A solo attack on Lap 2 of 10
Things seem to be really turning around, and there are a lot of reasons behind it, but mostly, it has to do with the fact that for the first time I’ve seen all year, the Mirage 3’s rode as a TEAM, and we now have the numbers, and talent, to make successful weekends like this one happen more regularly.
It started out on Saturday with a windy, wet, sort of cold day for so late in the year, and things didn’t go off well when I heard that my star female athlete had gone down in a turn, and broken her collarbone. This really, really, really stinks, and it saddens me for a lot of reasons, mainly that this was a crash that she was not responsible for, and that she was on her way to a strong spring campaign. Heal quickly, Cindy, and know that this setback is only temporary. You will rise like a Phoenix and soar again soon!
I drove out to the course with Ben Sewell, a clubmate and long-time friend, and we arrived in time to warm up, look at the course a bit, and talk with people who had ridden it already. The course was STILL slick in places, though it hadn’t rained for several hours. The hairpin turn was the worst, with milky water right at the beginning of the turn, and again later at the exit of the turn. Ben’s wife also fell at this location, and injured her thumb, so we knew we were going to have to be extra cautious.
Several Mirage teammates showed up for this, and there were over 75 starters as the 3’s rolled out. Our strategy was simple – to communicate, and attempt to send people off the front in 1’s and 2’s, in an effort to get a breakaway set up. Then the others would either block, or counter-attack as soon as the breaks were reeled in. There were some more specifics, but we agreed to try and play defense in the first half, and really try to activate the race in the second half. It was just a one-hour event, but the turns and hills, along with the threat of rain, were going to make it challenging.
It almost worked.
Immediately when the gun went off, Jason Butler was forced to chase down a solo breakaway, but by mid-lap they’d been caught, and another rider went off the front. He got maybe 20-30 seconds up on us – no one wanted to really chase since the rain had actually started and the course was slicker ‘n snot – but when we got to lap 2, we saw him on his feet, spinning his wheels right after the hairpin turn… He’d fallen hard, and was making sure his bike was in working condition. I don’t know if he finished or not.
Over the course of the hour, the Mirage group communicated well, and I launched 2 or 3 solo or paired attacks, to try and break up the pack or string it out. It sort of worked. We did drop a good number of riders, but towards the end, right after I’d been reeled in on the last lap, instead of counter-punching, the pack sat up, including my teammates. As a result, the last 500m was pretty crowded and sketchy, and while we did get some Top 10 finishes, and a few primes, we didn’t get a Top 3 like I’d thought or wanted. Still, it was a great effort, and I was proud of the group for communicating and pushing the pace, and for the attacks.
There was more to come on Sunday.
The second day of racing was held at the Texas Motor Speedway, a venue that was MUCH closer, and is infamous for its’ never-ending wind. Ben and Katie picked me up, and we drove out for a morning start. When I got there, there were several more Mirage cyclists, including some guys I’ve been riding with for about 14 years now, and I was REALLY excited about our prospects.
We warmed up in 2’s and 3’s, but about 20 minutes before the start, we gathered together in a group in a remote part of the parking lot, and made a plan. Chase was going to be the ’sit in’ guy, I was good for an early break attempt, and Jason would also try to go early as well. The theme of counter-attack was prevalent, and there were two or three guys who said they weren’t going to be able to contribute, but that they’d block if someone got away. I think we had about 7 riders in a pack of almost 75 starters.
We went off for our 10 laps, about 5 minutes after the 1/2 field went out, and it was immediately apparent that there was a LOT of wind. The wind out there is persistent, but it’s the squirrelly way that it deflects off of the actual Speedway itself that makes for such a challenge. For instance, the Start/Finish was on an East-West line, but it seemed like the winds were coming from Due West, right down our throats. I quickly ended up calling this 1k section, the “Dragon’s Breath”, as it was fierce and consistent, and you had to use a lot of power to simply cut through it. However, once on the inside track of the course, right under the stadium, the wind still beat on us, all the way around until we reached the outside loop, and started our descent. THEN the speed would pick up, and you finally got a tailwind on the southernmost part of the 5 miles.
