The calamity that is spring season.

(me... off the back)

Spring Racing:

To some people Spring Season is a chance to show their mettle on the hills, to prove how hard they've been working in the off season, to show up to a race, come rain, snow, sleet or hell (hail) and bring the pain. For me, it's a chance to pay homage to the cycling gods with all the bad luck one could possibly hope for. A sacrifice if you will. Flat tires, crashes, more flat tires, getting lost, getting told the wrong way to go, shifting problems, etc... you name it and for the most part I've had something go wrong in every race I've ever done March through April. Sure, it'd be easy to just swear off racing in the spring time and try to avoid the calamity all together, but I'd rather have those things go wrong at this time of year when I don't really care too much about the outcome, than when I actually do give a shit.

And no, it's just not me and my poor attitude. It'd be easy to look back and say, well... these things are brought upon you by your reluctance to care about road races... but really, the outcome time and time and time again speak for themselves. Maybe it's one of those... if I told myself that "I was good at climbing hills then I'd become a good hill climber" kinda things. But at this point I just choose acceptance. I choose to just donate my money to the promoters in hopes that I'll get a little bit of racing in, that I can donate to my team's overall game plan for a few miles before I get bucked off the back or passed liked cheap chinese food on the hills. I'd rather get the shit storm of back luck out now.

This negative attitude on spring racing season actually helps me keep a really positive attitude in a race (or normally ride as it becomes). Take for example this past weekend during the Cherry Blossom Cycling Classic, it was the last day and the last stage and my team was going for the overall win of the race series. I got bucked off the pack early on because my legs wouldn't allow me to hammer up the hill at the blistering quick pace set by the race leaders, and then when I got to a part where I had an opportunity to catch up, my shifting was not cooperating. I caught up to another rider (Lisa, from Seattle) who had gotten spit out and between the two of us we figured it was just going to be a pleasant 30 some mile ride. Together, we kept a pretty good pace and were able to chit chat back in forth. I learned a lot about Lisa, her cycling history, what she was studying in school, etc... and somewhere between all of it she said to me... "wow, you're like the most positive pleasant person that I've ever ridden off the back with. Most people are like "f*ck this shit, I hate this, f*ck you, g'damn f*ckin hill, g'damn f*ckin bike!" and you're all happy and everything." And my response to her was just a smile.

So together, we rode around the lush orchards of The Dalles, trying to catch up with our race which really, wasn't too far ahead. But, at one point I realized something was amiss... so I asked her... "Hey, when are we supposed to get on the big loop?" (in the Cat 3 women's race we had one small loop and two big loops on the course). "We've been riding on this for too long but all of the Course Marshals have just waved us on and told us to keep going the way we were. Something isn't right here." So as we progressed, we kept asking the Course Marshals which way was the big loop? and, they kept motioning us on saying it's up ahead. Then we realized they must have had us confused with the Cat 4 women who had to do two short laps and one large one. We stopped at one point to get out a map and see exactly where the turnoff was. Lisa is like... "you have a map?" And I looked at her and smiled saying "this thing has been known to happen to me before."

However, by then it was too late. We had done an extra lap on the short loop and had completely been cut-off from our race. At this point, we had to DNF (as in: Did Not Finish) and it pained me seeing how I had already DNF'd twice this season already. Once for the lumberjack incident at Cherry Pie and then a week prior for Piece of Cake when I flatted. Never before in my two years have racing have I DNF'd, but this year it was looking to be the overwhelming trend. Worst thing is, you can't DNF at a Stage Race. If so... you can't continue onto the next stage. And granted, this was the last stage... but they don't even score you in overall General Classification then. It's like you never existed, like all the money you paid to race was just money you gave to a homeless person to spend on booze. Lisa, realizing her day was over too... called her husband (she brought a phone with her, I'll have to remember that for my next road race) told her that we were done, but for shits and giggles we'd be doing the long loop just once to get a good ride in. So, that's what we did.

When we approached the Course Marshals at the intersection who were supposed to tell us to turn, we explained their error to them. "Sorry" they said "it's so hard to tell". Which I can imagine since it looks like brightly colored spandexed rider after brightly colored spandexed rider, and well, we as riders have responsibility to know the course. However, we zoomed past them initially at a pretty quick pace and from a distance, they motioned us onto the wrong course. In fact, I think as we passed them the wrong time I even shouted out "Thanks for volunteering" since that's the kind of nice person I am. I take that back now though, what I should have really said was "thanks for kicking me out of the race!"

