Piece of Cake?

Yesterday was my first race since October. The Piece of Cake Road Race in Hubbard, Oregon. Though the relatively flat course suited the suggestive race name, the day turned out to be anything but a "piece of cake."

Between my marathon in early October and yesterday's 66 mile race, my training has been far from consistent. Prioritizing, injury, and illness have left me out of shape and playing catch up. Meaning I was under-prepared for a race against guys who have been riding 300+ miles a week for months.

In short, I was expecting to have my butt handed to me. To ease my mind I told myself I was there for a workout and maybe a little bit of a wake-up call.

Start time was 9am. This meant an early rise to make the hour and a half drive up I-5. I've been so out of the racing mindset that I hadn't even renewed my OBRA license for 2017 - so I was thankful the group of guys I made the trip up with wanted to get there a bit early to prepare. This gave me time to register, and evaluate my bike, which dawned a new-to-me set of race wheels that I had yet to even ride through my apartment complex. Everything checked out and it became time to head to the starting corral.

It was a blue sky kind of day, rare for this time of year, but the open horizon dropped temperatures overnight and start time was a frigid 38-degrees. Knowing the temps would raise quickly over the course of the race, most riders showed up to the line in as little amount of clothing as they could get away with - shaking uncontrollably as we waited for the starter to get through the rules of the road speech. I pulled up to the line a little late and found myself at the back before the race even began. I knew it's where I was likely to stay.

The race went off and the group of 50-60 some men pushed away, clipped in, and tried to control their shaking limbs. Things heated up quickly, as they often do, and guys were jumping off the front at any opportunity. This kept the pace fast and had me sitting on the rivet even in the back of the group. Though the 13 mile circuit was flat with only a few quick bumps in the road, there were an endless thread of sharp turns to navigate, leaving the peloton strung-out for most of the race.

The last third of the loop was a section of road with no center-line. This was the easiest place for me to move up in the group and get into better position. Unfortunately, it also held a majority of the sharp turns. Being off the bike left me more than out of shape. My bike handling and comfort-level in the group lost sharpness as well. I found myself losing a wheel to draft in most of the turns and having to sprint out of the corner to catch back up. This had me yo-yoing in the early stages of the race, which was a huge waist of energy.

After gaining some confidence 2 laps in, I made a move to the front to cement my name in the worker column and drop the tag-along title I was quickly earning. Towards the end of the center-line-free section of road there was a steep little 100m climb that had been bringing the peloton to a halt every lap. I used my climbing legs to launch myself up the field. With no center-line, I sprinted along the left side of the group and comfortably tucked into the fourth or fifth slot in line. Both my teammates, Paul and Steve, were in the group, so I knew it was OK for me to take a few pulls and try and reel in a small group that was 200m up the road. I took two pulls and knew to call it quits. At this point in the race the wind had started to roll in. The move to the front and two pulls in the headwind had me gassed and I slipped back into the peloton.

This is when my time off the bike really started to screw me. I found myself towards the front of the group, finally, but staying there became a tall order. Within a half-lap, or a handful of turns, I found myself in the back. The next lap I tried to do the same move, in the same spot, but only made it about half-way up the group before deciding to tuck in. Again, an attempt to position myself better as I could feel the pace starting to crank up and the wind getting stronger. Again, I found myself sliding to the back by the end of the loop.

By the fourth lap the race was unapologetically on. Riders were slowly slipping by me and shedding from the peloton. I was last wheel, but I knew I still had strength to hang on and, hopefully, make it to the end. The group made a turn for the north side of the course. An open section of road, that now displayed a brutal crosswind. The field stretched like a slinky. I could see echelons forming up the road and I knew I was in trouble. I was still last wheel and breaks were forming. Every thirty seconds a new rider would pull out from the line, leaving a gap to be filled. It became a game of leap frog. As I'd get around the popped rider I'd sprint to reconnect. In such a crucial moment of the race, the efforts began to pile up quickly. By the end of the crosswind section I was leading a small group, trying desperately to get back on the train. The tail of the dwindling peloton was only about 50m up the road and I knew it was now or never. I surged and attempted to close the gap. My power was now depleted and my surge turned into a solo time trial effort to chase back on. I pushed all the way through the last half of the fifth lap, but by the finish line I was 200, maybe 300 meters behind and I decided it was time to call it a day.

I could have finished the last lap, it's never good to start the year with a DNF, but I shuddered at the thought of facing the crosswind one more time. I knew I received the workout and wake-up call I was asking for.