KABOOM!!!!!
That was the sound my body made as I completely blew up at the end of last weekend with the Walla Walla Stage Race being the hammer hitting the last nail into my coffin. I could feel the body starting to do a slow come-apart in the days leading up to Walla and I was not brimming with confidence going into what would probably be the hardest race weekend I was going to do all year. ( Pre-whine warning coming )
Walla Walla has the potential to be a really good race (big kudos for the rolling enclosures for the road races). All the promoter needs to do is a little tweaking with the start times. As it stands though, it is ridiculously hard, especially for punters like me who are still trying to live the dream (this time it was a nightmare).
Stage 1 started at 4PM on Friday (note to promoter: move the start time up 2hrs to 2PM, the riders and your race staff will thank you) and was a 65 mile road race with 5000 feet of climbing, add to that winds gusting over 20 mph and you had a stage that did not put a lot of smiles on people's faces. As for me, I was already starting to cough and hack even before I pinned a number on, and the wind and shit blowing in the air did not help. 4 miles into the race I knew that I was in trouble. I was doing the big gear-small gear-big gear-small gear thing and not feeling comfortable in any of them. 30 minutes in as I got shelled from the group (who the hell is up there drilling it like this?!?!) I was calling for the gruppetto to form. I was done, and crispy too. I managed to finally conjure up some motivation from somewhere though and started to use every caravan trick I knew to get my ass back to the group. If I was any closer behind some of the vehicles as I used them to pace back on I would have been considered standard equipment. Unfortunately, it seemed none of the caravan drivers knew what they were doing and were leaving gaps that Evil Knievel could not have crossed. Not to worry though, that is what side mirrors, door handles and timely hand slings are for. After a bit I was back on the group.
Only to get shelled again. The caravan exercise took place again. And when we went up hill faster than we were going downhill (due to the wind gusts) I was shelled again. This time there was no getting back on and a nice little group formed and we made our way to the finish.
So now it was 7:30 PM (twilight road races, you got to love them), we had to drive back to the hotel, shower, get dinner, get to bed and drive back to the same place for a 10K time trial start time of 8:30 AM. WTF?! I had no intention of riding hard in the TT. My warm up was the 1 mile from the car to the start line. I couldn't care any less. My team mate Brown had the same idea. I beat him though....by 0.17 seconds. We couldn't have been that close if we had ridden side by side and crossed the line holding hands. Clowns. TT done it was back to the hotel for some chow, a 30min nap and then back for the 95 mile road race starting at 1:30 PM that had 6000 feet of climbing in it. This one went slightly better than the night before and I finished in a nice size group that formed after the 3rd time up the big climb. One note though: it actually spit some snow at one point during the race. Snow, in April, again, WTF?!
So, I had now raced almost 160 miles with over 11,000 feet of climbing over the period of 25 hours and had not 1 second of fun while actually on my bike.
Yours truly in my own personal hell
Fortunately Sunday's criterium is right downtown on a very mid-west like 6 corner course complete with manhole covers, tar strips, pot holes and spectators. Perfect. Finally a smile started to creep onto my face. Motivation to actually try anything resembling racing was still zero, but at least I was no longer in my own personal hell. To top it off, DR got 2nd to a rejuvenated Tubbs (who when I saw him riding up the last climb the day before looked like he had just come from the Bataan death march. Seriously, he was in a bad way).
Tubbs just beating DR (on orange crush) to the line
All I could think about during the 5 hour drive home was how little I was going to ride this week. Walla, plus the sterling weather we are still getting here in the PNW had cracked me wide open (reports are I am not the only one). I have done nothing but ride paper mache cranks on my rollers all week. That's right, paper mache cranks (defined as way easier than glass cranks) on rollers for 4 days in a row. I went to the doc on Wednesday, turns out I had a cold. He said I could take some antibiotics if I still felt bad but since they make you feel like you are riding with a parachute on even after you get healthy I decided to gut it out.
Now it is Friday morning, there is a strange glowing orb, somewhat orange-yellow in color that is in the sky. I have heard rumors of such a thing, and have a vague memory of something like it while I was living in Southern California. I think it is called "the sun". I am feeling a bit better, not hacking anymore and am actually thinking, maybe even looking forward to a nice little 2 hour ride later today.
Amazing what a little rest, and that glowing orb in the sky can do.
Oh yeah, and if you ever hear me start to talk about racing Walla Walla again, hit me in the back of the head with a bat. I am sure it will hurt a lot less.
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