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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.

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.

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.

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.

It was hot and I was dragging my ass up to Tabor. My mood was less than enthusiastic it was a death march to an inevitable destiny of eating humble pie. What keeps me going are the few friends who are there and who joyously cheer my name, it’s what gets me there and it’s what keeps me from a DNF. (more on that in a moment)

A quick rant though….

Masters 40+ did 7 laps AGAIN! Last week it was because the “5’s where too slow” this week it was because “there were a lot of women”. This week the woman got 8 laps for the first time. Ok, ok, yes I’m crying over 1 measly lap but for me this is about expectations and if this happened for one race I might be more accepting but every race? Maybe the web site should be changed to say 7 laps (8 if your lucky). I’m considering racing the 3’s next year, that way if they reduce the laps I’m still getting more than 7.

Rant done

The race…today was definitly different, maybe it was the heat maybe it was that the 1,2’s warming up in the Masters where feeling a bit more spunky but the speed felt fast. On the 3rd lap I seriously debated quiting. My legs hurt, my mind was tired and I thought why oh why am I doing this to myself? But those friends I mentioned earlier, would shout my name and I would forge ahead determined that if I was going to DNF it was going to be because I had nothing left and not because my will had wussed out.

I spent a couple of laps up front…I just like it there…but about mid way (lap 4?) I fell back and sat in. Did you know it’s easier in the back? Who knew? So there I sat, resting, until 2 laps to go. I moved up…a bit to fast and turned the top corner in second place. The first place guy sat up and the pack came to a crawl. Nobody wanted to lead (I’ve made that mistake before). Then someone took the charge and I fell in at about 4th. We sped down the hill and into the flat (The same poor chap in front). Before the base of the hill the guy in front started looking around for some help, sorry dude not yet. Up the hill we started. Then people started to move. I kept saying to myself, dig down Derwyn, get up this hill in good position then for the final lap maybe there’s a chance. (Am I an optimist or what) Well, guess what, remember the poor chap in front? As the pack flowed around his limp body I got stuck on his wheel. Crap! I tried to pull around, but guy after guy came flying by, I didn’t want to pull out too fast. Finally I got around, I was about mid pack maybe further. I hammered up past the playground and into the turn. I took the turn tight (most people seem to go wide but taking it tight on the inside works just as well). I forget exactly where I was but as we made it down the hill I was about 6th on the inside coming very close to the fences down by the reservoir. I remember passing the gate pole just before the climb and thinking that would not be a good thing to run into. Up the hill and off we go. Some stand, some sit, I stand. My gear feels good. Some people pass me, I pass some people, I feel like I’m all over the place, my bike is a bit bouncy (I’ve been told I need a longer stem) My breathing gets heavier, some who once stood now sit, while others who sat now stand. I’m still with a group, it’s kind of chaotic, I’m sure I’m not making it any more sane. Approaching the top I’m still standing, my gear is getting too hard, I’m mashing and not spinning anymore. The pack has thinned out, I don’t know where I’m at but I keep going like my life depends on it. My breathing becomes much more audible as I start to grunt (kind of embarrassing). I’m still passing some people who I think looked at me as if to say “Dude, your killing yourself for top 15th…if your lucky”. But I don’t care, I’m thinking about next year and I’m sprinting for the win.

I’ll be curious where I ended up (8th! Sweet!). I felt good about it though and that is all the matters. Next year I will be ready, I will be stronger and I will win one. Not sure at this point if I’ll be in the Masters or the 3’s but I will win one….or at least a preem.

I will now return to PIR and turn my gaze towards cross. I’m feeling good about my prospects.

Well, I would be fooling myself to post a joyous report on the glory of Tabor. For me Tabor has, as of late, been one deja vu after another.

The pack races around and around and around as I hang out near the front and at times lead the hill, though never for long if it’s a preem. The last lap comes with dread and some hope, yes there is always hope. Don’t get me wrong, there are, in the last lap, some minor thrills as the pack vies for position, eying each other suspiciously in a subtle game of cat and mouse for who can get the “good” wheel, which in PIR does help…but in Tabor? bah! It’s just you and your legs.
So there I am, always in the top 5 as we hit the base of the hill, and yes, I’ve even managed to secure a “good” wheel (thanks Ivan), but any pride I get for this victory is short lived as I always watch that wheel ride away (Bye Ivan). sigh…

On the bright side…next week is the last Tabor and that means two things: 1) I will return to PIR where my team has been doing very well and 2) my true preparation for cross begins!

