When I first started tris, waaaaay back at the end of 1998, I used to always read that the best way to improve your cycling is to ride with roadies. I had riden in packs of triathletes and frankly I hate it. The pace is a mess, people are zigzagging and I am always worried about getting taken out, injured and generally messed up.
I noticed that the National Cycling Championships were being held this last weekend. My housemate, Johno, is a pro triathlete and routinely makes me suffer both physically, and emotionally, on the bike. However, he hasn't been training much lately and I sensed and opportunity for glory. I casually suggested that it might be nice to do the race. Johno did quite well last year, finishing fourth overall and showing the roadies a thing or to about the abilities of triathletes. I should also mention that he was able to keep with Peter Reid in Phuket last December (taking him on the run). Dream a little dream...
A little bit on the course, four loops (11K a piece) of mildly rolling terrain with a few short climbs (big ring-able). The loops have a roundabout at either end and are out-and-back. After these four loops, you head back through the start/finish area and start two evil loops. These are also out-and-back. They are billed as 20K but there is no chance that they are that long. Each of the second two loops has four climbs of 6-12 minutes duration and no flats. That's eight climbs.
As this was my first road race ever, I spent the last week pumping Johno for information on the race and our strategy. Figuring that the best way to do well is hammer from the start, I was in favour of attacking straight off. Johno said that the local guys tend to kick-off a bit slow and that we would be highly unpopular if we attack immediately.
Slowly, we hatched our plan. The roadies always start out real slow. We would work our way towards the front and at the first roundabout we would hammer out of the corner and make our break. They would crumble and we would put at least five minutes into them over the next 35K. I knew that I would need a big cushion going into those hills.
It's 7:00 a.m. and I am sporting my Desoto Skinsuit and new Rudy Project shades, bright yellow frame. Not an aero bar to be seen but for some reason the first words out of everybody's mouth is, "Are you a triathlete?" Must have been the skinsuit, good thing I left the Camelbak at home.
We all line up and I am feeling like quite the road warrior. A whistle and we are rolling out. It's an uphill and I power up to the front. Gee, everybody is riding so slow. I ramp it up and head off. My heart rate quickly climbs up to 160 and they are all still with me. Hmmmm. I back off a little and keep on cranking at the front. They are all happily following me.
A couple people zip by me like I am not moving. Man! The power output that these guys can crank is truly amazing. They go pretty much instantly from 30 kph up to 45 kph (or more). Luckily, they don't hold it too long and slow right down on the decents. Using my larger mass, I am able to catch up.
Two guys get a break going and I decide to bridge it. I absolutely flail myself to get across to them and realise that I have dragged the entire pack back up. They don't even say thanks as I am spat out the back at the next surge. (I found out later that my HR hit 180 on that little adventure, a new max for the bike.)
Spend the next little while trying to get the lactic out of my legs while catching the guys. Several times I was one surge from total destruction. Fortunately, that surge didn't come and I managed to get myself back in the pack.
By the time the roundabout had come and gone, Johno had split with another guy. They had a decent break going and managed to get it up about 1 minute at one point. I was feeling pretty flambéed and realised that there was no way I was dropping this pack. I also figured that working hard to bring everyone back up to Johno wasn't the best plan either.
Even sitting in, my heart rate was about 145 bpm (north of my IM pace). Still, it felt like I was doing nothing.
A few more loops and Johno realised that he was killing himself for no real benefit. I found out later that his break was essentially a solo effort. We'll keep quiet about that motorpacing! He dropped back to our pack and I apologised for not having the right stuff to support him.
About this time, another foreigner came up and introduced himself as Mike. We got to chatting a little and he asked, what else, "Are you a triathlete?" I said yes and told him that this was my first road race. He said that this was a lot of stop and start and how about the beginning. Hammering straight off, what was with that? No warm-up or anything. I said, "well actually, that start was my fault". Smiled and headed off for some more fun and games.
Every so often the pace would slow and I couldn't help myself so off I went. It was a predictable pattern. Tri-dude hammers off, pack waits a bit, checks him out, runs him down, blows by him, spits him out the back, everybody recovers while Gordo struggles to pick them up. Did I learn, not really, did I have fun, you betcha.
My best attack of all came on a downhill. Don't ask me why but I hammered off. There was a little rise at the end of the descent and I got well and truly dropped that time as my legs gave up just at the pack blew by.
We arrived at the last of the four laps and I knew that my demise would be with me shortly when we hit the first major hill. We got to last roundabout and I noticed that all the tri-boys had moved up to the front. Sensing that something might happen, I also moved up. Johno headed out, looked over his shoulder, got down on his drops and sped up. The rest of us matched his pace and we picked it up for the last 5K to the start/finish area.
Once again the pace slowed and I picked it up. This time I got a little lucky. All the fast guys had written me off at the stage and didn't respond. As well, the tri-boys lined up three abreast at the front and stopped pedaling. I didn't realise this until I had been riding for a while and had a look through my legs and noticed that there was no one behind me.Yes! Off on my own. Head down, legs pumping, I was loving my fifteen minutes of fame. Smoke back through the start/finish area and no one is even near me. Time to reap!
My joy was short lived as eight minutes up the first hill, the lead pack caught me, passed me and left me for dead. Everybody was hammering up this first hill and my legs were screaming with lactic. Eventually, I realised that total destruction was just around the corner and I backed off. I was soaked in sweat with my heart redlining and my legs heavy. There was plenty of suffering to go around and all the guys around me were also in their own private hells. In short, we were having a great time!
