2011 Tour of the Battenkill.

Race Report??!!

We left after work on Saturday, dropped off the hound with Caitlins family (who were very, very generous with seemingly endless sheets of pizza purchased for Zachs birthday). Our little caravan headed across the border to Bennington, where the six of us piled into the Shady Pines Murder Motor Lodge. Actually, as far as those kinds of places go, this one was not too terrifying. And better than all of us huddling together for warmth in the car.

There was no real attempt at warming up (its a 64 mile race), so we rode aimlessly from portapotty to overburdened portapotty praying that at least one of them would have a shred of (unused) toilet paper. Nominal success.


Part 1: Cat 4 Katamari Ball.

For some reason, I didnt listen to Ian and left my arm warmers on. 10 minutes in, I was rolling them down as our crash factory peloton hit the first section of dirt road. From the beginning, some team named "Teany" had like 85 guys on the front. It LOOKED pro, but instead of pushing the pace and stretching out the field, one of their guys just sat on the front and rode. Which, I suppose, is fine (we didnt have to burn multiple teammates on the way to the first climb) but seriously: 8-9 teammates in a cat 4 race? There should be 100 panting, cursing bike racers in your wake.

It didnt matter too much anyway, as the ubiquitous Very Large Cat 4 That Gets On The Front For No Good Reason And Hammers was there to pick up the slack.

We hit Juniper Swamp slowly with me, Kevin and Ian all at "the good end" of the race. Ryan was apparently having bike trouble, so the three of us piled up on the front like bike commuters at an intersection.

Part 2: Bike Racing as a Committee: None Of Us Are As Dumb As All Of Us.

The next few miles were so-so. In true amateur bike race fashion, the pace went from "chew on handlebar" to "find things on your bike to fiddle around with" until the next good set of hills. Not sure about the distance (maybe 25 miles in), but me and Pete Reed (breakaway/ifractal) on the front and successfully applied some hurt to our too-big field. I would like to say Pete and I were doling out abuse evenly, but to be honest it was more me trying to keep him within a bike length and my heartrate under 200. For a big dude, he was painfully good at the climbing.

Our efforts broke the field into much less dangerous groups. Kevin and Ian bridged up, as did Petes teammate Ryan and one or two Teanys. We now had a group of 10 or so riders - all strong - and all looking at each other to do the work as the group slowly swelled as pale, haggard dudes clawed their way back up.



Part 3: Welcome to Earf.

By the time we got any semblance of organization going, our little break had almost grown up to be a peloton again. 25-30 guys is not what I wanted to cruise into the feed zone with. I drifted back to talk to Ian, couldnt find him (he was apparently DIRECTLY behind me) and was working my way back up when the rider in front of me was suddenly much, much shorter.

I hit the crater pothole hard, my bottle flew out, someone crashed hard on my right, I somehow caught my bottle between my knee and toptube, there was a yell somewhere behind me and another awful crashing sound. All around me waterbottles were rolling like barrels in Donkey Kong. In the subsequent confusion, the field split again just before the next climb and 10 of us got clear.

Sometime around now Ian tells me he has a flat and is dropping back.

We are at 9.

Another round of climbing and our group is down to 7. There was some hilarity as Kevin "Mr. Crabbypants" Sweeny informed the group that Pete and Ryan were unwilling to work. I didnt catch the whole exchange, but a few miles later they were all friends again. Because holy crap, we were racing now. There were no chasers in sight.



Part 4: The Slightly Overcooked Pasta Of Failure.

At the base of the climb before the feed, I felt strong. I was going to tell Kevin to work with me and trade attacks once we got through. I had a plan. As such, I should have expected what happened next.

ThupThupThupThup

sigh.


I tried to pull over. I say "tried" because there was a reverse waterfall of dropped juniors, shelled cat 4s and one or two seemingly lost 3s all weaving around me up the hill. The wheel car, my salvation visible in its trunk, sat in the middle of the road - it too swarmed by slow, suffering riders, overzealous onlookers and at least 2 leashed dogs.

2.5 minutes.
The chase group passes.

Wheel guy gets out, pulls out a wheel. I duly exchange mine and set it in the dropouts. He pushes me up the hill, and my drivetrain makes a noise that is best represented in type by pressing all the keys on the keyboard at the same time.

Get off. Check wheel.

Campy.

Wheel guy gets out again. Changes wheel. I adjust and check shifting. Passable.

3 or 4 more minutes have gone by. I think most of my field had, too.

Climbing up to the feed, I was heartbroken. True, my big goal of the season is still 2 months away, but I really (REALLY) wanted to do well here. Battenkill, for all the drama and nonsense that led up to it is still a special race, and (almost more importantly) my ticket out of the 4s. My gears were still slipping a bit when I came up on the feed zone and saw Caitlin faithfully waiting with bottle in hand. I didnt need a bottle.

I needed to catch up.

The descent was fast, but I wasnt about to just coast down. I started catching people. I had taken my powertap off to use my "race wheels" - I didnt have power data to aid in my TT effort - so heart rate was all I had to go by. Which was, by any standard, high. In a few minutes, the main group was in view. In a few more minutes, they were out of sight.

Bearing down on the chase, I spotted Uri on the front (no doubt doing the lions share of the work). He dropped a gear and towed my ass for about 5 minutes (for which I am eternally grateful) before drifting back on a climb.

After that hill, I saw Ryan Rapolas on the side of the road. He was bloody, but looked like he was going to get back in. I decided that waiting and working with someone as strong as him was a better option than just banging my head against the wind for another 17 miles.

When he caught me, he told me that he touched wheels with his teammate and went down. You would never have guessed that he was hurting, though. He got on the front and started to shovel dirt on the pain-hole I had dug for myself. We traded pulls for a few miles and I had another potential disaster - my new wheel was going soft.

I didnt want to crash out Ryan (again) with a washy rear wheel on a descent, so I let off the back, pulled over and dumped all the co2 I had into the wheel. I was 4 or 5 miles from the finish.

On the climbs I was able to get Ryan back in sight, but sketched out a bit by my potentially flat rear tire I took the descents very cautiously.

I should point out that at this point I had no idea where I was in the race. Passing dozens of riders (including a Garmin/Holowesko kid - WTF?) and getting only a fleeting glimpse of their numbers/ colors combined with the math-destroying effort I had been putting out to catch back up had somewhat ruined my place calculations.

I came through the finish to a good-sized crowd (a good sign - that means most of their friends or families were still out racing) and Caitlin waiting at the finish. She was not optimistic about my chances: I felt I had made the top 15 or so - she was not so sure. The batten-killed remains of 5 different fields were staggering in with no order or announcement; when the podium is full, no one has a name - just human detritus thanking whatever god they pray to that their ordeal is over.

Kevin did well - 3rd place, in fact. A hell of a ride for him. The top step of the podium was (in my mind) never in doubt - Ill make no "what ifs" for that one. Pete Reed was clearly the strongest guy in the race, from the beginning. Second was Warren st John, one of the 45 Teany riders in our group. Ryan was 7th. Which meant...

I was 8th.

Somehow, some way I chased back into a top 10 - about 6 minutes off the leaders pace.

Sweeny

I guess theres an after school special type of lesson to be learned here. Can you figure out what it is?








Thats right.

Next time use beefier tires for a dirt road race.