I’ll create my own…

While my new teammates were giving everything they had to come out with the win at the Grand Prix Gatineau, I was resting and resting and resting. Let’s just say I was craving a bit of that effort. I knew it would feel good yet painful to climb today after a rest week. Halfway up the first climb, I decided I needed to create my own mini hard effort. NOTHING like the effort my teammates gave on race day, but something like 20 minutes of that “ouch, can I be done yet?” type of effort.

I usually do 20 minute power tests on Mandeville. They are planned, scheduled, expected to be super painful and usually with a group to help me convince myself that I really want to max out. And then every once in a while I get the desire to hammer when I start up what was planned to be a tempo-hard effort on Topanga-Old Topanga. It generally isn’t totally a max effort, but good enough to consider it a solid 20 minute benchmark. Today was one of those days: 20 minutes (5.8 miles averaging 2.9%) @ 265 watts (5.23 w/kg), HR avg. 181, max 191, 85 rpm. A pretty nice jump up from March 17 when I held 253 watts (5.07 w/kg).

Having created a bit of my own hurt with that effort, the steady tempo climbing as planned was sounding pretty good for the rest of the climbs. No more hurting, thank you. But my feet. Ummmm, ouch! Numb, regain feeling, ouch, numb, ouchhhhhh. I’ll create my own hurt, feet, please don’t create your own!

Opportunities

The following is my first post as a columnist for Cycling Illustrated, yet another opportunity to share my journey.

At Vanderbilt, I didn’t learn to race a bike. No, I was studying running. But the managerial studies classes did teach me that where there is a need, there is an opportunity.  And, surprisingly enough, for all those minutes that I squirmed on painful hamstrings in a classroom, those studies help in what I’ve chosen to go after with my degree. Bike racing.

I graduated in December 2011, crippled and spending 90 minutes on the spin bike in the locker room every morning. I couldn’t run, but I could do a number on that bike. Unfortunately, you can’t race a stationary bike. And, unfortunately, you go semi-insane pedaling nowhere every day. So, when I returned home to California, I gave up my spin bike for a road bike. I didn’t know what opportunities it would present, but I was hopeful that it would fill my need. I needed a new sport to compete in, one that brought me happiness rather than pain.

By the end of the 2012 season, I had racked up some Cat 3/4 results as the solo racer on Big Orange. I was clueless, but I was happy. I enjoyed my 4-hour recovery rides, and I thought I could win a crit by starting my sprint a lap before everyone else. Soon enough I realized that I was not going to keep rising in the sport if I didn’t begin to listen to some people that had more than a season under their belt. I recognized my needs and opened myself to opportunities.

Photo credit: Kristy Morrow

Going into the 2013 season, I had my eyes set on more than happily competing. I wanted to start to tap into my potential, and I wanted to do so on a women’s team. First came the bike fit with Ron Peterson, and then came the training. Next came the search for a team and confirming that I was not the only So Cal racer in need of a road racing team. I saw a need, and SPY made the most of the opportunity, helping me form the SPY Giant Ride team. Early in the season, we collected numerous podium spots locally and I had my first try at a stage race.

Stage races and my first NRC event exposed me to what seemed like a whole different sport than the local road races, and I fell in love with national level racing. I knew I would need mentors to help guide me in the right direction, and local Olympians Dotsie Bausch and Amber Neben provided me with all the encouragement and tough love that I needed. After a couple podiums at Sea Otter, I was looking to continue the 2013 season with some NRC races. I also knew I would need teammates and staff to help me learn to race effectively at that level. Team TIBCO saw my needs and created an opportunity for me.

I could not be more grateful to Team TIBCO for not only recognizing my needs and weaknesses, but for seeing them as opportunities. Cycling is full of talented and driven young women who are just looking for a chance to pour their hearts into the sport and see where it takes them. I look forward to sharing my journey on Team TIBCO and hope to keep other young racers believing that there ARE opportunities in women’s cycling and more are coming.

Team TIBCO!

The time has come to take another big jump in my cycling career, and I am doing so with Team TIBCO. It’s going to be an incredible second half of the season!

Photo Credit: Larry Rosa Photography

You can read all about it here.

Race Report: Devil’s Punchbowl Road Race, Cat 1-3

Your Turn to Hurt

Devil’s Punchbowl Road Race, situated at 3500 ft with 1500 ft of climbing each lap in 80-90 degree heat, ALWAYS hurts. It hurt last year, it hurt this year. It hurt for my teammate, Kirsten Darley, who attacked to get away and suffer alone from Fort Tejon on Lap 1 through the descent on Lap 2. It hurt for everyone that had to chase her, particularly Erin Lamb who was relentless in her efforts. And it hurt for me when I attacked at the base of the climb on the third and final lap and found myself alone with 14.5 miles to go.

Laps 1 and 2 were not my time to hurt. They were my time to hydrate, conserve, and follow those who chased my teammates that attacked and counterattacked with Kirsten staying away for almost a lap.