Action was hot pretty early. On the first lap, about halfway through, I found myself covering a break of two PACC riders who slipped away and got a 10 second lead. I didn’t do much work, and we were caught close to the end of the first lap. Right after that, three Mirage cyclists, Andy Kutach, Jason Butler, and I think Sean, took off from the front, and actually had a gap going for about a full lap. They stayed out, about 20 seconds ahead, with one PACC rider. Jordan and I were at roughly positions 7-10, not doing any work, and just forcing other teams, like McKinney Velo, to bring the riders back. This happened at just the right moment out on the course, right as we were transitioning for the fast, long, shallow descent in the crosswind. I saw that the pack had settled down, I saw a complete lane open up, and I shot off the left hand side as absolutely fast as I could. The three Mirage riders saw this and went in to coast mode, and within a minute, I had a full 20 seconds on the field.
1 solo lap off the front - about to be joined by a Sun & Ski rider.
I raced as hard as I could for a complete lap, and when I reached the same point where I’d made my break the previous lap, I chanced a look over my shoulder. The pack was at least 30 seconds back, but a young Sun & Ski rider named Cody was attempting to bridge to me. I had to make a decision. Let him join me so we could ride together and push harder, or continue to try to go it alone for another 7 laps. It was a no-brainer. I slightly eased up, and when Cody caught me, we looked back, and I said to him, “I think this can work!” His reply was, “Yeah, I feel strong. Let’s go!” Within seconds, we were taking strong, steady, even pulls together, and the official’s moto began calling out our splits.
Joined by Cody of Sun & Ski on Lap 3.
Over the next 7 laps, we pushed, pedaled, and tried to stay aero as much as possible. Talking a little, looking for each other’s ‘chicken wing’ signals to come around, and trying to gauge our efforts in the wind, the terrain, and against the rest of the raceers. The moto kept coming up to us, at least once a lap, and his shouts across to us were filled with information that only pushed us harder.
“FIFTY SECONDS!”……………
“ONE TWELVE!”…………….
“ONE TWENTY ONE!”……………..
“ONE FORTY SEVEN!”………………
“TWO TWENTY ONE!”………………
“TWO THIRTY ONE! I’M NOT COMING BACK UP TO YOU! YOU’VE GOT THIS THING WRAPPED UP! GOOD LUCK!”
Cody and I off the front.
They were the sweetest words I’d heard in my road cycling career up to that point. Wow. I was guaranteed at least 2nd place. Cody pulled up to me and said, “I think if we just stay steady, we’ll be fine.”
I tried to strike a deal with him, citing my age, the fact that I’d never won a race before, and that I’d done most of the work, but he said, “Let’s just take it to the final turn.” I knew then, based on how I felt, in terms of my legs, lungs, and feet, that this was going to be long shot for the win. I told him it was his race then, that I knew his coach, that he’d be proud, and that I’d really enjoyed the work he’d done, that we couldn’t have done it without each other. We bumped fists, and then I said I was going to turn wide, so he could push on the right. It worked. I still tried to give it everything I had, but in the end, it amounted to little over Seven seconds at 500w, and he took me by a good three seconds. But the crowd absolutely loved it, and I remember hearing tons of cheers and shouts of encouragement every lap, and also at the end. I had done it. I had hit the podium, the first time since, well, gosh, I can’t remember.
Gotta hit that 'lap' button at the finish, now, don't forget!
I almost fell off my bike, and the announcer, who was AWESOME, came over to interview me. I don’t remember much, but I know I credited Cody for his efforts, thanked the crowd and promoters, and then went over to give Cody a big hug. His coach, Tim Redus, also got a hug, and Andy Hollinger, the race official, got one as well. He said the kindest thing to me. “SEE? Good things happen!”
Interview with the announcer, who was awesome the whole day.
He was sooo right.
To add to the awesomeness of the day, Jason Butler took 3rd, and Sean, another Mirage cyclist, took 10th, so we got 3 finishers in the Top 10. Cody, in his interview, credited my teammates for blocking throughout the race, and they confirmed that, saying that several other teams ended up arguing with themselves about who was going to try and chase down the break, wasting precious time, as Mirage just sat on the front and corked it, or ran down attempts to bridge. So, they were really fresh and invigorated for the finale. On top of that, roughly 1/3 of the peloton pulled out of the race, citing the pace and the wind.
I’m going to credit this strong finish to my teammates. This is what I had wanted for so, so very long, and there were many times, I’ll admit, when I thought it would never happen. But in one short weekend, with this group of riders, we ended up gelling, communicating, attempting things, taking risks, and pulling off a strong finish and showing for the club. Once a couple of years ago, a teammate told me, “You make me proud to wear this jersey.” As of Sunday, I say it to those who raced and helped with the strategy.
