Panic Attacks and Nationals

I’ve just had my wisdom teeth removed three hours ago. I cannot eat, drink, or talk for the moment so I decided to write a blog. Laziness is to be blamed for over a month sans blogging so Percocet is to be thanked for this one…
Since I just remembered this, I had my very first real panic attack (!) due to “Laughing Gas” also known as Nitrous Oxide so I made them change it to pure oxygen, which is probably the only reason why I am still alive. Anyway… For those of you who don’t want to feel the wind off the pelaton, see every move and attack, and basically bonk, DO NOT READ this entry.

The last week in June, I went to a Junior Development Camp in Wisconsin with a few of my Mesa teammates. Camp rolled off to a rocky start because I had forgotten all of the releases that my parents had signed and was threatened to be sent home. One Kinkos trip and what I thought was a panic attack then (I now know better) later, I was being introduced to the staff facilitating the camp. The next day felt harder than it seemed to for everyone else. I later realized that my front brakes had been rubbing (and yes, I had checked them before I had ridden but the brakes were loose). Also the scariest moment in my entire 18 years, 1 month, and 2 days of living happened on the first day. While on a descent I looked down at my odometer and saw 55 mph. AHHH! Scary enough going that fast but when I looked up from my odometer, I saw that I was going through a gravel patch on the rode so I took a deep breath, almost swerved out but thankfully managed to keep the rubber between me and pavement. The rest of the week was filled with speeches, individual time trials for USACycling field tests, long group rides, nasty cafeteria food, and sleep. All in all, it was good week.

July went by, nothing too exciting. Sooo NATIONALS were awesome! We arrived the Saturday before my first race. Bend, Oregon is one of the prettiest places I’ve been to. It would have been even more enjoyable if it wasn’t having record high temperatures in the mid 90s that week, especially since our host house didn’t have air conditioning! Who’s ever heard of such a thing?
My road race was Wednesday, time trial Friday, and crit Sunday.
The night before my RR I went to bed at 8:30, but then I woke up at 10:30 and couldn’t go back to bed for at least 3 hours. I did everything to try and go back to bed; I went outside where it was cooler and laid on the ground looking up at the magnificent stars which were completely untainted by light pollution. I went back to bed; when I woke up I realized I had left my phone outside. I raced out but the automatic sprinklers beat me to it. It wouldn’t turn on but I am a seasoned pro with phone water damage so I took the parts apart and put it into a bowl of uncooked rice. Half a day later, my phone had resurrected and is in perfect working condition. Oh yeah the race…
The race was 84 km consisting of three 17-mile circuits. The road race was rolling for the first 10 miles. Then there was climb of a couple miles at a steady grade of 7%. At mile 14, there was a beast that gobbled up riders one by one and shredding their legs. It was about 150 meters of 15% elevation and then it continued for about another mile and a half at 6-7%. Everyone was out of the saddle for the steepest part of the climb but the most torturous part of the climb was that it kept continuing. I sat down as the lactic acid built in my legs and lost all of the oxygen from my lungs.
There weren’t any real attacks the first 2 laps but the pace was pretty high so people were being dropped, especially on the Mile 14 Beast. On the third lap, Coryn Rivera attacked. Three girls went with her followed by a group of three more and then there was me in the third chasing group. My group worked well together and caught up to the second chase group. Then the Beast 14 struck again and the pack was separated. I crossed the finish line by myself for 6th place, 1:22 min behind Coryn who won with a solo attack. It was a tough race.

I was strongly considering not doing the 24k time trial because I don’t have a TT bike and I haven’t practiced with aero bars or in that position at all. But I figured what the heck and I would do it as a tempo ride plus I had already paid for it. I threw on Johnathon’s spare aero bars and Matt Pence’s wicked hot (but apparently more aero with all that tape covering the ventilation holes) aero helmet and took off. Thirty seconds in I passed my 30 second girl and I kept picking girls off which felt good! So I turned it into a little more than “just a tempo ride” and I started to race. The 12k out was uphill. At the turn around I had already passed four girls but I can’t turn worth anything so I went 2mph around the turnaround and had to start up again from scratch. On the way back, I caught two more girls and then sprinted in for the finish. To my (and everyone else’s too) surprise, I got on the podium with 5th place!

