The Fourth Season- BOOM!!! ...and then meh.
I rolled into my fourth racing season stronger than ever. A long winter in the garage and a couple weeks riding hills in the Blue Ridge Mountains set me up for early season success. I joined the Speedway/Humpys cycling team, and was determined not to embarrass them too much.
I won my class in the first race of the season, a 10 mile time trial, posting a time only 3 seconds off my personal best. I got on or near the podium in a couple other single day races. I rode into 2nd place in the Sport Men class in both the Spring Stage Race and the Tour of Fairbanks. Fairbanks was my highlight, because it had some of the hardest days on the bike I've ever experienced, with never-ending climbs that almost made me black out a couple times. I was riding stronger than ever before.
Then the wheels came off.
After Fairbanks, I started doing a lot of miles at moderate intensity. Janice made the schedule, and I ignored her. Instead of capitalizing on the fitness bump from Fairbanks by balancing intensity and recovery, I built up that ol' 4 cylinder diesel by splitting the difference. It was then that the results started falling off. I was still improving, but the other racers around me were peaking much faster and higher. I didn't notice until it was too late, which led to a sub-par performance in the Tour of Anchorage. I had a pretty decent prologue and criterium, but the rest of the stages had me going backwards. The final stage was an insane number of laps around a hilly course. I matched accelerations and bridged gaps for the first half, but when the leaders went off the front, I went off the back. I had nothing left. My legs were empty and cramping, and I limped across the finish line demoralized and beat up. I didn't touch the bike for a week.
I decided to take a break from training and just ride. Unfortunately, it was a cold, rainy fall, and I didn't ride as much as I wanted to. The bike trails flooded a couple times, and I managed to ride through an underpass with my bike completely submerged (not on purpose). It's interesting looking at your bike computer under a couple inches of water.
The highlight of the fall was racing cyclocross. Bumped up into the Masters field, I found new motivation to push myself. I also fell. A lot. I broke a rib, jammed fingers, scraped skin off on the little pavement we saw, and collected mysterious cuts and bruises. I never felt most of it until the race was over and the endorphin rush faded, and then I limped around like an old man. Then the next week would roll around, and I would line up again to fall off my bike. I must be addicted to cowbells.
I also found myself creeping up the ranks, until my points from a steady string of 5th and 6th place results put me in 3rd place in the class. To be honest, a lot of the usual suspects were absent for a lot of the year, so I knew this was based more on attendance than performance. Screw it, I'll take what I can get. Unfortunately, those oft-absent racers came up and nipped me at the end, pushing me down to 5th place for the season (where I should have been all along). Still, considering I came into the 'cross season with very low expectations, horrible fitness, and spent more time on the ground than on my bike, I was pretty happy with the result. I can't run or match the bike handling skills of the mountain bikers, but I'm getting better. At this pace, a couple more decades and I'll own them.
I won my class in the first race of the season, a 10 mile time trial, posting a time only 3 seconds off my personal best. I got on or near the podium in a couple other single day races. I rode into 2nd place in the Sport Men class in both the Spring Stage Race and the Tour of Fairbanks. Fairbanks was my highlight, because it had some of the hardest days on the bike I've ever experienced, with never-ending climbs that almost made me black out a couple times. I was riding stronger than ever before.
Then the wheels came off.
After Fairbanks, I started doing a lot of miles at moderate intensity. Janice made the schedule, and I ignored her. Instead of capitalizing on the fitness bump from Fairbanks by balancing intensity and recovery, I built up that ol' 4 cylinder diesel by splitting the difference. It was then that the results started falling off. I was still improving, but the other racers around me were peaking much faster and higher. I didn't notice until it was too late, which led to a sub-par performance in the Tour of Anchorage. I had a pretty decent prologue and criterium, but the rest of the stages had me going backwards. The final stage was an insane number of laps around a hilly course. I matched accelerations and bridged gaps for the first half, but when the leaders went off the front, I went off the back. I had nothing left. My legs were empty and cramping, and I limped across the finish line demoralized and beat up. I didn't touch the bike for a week.
I decided to take a break from training and just ride. Unfortunately, it was a cold, rainy fall, and I didn't ride as much as I wanted to. The bike trails flooded a couple times, and I managed to ride through an underpass with my bike completely submerged (not on purpose). It's interesting looking at your bike computer under a couple inches of water.
The highlight of the fall was racing cyclocross. Bumped up into the Masters field, I found new motivation to push myself. I also fell. A lot. I broke a rib, jammed fingers, scraped skin off on the little pavement we saw, and collected mysterious cuts and bruises. I never felt most of it until the race was over and the endorphin rush faded, and then I limped around like an old man. Then the next week would roll around, and I would line up again to fall off my bike. I must be addicted to cowbells.
I also found myself creeping up the ranks, until my points from a steady string of 5th and 6th place results put me in 3rd place in the class. To be honest, a lot of the usual suspects were absent for a lot of the year, so I knew this was based more on attendance than performance. Screw it, I'll take what I can get. Unfortunately, those oft-absent racers came up and nipped me at the end, pushing me down to 5th place for the season (where I should have been all along). Still, considering I came into the 'cross season with very low expectations, horrible fitness, and spent more time on the ground than on my bike, I was pretty happy with the result. I can't run or match the bike handling skills of the mountain bikers, but I'm getting better. At this pace, a couple more decades and I'll own them.
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