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05-10-08, 06:40 PM
First three pictures to set the tone.
It was a beautiful day, one of the sunniest of the season. Chics dig glove tans.
http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s39/jnoahj/arm.jpg
The picture doesn't do my eye justice, but several vessels are popped (more on this later).
http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s39/jnoahj/eye.jpg
The remainder of my payout after buying groceries on the way home.
http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s39/jnoahj/money.jpg
So I'm sure you can gather that the races went fairly well for me. These were to be my last races before my upcoming ACL revision surgery on May 16th, so it would have made sense to come into them well rested, right?
Wrong.
You see, I like pain. I don't just like it, I love it. I need it like a fish needs water. In the last week I racked up a lot of TSS at a high IF and was running an inadvisably large caloric deficit. In English, I've been riding my ass off and not eating much. Yesterday I actually took in fewer calories than I put out on the bike, knowing full well I'd be racing today. Foolish of course, but proper fueling might rob me of some of the sensations of death I so crave.
Half starved, and knowing my race season was coming to an abortive end I began to worry about my results. A lot of guys from the club were there who (at their own peril) actually pretend to pay attention to my advice on racing. If I couldn't execute the stuff I preach to them, I was going to look like a schmuck of epic proportions. I planned to sit in and sprint in the 3/4 race and try to be more aggressive in the 1/2/3 race. My legs ached as I warmed up. My orders to sprint and ride tempo were read as "waffle around awkwardly" and I essentially resigned myself to a pack finish.
Once the whistle blew the second guessing and self pity crap stopped. My Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde relationship with bike racing pulled through again. My legs opened up and I started to attack and counter attack right from the gun. I went with a move of another strong crit rider, and we were soon joined by four more. I was feeling good, and despite a little bit of dead weight sitting on in the break, who I unsuccessfully tried to pop off the back several times, we managed to lap the field. After that I let the guys who'd lapped the field with team representation cover breaks, and sat in to warm up for the sprint. I can handle a six man race. In the closing meters I was on the wheel of my marked man, but couldn't quite come around him. I ended up third. In the money, against guys who just a few months ago I didn't have a shot in hell of coming around in a sprint.
After an hour to cool down and eat a little bit, it was back to the salt mines for the 1/2/3 race. I went with a friend for a suicidal first lap break. He just upgraded to CAT1 two months ago, and has been racing NRC level events. He's been riding me off his wheel for years. Not so today. I couldn't quite match his pace during my pulls but I wasn't popped off. Wow. Who's this guy on my bike, and what's he been doing? We got pulled back in, and despite a throwing down a series of big attacks I couldn't get clean separation. Two guys did manage to get around, but after that the field wasn't willing to let anything go. At about 20 minutes into the 60 minute crit I started to cramp. After the cramps came the "5 more minutes" talk. You know the one..."if I can just hang on for 5 more minutes I can drop out and it'll be okay." Five minutes pass, and you do it again. It went on like that until the announcer started calling out the final laps. I lined myself up for the sprint, and was sitting too far back with one to go, and again, out of nowhere found the legs to move up the outside of the single file 30+mph field into third wheel. I held onto my position, coming by one guy. I ended up second (by less than an inch!) gaining hard on first in the field sprint, and fourth overall.
I made my money back plus a little bit, and got my first (of soon to be many!) podium in the 3s. All told a good day of racing. I'm apparently not such a bad sprinter after all :) Upon cleaning up back at the car, I noticed that several blood vessels had burst in my eyes. In the past I'd only been able to do this during heavy leg days in the gym. As of late though, I've been able to really turn myself inside out on the bike - and a key tell tale sign of doing so is the burst blood vessels. Love the pain.
As a side note, I think I've got my team lined up for my move up to Chapel Hill as well. As I mentioned in the training status thread, I'm planning on dropping some kilos in order to target the Green Mountain Stage Race. I mentioned this, and some guys I raced with today are assembling a strong squad to target the race. Should be good times, and further motivation for me to get up hills with a purpose.