It was 97 degrees while I did my tt. Matt Pence, Matt Fickinger, Ethan, and I went tubing in the river that went through Bend after our TTs. The water was 45 degrees (I made that up but I’m sure it must be close) and felt splendid.

When I arrived at the crit course on Sunday, I realized that both the tubular tires on my new aero Eastons were flat and I couldn’t pump them up. I took them to Shimano neutral support who helped me. Better late than never, I got on the course to warm up and did a couple of hard efforts and felt peachy. At the gun, Jackie from Kenda hit it hot and was off the front. She was chased down but I wanted to keep the pace high. I attacked a few times. I was pulled back but the pelaton was getting smaller and smaller. I didn’t want the race to come down to a field sprint because I know some of the girls in the chase group are crazy strong sprinters with thighs like Cav’s. No one really wanted to pull and I wanted to break the group apart so as I was pulling at 26.5 mph, I attacked (yes, I know off the front was stupid, but I felt great!). Again this attack didn’t particularly stick but I heard some heavy huffing and puffing behind me. Katie from ISCorp countered so Jackie (Kenda), Cynthia (Hincapie), and I made a four person breakaway which stuck till the end. We gained half a minute on the chasing pelaton. The breakaway worked well together and kept the pace high around 23-24 mph. I was first around the final corner but the sprint was way too long at about 400 meters. I tried but I’m not that powerful yet. Jackie and Katie came around me right before the line. That was a huge bummer but it’s my first year racing so I guess a National Championship is a little much to ask for. It was an extremely fun race and I felt great.

I mounted the podium for the second time that week and received my 3rd place medal (which looks EXACTLY the same as my 5th place medal so I was peeved – they should look different or at least put the place on the medal!).

I was then abducted by USADA officials, shown to a bathroom, and handed a cup where my privacy was invaded.

The End.

Humble Pie a la Mode

A few weekends ago was the Junior World Championship Trials in Nashville. After a day of work on Friday, my mom, brother, and I headed through the scenic roads of Illinois and Kentucky. The next day was the 10k TT. I arrived to a scene of girls in flashy skins with more expensive bikes than my car. Their parents were enthusiastically tweaking away at the girls time trial bikes while the girls warmed up on their road bikes. As I warmed up my ghetto set-up of road bike with mini aero bars on the front, a zipp 404 and rear hed tri-spoke, I politely asked my mother if she would put my numbers on the back for me (she remembers it differently). After fussing about why it was my job to do such things, she obliged and started pinning me, not so enthusiastically. I was the second 17-18 year old woman to go off. I went to roll out beforehand, where they picked up my bike and proceeded to make jokes about how heavy it was.

Only 6 miles I kept repeating in my head. 3 miles in I passed my minute girl, Yippee Skippee, maybe I’m better at this than I thought (too early to say). I kept roaring on. 4 ½ miles in, I see another hill but it just keeps going and the finish of it is nowhere in sight! I bonked. I could feel all the Peanut butter Powerbars and Nutella sandwiches – not in a powerful way but in a coming back up kind-of way. I tried to find a rhythm as I thought of a GirlTalk mash-up (for exact pump-up in the heat of the moment, click http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-8zmGAeP-0). Finally I crested over the top and headed down. There was a sketchy turn and I went off-roading for about half a minute (due to my sucky-turning skills) and then sprinted to the finish. I wound up getting 6th. The next day was the 57-mile road race which was the longest I had done up until that point, being a Cat 4 woman. I hung on the breakaway group for the first 13 miles or so but then was dropped on a mountain. Shooooot! This is the worst time for my brakes to be rubbing. I thought, scapegoating my lack of fitness on my brakes. As I reached the top, I realized that they were definitely not rubbing and to get over myself. But I sprinted back to the pack on the downhill and flats. The next mountain came, and I was dropped for good. I rode along for the rest of the 40 or so miles with a few other girls. 5 water bottles, 4 Gus, 3 shot bloks, 2 powerbars, and 1 panic attack later (reminds me of a musical) on that 92 degree weather day, I finished the race 7th. I rolled off my bike. I couldn’t even walk when I tried to get the hell out of my kit and into some baggy clothes. It was indeed an eye-opening weekend filled of girls much fitter than me… and so I catted up.

