Kristin Rides

Well. Let me start out with some blog excerpts from last year’s Silverton race. This race was my very first race on a bicycle, other then a triathlon. I was nervous, I didn’t understand teams, or road racing, or really much of anything.

Wow. All I can say, is this was not a good introduction to bike racing.

Sunday morning I woke up early and drove down to Silverton, Oregon for a 35-mile road race. It was overcas, a little drizzly, and in the 50s (typical oregon fair). …There were about 25 of us, about the same for cat 1-3 … The course was a lot of climbing, rolling hills, definitely a challenge. After about 200 yards of bombing down a hill (and freezing our asses off), the lead car took us on a hairy right turn straight up a hill; after cresting that monster another car came up and said that we were all going the wrong way and had to start over. That was a rather aggravating, especially since we already had 1 rider down (not sure why). Once we were back on course, 2 other riders went down, and I knew it was going to be a weird day, and boy was I right.

Due to all those core classes I’ve been taking, my hammys and hips and obliques were all still sore unfortunately, so climbing was out. I was dropped almost immediately. With the cold and occasional bouts of rain and extremely sore hamstrings, it was a mental struggle to get around that course. And then to do it again (2 laps). Ow. I was really proud of myself, that I got through that monster.

Boy how things can change in a year.

Today, I was out to win. I was out to redeem my year of cycling. I was out to prove that all these hours were worth a damn, that if I really got my mental act together, I could make something happen.

We started down a long descent, a few short climbs, then the longest climb of the course. I was in the front half, and I looked up and saw 3 riders pulling ahead. Not again. This was exactly what happened last week at Rehearsal, although it was on the second lap. I stood up and pounded at my pedals, determined to make this break. When I caught them, I heard someone say “we’ve got another!” I turned around and 2 more bridged the gap; I thought this was going to be it, we’re done, but one said “we’ve got a big gap!” I looked around, I knew everyone in the group was strong, so I said, “We’ve got to organize! Pace line, fast pulls!” We got ourselves together and started a very fast pace line. We launched up hills, we charged the false flats, I thought I was going to fall off the back at a few points. I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to make it, that we had gone too soon, but I shut it out and told myself to go with it. This was when my experience came in really, really handy: I’d raced with all of these women at some point or other, so I knew exactly how strong each one was and that we were fairly evenly matched, so if I was tired, so were they.

I was right, of course, and our paced slowed considerably the last few miles of the first lap. I was worried that we would get caught, but also worried I would get dropped (I think we were all in the same boat here), so we all let the pace slow. Someone said we were over a minute ahead. We continued on, I wondered if the other riders were organized. After the long descent starting the second lap, we had all recovered and decided to pick it back up. We rallied, we worked together–I never realized how difficult it can be to organize a paceline with riders you don’t train with. We were surging (partly my fault), we often got a bit out of whack, but we held on. We talked to each other, supported each other, and made sure everyone stayed on. The more people in the pace line, the better for everyone.

Man was I glad when my computer said mile 30. This was it. I had to make a decision. I had been thinking all along “well, at least I’ll get 6th place, I know I can pull up to maybe 4th…” I thought about it. I thought about Banana Belt, how I was always the first one up Lee Hill on the last lap. I thought that this was a power climb, and everyone keeps telling me I’m a power rider. Maybe I can win this. Maybe if I just shut up and actually try, I can win. Maybe if I let go of my fears of giving it 100% and failing, I can finally win. I actually started dreading the last hill. When I saw the 1K mark, I almost freaked out, because I knew I had to shut it down, grit my teeth, maybe throw up a little in my mouth, and just get up the damned hill first. I started my attack immediatly.

I shot up to first, the Veloshop rider on my tail. We were on a hill–drafting is nothing. I saw the 300k mark, someone yelled out that the finish was right at the top of the hill. We were almost cresting the hill, I could just see the OBRA truck–I shut everything else out of my head and screamed this over and over in my head: “HOW BAD DO YOU WANT THIS?” I stood up, shifting into the hardest gear my bike would come up with, and hammered. I could see the other rider’s wheel out of the corner of my eye. I hammered harder, I think I was in my 34×11, pushing as hard as I could possibly push. It’s strange to look up and see nothing in front of you as you cross the finish line.

So amazing. I have to say, I really, really needed this. And not just the win for winning’s sake–I needed to get my mental state in the right spot. I needed to know what winning is like, what you have to say to yourself to dig deep and feel the pain, what you risk when you give it your all. And I have to say, the risk was worth it. It always is.