Tour-ture de Hermann

Holy Helena Handbasket!

This was a tough ass stage race.

Originally I only signed up for the TT (time trial) and the crit (really a circuit race) and only decided to do the RR (road race) on Easter Sunday.

(I still blame Teresa for the latter.)

*snicker*

I was excited to do my first TT and to finally race the new TT set-up.

I can't lie, I'm glad I looked the TT part, because I sure didn't feel it and felt so awful the morning of the event that I almost bailed on it completely.

As we lined up to take off, my only hope was that I didn't wipe out and fall off the TT ramp upon take off. (That would SUCK!)

I took off alright and headed out on the flat 10 mile course.

I certainly could have pushed harder and remembered halfway through that Dan said I should be breathing like I was in a cyclocross race. (I wasn't.) So I turned it up a notch, but it wasn't enough to dazzle anyone, though I placed decently for me.

Next up: the "crit"...

We are scheduled to go off only a couple of hours after the time trial. I am sleepy and sore.

Steph says, "Go ride the crit course" and I'm pretty sure she shuddered too.

I know I did when I saw the lovely climb to the Finish (Stone Hill Winery).

All I could think was that I wish we got a glass of red wine every time we crossed...or that there was at least a pretty man dangling baked brie with fresh fruit and wine at the base of the climb so that we could chase him/it up the hill and be distracted.

(That did not happen...but there were pretty flags and it was the only well paved part of the race, so that welcome alone will have me going back to Stone Hill Winery.)

I had to talk myself out of the car as the rain came down and wondered again why I didn't take up a dry hobby like knitting or some such painless nonsense...

We ride the course a couple times and there is a descent that would freak out Satan himself on the back side of the course.

Every time my wheel hits a bump in the wet, I silently will the rubber to land on the pavement.

I am imagining wiping out at 35+ MPH.

I am envisioning my children.

Now I am envisioning our family photos showing me in a body cast without a face.

Now I am descending MUCH slower...and with the ever so slight feathering of the brakes...

I LOVE descents...when they are dry or when mountain biking or cyclocrossing. I do NOT love wet descents on torn up pavement while racing a carbon road bike.

I would rather climb the hill to Stone Hill Winery 50 times and never have that descent. It's like the Boogie Man for road bikes.

Scary!

We await our race start which was after the Junior race, so now I have had 20-30 minutes or so to freak myself right the hell out.

The race takes off and because it's the Women's Open, we are racing with the ridiculously stealthy Sydney Brown.

I silently beg her to ride slow and save herself for the Men's race she's doing after ours.

(No need to spend your energy here, Syd. Take your time. Stop for a spot of tea or something...)

My mental strategy doesn't work.

I have my wheel figured out and we go off.

Immediately several girls get tangled.

*rolls eyes*

I was not part of it, but was next to and behind this.

Ughhhh!

I know what my coach is thinking right as he reads this sentence and I smack myself and nod agreement at his closed-lipped-head-shake all the way in Maryland.

(Yes, Grasshopper is catching on...slowly, but catching on.)

This type of messy start does not bring out in the sweet in me.

I heard bad words in my head...though I am sure nothing but an annoyed look escaped.

Steph and I form an alliance after the first lap.

We decide that we REALLY like our bikes and bodies and since we don't get to see each other as much as we used to, we'd use the race as our "catch up" time since we know we're not gonna win it and agree that we are finishing.

*raises wine glass to Sydney*

We climb on and just past the Start/Finish (but still during the race) I hear it.

Like an exaggerated snake out to steal my thunder.

"SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!"

I almost missed it with the sound of my heart in my nostrils, but there it was.

Unmistakable.

I look at Steph while I am still trying to breathe and for a second I go, "Woooo Hoooooo! I have a flat!"

Then immediately I think, "CRAPCAKES!"

Jay is going to SOOOOOO think I let the air out on purpose.

I am feeling a bit like a 2008 Paris-Roubaix Hincapie as I make my way back to the Start/Finish and realize that I do not have a spare wheel out and I cannot see/find Jay.

I am out of the race.

Boooooo Cory! Boooo!

*sigh*

I cheer on my friends and await Jay's race.

After the first lap we realize that he is going to climb that hill 18 times.

*raises glass of wine to Jay and other Cat 1 and Cat 2 racer pals*

As I watch Jay ride the pain train, I am happy that we decided right before his race to simply stay in Hermann for the night so we can both get some rest and be fresh for the almighty RR the next day.