My first race as a Cat 3 was yesterday at the State RR in Ste. Genevieve (aka 67 miles!). I felt a lot better the whole race than I had at the race in Nashville. The pack rolled along at a much faster pace than I was used to but it wasn’t as intense at the Junior Worlds Qualifier. I dropped my second bottle in the feed so that was a huge bummer. Nothing too exciting happened but I think that the Womens 1, 2, 3 were afraid to be behind me (due to a history) because they just kept going in front of me. I occasionally pulled but I was mostly in for the ride (*notice picture). Slowly people were being peeled off the back as the climbs became harder each time. Heartbreaker though, I got dropped on the KOM the second time around, 60 miles into the race. I wound up finishing 4th with dead legs and a light head.

So now I’m going to gnaw on a slice of humble pie… or maybe I’ll just have a protein shake.

Quad Cities (aka Advil Commercial)

1:30 am I wake up on Saturday morning in the race hotel in Burlington with a hundred thoughts going through my head. How was I going to do? Who was strong? Blah Blah Blah. I turned over different strategies and possible outcomes in my mind, but I never went back to sleep. So with espresso in my left hand and a Cliff Bar in my right, I slipped on my Mesa kit and set up my bike. Dazed and confused, I trekked to the Start/Finish line among women from all over the Midwest. POW! The gun went off and I noticed the racers around me were heading in the forward direction so I followed. I was in a bad position around the first corner heading up the hill leading to the Snake Alley Torture Climb. I stood up as I kept grinding my feet into the pedals, strangling the snake. Slowly but surely I was climbing past racers. Last lap to go, one woman was in front of me and I kept getting nearer and nearer to her but with each climb, I was feeling less like a Snake Strangler and more like a snake charmer. 200 meters to go, I stand up and sprint while Number 1 sits up and puts her hands in the air. I get close, but no cigar - about 2 yards too short.

Later in the day, I went to go get my prize. I received a cash envelope and a silver medal. The silver medal said Junior Olympics (Do races ever have the correct medals?). Then I slid my finger in the envelope, expecting a $10 at most. 1 twenty, 2 twenty, 1 hundred dollar bill = $140! HOLY ---! I turned the envelope over and saw 2^nd place: Womens Open! Nuts. I went back and returned the envelope in exchange for 2^nd place: womens 4s for a much smaller sum .

 

5:30 that evening, I went to the hotel room, took an Advil PM. When I woke up 6 I had to check if it was AM or PM. AM! 12 and a half hours of sleep! Eureka! That morning we were in Muscatine for the Melon City Crit. This race had a few attacks (many from me) but pretty uneventful.

4 laps to go, on a descent, a girl in front of me braked. It was the strangest sensation in the next few seconds. Next thing I knew I was on the ground as girls flew over me. It was kind of beautiful in slow motion (in a sick kind of way).

First rule I had ever learned in cycling was always keep the rubber between me and the ground but I broke it. OUCH! I looked down and I had torn my brand new skinsuit (I had been so excited for it too L). Blood and dirt were plentiful as I stood up examining my bike to make sure I hadn’t hurt it. An ambulance came to pick up one girl whose head had been gashed and was still lying on the concrete. Both hoods of my bike were turned inward, facing each other, my chain was off, brakes were rubbing, and there appears to be a new scratch on my top tube (I’m taking it to the shop today to get it checked – pray that it is only cosmetic!). And of course there was NO FREE LAP! I walked my bike back to the Mesa tents. After I had changed, cleaned my battle wounds, and was lying down, a teammate pointed out that I had broken my helmet. Adrienne kept checking my eyes to make sure I was still conscience. Now my pink helmet has a new home in a trashcan in the Muscatine Holiday Inn.

I have never said as many four-letter words as I did in the shower that evening. I took another Advil PM so that I could sleep through the night. I think all the medicine had gotten to me because I had a dream that my cat, Peek-a-boo, turned into a demon, had only one orange, huge eye, and was scratching through everything and then he went for my leg. I woke up to feel a painful sensation on my leg/hip. The sheets had dried to my leg. Rip! I held my tongue as I ripped the sheets off my wounds. I rubbed them with more ointment and tried to sleep.

 

The next morning, we went to the Quad Cities Criterium, a completely flat, corners kind-of race. I had been debating whether to race or not. I put Icy-Hot on my neck (it was sore), took Advil, put on my kit, and borrowed Tim’s helmet. He was hesitant to let me borrow it, saying that I would stink it up. “Don’t worry, girls don’t sweat,” I reassured the Aussie.