Now, hi ho, hi ho - it's off to knee surgery I go.
It was a beautiful day, one of the sunniest of the season. Chics dig glove tans.
http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s39/jnoahj/arm.jpg
The picture doesn't do my eye justice, but several vessels are popped (more on this later).
http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s39/jnoahj/eye.jpg
The remainder of my payout after buying groceries on the way home.
http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s39/jnoahj/money.jpg
So I'm sure you can gather that the races went fairly well for me. These were to be my last races before my upcoming ACL revision surgery on May 16th, so it would have made sense to come into them well rested, right?
Wrong.
You see, I like pain. I don't just like it, I love it. I need it like a fish needs water. In the last week I racked up a lot of TSS at a high IF and was running an inadvisably large caloric deficit. In English, I've been riding my ass off and not eating much. Yesterday I actually took in fewer calories than I put out on the bike, knowing full well I'd be racing today. Foolish of course, but proper fueling might rob me of some of the sensations of death I so crave.
Half starved, and knowing my race season was coming to an abortive end I began to worry about my results. A lot of guys from the club were there who (at their own peril) actually pretend to pay attention to my advice on racing. If I couldn't execute the stuff I preach to them, I was going to look like a schmuck of epic proportions. I planned to sit in and sprint in the 3/4 race and try to be more aggressive in the 1/2/3 race. My legs ached as I warmed up. My orders to sprint and ride tempo were read as "waffle around awkwardly" and I essentially resigned myself to a pack finish.
Once the whistle blew the second guessing and self pity crap stopped. My Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde relationship with bike racing pulled through again. My legs opened up and I started to attack and counter attack right from the gun. I went with a move of another strong crit rider, and we were soon joined by four more. I was feeling good, and despite a little bit of dead weight sitting on in the break, who I unsuccessfully tried to pop off the back several times, we managed to lap the field. After that I let the guys who'd lapped the field with team representation cover breaks, and sat in to warm up for the sprint. I can handle a six man race. In the closing meters I was on the wheel of my marked man, but couldn't quite come around him. I ended up third. In the money, against guys who just a few months ago I didn't have a shot in hell of coming around in a sprint.
After an hour to cool down and eat a little bit, it was back to the salt mines for the 1/2/3 race. I went with a friend for a suicidal first lap break. He just upgraded to CAT1 two months ago, and has been racing NRC level events. He's been riding me off his wheel for years. Not so today. I couldn't quite match his pace during my pulls but I wasn't popped off. Wow. Who's this guy on my bike, and what's he been doing? We got pulled back in, and despite a throwing down a series of big attacks I couldn't get clean separation. Two guys did manage to get around, but after that the field wasn't willing to let anything go. At about 20 minutes into the 60 minute crit I started to cramp. After the cramps came the "5 more minutes" talk. You know the one..."if I can just hang on for 5 more minutes I can drop out and it'll be okay." Five minutes pass, and you do it again. It went on like that until the announcer started calling out the final laps. I lined myself up for the sprint, and was sitting too far back with one to go, and again, out of nowhere found the legs to move up the outside of the single file 30+mph field into third wheel. I held onto my position, coming by one guy. I ended up second (by less than an inch!) gaining hard on first in the field sprint, and fourth overall.
I made my money back plus a little bit, and got my first (of soon to be many!) podium in the 3s. All told a good day of racing. I'm apparently not such a bad sprinter after all :) Upon cleaning up back at the car, I noticed that several blood vessels had burst in my eyes. In the past I'd only been able to do this during heavy leg days in the gym. As of late though, I've been able to really turn myself inside out on the bike - and a key tell tale sign of doing so is the burst blood vessels. Love the pain.
As a side note, I think I've got my team lined up for my move up to Chapel Hill as well. As I mentioned in the training status thread, I'm planning on dropping some kilos in order to target the Green Mountain Stage Race. I mentioned this, and some guys I raced with today are assembling a strong squad to target the race. Should be good times, and further motivation for me to get up hills with a purpose.
Now, hi ho, hi ho - it's off to knee surgery I go.