So Lisa and I did one full long loop and rode intermixed with the Cat 4 women who were completing their only lap and the Cat 4 men who were close to finishing their race as well. There was a massive gravel climb in this section and then a massive corkscrew descent. Lisa, who was a quicker climber than I, beat me up all the uphills and I tried with all my might to catch up with her on the downs. However, the corkscrew descent was pretty tight and right off the beginning of it I had Cat 4 men passing me through the tight turns. Seeing how they were still racing and I was not, I laid off on my speed to try and not interfere with their downhill. This was kinda hard though. At one point, looking over my shoulder to see if there were anymore men... I caught glimpse of the medic car. I thought the medic car wanted to pass me in order to catch up with the men... but no, it just kept riding behind me, slowly, engine running, creeping around every turn behind me like it was just waiting for me to crash or run off the road. (This also helped my positive attitude for the afternoon.) I was thankful when I finally reached the bottom of the hill and it passed me... speeding off to catch up with the men. Suddenly I felt relieved, I've never ridden with the grim reaper on my wheel before, but I imagine that's about what it feels like.

Within a few kilometers, I came to the finish. As I climbed the little hill I saw my friend Eryn Barker off to the side of the road. I asked Eryn if she knew or not weather the Cat 3 women had come in yet? If they had... I could cross the line and hopefully not... not DNF. However, if they still hadn't come in... I would technically be one of the first women to finish and well... that just wasn't the honest case here. So, this left me with a predicament, do I cross the line or do I not? I had no idea what to do in this situation as no one had ever prepped me for it. I looked up the road and saw Lisa and then asked her what to do. She said they had just told her to cross the line, so... that's what I did. Apparently and understandably, the officials do not care about what happens to little olde riders who get bucked off and lost from the pack.

(it was so pretty out there... did you guys see the horses and that adorable little barn and ... what? no, you were busy? Sorry you missed it. I think I am going to come back out here just to ride this course again for fun. )

So anyways, from this vantage point I could just wait to see how things finished up for my team. It didn't take too long before some familiar Cat 3 ladies roared up the road. The first one was my friend and former teammate Sara Fletcher, and then shortly after there was an uphill sprint battle which my new teammate and friend Brianna Walle won. Basically, with Sara getting the win it cemented the overall General Classification for my other teammate Anna Christansen, who came in third for the final race. When the dust finally settled, Ironclad had killed it... wining the Stage 1 Road Race, winning the Stage 2 Time Trial, not winning the Stage 3 Crit (however, I did come in fourth... but the crit doesn't mean a hill of jack squat in a stage race) and having a good enough placing in the Stage 4 Road Race to keep the competitors at bay. I'm really proud of my team, they (we) all worked really hard and together for the team win... I just wish I could have helped out a little bit more.

(WINNING!)

However, I can smile and say I'm happy my road racing season is over for 2011. From now on it's all crits and track and cross. None of this hill bull shit. Also, I hope that this ends my steady string of bad luck. I hope that I have given the cycling gods enough of a sacrifice that I can sail on clean through the rest of the year. I do know though, that racing can be dangerous and my thoughts and prayers are with fellow OBRA racer Leia Tyrrell as she recovers from a head injury that was received during the Crit in the 1/2 women's field on Saturday night. For as much of my bitching as I do here, it pails in comparison to that kinda of thing. So really, this whole post is a silly bitch fest rant me feeling sorry for myself kinda thing, and for that I am sorry to waste your time. Yes, as well, there are bigger issues for example, people in Japan are still suffering from radiation exposure and they are homeless and cold and hungry.

As for the Cherry Blossom Cycling Classic Stage Race, it's a great event... but the more I do it, the more it becomes apparent to me that I only really like 25% of it, and that's the 25% that doesn't mean anything more than bragging rights. In the long run, I just don't think it's worth the money for me to be disgruntled and fail as hard as I do. I like the teamwork and hanging out with everyone and the challenge of the whole thing... but when your name doesn't even show up on the final general classification because someone told you to go the wrong way, it leaves you feeling a little bitter. But, at the end of the day... you smile, cause the only other option is crying and well, four out of four people admit that crying over a Cat 3 women's race is pretty lame.

(Oh, here's a photo from the only aspect I liked about racing in the CBC, the Crit. I'm here, I placed well... and you can't even see me. I only laugh at this.)