(There will be a separate blog about the non-racing adventures of our time in Hermann...maybe.)

Sunday dawns un-bright and pretty friggin' rainy.

There's nothing that says champion like a good old fashioned serving of pneumonia.

Bring it!

We roll out of bed to our breakfast and once placed in front of me, I realize I am going to have my second nutritionally challenged day in a row and am now cursing my bright idea to not drive home the night before.

30 miles of hills in the rain.

5 grapes and 3 bites of something that may have been French Toast with a yeast infection, but I'm not really sure.

I pray that my Odawalla is still cold and un-rotten in my cooler.

Regardless, as I drink it, it is too soon for my body to get what it needs.

I make my nutrition drink for the race and make another bottle of electrolyte water and tuck what's left of my Hammer gel into my back pocket.

I have enough to get me maybe 2 or 3 miles of hills.

Because I had promised Patricia that I would race this race for her as she raced the half marathon in St. Louis, I knew I had to roll out.

A friend is a friend.

A promise is a promise.

We take off and I feel pretty good.

At the second hill I feel a stabbing and die.

(Was that dramatic enough?)

OK, I don't die and I get back on as Kloah reminds me that it's too soon to quit.

(No filler for the blog if I quit at the start and once you get into it it's too stupid to quit, so I was all in.)

I told Patricia if I start it, I'm finishing. I meant it.

At the second hill I tank. I get going again and stop to puke at least 3 of the 5 grapes. (I will puke 3 more times before I reach the pinnacle of this one hill.)

Can you imagine how the rest of my race went? That was like 2 miles into the race. 2 miles of 30 miles.

I now have 28 miles to go with zero grapes and weird French Toast thingie.

After the 4th puke, I chase back on to some racer that I do not know. I pass her on another climb and see Kube ahead.

I then stop to puke again (that's 5 for those who are counting) and the unknown racer passes me by.

The rain continues on.

I look behind me for Lisa, but do not see her. I consider waiting for her and then start to tremble.

I get back on and start moving.

There will be more of this for another 18 miles or so when the Pro, 1, 2's come through.

I see the leaders and a few minutes later the rest of the field comes through.

I do not see Jay.

He would not pass and not say something and the field is small in this race.

Hmmmm...

I keep riding and check behind me.

No Jay.

Holy crap! What if he wrecked?

I have the key to the car!

Craptastic! He is going to be sooooooo pissed!!!

Do I get in a SAG vehicle and get back in case?

Who am I kidding? It will be a long ass while before any race vehicle sees me.

I keep rolling.

About 10 miles from the finish, I stop to puke on a hillside...again.

I am really wanting to curse my promise to Patricia at this point. I am soaking wet and muddy.

I have mud in my hoo-ha and worm guts on my legs.

However, Patricia is a minister and really nice so cursing a promise to her would be just wrong...on multiple levels...and even I know that.

Karma would beat the crap out of me.

I do some post-puke yoga stretches and because it's a hill, Jay can see me from about a mile away.

He's riding with Nate Rice (cyclocross badass!) and they tell me to get going.

I tell him who the leaders are in his race and after a semi-schmoopie millisecond of rolling chit-chat we are back to work.

I ride in their vicinity so that I'm not working with the badasses and once Jay knows I'm solid, he and Nate take off.

7 miles from the end an odd thing happened.

A Big Shark racer came from a side road and asked me which way we're supposed to go. ( I am dumbfounded by this as I am not sure why he made a left turn in the first place. There were no arrows or friendly flagging turn volunteers, sooooo...)

I tell him that we're supposed to go straight ahead.

He takes this to mean, "Make a right turn and go in the opposite direction from me" and goes the wrong way.

It was like he was in the 3rd grade and I had cooties!

Sheeesh!

Come on, Dude! I know I'm effing slow but I didn't wreck on my head...follow ME!

I had used up my energy:

• Puking
• Worrying about Jay possibly wrecking and not having a car key
• Puking
• Trying not to curse my promise to Patricia
• Puking
• Weighing the possibility of attempting a snot rocket so that I can say that accomplished something in this race and entertain myself at the same time
• Puking
• Re-teaching myself how to spin up hills
• Puking
• Wondering if I was going to make it up the final climb

I had no energy to help that lost racer.

