First Cat 5 Criterium
The Facts (as I remember them):
Stats: Age 52, Weight 150, Vdot 50, FTP 217. I have trained on the bike probably six times since Jan 1, 2014 (I also bike commute to work about 5 miles/day). I ran a marathon 2 weeks ago in 3:15. I have done a half dozen pool workouts so far this year. I do 2-3, 40 minute resistance sets per week just so that I don’t start looking two dimensional.
How Bad Ideas Get Started:
My marathon is done. Can’t run due to foot injury. Pool stuff is in my file cabinet at work. I decide to do some bike workouts.
On Monday I do a power test—first since January 1, 2014. I hit 217. Normally I’m hitting about 230 at the top of my season, so I feel okay about it. I guess some of my running fitness did transfer to cycling.
Tuesday, I do a criterium workout on the computrainer with an ERG video. It’s an hour of crazy, but I start to pick up the racing and power strategy.
Wednesday, my wife (the woman I love) urges me to sign up for the local criterium—this never happens. She never urges me to sign up for a race. Dumbfounded, I sign up.
Thursday, I get out the shears and make myself LOOK like a cyclist.
Friday, I buy myself a road helmet for $20 at Dick’s, mount cleats on an idle pair of bike shoes and tape the GoPro camera to my handlebars.
Saturday, Blue Axino sees the light of day for the first time.
I arrive at the course Saturday morning about an hour before the race and do several laps getting a feel for the bike, cornering, shifting, etc. A couple of other riders offer some advice: “don’t ride with crossed wheels in the peloton” and “when your handlebars pass another rider, the open spot in front is yours.” Okay, that gives me an idea of what I’m doing out here.
After I signed up for the race I went online and read a few accounts of first-time cat 5 riders. One post is a triathlete who decided to do a cat 5. He writes that as soon as the gun went off the peloton jumped to 28 MPH and he was hanging on for his life. After 10 laps he was dropped and waved off the course as an obstruction. Getting dropped and becoming an obstruction was only one of my fears. My big fear was going down in the first corner in a tangle of bikes, or worse, being the cause of someone else going down. I was going to have to ride hard, but I wasn’t going to do anything stupid (beyond all the other stupid things I was already doing: new to me bike, check; new cleats, check; new helmet, check; first outdoor ride, check; never ridden in a peloton, check; video the whole thing, check).
I lined up on the second row. I was the second row. Couldn’t really hear the instructions. The whistle blew and everyone jumped on their pedals—everyone but me. I was still trying to clip into these dang Look (compatible) pedals. It seemed to take forever, but I got clipped and jumped on it. I would say 28 MPH is a pretty good estimate of how fast we started out. I wanted to start my Garmin 305 watch, but no time for that. I had to bridge the gap or I was going to have a long, lonely ride. I knew I had some EN suffering in me, so rode hard, and it wasn’t long before I was back on the peloton heading down the long straight away for the first corner.
As we rode, there was a constant reshuffling of the deck. Sometimes I was pushing 150% then it was 0%, then I’m brake tapping. Without any warning, the peloton accelerates, brakes up, splits in two, swallows a bike. For a new guy, it’s a lot to take in.
Within a couple of laps, a couple of guys disappear off the back. Later in the race we lap one of them, the other I never saw again. Must have gone over to the diner for breakfast. My watch tells me my heart rate’s at 164 BPM. I max out at about 175.
About half way I’m getting tired of brake tapping, so when everyone tucks in I just keep going and pass the whole peloton. Not a great strategy, but great for the ego. I stay out front and lead the pack right down the main avenue past the grand stands. I heard my son say in amazement, “dad’s in the lead!” No, I’m totally a poser. I’m like those guys at the Boston Marathon who sprint out in front of the elites so that they get their picture in the paper and then fade away into oblivion during the race. After a moment in the sun I realize that there is no way that I am going to break away from the diesel that was pulling the peloton, so I back off and give the lead back to those who can hold it.
Things are predictably unpredictable, jump on the pedals, hold the speed, tap the brakes, pass, get passed, bridge, lots of action. I’m watching the peloton trying to match my speed when suddenly bikes are coming back at me. I brake hard feeling my rear tire lock up and begin to slide, guys are yelling, weaving, what is going on? Dog walker…crossing the street with his dog. Very near miss. No marshal in sight. On the course it all seemed to happen in slow motion—skidding, yelling, dog. When I watched the video it was like the blink of an eye.
The Last Lap?
We pass the grand stand again and I hear the emcee say “one more lap.” So I’m puzzled. Why did he not say "final lap?" Does this mean one more and then the final lap? Not sure if I should give it everything yet. Duh, how does this race end? With the uncertainty, it’s really hard to make myself realize that I really need to sprint. By the time we come out of the last turn and I see everyone stand up and jump on the pedals, it’s too late for my Ironman legs to gain any positions. I finish about 4 seconds off the lead rider in 9th position out of 14.
I can tell the ride is over because the peloton breaks up. I do a cool-down lap and pull over when I see my family on the street corner. The last time I looked at my Garmin my heart rate was 174, two beats higher than when I finished my power test on Monday. The intensity of the ride actually felt a lot like a power test. I am feeling pretty good—no wrecks, not dropped, not last, not embarrassed, great workout. I gather my things and ride home to watch the video. I put it up on Chrome TV to watch it on the “big” screen. Fun. If I had thought about this, I probably would have backed out, but I’m glad I took the plunge.
Comments
I routinely do risky stuff on 2 wheels. Racing a Cat5 crit is well outside of my comfort zone