Idiot Button

DAY ONE

This is me warming up for a bike race.
Rule of Thumb:
The shorter the race, the longer the warm up.

So, me and the other 120 category three racers have now completed the first half of the Green Mountain Stage Race. Some of those riders have earned the status of legends by racing well, and a select few riders have even won stages. I have shot myself in the foot, twice.

As I noted last night, the first stage was an 8-miles hill climb up the Appalachian Gap, an ascent of 1730 feet, with nearly 1300 feet of the elevation coming in the last 2.7 miles. As we from Brooklyn like to say, "Toto, I don't think we're in Prospect Park anymore."

My faithful soigneur/ girlfriend, Becky, and I drove down the gap earlier in the afternoon, to get a sense for the suffering that I was about to endure. So at least I knew what was coming.

The Appalachian is just over this hill.
I took this photo from the valley.
It's much taller than it looks.

Despite the fact that I was nearly peeing my bibs in fear of the climb, I actually managed to do almost everything right. I stopped eating nearly 3 hours before my start time to give myself plenty of time to digest, I made sure I was well hydrated, I checked, and double-checked the pressure in my tires, and I got on the trainer nearly an hour before the start, which meant that my warm up would actually be longer than the race.

The race started with a neutral parade through the town of Waitsfield. For those new to reading about cycling, any time the race is neutral, it means the speed is controlled by a pace car, which keeps the racers easily rolling along. The race started at the base of the climb, and the pace immediately went from "stroll through the park," to "Indy 500." I was only able to look down at my speedometer once, but it read, and this was on a steep uphill pitch, 24 MPH. Ouch.

Despite the high pace, the pack actually stayed largely together, and I surprised myself by riding pretty well on the climb (I usually climb about as well as a sack of potatoes). I was breathing easily, and turning the pedals without too much difficulty. I was even passing people on some of the steeper pitches, including my team mate Adam, who had kicked my ass about two weeks ago when we did some steep hill training together. But I was starting to get a dead, depleted feeling in my legs.

This is where I shot myself in the foot.

Thinking the deadness would get me into trouble later on the climb, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a tangerine-flavored power gel, and swallowed it in one shot. I immediately knew that I'd made a mistake, as a knot the size of a small watermelon spread through my abdomen. My climbing immediately went from "Chris Horner" to "Stuart O'Grady." This is right about the same time that I rode by the spot where Becky was waiting to cheer me on, but thankfully, all of the people I'd passed lower on the mountain had not yet caught back up to me, so I still looked relatively good. Looking good, of course, is the most important thing. Becky took this photo:

This is what pain looks like.
The ambulance is ready to take me away.
Fortunately, that hasn't been necessary yet.

Now, here's where the idiot button comes in. I'd give the button to a team mate, or a friend in a race with me -- like Adam in this case -- and have him push it whenever they see me doing something stupid -- like taking a gel right before the hardest pitch of the climb. The button would cause a buzzer to sound in my ear, or maybe a giant hand to slap me, whatever. The point is that I'd be warned not to do whatever it was that I was about to do.

Unfortunately, I didn't have such a button on Friday, so I potatoed my way to the top of the gap in 99th place, and spent the rest of the evening eagerly anticipating my effort to maintain my top-100 position on the next day.

DAY TWO

The second stage was a 72 mile road race contested on a 20 mile circuit just north of Waitsfield, VT. There was one major climb on the triangle-shaped loop, which came immediately after the start. In comparison to the previous day's climb, this one was a mere pimple. But to a flatlander like me, it was a formidable obstacle. Still, this was the stage best suited to my particular skills, so I was hoping to do well.

The first one and a half laps went well for me, I was having no trouble sitting in, and I was getting all of my nutrition right. I grabbed a water bottle from Becky in the feed zone, which always makes me feel very pro, and I even managed to pass a bunch of people on the climb, which was hugely satisfying. About half-way through the second lap I saw a lane open up in the shoulder while we were on a flat section, so I took the opportunity and zipped from the back of the field to about 20th wheel. This made me feel like I was actually in the race, which was nice.

In this stage there were sprint points available each lap on the finish line. I happened to arrive at the front right as we hit 2 Kilometers to go before the sprint, and thought it might be a good idea to try and grab some sprint points. So I moved up into the top ten riders, then the top 5 as we hit 500 meters to go. I launched my sprint about 150 meters out, which was good enough to pass all but two riders. I was momentarily excited about grabbing third-place points, but then someone told me that there were two riders off the front. Oh well.

These are the pros coming through the start finish.
They are much faster than me
But the motorcycle men called them assholes.

Here comes the spot where I shot myself in the foot on day two. After rolling across the
finish line the course headed up a series of moderate rollers. I was sitting on the front riding up one of these at what I felt like was a reasonable pace. It seems that the rest of the field disagreed with me, as I looked back to see a sizable gap to the field. Now, here is where I needed Adam with the idiot button. The smart thing to do would have been to sit up, let the field catch up to me, and continue to sit in. Instead I thought, "shit, I've got a gap, better hit the gas!!"

So, I accelerated up the rest of the climb, doing my best to catch up to the lead motorcycle. Before too long I caught it, and had nearly a minute's gap. I yelled to the moto official to ask him what the gap to the leaders was, and he flashed me five fingers, and then another five fingers -- 55 seconds -- this little conversation also made me feel very pro.

But, of course, before too long, the field started to pull me back. Eventually two riders came across, and we had a nice little three-man echelon going, but, right as we hit the base of the one climb, we got caught. Obviously, this is the worst spot you could get caught because you're exhausted, and now forced to recover while also keeping up with a hard pace on the climb. Needless to say, I didn't. I was off the back shortly there after, and rode the remainder of the race with three other riders, and we all finished about 10 minutes down.

Adam, who seems not to need an idiot button of his own, finished safely in the pack, his best result yet in this race. I'm hoping that I at least managed to defend my top-100, but results have not yet been posted. I'll get those posted tomorrow.

Tomorrow's stage is by far the hardest in this race. 28 flat miles are followed by a climb up the monstrous (think Denali) "Middlebury Gap," a white knuckle decent, then twin climbs up the "baby" (this is perhaps the least apt name in all of bike racing), and finally a finishing climb up the opposite side of the "Appalachian Gap." So that should be fun. I was planning on using a "Retro-Rassmussen" tactic on tomorrow's stage -- going on a solo, multi-hour, break away over at least two mountains passes to take the stage win and the climber's jersey (this is what Rassmussen did before he got greedy and took the yellow jersey) -- but after today's failure of a break away, I think I'm going to play it safe and just try to sit in for as long as I can. Besides, Rassmussen definatly cheats. That's all for now, enjoy!