I decided that men on bikes were worse about directions than men in cars and laughed that I was going to beat him to the finish.

*hee hee hee*

What can I say? That race was like 30 miles of water boarding and I was embracing my inner Satan. (Hey, I tried to help the dude. He chose not to listen.)

I start a climb about 3 miles from the Finish and as I get to the top, the sweet volunteer tells me I'm doing a great job (Why are the people who volunteer to be nice so much nicer than people who are paid to be nice?)

"You're doing great and almost there! It's all downhill from here" he says.

"Thank you! Downhill and one more big climb, right?" I ask.

"Yeah. Just one more climb."

As I ride down the other side of that hill, I start to cry.

Like not just tears, but big heaping sobs...like a two year old.

I want to throw my bike in the river and pout.

I don't want to do one more climb.

Not even one.

I am so freaked out by this potential climb that I start to wonder if I will have to walk up it.

I am still crying/pedaling when a Cat 3 racer comes by...and then a few more.

Jeeeeze! Did they hear me crying?

Ughhhhh!

In that 20 seconds my mind dreamt of bloody cheesburgers dripping with cheese and all the fixin's (ewwww!) to the sole beer in my cooler (blech!) to a hot cup of tea (hmmmmm)... I wanted it all.

This is how I knew I was delirious.

I cross the river and am on the main drag.

I turn right and see Alice on her bike riding back to her car.

She cheers me on and then falls over.

(Believe me, Alice...I too was shocked to see me alive at the end of this race.)

I ask if she's OK and she tells me to go finish.

I turn left and see a volunteer with a flag.

I am wondering where my last climb is and realize that the last one was my last climb. That was the King/Queen of the Mountain hill.

I ask the volunteer, "Is this it...I go straight and finish? No more climbing?"

He laughs and tells me I'm done...once I cross the strip.

Holy Helana Handbasket!

I feel it coming.

I feel girly, weepiness and screams coming on.

I keep it in.

Jay will get it, but he's out there...racing still.

Steph's in St. Louis.

I finish and turn in my chip.

I am disoriented and confused.

Kube calls my name and snaps me awake.

She stays with me as I start coming around and pulling it together.

We open a bottle of wine that the hotel gave us for staying there.

Kube takes a sip and warns me that it's sweet enough to rot my teeth on the spot.

I take a sip and pour that nonsense out.

I really want a hot tea.

Kube starts to say the old addage, "That which does not kill us..."

"...makes us say REALLLLLLY bad words!" I finish for her.

I laugh for the first time in hours.

Unlike with Hillsboro-Roubaix, with this race, I was just fine (and amazed) to have finished.

Some races are like that.

Ketchup 3.0

Mmmmmmmkay...

To catch you up on what's shakin', here goes:

I bought last minute hold back tickets to Morrissey on Thursday night and then Jay couldn't go, so Hawley had to fill in while Jay worked his fingers to the bone. While I had a good time, I hated that Jay had to miss this because he also missed Kings of Leon and it would have been a great show for him to see. Luckily, Patrick gets Morrissey too so we had fun.

On Thursday, I bagged on my tickets to see All American Rejects because Jay had to work all weekend and couldn't make our weekend trip and seeing him was more important than seeing a band, so we hung out and had a nice dinner with better martinis, gave the tickets to some teenagers and had a proper date night. It was wonderful and worth missing the concert.

I took Friday off so that I could ride before I hit the road for a 6 hour drive to Ft. Wayne, IN for the weekend. I woke up to acute cramps and a rain filled morning and realized that mother nature had bitchslapped my plans.

(There's really nothing more exciting than menstrual cramps and riding in a car in the rain during the first 24 hours of your cycle when you are unable to ingest pain meds. It's pretty super spectacular and everyone should do it at least once!)

I made it to Ft. Wayne alright, but lost an hour since Indiana has officially decided that it would play the Daylight Savings Game and now they are officially Eastern Standard Time. (So cute of them to join the rest of the country!)

Sooooo...when I got to Indiana, it was way later than I planned and getting in a post-drive ride to spin my legs was out of the question.

Saturday we arose later than planned (which "may" have had something to do with the "arrival martini" but likely had more to do with the fact that Ol' Cory was flat out exhausted).

After we ran errands and catered to the children's needs, Chris and I decided that regardless of how effing tired we were and how effing windy it was, we were going out for a ride.