I rode to the line and chased down attack after attack from this one team who had a skeleton joker on their kit (scary) whose teammate had won Snake Alley. I was fed up I had told myself that if I didn’t get podium, I was going to get the Most Aggressive Rider. I attacked after the racer in front of me; I realized that the momentum was taking me past the racer. I love free energy. What better time to attack? Peace out Jokers! The next 10 or so laps I was off the front, grinding the pedals, wanting to make dents in the concrete. Sexy pros began cheering for me and yelling my name, and I just couldn’t let them down. As I crossed the Finish, I threw both hands up in the air and beamed my pearly whites. What a great weekend.

 

Now I am writing this blog, popping an Advil, complaining from just a little road rash. I know many a cyclist has experienced these wounds, much more deep and severe than mine, and had stoic faces; however, I’m just not that tough.

 

More Quad Cities pictures to come! Stay tuned folks

Beware of …

“Watch out for dogs – there are a lot of them at the top of the hill: they’ll come after you,” I thought about what I had been told before the race. I tentatively hung in the middle of the pace line because I figured I would be safe there – I hate dogs. Fortunately, we were the second to last group to take off so the dogs had probably gotten the Pro 1,2 guys and so I never saw dogs.
The womens 4 and womens masters started together so we were allowed to work together. Suzanne was riding masters women so I leaned over to her and we agreed to work together and attack on the final hill. Yes! My first planned strategy.

At mile 10 I got pretty bored leading the pack at 17 mph so I attacked right from the front with Suzanne on my wheel, we stayed off for a little but I was mostly wanting to break up the pack. Mission accomplished. But as someone came around my left side, I went into a gravel-y part of the road and head straight into the ditch. Great… I got off my bike and ran with it up to the road again. DOGGONIT! I sure was pissed I had just drove the pace up. I kept seeing them but couldn’t catch them.

Hey, move pace vehicle! The group was right there but a truck was in the middle. “Yo man can I get around?” I screamed to the open window. (I have never said yo and man together before so I was obviously pretty Gu-ed up).Finally 5 miles later at 27 mph, I caught them and I hung on the back. Unfortunately, I realized that Suzanne had crashed.

Bonkers!

Mile 20, the major hill was approached. Cristal, a masters woman, climbed up the hill and I got on her wheel. As we reached the top of the hill, I turned my head and expected to see the rest of the women behind me. However, they were still climbing the hill. So Cristal and I decided to work together. We roared past juniors, some men 5, and even a group of Womens Open (they still had another lap to go though) at a pace of 22 mph on the rolling terrain of Rolla for the next 15 miles to the finish. Yes, finally we both took the finish! I sprinted for the end just because I have a bit of a competitive nature but we both won. I won the Womens 4 and she won the womens masters! I stood on the highest podium with a 4th place 2008 Juniors Men medal around my neck.

I’ve learned to be more afraid of Kaboom than dogs. I had been so good too! Not having crashed since Froze Toes! Ahh!

J*hned on the Spot!

My first time trial ever was last weekend during the Tour of St. Louis. I don’t have any of the fancy gear (i.e. aero, bars, skinsuit, aero booties, crazy helmet, or aero-wheels). But the most unaero part of me was my parachute of a jersey --- Mesa needs a womens fit!

Joe offered to let me borrow his aero bars, but I knew me + aero bars (not have practiced on before)= bad news bears! I threw my leg over Sasha Fierce (my little sister named my fire red Specialized Tarmac Pro…) with an ever so non-aero upright stem. (Adrienne, I’ll get my fit eventually…) and headed out into Death- pure death. Flat, but way windy! I looked at my heart rate monitor – Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!! 104% of max. I’m quite pleased that I didn’t have a heart attack that day.
Next day was the Carondelet Crit. Nothing was too exciting during the crit. Jacquelyn is a junior from who knows where who is pretty strong and attacked the first lap! I caught her and she knew she wasn’t strong enough to hold us Cat 4 women off (okay, I'm a junior too but not for long)! Then, last lap arrived, she attacked early, way too early (about 400 meters to the finish). I got on her wheel and sprinted for the finish. Yes, my first deserved win!

