Learning The Hard Way.....

When you first start racing your bike, you have to learn the ropes, as with any other sport. However, unlike other sports (except car racing, skiing, sledding, and maybe a couple other sports) you don’t risk crashing going 70+ k’s an hour. So when you first begin racing, you have to learn how to corner the bike correctly, how to hold your line, how to handle yourself in a pack, and so forth. You move your way up through the categories (Cat 5 being beginner and Cat 1 being pro). Once you make your way up to Cat 2, you begin to think that you have pretty good bike handling skills… until you come to Europe.

By far the hardest thing to adapt to while racing over here is learning to hold the wheel in front of you. You have to fight tooth and nail to be at the front of the pack in these races. In the States you can move up in the field extremely easily because the fields are smaller and fewer people are trying to be in the front. Over here, the fields are three times larger or even more. Plus, there are at least two kids on each team that have the capability to win the race. So instead of their being a couple of people having the power or skill to win a race like back in the States, you now have sixty kids that are fighting for the leaders jersey. Their aggression to stay at the front of the group is something that I am still trying to learn. In order to succeed in this type of racing I need to learn how to hold the wheel in front of me. Basically, get down and dirty….
So for the past three days I have been in the Netherlands competing in a three day, four stage race known as Axel.

The food and the accommodations for this race can be considered to be five-star compared to the “stuff” we received in the Czech Republic. All the teams went to a hotel where the racing officials fed us. Upon our first trip to the food court, we noticed large kegs in the line for the food. Our first thoughts were “Yes, this should be interesting.” To our disappointment, the lids were taken off the kegs and pasta was served to us.

First Stage: This stage contained one big loop, and then three finishing circuits. The terrain was flat as a pancake with two, one k sections of cobbles. The finishing circuits contained another stretch of one k cobbles. The race totaled 107 k’s.

We got to the line forty five minutes before the race started to get decent starting positions. So warming up for these races was out of the question. We actually considered bringing lawn chairs and sitting in them while we waited, maybe bring a stereo as well. So after a long time of sitting on the top tube of my bike, which gets pretty uncomfortable, the race was finally off. The wide street that the race began on quickly turned into small country roads after a couple tight twists and turns. We were told to stay at the front, and quickly realized why. With a 180 riders on one lane roads, moving up was virtually impossible, after a few mid-pack crashes, I found myself with support cars on my rear wheel, and about 179 guys in front of me. This was definitely not where I wanted to be. Luckily the attacks were starting at the front, and the pack was beginning to get strung out due to the “never-ending” cross winds. The gods of cycling must enjoy seeing the racers struggle against the winds and rain of Europe. Once the pack is strung out, my only opportunity of moving up presents itself. You say goodbye to the minimal draft you receive from the rider in front you, dive to the open side of the road and move your way up the pack trying to keep away from other riders to prevent them from drafting you (show no sympathy). It is unrewarding work, making your way up a line of 180 riders takes a lot of work and little gains come from trying to attempt it. Putting as many riders as you can between you and the support vehicles is important, and the satisfaction of knowing that if you get dropped and there are riders behind you that may be able to close the gap is the only reward you get for trying to move up. Unfortunately, no matter how many riders I put behind me, there always seems to be a crash in front of me. At the turn leading to the first cobbled section, a nice crash involved a group of riders at mid pack, separating the field, and I found myself chasing to get back with the leaders. At this moment, I found that I hate cobbles. Everything about them I hate. Since I have very little experience riding on these stones “from the pits of hell” I did not do a good job riding over them. I went back and forth across the narrow road trying to find “the sweet spot,” but to no avail. With my head down and pedaling as hard as I possibly could, I looked up in time to see a Dutch rider easily pass me. He was sitting up, hands on the top of his bars, apparently cruising and he just flew by me. The guy had to of had thirty pounds on me, and all I could do was watch as he pedaled me off his wheels. I would never see the leaders again after this point. I fought hard for about 50k, flowing in and out of the caravan, hoping that the pack would slow or a big crash would happen. Neither occurred and I soon found myself in a chase group. I happened upon a tough choice to make while in this group: I could either continue to ride hard and hope to catch back on to the group and limit the amount of time damage in the overall GC or I could sit in the back of this chase pack and save my legs for the TT and other stages. I opted for the second decision, mainly because I could tell that my legs weren’t recovered from the Czech, and that my cold was slowly getting worse throughout the week. So I finished about eight minutes down on the lead group. A disappointing first stage, but you have to keep your moral high because there are still three stages left.

We started the race with six riders. We lost three riders in this first stage. One pulled out due to sickness, and two crashed out.