Scream down the descent following another guy. At the bottom of the hill, I slowed for a sharp left turn towards the next hill. The guy in front of me kept right on going! I was confused but my speed was slow enough that when the marshals yelled at him, I was able to stop just a little bit past the turn, circle back and start the climb.
The New Territories is a place of huge contrasts - farm land mixed with housing estates where 20,000 people live stacked on top of each other in four apartment blocks. I rode this course a week before and we had seen monkeys running across the road. Today it was cows. Large Asian cows that aren't afraid of anything and hate moving. At the start of the climb I noticed about ten cows standing right on the road. They were at the bottom of the hill and would make for an interesting obstacle on the return leg! Luckily, as the course was an out and back, everybody could see them and it would be your own fault if you hit one at 60 kph. Personally, I would rather hit a car. At least with a car, you have a chance of going over the hood. With these cows, your bike would go under and your body would follow straight into the body. Broken neck for sure.
The second climb is actually not too bad. It briefly eases off in the middle and that lets you get some cadence back. By this time I had to resort to my mantra, "ride your own race, this is a training ride, enjoy yourself, have fun". I said this in various combinations up the whole climb and was holding my place in the scheme of things. In other words, the leaders were still dropping me but no one was passing.
The hill eventually ended and then we had a screaming fast descent to the roundabout at the end of the road. Going around the turn, I decided to pedal while heeled over. Bad idea. My pedal hit the ground and rear wheel kicked out big time. It was over before I realised how close I had come to decking out. The marshal at the turn let out a holler and gave me the thumbs up. Must have been the highlight of his day, he didn't have time to ask if I was a triathlete.
The steepest part of the course is the climb back up this hill and people were now starting to really suffer. I had gone a bit too hard on the descent and my cadence was painful slow at this stage. I also started the climb in too big a gear and was starting to pay as my cadence slowed even further. Still, I comforted myself on the fact that I needed some low cadence climbing work and this was the perfect forum. I was reeling in a few people that were seriously blown. Unfortunately, most of them were mountain bikers doing the shorter version!
All things come to an end eventually and before I knew it I was heading down towards the cows. Someone had moved most of them to the side of the road but there were two in the middle of the road facing uphill watching us come down. I thanked God that they didn't move as I whizzed down the hill.
Five climbs left to go. By now I was climbing at 5 bpm below my AT, I would describe it as vigorous but not vicious. Just before I completed the first loop, I saw Johno heading back up. I gave a loud hillybilly yell as I flew downhill, Johno looked up and his eyes said it all, here we go again...
At the start of the final lap, I started to catch a few people and that cheered my up. Most of them would stay with me for a while before dropping back never to be seen again. One guy managed to stay with me and we road together for the rest of the ride. He was also from Vancouver but seeing as his accent wasn't quite right and he was Chinese, I assumed that he was born in either the UK or Hong Kong.
As we arrived at the top of the fifth climb, we saw a number of people from the shorter race walking their bikes up the last climb (for them). I felt for them as that must be emotionally tough.
My new partner kept encouraging me to go hard so we could "catch" the guys just in front of us. I didn't think it would be a good tactical move to let him know that I was just trying to keep from exploding. We ended up working together. Climb seven was very tough this time around and I started to wonder if I would have to weave up it. Having my new partner around kept me honest and I rode straight, but painfully. Around this time, we realised that my rear brake was rubbing occasionally. I opened it up and didn't notice any difference, couldn't have been much of an issue.
Up and over the last climb and he tried to drop me on the last descent to the finish line. I knew that it is an uphill finish and saw that his quads are about 50% bigger than mine. He was out in front and hugging the curb (just like a real roadie!). We were within 50 meters of the line and he asked me where the finish is. I say just there beside the truck, BOOM, I am dropped and he takes it.
While cooling down, he rolls up to me and asks, what else, "Are you a triathlete?".
Aftermath
I get back to the car and lace up my shoes to go for a run (doesn't everybody?). I get my shoes on and manage to stand up as my back completely tightens up. I have never had anything like this before. What I didn't mention above was that on the descents, I was dying for some aerobars. There were none to be had so I just took the pain. The constant tension of the descents combined with the torque of the climbs left my lower back fried. Things got progressively worse and waves of nausea floated across me.
Looks like the run will have to wait a while! I lie down on the asphalt of the car park. Breathing slowly and hoping that things will relax. Ten minutes on my back and then five minutes on my front. I am thinking that this would sure be a long transition if it was a race. I get new respect for my IM-vet pals who have been laid low with back trouble.
After a while the nausea subsides and I get myself up. John suggests hamstring stretching and I get right on that. Really all I needed was time for the muscles to relax. I never did get that run! Johno had to help me get changed because I couldn't bend over to remove my skinsuit. Certainly the highlight of his day. ;-)
Johno finished about five minutes up on me and I managed 10th across the line. I was happy with my performance, had a total blast and managed the highest quality cycle workout of my life. 2.5 hours of on and off threshold work.
So, I have one piece of advice... if you want to improve your cycling then ride with roadies.
Sitting here on Tuesday morning, two days after the race, my back is still a little sore but it is more like muscle fatigue. If anyone reading this has had a similar experience then please feel free to drop me a line (gbyrn@attglobal.net ) with some helpful tips to avoid it in the future. Right now, all I can think of is stretching and more strength work.
A really neat thing about hammering on the bike is the absence of leg soreness. 2.5 hours of threshold running and my legs would be shredded for 3-4 days. After the bike race, my legs and body were very tired but (aside from my back) totally pain free. It is a great way to get an intensive aerobic session. The toughest part would be pushing yourself that hard when you are riding alone. I think that I will need to open my horizons to the possibilities of group rides.
gordo - 9 May 2000