy, hot. Perfect day to ride from home to PIR to race my butt off then to home again. I’m still drinking water. I even took a cold shower when I got home. During the race around each sharp corner I could have sworn that my tires were slipping on the soft asphalt. It was a very strange feeling. However by the last 4 laps it felt less mushy…my imagination? Hard to say. I could have been hallucinating, there were moments where I was asking myself if I’d know the signs of heat exhausting. Especially with 5 laps to go and the last drop of my water was gently rolling down my tongue.

Somehow I always survive despite always trying and talk myself out of finishing. I probably only fail to fail because I’m too stubborn. It’s not determination as much as it apathy. Pushing myself forward is almost easier than finding the right moment to quit. So I sit, then I get bored so I go up front to play until my legs scream then I fall back to recover and debate quitting until I get bored round and round. But today I was mostly up front. So how is this fun? Its a game, a back and forth match play between the mind and the legs. The mind tries to call the shots but relies on the legs to cooperate. The legs are sly in that they pretend to do the minds bidding but never reveal the whole truth. The mind says “Give me everything?” but the legs only give 80% and then complain bitterly when it’s too hard. The mind relents and allows the legs to recover. The legs then sit back and milk the rest for all it’s worth. However, when it really matters the legs can surprise the mind and pull out a whopping performance. This moment of cooperation is nirvana.

I felt nirvana today. I was not winning, I wasn’t even close but it was the end of a very hot race where I had pushed my legs numerous times to the limit and felt there was nothing left. Yet there I was sprinting for the finish relaxed and feeling strong. Albeit in the middle of the pack.

One final note. To all you side-nose-snot-blowers, suck it in and swallow it! I’m not interested in having your snot sprayed into my face in the middle of a race! Or at least fall to the darn back. Geese.

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Derwyn, July 21st 2009 | Tags: , ,
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Final Tabor 09

I have only been on my bike once except for a 1.5 hour ride in 10 days (and not counting my daily 15 minute commute but I don’t think it counts). So going into Tabor today I had a sense of dread…but then again I always do. The race started as usual other than me being in front at the whistle but that quickly changed. Today I had a grand experiment. A friend started racing again in the Cat 4’s and works with a Cat 2. My friend, the Cat 4, was asking me about gearing and I mentioned that I tend to hang out in my big ring for the whole hill. He mentioned that the Cat 2 said most tend to shift down into the small ring. Hmmm, this got me to thinking. Maybe I’m whacked and this is what’s killing me each race.

So the first hill arrives and I’m about to set my grand plan in motion except I’m feeling good. Regardless I force myself to downshift. I sit the whole way up and feel pretty good with the end result, but it is the first lap. 2,3 tick off without incident but I definitely feel my lungs. My other experiment is more positive thinking. I’ve been hard on myself and did some mental prep at the beginning. Deep breathing and visualizing me at the front. About lap 4 or was it 6 my mental optimism is beginning to crumble. Visions of DNF start appearing. The though of quitting brings a smile to my face as I visualize me sitting in the grass. It’s about here that I always go into a state of numbness. I loose count and never remember to look at the lap counter. I’m in a fog. At one point as the pack races down the backside for a 15 dollar preem. I start considering killing myself for the preem. The argument goes like this. I have NO chance of winning, I’m feeling the hurt and for all I know in my fog it’s lap 4 with 5 to go. And 15 bucks would pay for my race. However, I’m seriously considering it when I realize that we are starting up the hill and I’m in the very back. Oh well, the chance was slim any how.

The fog continues and I am always surprised to hear one lap to go. Already? I never believe it but at the same time I’m always relieved. I survived. On the final climb the field gets away. I’m not sure if I let them go or if I had nothing left. A combination I suspect. As for the experiement I watched the 2 fly by and felt it was about 50/50 big ring to small. For me I felt the small allowed me the spin but it worked my lungs more and my legs still hurt. I could go either way at this point.

Tabor is bitter sweet. I dread each race going in, exhausted coming out, it’s short, painful, emotional draining, and confidence deprecating. I’m glad when it’s over and once again look forward to PIR. Why don’t I just do PIR? I have no idea. Maybe a love for pain. PIR is less pain and more an opportunity for a good ride with teammates on the weekday.

Tabor also gives me a clue into my Cross fitness. So I never expect much but always hope for more. Till next year.