Gentlemen, you make me VERY proud to wear this jersey.
Cody and Richard Wharton on the last lap
So now I see myself with about half the points I need for an upgrade. The races being held will be smaller, tighter affairs, but I’m not afraid to race, and I know that I can contribute to the success of others, just like they did for me. I’d still like to have the option to upgrade, but mostly, I’m just glad that I have some solid teammates with which to work and develop as amateurs in North Texas.
Chapeau Mirage!
Special thanks to Katie and Ben for driving me both days and relieving me of that worry, and to Andy for his counseling. For those not expecting hugs but getting them anyway, well, sorry, but I’m kind of an emotional guy, and I never hesitate to show my gratitude with a man-hug. It’s all good.
Cody and I pulling in to the wind.
Ft. Davis 2009 Review – 7th Place GC!
Tags: Breakaway, CompuTrainer, Ergomo, Ft. Davis, Pull, Race, Racing, Richard Wharton, Time Trial, training, Wattage, Wattage values
You know, sometimes things fall in to place. Sometimes, the right combination of racing, tactics, and fitness combine to give you a small edge. A small advantage that you can exploit to your fullest. I did it. I put together something I’m proud of. It wasn’t perfect, and I’ll explain why later, but overall, I am extremely content with this weekend’s efforts.
This economic climate has created something really challenging for a lot of people, and a trip out to the “Middle of Nowhere” for a bike race presents true discussions about “wants vs. needs”. As a result, several cyclists opted out of the trip, including the two people with whom I was going to drive. Knowing that a trip out there on my own would be pretty stressful, I sprung for a ticket to Midland/Odessa airport via Southwest Airlines, packed up my two bikes, and rented a minivan for the 2.5 hour drive out to Fort Davis, Texas, and the 2009 Hammerfest.
The race is a 3-stage event, with a 16 mile hill climb, a 16 mile Time Trial, and a 76 mile Road Race, separated out over 2 days. In previous years, I’ve had mixed results here. The stage race is so vexing, because you have to be a strong climber, a good time-trialer, and you have to have the stamina and strength to make it over 4 passes on the road race. All of this is at a minimum of 5000′ of elevation. In 2007, I had a good enough road race to help force a break, and finish 8th on the day, 14th overall. But the next year was a disaster, with a good TT, a bad hillclimb, and a RR start that was so cold that I was unprepared, and I DNF’d. I think one year earlier, in 2006, I suffered from food poisoning. So the remoteness, the altitude, and the terrain make for a serious challenge.
But this year, this was my “A” race. From November through March, I laid out my intervals and plans for just this event. Everything else was loblolly. Sure, I wanted to be strong enough to earn some points and try desperately for that upgrade, but despite my strong finishes, they weren’t strong enough to get the points needed, 25 in a 12-month rolling year. My results so far had been maybe 1 point. Geez. But back to the training. I used a combination of TrainingPeaks WKO+ and their TSB chart, as well as Philip Skiba’s RaceDay Form predictor, to come up with a combination of volume and intensity that would be right for me. The race requires a LOT of 4-6 minute Vo2 efforts, but it also requires a good bit of stamina for the TT, especially the outbound leg, which I’ll describe later.
Looking back, I think there were a couple of things that I could have done to better prepare, though, again, some of these things are hamstrung by time commitments, coaching, work, and weather. As a result, I was only getting maybe 7 hours a week in on average, about 60% of that on the CompuTrainer. The form predictors all pointed towards weeks T-9 to T-3 (18 days) as being the weeks where I really needed to pump up the overall volume, and sadly, besides racing and maybe one or two rallies, I didn’t get to do that. However, following my 20MMP as the predictor, my taper was just about perfect, and right before I left, I did a 20-minute Threshold test, throwing out a 305 at 66.9kg, my highest form for the year. I got a good couple of nights of rest, made sure I was hydrated, took all my supplements, and showed up in the frontier town completely rested and confident in my ability to perform as necessary.
A few anecdotes about the trip…
In recent years, the stage race has been run in this order: Time Trial, then Hill Climb, then Road Race the next day. This year, however, the race was switched around a bit, with the Hill Climb in the morning, and the Time Trial held in the afternoon on Saturday. I personally like this setup, since you can do the Hill Climb when it’s cooler, and the Time Trial is more greatly affected by the afternoon breeze. Well, it was hardly a breeze – more like a gale force wind, but more on that later.