Photo courtesy of Anna Dvorak

Lap 3 was my time to hurt. I was told very early in my cycling career, learn your cards and how to play them. I am a climber, that’s where I can hurt like hell and make others hurt even more. The main climb was my chance to play my cards. 90 seconds in, I attacked and found plenty of racers on my wheel. I told them “I’m NOT doing this solo.” They wouldn’t pull through, so I quit working. 30 seconds later, I attacked again, and I attacked like I really meant it. I hoped to bring 1-2 strong descenders with me to maximize our chances of staying away through the 5.3 mile descent and 7 miles of rollers that would follow it. I found myself solo, hammered a bit more and saw the gap increasing. I knew at this point that I had done some serious damage to my legs, so I was committed to the move. All in, get ready to dig deep for a LONG time. At the top of the climb, in the feed zone, I heard a lot of “go TINK!!” to which I replied “it’s a longgggg ways!” Sometimes others believe in you just when you are starting to doubt yourself.

Photo courtesy of Anna Dvorak

After hammering the climb at 13 mph with my heart rate in the 190s, I had 1’30” on the field and was ready to rest on the descent. But I knew that the pack would be chasing and fully expected Joy McCulloch to lead the charge and organize the troops. Scared Tink! No, calm Tink. You’ve done a time trial with descending and did just fine, you CAN do this. Tuck, pedal, tuck. Get some recovery, but keep your speed up.

Make the turn on to Fort Tejon, and hear I only gave up 10 seconds during the descent. Good news! Headwind and 7 miles to go, BAD news. I thought about returning to the pack, but that would be like opting to drop myself out of a break, a total fail. I thought, Kirsten didn’t kill herself early in the race for you to quit now. You want this. Your team wants this. It’s your turn to hurt. The official kept giving me the gap, 1’30”, 2’00”, 2’30”, 3’’00”. Each time I heard the gap, it was not enough. I wasn’t done hurting until I crossed the line. Each time I was informed of the gap, I essentially attacked myself, until around 4 miles to go when I tried to go so hard that I nearly crashed myself out. Fail. Calm, remember? I kept grinding with my heart rate in the low 190s until about a half mile from the finish when the official told me 3’30”. That time, instead of emphatically attacking myself, then looking back and saying “yessss please give me another split”, I said “I think I’ve got it” to which the incredibly kind official said “You certainly earned it.”

Photo courtesy of Anna Dvorak

It feels good to win, and it feels beyond good when you and your teammates lay it all on the line to make it happen.

Back to jumps, stronger

Jumps suck. Well, maybe jumps don’t suck, maybe it’s just that I suck at jumps. I contemplated this theory for about 3 hours of easy spinning before my first real jumps of the second half of the season training block. Wayyyy back in January and February, as I was building up for the first half of the season, I started doing these torturous go as hard as you can for 30-60 seconds from a standing start in some painfully hard gear (today, 53 X 13). Then spin around for 5 minutes thinking “ouch, ummmm that again?” And repeat. Preferably all done alone, it’s not pretty and I’m not exactly pleasant to be around.

As the racing heated up, the jumps faded away. I almost, kinda, sorta forgot about them all together. But then when rain put me on my trainer a couple days ago, and Ron gave me a big gear workout, I was reminded that big gear leads to jumps (which I had already done on some climbs, but that at least seems like a whole different beast than on flats). Today, 5 X 45″. Ron apparently read my mind, saying “Yes, back to these….” Great. Fabulous. Wonderful. Meaning crap this is going to hurt and then I’m going to upload my workout data and confirm that I still stuck at jumps and hence still hate jumps. That was my theory, I don’t actually hate jumps, I hate things that I suck at and jumps are exactly that. I had an idea, how about I just don’t suck at them today. Okay legs? Ummmm, that’s not exactly how it works. Unfortunately, power gains come in baby increments, and patience is needed. Unfortunately, I severely lack patience.

But I’ve learned to be patient with my jumps or at least my performance on them. January 29 was my first set of 5 X 45″. I averaged 329 watts (6.6 w/kg) with a best of 348 watts (7.0 w/kg) and peak: 5″ = 475 (9.5), 10″ = 457 (9.2), 20″ = 400 (8.0), 30″ = 371 (7.4). That’s really pretty bad. By February 26, when I did 2 X 45″, I was up to 390 (7.8) and 417 watts (8.4 w/kg) with peak: 5″ = 493 (9.9), 10″ = 473 (9.5), 20″ = 452 (9.1), 30″ = 441 (8.8). That’s progress, serious progress.

I knew that after a long break from jumps, the first try at them could be a wee bit rough. I also knew that I had gotten stronger and that I would hate the workout a lot less if it went halfway decent. It did. 5 X 45”, averaging 416 watts (8.3 w/kg) with a best of 426 watts (8.5 w/kg) and peak: 5″ = 518 (10.2), 10″ = 501 (9.9), 20″ = 469 (9.3), 30″ = 452 (8.9).