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Derwyn, July 16th 2009 | Tags: , ,
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Tabor – more mental than muscle

A warm day with a dry wind but at Tabor the wind has little effect. There is only the hill the repetative familiar hill. Today’s race was much like any other. There was the start, nothing major to report, I was in back. Second lap I decided to work my way up and somehow ended up completely in front at the base of the hill. It’s kind of glorious up front, it’s really just you and the road, you feel powerful. I kept asking why isn’t anyone passing? Maybe I’m going to have a good day. At the top and on to the decent I was still in front….now it just feels wierd, like the whole pack is taunting me, letting me fry. Never a good thing to be in front so early for so long.

I decided to fall back and sure as shit I could feel my legs, big time. I played with the gears, shifting up, then down, then up, then down, spin, mash, spin, mash. Nothing helped it all hurt. 3rd, 4th, 5th…lap. Just hangin’ in the back. Some laps feel ok like I’m recovering, for those I feel hope seep into my being. Other laps I feel thrashed, and the debate begins. One voice begins the softening of the ego, “No worries mate, there is no shame in popping off the back. Just ease up a bit, the pain will go away and you’ll feel better for it”. Then a harsher more stern voice jumps in, “No quitting you smuck! You’ll recover, just hang in there, think of the people you know who are watching and cheering, all they care about is you staying in the pack…don’t quit, almost there”. This happens each lap with different variations and strategies from the debating voices.

Final lap. I’ve survived and feel some reserves. There is hope for an acceptable mid pack finish but alas….Mid way up the last hill I hear, to my right, the sound of sliding tires. The guy to my right swings in front of me, I break, swerve as well, but no body falls, nothing seems to come of it except lost momentum. I rode through the finish a bit dazed with a kind of pleased but wasted look on my face.

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Derwyn, July 2nd 2009 | Tags: , ,
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Tabor #3

Since last week’s Tabor I have ridden my bike (other than my standard 20 minute work commute) zero times! Yup, Zeeeeeroooo. The last Tabor threw me that much. Plus my wife was out of town and my usual high work hours went random on me with conference calls at odd hours of the day (Europe, Australia).

Monday evening was the first time I managed to get a workout in. I headed into the basement, hopped on my trainer and did my 5 minute warm up then jumped off for some quick upper body then back on the bike for a couple of minute+ intervals, off and repeat. I did this for about 1/2 hour and felt refreshed. It was more a stress relief workout than anything.

So that brings me to today’s Tabor race. Tired and unprepared I headed to the race. And as if on queue riding up to Tabor, dark clouds swelled up and the wind began pushed me around as if to say “Get back! Go Home!”. I was tempted trust me. But once I don my uniform it seems silly to turn back so I pressed on.

I lined up and we were off. This time I raced the Cat 3 race. Bigger field and no Cat 1’s using the Masters to warm up. The race seemed even and my legs felt ok, not great but ok. I was in the back of the pack for the first two laps and was getting increasingly uncomfortable. The back is not the place to be. I had to start moving up. Slowly using the edges and small opportunities here and there I worked my way up. Soon I was in the top 15 or so. This was at about 5 or 6 laps. (I lose complete track after lap 1) A couple of preems are announced and the pace picks up, each hill sends me a couple of riders back, but to be honest I’m actually starting to warm up a bit. It’s still painful but I’m in the game.

“2 Laps to go!” I hear…vaguely. I’m about 3/4 of the way back. I feel pretty good and for some reason as if out of the blue the pack disintegrates. Riders are everywhere. The change was subtle almost imperceptible but the speed must have increased just enough. It is at this point the I see first hand how much of a fine line it is between racing and giving up. At PIR you can “give up” but still hang in the back drafting and resting, then when you feel better rejoin the race at the front. At tabor, however, one split second doubt, or lost concentration, or over exertion your are done, there is no forgiveness, no second chance, the pack is gone and the lonely ride begins. I pass these lonely riders on all sides, heads down, shoulders slumped. The mental anguish only lasts a few seconds while you can still see the pack. I know, I’ve been there, but not today.

Today was a good day, I hung in there, enough to be conscientious of the 7 or 10 rider break just ahead getting away. I even had ambitions of chasing but knew I had a teammate in the midst so thought better of it….HA! who am I kidding, the truth was, once again, that the boundaries of my capabilities had been reached.

After the race, I stood there hugging and chatting with friends, my legs cramping and dried saliva still clinging to my lips, I knew from those bits of saliva that I had done my best. So there you have it. I finished…in the main pack…felt good…and lived to tell about it. Now all I need is a good nights rest.