Next week I will reminisce on Tabor comparing last year with this year and will take a peak into the future. It will be a blog post for the ages.

Yes siree, there I was riding to Tabor in shorts, and short sleeves, with no vest, it was warm but not hot and the streets where calm. By the time I got to Tabor…way early…I was ready for a nice lie down in the soft grass but I resisted.

On to the race…

Well…it was what it is, an exhilarating, humbling, painful reality check experience. I learn more in this race about my strength than in any other race. Today I was consistent but nothing more, and that is my failing on Tabor. I can stay with the group, I can even hang in the front pulling the group along, but at each Preeme someone shoots off the front and all I can do is watch. Oh, I try, I stand to chase or catch or “hammer” the hill but my legs scream and whimper as they recoil at the effort so I ease up and slink back into the field and grimace up the hill hoping, praying for the top.

Then the last lap comes, once again I easily work my way near the front, why? because I don’t learn, I always think maybe just maybe I’ve somehow out lasted the field and by some miracle my legs will pull me up the hill like they do in my imagination leaving the field gasping to keep up. (Nothing like a good imagination) But no, it’s on the last hill that I realize everyone was just hanging out waiting and laughing as I was huffing and puffing each lap. Maybe they were impressed that I was still there because I could almost glimpse a friendly wave as they smiled and walked away gracefully to the finish leaving me in a pile of deflated ego. Here is my quote to someone who asked me how I did (this is moments after the race):

“I…gasp, gasp…holy crap…gasp…I was in front…gasp gasp…for a bit…gasp…then they…gasp…I don’t know…gasp gasp…gone..I had nothing…gasp…nothing….”

A quick note on my “aka Cat 1,2 warm up” title. I love the Masters 40+ for the very reason that I get to race with these manly men. I just hope they are giving it their all but if they are holding back even just a bit I suppose I would thank them for that as well because I’m going full tilt and having a great time!

My memories of Tabor from last year seem distant and surreal. I recall wearing shorts to the race and basking in the glow of a warm setting sun after the race. I recall larger crowds full of joy, cheer and energy as if from a long dark hibernation. This year it feels…different, don’t get me wrong the crowds are there, just not as in mass as I recall. There are 4 more left and I suppose I should be thankful it didn’t snow on us.

Todays race went much better. My co-worker wanted me to race the Masters 40+ AND the Cat 3. I was tempted…a little. I paused as I was writing my check debating the 5 buckaroos. I just wasn’t sure how I’d feel, last week had me coughing up a lung after watching the pack race away on the final climb, so I chickened out. In retrospect I think I could have handled it…maybe. The masters race seemed a bit more congenial this week as we headed out somewhat leisurely and rolled around on the first lap. Maybe the promoters noticed our sluggish attitude because it seemed that after 3 laps there was a preem every lap thereafter. On one preem I chased a break knowing all to well I was too far behind…so why did I chase? The thrill man! The thrill! Anyhow, there I was out in front with a kinda sorta big gap, and lo and behold another preem so I lowered my head and kept going. I did some quick calculations. Knowing my strength was no match for the pack for an ENTIRE friggen’ lap, I thought that being alone in front I could use the corners to my advantage. If I could get around the top corner faster, descend the same and really hammer around the bottom corner I’d build enough of a gap to make it up the hill alone. On the bottom straight away it seemed to be working, unless my eyesight deceived me I seemed to have built up a fine little lead. However my dreams were shattered halfway up the hill when I got passed handedly by my co-worker no less. As I fell back into the pack I could feel that my legs needed to recover and that they were not going to get it…or were they. For some reason, preem and all, the pack slowed, just enough to let me recover. Whew, disaster averted.

The last lap I was WAY out of position, near the back. I tried to work my way up and at the base of the hill I started sprinting…and I kept sprinting till the end..to the point where I literally felt my muscles splitting, which is kind of funny, or sad, because I was probably fighting for 20th13th.

Overall a better race, and the good news is no cough, good post energy and felt that I could have, and wished I had, started the Cat 3….next week for sure.

Also kudos to my team (Specialized River City) for riding all the way from Vancouver to Tabor then riding home. Hooo Yah!