For the first time ever, I actually held a relatively steady power for a few of the jumps. Yay!

First jumps from a standing start in what felt like forever and progress from where I left off. I won’t hate that.

Exactly the plan, sorta…

Today’s workout was going to be hard. Apparently telling your coach 225 watts is reallyyyy easy, despite 241 being your last 20 minute max power, will get you 4 climbs at ?-230-240-250 watts. Fabulous, nothing like riding at or above your 20 minute max on your final climb. I had a game plan: start with the Donut ride and hide in the pack to start the climbs feeling as fresh as possible, hammer at least part of the switchbacks to put me in a good mood for the other climbs that would then feel easy compared to hammering.

Full ride, power and elevation

Problem is, rides rarely go according to my plan. It was WINDY. Like ahhhh scared Tink windy. And, because I could care less about the ride today until the climbs, I was chilling at the back with good company. Unfortunately, that also meant getting on a wheel that soon enough had both of us gapped out from the main pack. Well, now I was really cursing the wind, although still in good company with Leo to give me his wheel and chat a bit. Give me his super deep dish wheel that made me stop feeling half as bad for myself.

Full ride, heart rate and elevation

Climb #1- arrive at the Switchbacks (1.9 miles, 5%) with the main group probably already halfway up the climb. Fail, although because the group ride was never really my goal today, not really a disappointment. To hammer or not to hammer? I have this thing where I like to hammer for 5 minutes, so I decided I would do that. I did, 286 watts (5.7 w/kg). What to do with the other 4 minutes? I thought it would be cool for the 4 climbs go 220-230-240-250, but my watts were clearly going to average above 220 so I thought the next coolest thing would be 250-230-240-250. I finished the climb with the average being 250 watts (5.0 w/kg), HR 178.

Climb #2: Lower PV Dr. East (1.9 miles, 4.2%)- 230 watts (4.6 w/kg), this shouldn’t be too bad. And it wasn’t, although my legs and arms were a bit unhappy from the earlier 5 minutes trash yourself session. HR 163 for about 9 minutes, no harm done.

Climb #3: Via Colinita + Crest (3.4 miles, 4.7%)- 240 watts (4.8 w/kg)- longer and more watts, sounded a bit rough. Fortunately, I only had a few minutes of descending to think about it, and then I was rolling along actually with little strain (HR 171) for about 15 minutes.

Climb #4: Backside Hawthorne (3.4 miles, 4.4%)- 250 watts (5.0 w/kg)- this one could hurt, this one should hurt. Nice and steady watts, Tink, nice and steady. That was the plan…get to the climb and thought train is more like “if I go a bit harder at the bottom, then I can go a bit easier at the top…). About 10 minutes in, I’m holding steady between 250-260, and then I come up on the main intersection and the dreaded red light. Noooooo, must hold 250 watts! Cars? Heyyyyy, see me? Ummmm ya. Okay, watts didn’t drop too much, 250 is still right there. The climb starts to level out, so I try to shift to my big ring. Drop chain. Shift up down all around and it will NOT get back on…average watts going down, frustration going up. About 20 seconds later, I’ve got my big ring and just a couple minutes left to call this workout done. 14 minutes later, with HR avg 172, I’m done and quite content.

Other than seeing yet another crash in Portuguese Bend, and wishing that we would chill through that section (although knowing it will never happen), it was a sensational ride. I’ve never felt so strong from start to finish.

First Ride

I remember my first time on a road bike. It was 16 months ago. It was exciting and terrifying all at once. That poor bike (and my body) took some hard falls in my first few weeks on the road. Today, I was hopeful that my new TT bike and I would get through our first ride together without any scratches. I went so far as to hope that I would come out of the ride less scared and more confident than before I headed out. Here’s how I maximized my chances of that happening.

Step 1: get a good bike- my first bike didn’t need to be the most expensive one out there. It just needed to be a quality ride that could get me through the learning stages. For time trials, I went with Giant’s Trinity Composite 1 W, designed specifically for women.

Step 2: bike fit- I always trust Ron Peterson with my bike fits. If you buy from a local shop, they usually can get you started. But the sooner you get a professional fit, the sooner that you  reduce your risk of injuries and maximize your comfort and performance on the bike. I could tell that this bike was made with a women’s form in mind because it was relatively painless for Ron to adjust it to fit me just right.

Step 3: trainer- I chose to start on the trainer to give myself a few minutes to feel stable on the bars before having to actually balance on them.

Step 4: ride- my first time on a road bike, I went out intending to get a decent workout. This time, Ron suggested that I just ride very easy around my neighborhood. The point of my first ride was simply to begin to get used to the bike in a safe and controlled environment, not to go hammer and risk having a painful and scary experience. I started out at a near walking pace and slowly increased my speed as I gained confidence. By the end, I was happily touching 24 mph without any fear.

Ending my first ride wanting to head back out for my second one, now that is success.