We rode in the wind that proved much colder than this ol' girl had thought it would be and I was happy to arrive home and shiver upstairs to inquire about when we would be leaving for dinner and martinis. (I feel a step program in my future, though frankly, I am still a lightweight at 2 martinis.)

Dinner was super yummy and I was pretty much out cold 10 minutes upon our arrival home.

Easter morning dawned quicker than I ever would have imagined!

That effing Easter bunny kicked my ass when The Sass awoke at 7 effing a.m.!

Holy hell!

Christ himself had not yet risen!

That child has a nose for gifts and chocolate like no other!

Thankfully, the E.B.'s assistant (Lisa) heard Sassy's big mouth and hauled ass downstairs to get "it" all together.

After a brief moment of excitement over waking up the boys and discovering her chocolate and Easter gifts of horse related activities, The Sass settled in for brekky and chilled out...for the most part.

Soon, we were on our way back to St. Louis to attempt to share dinner with Jay, who had missed the weekend fun.

After a close encounter with a stupid driver who thought it would be a super groovy idea to slam on his brakes in the left lane and make a U-turn in the 70 MPH zone, we arrived safely at our destination and had a lovely dinner with Jay who is now sick from working non-stop for over a week.

Duh.

I arrive home to the have my arm twisted by Teresa about the Hermann road race (for which I had not registered, but only registered for the crit and time trial) and added the road race to my schedule and am now officially registered.

While doing that, I also officially changed my racing license to reflect my official team, Fulcrum Racing and somehow my cursor clicked the MTB license and now I guess I have to complete some MTB races so that isn't a complete waste.

My bad!

*snicker*

Now, I am going to bed so that I can awake and train like a good girl instead of the bad girl that I have been for the past 2 weeks.

Peace out, peeps!

How I Survived the Off-Season - Tales of a Road Racing Noob

I'm not fast.

I'm not strong.

I'm not particularly graceful.

I met my boyfriend while racing.

He is strong. He is fast. He is also not particularly graceful.

We are both cycling addicts.

We both admire each others scars, bruises, and injuries.

During cyclocross it seemed as if we might be competing to see who could lose the most blood.

He won.

Not that we have nothing else in common, but to say that the off-season was "tricky" would be an understatement.

We're sick. We get turned on when we see each other in gear.

(What can I say?)

There is no "gear" in the off-season.

Just holidays.

Days upon days of sitting with other people eating and NOT riding our bikes.

Parties. High calorie adult beverages.

Oy!

Sooooooo...the first race of the season was this past weekend. Holy hell!

I'm glad we are back in the season and yet amused and surprised that Jay and I did not kill each other in the off-season. If we can survive the off-season, I'm pretty sure we're wicked talented.

By the time we left Cross Nats in December, "it" had started. The heaviness that racing was all over for a while. What the hell were we going to do with each other if not ride bikes, wreck bikes, and get bloody?!?!?

There's really only so much sex you can have with 2 kids and 2 people running 2 different companies...but I feel that we made a good showing.

*snicker*

We finished out December "alright", but by January 5th, I'm pretty sure beating the crap out of each other crossed our minds at least once a day. Luckily, we are pretty good at doing that without actually doing that.

As we started to get our training plans worked out and we both started getting some time back in the saddle, we lightened up...a little.

As we thawed out a bit and began to geek out and drool over new bikes and new bike components, we started to laugh more...again.

I mean let's face it, when 2 people have the same outlet and that outlet is unavailable, things can get sticky. For me, I just wanted to be outside and off the damn rollers. I wanted to MOVE. Cycling in a box is simply not fun. Cycling in a box with other people in the room is even worse. I was ready to claw the walls.

Then...

...The Froze Toes road race was upon us.

There we were, laying in bed...excited...errrr...about racing.

Yeahhhhhhh....

Well, we were, but we enjoy each other too...and were in the middle of that enjoyment when my phone went off.

*sounds of stuff being knocked over and lots of shuffling mixed with cuss words*

Uh oh!

My teammate, Kube was at my house early for our carpool to the race.

SaWEEEET!

*Thinks "DOH!" in head and smacks self*

That's the end of that and we scurry about trying to get showered and dressed so she doesn't have to sit in her car too long.

We pack up all our necessities and load up my velo wagon.

We are on our way!

As the 3 of us somehow get dressed in the car at the same time, I am wickedly happy that we are getting ready to race and not simply going on a ride. That happiness which has escaped me for a couple months is back.