There were 38 starters on the Hill Climb, and surprisingly, this time, there were no efforts at a breakaway. Everyone knew that it would be a risk, but usually, some riders will take the chance that they can break away and get up the hill ahead of everyone else. But that was an afternoon trick, and this year, no one was up for it. We made it over the first of the three major ascents as a pack, but it’s always the second climb that separates the men from the boys. In September of last year, I’d finished second in this competition, at the CycleFest, and I was determined to NOT lose contact with the leaders or the pack this year. And sure enough – for a good chunk of the 7 minutes we were climbing, I was in the front 8. I did have one small performance hiccup right at the top, and I lost contact with the leaders, but it was no more than 100 feet, and surprisingly, at the top of the second hill, everyone slowed, and I was able to rejoin. We made the steady ascent to the “Lower” parking lot of the McDonald Observatory, in a group of maybe 15, maybe 12. But with half a mile to go, we approached “The Monster” 12-19% grade climb, as a pack.
After that, it became a fight for survival. One by one, the stronger riders separated themselves from the pack, and with about 500 meters to go, I was in maybe 12th place. Finishers were already up at the top, but I was in a group of maybe four, all people that I knew. But with about 100 meters to the finish, the slope changed and became a bit easier, and by golly, I ended up with a Top 10 finish, just 50 odd seconds out of first. I couldn’t believe it. I’d basically passed my first test of Ft. Davis!!
At the finish line on Stage 1's Hillclimb
We stayed at the top for a while to let our legs and lungs recover, and to discuss things, tactics, strategies, other riders, etc. The day was beautiful and the winds hadn’t yet picked up, and while it was cool, it wasn’t cold, and the sun on the back side of the observatory was warming us up. We made the descent as a group, and I rode back in to town with David Orteaga, the young rider from Duncanville who has impressed us all with his performance all year. I headed back to the room, peeled off my jersey, took a shower, and rested up to prepare for the afternoon TT.
Now here’s where it gets good.
I woke up around noon to the sound of wind howling around the building. On Friday, I had driven out to the TT course and had ridden with two different types of front wheels, to make sure that I would be fast, but also be able to keep the bike under control. As much as I love the Nimble Crosswind (the name says it all), I opted to go with the Aeolus 6.5’s, simply because it felt like I had more control. But that was on Friday, when the winds were coming out of a slightly more southerly direction, which made it a crosswind on the outbound leg. On Saturday, before the race, I checked Weather Underground, and the report made me shudder. SUSTAINED winds at 35mph, at 252 degrees on the compass needle. Checking the road’s direction via Google Earth, the road ended up pointing at, guess what, 252 degrees. So I was going to be racing a 1% grade uphill 9-mile out leg in a 35kt headwind.
I took a look at Hed Cycling’s site, since they have a pretty good set of pages that describe the forces on the rider in different given headwind/crosswind conditions, and with the wind roaring right down my throat, apparent wind speeds were something like 50-60 mph. So I decided to stay with the Aeolus, and try to keep my body as small as possible in the frontal surface area department.
Around 3 o’clock, maybe just after, I clipped in, got my hold, and took off. The P3 I time trial with is an aluminum version, and it has an Ergomo power meter plugged in to it, and I’ve calibrated it pretty well, so I think the data on it is sound. Last year, I’d had a good TT, but there are a few things to consider when looking at pacing a TT. The first is that your position alone will drop your Functional Threshold by about 10% if you’re not used to it. Secondly, at altitude, you can expect your FT to drop another 5-8%. So that 304w/20 yields a 289w Threshold – at sea level. Drop that by 10% for the TT position, and you get a 260. Drop it by another 7%, and you come up with a 241. So I SHOULD have known that I could theoretically hold 240-245w for 60 minutes in the aero tuck position, and maybe a 250w-255w for 20 minutes.
It didn’t quite turn out that way. I misled myself in to thinking that I was going to be the wattage-pacing king, and my first 4 minutes I was averaging a 268. It went down hill, even while pedaling uphill, all the way.
Uh, it's certainly not supposed to look like THAT!
Wattage dropped, speed dropped, cadence dropped, ambition dropped. I got dropped (passed) by my 30 and 60 second men, and my outbound leg average speed was, kaboom! 14mph! Wow. OUCH. The crazy part was, on the way back, Everyone spun out their gears at 120 and 140rpm, hitting 45-50mph. One guy had a big old honking 58-tooth gear, and he spun out at 58mph! WOW!
This HAD to be on a return leg, because I'm in the big chainring!