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Derwyn, June 25th 2009 | Tags: , ,
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The humility of Tabor

I won’t deny that I’m bummed and a bit dejected after my Tabor race today. I felt great on the first three laps comfortably sitting in the top five. There were hints of problems to come though, as I didn’t have the power to sprint for any preems. I decided to hang back on the forth lap and evaluate my situation and this, sadly, was my biggest mistake. I should have pushed sooner to stay with the pack but I let the whole group pass as I filed in behind the last of the stragglers. At the top of the hill I wasn’t 100% awake. The two riders in front of me let a gap grow. I yelled for them to “GET ON IT!”…but who was I to make such demands. I finally took matters into my own hands but it was too late.

The pack was in sight and the chasing began. I worked hard and maintained sight up until the last two laps where my body began to fade…or maybe it was my spirit. Passing the crowed alone (In a skin suit no less) has it’s humility to it. The cheers are different, there is an edge of sympathy.

Tabor…I shake my fist at it. It’s a frustrating race. When I started racing in New Mexico I was always in the top 5 for every race with very little training. I somehow felt that maybe there was some inherent talent within me. But Portland has been different, I’m older, the riders are stronger and the races are geared towards strength. I do miss the long steady climbs of New Mexico but then again I enjoy the scene here better. I will continue, but I hope to regain some glory soon.

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Derwyn, June 18th 2009 | Tags: , ,
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PIR sweetness

There I was blazing towards the finish, I was alone and the pack was a distant mass of spandex, my legs where on fire and the finish line was moving away like a hallway in a classic horror film. This was not how I had envisioned the race. My vision was for a lead out train carrying, Joe, our lead guy to a glorious finish. It ended with me slowly rolling over the finish line somewhere close to dead last.

Throughout the race I had chased down attacks and even ended up in a couple of my own. Then with 5 laps to go I decided to hang back and rest. Of course this is when the big guns tend to take things a bit more seriously. A group off the front included a few such guns. My team moved into action and began helping up front to reel them in. I to did my share at the expense of valuable energy that I new would haunt me later.

I learned something though. I was up front pushing a harder than normal gear and watching the break get closer and closer. In fact at one point I looked down to see 33 mph and glanced back to see the pack gaping me…ME!? I was shocked but intrigued as well. Are the Tandem rides with my wife paying dividend? Are my convoluted Rocky-Balboa-in-Russia basement workouts actually making me stronger?

On the final lap I felt good. I saw Joe and quickly came up next to him like a Rabobank teammate around Menchov. My heart was racing from the thrill and anticipation of doing a lead out. I worked my way up but tried to stay back (In the past I’ve been caught on the front too early). I waited but surged along with the pack. A teammate (Tom?) was behind me and I heard him say once “Your on it!”. I wasn’t sure but it seemed the train was behind me and I was going to start the show. The final corner and I started to move towards the front, 4 riders back, 3, 2, 1….I hit the gas.

Looking back I was alone, way out front. There is a chance, a remote and far from reality chance that had I not been in that last break away I may have had the energy left to survive to the finish now, but the finish was a long ways off and the heat was on.

You can see it one of two ways. It was either the worst lead out ever or I took a chance and almost made it. Either way it was thrilling for me to be part of it. Having so many teammates there was the best part.

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Derwyn, June 10th 2009 | Tags: , ,
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Spring Racing

In summary….the sun came out and my riding increased, PIR started and my legs were shaved. That about sums it up.

My wife and I are going to do the Co-Motion classic so have been out on Saturdays getting our groove going. For us the Tandem is pure joy and harmony. Sound cheesy? Considering that most couples we talk to scoff at the notion of a tandem or lament their inability to find such harmony, I’ll take a cheesy, high speed, power train of a ride any day. The tandem – simply put – garners respect. Cars seem to wave more and single rider cyclist vie for the opportunity to motor pace our royal draft.

PIR with this heat has been fun. My last place finish a couple of weeks ago said nothing about my dedication to the team chasing every god forsaken attack down. I think all told I was in 5 breaks, all of which failed in part because my top speed is a far cry from what is needed to stay away. I do enjoy the looks when a couple cat 1 or 2’s get away and turn around to see me. I can almost see the disappointment. (Although being somewhat of an unknown the look is sometimes more a who the hell are you?) My goal is simple, work like a dog, no rest, finish dead last. It can only make me stronger….for…you guessed it…CROSS!

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Derwyn, June 8th 2009 | Tags: , ,
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