...wait...

Oh my!

...How...?

...What...?

I'm HAPPY to be RACING!

When the hell did THAT happen?!?!?

I cried at EVERY race last year (Yes. every. race.)

...and I used some choice vocabulary while talking to myself during said races...

But here I was, positively giddy with excitement!

I wasn't even nervous!

I was happy to see my friends with whom I started this racing adventure last April.

There we were...Team Revolution girls...all wearing different kits, but still the same connection.

We had all come so far and some had gotten pretty effing fast!

(Not me, but I'm not done yet!)

During the race, I felt pretty strong...and happy.

WTF?

Somewhere close to mile 12, while positioned where my coach wanted me in the pack, I look over at Stephanie. We have been through a LOT of stuff in this crazy cycling world during the past year.

Would I even be out here if not for her?

She has no idea what she's done for me over the past year...

She has no idea how proud I am to be racing next to her in the pack...even for a short while...

I am overwhelmed with emotion at that exact moment and while harps and tambourines play in my head (or maybe it was Blur's "Song 2"...?) I joke briefly to Steph about it being the longest I've ever been in a race with her and she says something too kind in response. That response tore me up...because it's not true.

She said I was a badass racer this year.

*gulp*

I'm not...

...but maybe I will be...I really don't know, but I'm tryin'.

Later in the race as I am having my ass handed to me by a nice serving of headwinds, Jay and his field breeze by as if they are on a Saturday afternoon casual ride. I swear to goddess not one of those effers was even breathing hard!

Bastards!

If not for Jay smackin' my butt and calling out love, I may have cried. As it was, I didn't...but started laughing at Buddy's instructions to our field before our race that we are NOT allowed to work with them when they pass us. Yeah. Sure. Us Cat 4 women are just gonna jump right the hell on the back of the Pro 1,2's.

There were 2 defining moments for me in this race. Moments in which it was clear to me that I am not the same girl I was last year. Moments where it was abundantly clear, at least to me, that I am not giving "you" what you want simply because you want it. If you want it, you better take it from me because I'm not handing it over to you.

The first moment was earlyish on while we were still a defined pack. "That one team" had a lot of chatter going on and at one point one teammate pointed at the inch between my front wheel and another racer's rear wheel and told her teammate to take that spot. When she started moving over, I made it very clear to her (without saying a word or leaving a mark) that she was not getting that wheel.

I had to smirk a little. Last year I probably would have pulled back and let her in out of some bizarre courtesy. (Yeah...I was afraid of my own shadow last year.)

The second moment for me involved a "race within the race" thing going on between me and one other racer. (There were actually other people behind me besides her, but I didn't even know that until the next day and that made me SQUEAL!)

I had a decent lead on her. Enough to actually stop and work out a cramp...

*scratches head at why I do these things*

That is when she passed me.

And that moment was the exact moment that I knew things were different. I looked at her for a second and the "old me" almost said, "OK. There she goes..." However, I had already been dropped by the pack and lapped by my boyfriend, I was kicking this girl's ass. Period.

She didn't get too far. We came into turn 4 and the volunteers yelled at me, "Chase her down!" I laughed and said, "I am! Watch!"

(Pretty cocky for a chick who got her ass kicked by wind and who had snot and spit all over her face and race kit, ehhh?)

However, once through the turn, there was a climb and THAT is where it happened. (The ONE thing I learned how to do last year was CLIMB!)

I pass her and as I do, I tell her I'm on her left and joke that I won't be there long. She says not to count on it because she sucks on hills. Then I feel bad for her and almost (ALMOST) hang back to ride in with her.

I remember that it's a race and not a no-drop ride and that I am supposed to beat her. (Dammit!)

I would like to say that music played and we had a Sean Penn moment where we crossed the finish line with our arms linked, but that didn't happen.

Once I passed her, she was out of my mind and after a short while, out of my line of vision when I looked behind me.

I had my second wind.

I could see the finish!

I could see Jay rolling back to the car with his spare wheels and sped up so he wasn't out in the cold too long.

My teammate, Kube is at the finish waiting for me.

We roll back to the car where I see Jay and smile.

Then I cry. Finally.

Holy hell!

I did it!

I didn't drop out!

I didn't wreck!

I didn't die!

Jay and I don't have to say much. He knows. And I love him for it.