I always assumed that if I was soaking wet in a race, rain would be involved.Nope.
Not the case.
Welcome to the Tour de Winghaven!
A spectacular race and a luscious course on what just happened to turn out to be Mother Nature's kick to the balls introduction to summer.
Ughhhhh!
Hello 99 million degrees with a heat index of "wtf" and let us not underestimate the "t-bag effect" of the wall o'humidity!
Woo HOOO!
Hello, Ladies. THIS is futha muckin' racin'!
Let me rewind a moment...
We went out to Colorado for a little relaxation, fun, and hiking the weekend prior to this race.
While there, we enjoyed the luxury of actual breathing without pollen sludge or humidity.
Sure, we wore tank tops and snow apparel on the same day, but it was fun.
We made a last minute decision to leave our bikes at home.
We later (both in Colorado and upon arriving home) lived to regret that decision.
Not that we can't "live" without our carbon ponies, but that was really just too long out of the saddle mid-race season.
We arrived back in St. Louis early Monday morning to a wall of humidity that would intimidate China.
Ooooooh! I have a great idea! Let's ride our bikes in it!
Monday, I was out of commission with intestinal issues (which happens almost every Monday and any day following a trip.)
TMI?
*snicker*
Tuesday I jumped into the Tuesday night crits.
Jay had just gifted me a sweet new PowerTap training wheel and had put it on my bike that morning.
Accidentally, yet unbeknownst to me, he had put on his cassette instead of mine...
So while warming up, I didn't feel right, but really thought it was all the time off the bike.
I tried not to beat myself up as we pulled to the line...
On the back side of the course (which is generally my favorite) I got dropped...
...and then Chris Clausen pushed me up the hill...(He's so damn sweet!)
Hmmmm...
WOW!
How much do I actually suck?!?!?
(Don't answer that!)
I continued to try to work it out, but ultimately ended up beating myself up anyway.
At that point we had still not realized I had the wrong cassette...
I found out the next day...
...and Jay rushed to change it before I headed out on a 45 mile ride in the heat and humidity.
The ride went well as I felt "my old self" on the bike again.
When I arrived home soaking wet and trembling that night, I felt good. Real good.
I headed out the next night to jump into the Thursday Night Marquette Ride (the alternate route) to punish myself some more for being off the bike.
Following my plan, I skipped Friday and headed out for another steamy, hilly ride Saturday morning with the girls (and Brain).
2 thirds in, I realized that I shouldn't be doing so many hills the day before my race and decided to spin the last bit of the way.
I broke out in goose bumps and chills...so I hydrated even more.
All seemed good.
We arrived at the Tour de Winghaven believing that all of our ducks were in a row.
We brought enough water to quench a small village.
As I got on the rollers and started warming up (in the shade), I began to get dizzy.
I started downing water.
I rolled a while longer but felt queasy.
I took my asthma meds and squirted some Hammer.
I sat for a few while Jay switched out my wheels and pinned my numbers.
I rode around the subdivision behind the race for a while and got ready to roll to the line.
As I pulled up, I was shaking.
Nerves?
Intestines?
Heat?
First Womens Open?
*shrugs*
Not wanting to over think it, The Universe dropped Kate in my lap (or at least made her roll up next to me at the line).
KATE!
*lets out girly squeal here while trying to appear cool*
Yay! Kuna Kate is racing this race!
If I could have tap danced in my cleats, I would have!
*giggle*
Racing is always made more fun when you know that at some point, mid-suffer, you will see Kate smiling her ass through what others call pain...
I've said it before and I will say it again, when (if) I grow up I wanna be Kate!
The race announcements are made and I hear these strange words...
"...racers who are not in contention will be pulled..."
Ummmm...
Should I just call this a donation and go park my bike right now...?
Seriously, that isn't very fair to Cat 4 women...but I get it.
NRC race...blah, blah, blah...They are running late...blah, blah, blah...screw the women...no primes...blah blah blah...
*yawn*
They even pulled one of my friends who was 16 seconds off the field with one lap to go.
Seriously? That 16 seconds was going to break the schedule so much that after working her ass off she gets pulled?
That sucked. (Especially since there was an AWFUL lot of down time with zero action in the heat while they talked for 10 minutes before each race and did nothing between the kids races and the Pro,1 race.)
That being said, long before that, I dropped out...which is how I got to see all that action.
(Hey, DNF'ing has some benefits!)
My race started off alright...at first.
I stayed with the field the first lap but struggled to get my breathing clear.
I am weezing.
Kate is behind me and hears this while watching me fall apart.
Ughhhh!
I feel like throwing a tantrum because I want to race with her.
[insert mental pout here]
I pulled over in the second lap and tried to get it together.
DUMB!
Kube passed by.
I looked at her.
Kathryn passed by.
I looked at her for a second and changed my mind from DNFing to pushing through it.
I caught up to her, barely breathing...
"I'm not going to pass you," I said to her. "We're going to work together and get through this."
Kube is ahead of us and we start toward her.
Goose bumps cover my skin.
I feel very cold.
My head starts to spin.
The big descent is coming soon.
I see beautiful green grass as the road starts to spin.
*aims Trent toward pretty green pile*
I break hard before hitting the curb and down I go.
My foot is tangled in my pedal as I lay there watching the pretty swirls of the sky and madness.
I get my foot out and roll over to downward dog to make it stop.
A volunteer runs over to check on me.
(So sweet and pretty in his tan handsomeness and lime green t-shirt.)
Is he an angel?
No, he is blinding me and rotting my teeth with his sweet concern for an old and dizzy racer.
"I'm good, sweetie." I tell him. "Gimme a sec and I will be up and back out there." I smile to reassure him that I am not dying, fainting, nor destroying the carefully manicured green of Winghaven and that racers in this position are the most natural thing ever.
I know I only have so long before I am without hope and will be lapped.
I imagine this matter has taken about 2 minutes, but I cannot be sure until I check my data files (which I cannot do while at the office).
I get back in and hit the descent.
I feel better.
Almost.
I take the next climb and see Chris, who is volunteering.
I think I was friendly, but the mere fact that I cannot recall tells me that I was not alright. Chris is one of my fave local racers and buds. (I know I said nice things to him later, so maybe that's OK.)
I take the last climb strong and make sure I don't look too spastic or defeated.
I look for Jay so that I can tell him what I need in the feed zone on the next lap.
He's warming up as his race is next, so we miss each other.
I cross the finish and keep going.
Hmmmm...
Do I keep this up and try to avoid actually dropping dead...?
Heart rate is 186.
I am dry.
I do not feel pain, but this breathing thing is starting to be a concern...
I really want at least 3 laps.
I won't be able to get what I need until I almost finish the 4th lap (and that is only if I catch Jay on the 3rd).
That's 12 miles in.
I won't make it.
*sigh*
I drop out.
(Good thing too!)
As I roll over to the tent and get off my bike, my legs go nuts and I drop into the chair pouring water over myself.
Jeff Yeilding's wife looks scared...or thinks I'm nuts. Not sure which.
Drinking one ice water bottle and pouring the next on me.
Legs still going crazy.
(Good times!)
Some races I smack myself when I drop out.
This race was not one of them.
I did what I personally could and that will never change.
Jay's race went off and I got it together enough be in the zone to feed.
He amazes me in these types of situations and his strength and ability to adjust make me jealous and amorous all at once.
In his mind he sucked in his race.
In reality, he got 8th.
(Fucker!)
As I watched racer after racer drop out in race after race, I felt less bad about my decision.
Regardless of my personal suckage, it was a beautiful day with some of my favorite people, on and off the bike.
Next up, Tour of KC.
Niiiiiice!
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