But none of that is all that important… I stayed to watch later races. My mom went home, taking the car and my purse. I put my cellphone in the strap of my shorts. Then right before the Cat 4/5 men, I went into the Johnny on the Spot. *Plop* - I heard it, I was way to nervous to look down. But I had to. There it was, my red cellphone in a well-used Johnny. I considered my options: pick it up or leave it! God, leaving it sounded so good at that time but I want Oakleys more than I want to buy a new cellphone. In that moment, I gave away all my pride, and reached into doom to pick up my cellphone. I truly got sick. I sanitized the phone and my hands with the sanitizer the Barbeque people had at their stand but I couldn’t stop feeling nauseous. I called my mom to pick me up two hours earlier than I had told her to. To this day I wash my phone every day but still gag picking it up and I didn’t start feeling clean until a couple of days ago finally. I think it probably would’ve been worth it to just leave it…

This past sunday was Sylvan Springs Crit, I was way dead but I tried my hardest anyway. In winning the prime and the race, I got $65!! So I guess that means I'm a pro now..

On a rest week now. Peace Out Cub Scout

Racing Up till now

Mesa is a male dominant team of cyclists. When I began training with the boys – I was lost, so I kept my mouth shut. Bikers are a different race of people who speak a totally different language: SRAM, Campy, Mavic, Zipp and then you have words that are off of those that you’re just supposed to know like dura ace, record, red, 404s. There are about a million expressions that mean tired I’ve come to realise: bonked, wasted, toasted, tanked (Can’t we all just say tired?? - no that would be uncool). I see more guys in pink than I do women….Oh but it’s so euro to have pink… okay… First ride with joe and martin, martin says "I just put Red on my bike" and I'll tell you I looked up and down his bike, all I saw was black and white… where’s the red… okay he’s nuts. All I have to say is somebody could make a lot of money on a “Cyclist’s dictionary”. But.. after months of hardcore studying, I can actually hold a conversation with cyclists.

Racing...
Froze Toes: the first racing event of the season, and of my life! I had it on my calendar and had been waiting for it. That February morning, a blissful 27 degrees, I packed my winter bib and headed for the race. When I arrived at the starting line, I had my number upside down. After a quick change, we left for the 30 mile journey we were all embarking on. 20 miles into the race, I crashed (probably my fault), bringing down an innocent pedaller behind me who obviously did not know that this was my first race. She quickly caught up with the pack as I hurriedly tried to put the chain and rear wheel back onto my bike. I hopped back on but I couldn’t see the pack anymore. I used all my energy in that 30 minutes (much to the people around me’s disgust and my own dismay) to catch up with the breakaway pack. Not five minutes later, I crashed again (definately my fault) and by this time, I was not going to let a little crash stop me. I caught up with the pack again. Hurrah! For some reason, I won. Crazy. That’s how I earned the nickname “Kaboom” for some mishaps (crashing and the such) – thanks BR :)

However I’m proud to announce that I’ve not crashed since!

At the Great Forest Part Crit, my legs weren’t feeling too fresh because I had run the day before for the first time in a while. I was told I can’t be a “tri-geek” by my coach and that was the last time I ran…

Last month I was in the Tilles Park Crit. The beginning pace was slow and I was getting nervous because the Kaboom-esque qualities always are at there strongest when going slow in a pack so I attacked again and again. But just as I was caught, BR shot off further and further. I realized that the rest of the crew wasn’t going to catch her so I blasted after her. 8 laps later I was creeping closer and closer to her. As I came around the corner for the last lap, I kept hearing “This is it! This is it!” I sprinted around her and crossed the finish line! YAY! I sat up on my bike and soft pedaled my victory lap. As BR passed, I tried to make conversation with her to soften her hate of me, but she just kept on pedaling. “Okay?” I thought. Once a Kaboom, always a Kaboom, I guess. As I was finishing my cooldown lap, I realized we had still had one lap to go… !

Well, I’ll never make that mistake again. *Cheers to BR (with sparkling grape juice, of course)

Crossing over to the dark side

So I’m out of school; I should be studying for an AP Calc BC exam I have to take tomorrow but I’m already in college so I don’t actually care. I’m thinking what better time to conform and write a blog. Somebody should’ve warned me that cycling becomes a sick obsession that if I’m not in the saddle, I’m thinking about it and I’ve been brutally pushed into “gear wars”.
Through the months, I’ve been un-easingly seeing the transition from scrawny runner chick to beefy biker chick. DAMN YOU THUNDER THIGHS! I’ve been faced with the ultimate question in every girl cyclist's life: is it worth compromising the skinny jeans???