I crawled back in to my hotel room, sore and dejected. CURSE THIS STAGE RACE! YOU CRUEL ELEMENTS! It took another shower, some stretching, some lotion in the saddle area, a meal and actually some beer to move on and start thinking about Sunday morning. Late that night, around 10pm, I gathered at the results sheet in front of the Limpia Hotel, sure that I was out of the running. Surprisingly, however, I was still in 10th place in the GC! I’d only lost one position! Wow! I still have a chance at this thing!
Then I remembered – the wind was there for EVERYONE. That’s why they call it the “Race of Truth”. Some people had jumped ahead, others had fallen behind, but overall, we’d suffered equally, and because I had not given up, I was still in the running. THAT was a relief! I went to bed knowing that I could certainly pull off a strong finish tomorrow, and take something home in the overall.
Interestingly, the Cat 3’s were the last to go off on Sunday morning, so we had a few more minutes to sleep in, get some breakfast, warm up, and, well, warm up. It was pretty cold! Around 9 o’clock, I was still shivering, so I went up to a lady and asked her if she had any tape. When she said yes, I had her duct tape my arm warmers to my jersey. I was NOT going to let them drop down on me!
Before the race, I’d spoken with several friendly competitors whom I admire, and since I had no teammates on the roster, I made some side deals to see if we could make something work. I was in it to preserve and possibly improve upon my final standings. I still harbored some hope that I could actually score some upgrade points. But I also wanted to help them out. One erstwhile buddy mentioned that he was going to go on an early break, and that there was one team we needed to watch out for. Sure enough, he went, and took one of those riders with him, but myself and a couple of other cyclists worked together on the outbound leg, and somewhere around 40 minutes in to the race, we merged with those two, and formed a break of about 10, and BAM, we were gone.
Some of the usual suspects were left behind, while others were in the break. There were teammates who were blocking and trying to bring us back in to the fold, but the horsepower was still present, and we winnowed it down to 7 riders as we climbed the first true obstacle, “Bear Mountain”. After that, it was like needlework. We pushed, pulled, worked together, and made gains on the pack, as we climbed and descended our way out the back road to the Observatory. It was beautiful. It was fun. But about 500m from the last feed zone, it became momentarily tragic for me.
I’m known for my solid pulls, my communications skills, and my ability to hold strong tempo, and hopefully, I’m known for holding my own on the climbs. However, today, on the second-to-last climb, which is a particularly steep 5.4% grade, lasting just about a mile, I lost contact with the lead. They just…. waltzed away. I pedaled as hard as I could, but by the time we’d gotten to the feed, they were about a minute ahead of me. And once you’re out of sight, you’re out of mind. I unconsciously backed off to set my own pace, and dithered a bit at the feed, trying to take the time to consume about 400 calories, and not remembering if I had water in my water bottle, or sports drink. Looking back, I should have had an extra 400 calories at breakfast, and an extra 400 calories earlier in the race, but once again, you live and you learn, and bingo, if you run out of fuel, even just temporarily, it’ll doom you.
Google Earth image of the final climb at Ft. Davis.
One of the guys later said that if he’d known I was off the back, he would’ve told everyone to slow down and wait for me, but by the time he figured it out, it was too late. I appreciate that. I know I did my share of the work, maybe more, to set the break and hold the pace high, and shell some of the other riders in the break, but I didn’t know how much it meant to the others who were there, at least some of them.
Refreshed with calories, but alone, I made the final climb up to the Observatory, descended as absolutely fast as I felt I safely could, and finished in 7th overall, several minutes back of the lead 6. David Orteaga won the race – on my borrowed Nimble Crosswind! But still, I’m not disappointed. I proved that I could hold my own in a Cat 3 race, and finish strong, if not at the top, well, darned near it.
First and Second in the race moved on to Cat 2 status after the event. So did 9th and some other finishers. They’d had enough. They earned their positions, and were going where their talent and determination had taken them. Me? I’m about 22 points shy of that, and there are no real big stage races or climbing events in my future for the rest of the year. Ft. Davis beckons again next year, but if not as a ‘2′, then possibly as a 40+, though I’m not ready to call it just yet. I know that I came up just short, but I also know where I stand, where my strengths and weaknesses are, and where I need to go to improve upon this year’s result. Physically and physiologically, I know I can get there. Between the ears, however… that’s going to take more practice.
Thanks for reading – I’ll try to update you on the Lancaster Rally sooner than 10 days out from the event passing.