Stage Two A: This TT consisted of a 7.8 k loop with several tricky turns. The wind was never at the rider’s back, it was either a cross wind or head wind.

I am finding that I am enjoying the TT’s more than the road races because you don’t have to deal with the crashes and mishaps you find in the peloton. I wished that we had gotten there earlier, but you can’t really tell the coaches what to do, so I couldn’t get the full warm up I needed. For a short TT you have to be completely “hot and ready to go.” As soon as I settled in I could tell that my legs still felt heavy, but I still tried my best. I ended up finishing fortieth. This was a respectable finish, but not exactly what I had wanted.

Stage Two B: Again, the course consisted of one big loop and then three finishing circuits. The finishing circuits contained the same stretch of cobbles from the finishing circuits of the stage before. So the good lines had been discovered and well warn. The “good lines” were two stripes along the cobbles that where the thick grass and the cobbles meet. These well warn lines turned into six inch wide dirt paths from the previous days, and were fought over viciously. The course totaled 105 k’s.

When you wake up and you don’t feel like racing because you know you are getting sicker, and your body aches from the cobbled sections of yesterday, you can pretty much tell you are going to have rough day. But, I am in Europe and I don’t want to come home with regrets of not racing just because I felt a little down. So once again we got to the line with a good forty five minutes to spare. This race actually started off at a reasonable pace, and only a couple crashes caused some havoc in the field. As more and more k’s passed by, I noticed that I was working really hard to stay on the back of the pack. After struggling to cope with a couple of attacks, it dawned on me that I may be getting a flat. A close inspection of the stiffness and trueness of my front wheel revealed no problems, the problem had to come from my rear wheel. I looked between my legs at the brake, and noticed with each revolution the rim was hitting the brake pad. Upon seeing this two thoughts entered my head: firstly- “Yes! I am not hurting so bad just because of the pace.” Secondly- “How can I be such an idiot? Why didn’t I check this earlier, my legs are about to explode and I could have prevented a lot of the pain.” I opened up the brake to allow the wheel to roll through it without contacting the pad, and then I noticed the tire was low on pressure. How long air had been escaping the tire I don’t know, but I had been riding three-fourths of the race with the brakes on. Mentally, this is a big blow. Now I had to deal with the question of whether to continue for as long as I could, or stop and wait for the car, which could be kilometers behind weaving through dropped riders. Any time you stop with a mechanical, especially at this race, any hope of catching back on flutters away. I tried to stay with the pack for as long as I could and then was quickly shed off the back when an attack went up the road. Watching the peloton ride away from you while you struggle is by far one of the worst things you can see. I kept going, getting slowly dropped by the riders that had been left behind by the peloton. My rear tire finally blew, and luckily the team car was only a couple meters behind me. The mechanic quickly changed my wheel and then pushed me off. I chased hard and caught back up to a group of dropped riders, where I stayed until the end.

All three riders survived this stage, only one finished with the peloton, the other rider and I finished off the back.

Stage 3: This stage contained one big loop, and four finishing circuits. The big loop contained four climbs: the Eikenberg, the Molenberg, the Berendries, and the Kapelleberg. All of these climbs were raced upon by the pros in the Tour of Flanders. The finish contained a downhill section of cobbles, with tight street corners to navigate and a short finishing straight. Last year only half the field finished this stage.

Upon waking up, things were not looking good. My forehead was burning and my throat was raw. It is really hard to get motivated when your body feels his way, but I wanted to race on the same climbs as the pros, so I brought myself to the line. There was a 3k stretch of cobbles 8 k’s from the start, so crashes were happening all over the place as riders were fighting for a top spot. I was already gapped off by the time we hit the cobbles. I was closing the gap to the leaders when a hornet or a wasp got stuck in between my glasses and my face. The ensuing stings felt “great” while I was riding on the cobbles- one handed, trying to hit the thing away from face and nearly knocking my sunglasses off. Smooth pavement was a god send, and I got into a good tempo knowing that I would not finish the race. I completed the climbs, which were all cobbled and really pretty exciting to race on. I finished up the big loop and pulled off as I crossed the finish line to start the circuits. I could have finished the race, but I saw no need to considering I was already off the back, and sick. Luckily it started to rain just as I got inside the van. The race didn’t go my way but I was happy to be in the van and quickly fell asleep.

Only one rider from our team finished this stage.

I am finding myself to be a very selective rider, which is not good. To succeed, the race has to be hilly with long climbs where strength to weight ratio becomes a factor. These flatter races are killing me, and I can’t say that I enjoy them. I am looking forward to the mountains of Switzerland, in the mean time I will be resting up and preparing for the Tour of Southeast Flanders.