I went down to Spartanburg, SC for a road race yesterday, thinking I'd get the first race jitters out of my system in the training series before hitting the Jefferson Cup. I thought, since it is a training race, that it would be a little easier, the course less hilly, the pace a little slower. After a particularly sleepless night at the Sleep Inn, where my room was directly across from the ice machine which dropped anew load of ice with a CRASH every 20 minutes, I got up groggy-eyed and nervous. My husband and I headed to Denny's for a bland, unappetizing meal that I could barely choke down into my butterfly-filled stomach.
The forecast called for scattered thunderstorms, but the sun was shining brightly when we arrived at the race. By the time I had registered and gotten on my bike, the wind had picked up, however, and it looked like storms were imminent. I had no real goal for this race, other than to just jump in and do it. I didn't really care about placing, and I knew there were a lot of other girls who had done the entire series and were vying for the overall. I decided, after riding the last few kilometers of the course, that a Dekker (as in Eric) maneuver was in order. At the 1 K to go banner, there was a perfect little rise in the road where one could attack and get out of sight, and if the contenders for the GC were watching each other, they might all just let me go... Finally it was time to line up, and the butterflies quieted down as I chatted with all the girls I hadn't seen since last season. There were 38 women on the line, an unbelievably large field! And this was no wimpy field. The announcer informed us that there was a bonus for the first cat 4, and asked all the 4's to raise their hands... only about 8 women did so. "Crap!" I thought... this was not going to be easy. Genesis Scuba had the largest team, with about 6 women, and master's world champion Chris Underwood's Fuji team had 4 riders, too.
We rolled out onto the course, and everyone was nervous, and no one wanted to be the first to push the pace. The first 5 miles of the 12mile loop were flat to rolling, but a fierce cross-headwind made everyone reluctant to work. Genesis Scuba broke the silence with a sharp attack after about 3 miles, and one rider got away. By the end of the first lap she had a minute on the field. The attack set up an echelon across the road, with the majority of the field strung out behind riding the yellow line, fighting for a draft. It was a constant struggle to stay out of the wind, and I expected half the field to get shed, but when we turned out of the wind, there were still 30 riders in the pack. The back end of the course may have been out of the wind, but the hills, which were very similar to the Jeff Cup course, made it anything but easy. We screamed down one hill only to slog up the other side, then hit a flat section (attack, attack) only to fly down another hill, make the catch, and slog up the other side again.
Pretty soon we were through the start/finish and into the headwind section again, where we picked up the escapee. The second lap was an exact repeat of the first, and I would up being one of those strung out against the yellow line, going anaerobic in the terrible wind just trying to keep in contact - I was two seconds from blowing completely when we hit a small hill and the group compacted, mercifully. With a few seconds to recover, I moved to the front to prepare for the turn out of the wind -I wanted to make the move that I knew was going to go. Sure enough, another Genesis Scuba rider attacked, and an Atlanta Velo rider went after her. I bridged up to her, and we worked together to get up to the Scuba rider. But, when we got up to her and looked back, the gap had diminished and as we hit the fast downhill we were eaten up.
The group stayed together through to the end of the second lap, and we headed back into the wind. The skies were getting blacker, and the wind even stronger. I was about a third of the way from the front when a gap started to open and I saw all the big names in the group ahead. This was bad. Now or never, I told myself, and used up precious energy to bridge across into the wind. I jumped into their rotating paceline, and we were motoring. But I looked at the jerseys - Fuji, Earthfare, AtlantaVelo... no Genesis Scuba. I looked back and their whole team was bearing down on us like a freight train. As soon as they made the catch, they sent two riders off and it was back to the same echelon torture of the previous laps. We were all together at the turn, and into the back stretch, and everyone had decided that it was coming down to a sprint so the pace finally slowed and I was able to get back below my AT for the first time in, well, an hour and a half...
We hit the final hill before the run in to the finish and I moved up as we approached the crest. The group slowed, girls were gasping for air all around. Ahead I saw an orange flag that I took to be the 1K sign – it was time for the Dekker maneuver! I space miraculously opened in front of me and I hit the gas and jumped out of the pack. I shifted, stood up again and got up to speed. I took a peak back and had a fabulous gap! Whoo hoo! “Just hold on”, I told myself, “be like Tchmil in the 2000 Tour of Flanders! Hold them off!” Then... I saw.... another.... orange... flag..... 1K to go the sign said.... AAAUGH! I went at the WRONG orange flag! I looked back and Genesis Scuba was driving the pack about 10 yards back.. My HRM said 194. I was TOAST. C'est la vie. The pack flew by, and I tried to jump in but I was entirely spent. The woman who won (from Genesis Scuba) had legs the size of a sequoia, and Lauren (the 14 year-old) got second. I rolled in just behind the pack for 20th place, and had a good laugh about my suicide attack with the girls after the race. We averaged 22mph, not exactly the training race pace I expected, but good training nonetheless.
Laura W.