Sea Otter Onslaught (part two)... The Gravel Strikes Back

Getting to the front of the line.  Not only have I been coached to do this, if you read below I have other plans as well...

(Continued from Part One) It took forever to go to sleep. I was excited by the results from the race and I was amped. I was so into the racing mindset that even though I was in bed my body was reacting as if I was still riding in the race. (Kind of like when you are on a ship on the ocean for a long time and can’t seem to get your land legs back.)  I was excited about how well I performed at the race, excited about taking on the corkscrew tomorrow. (As a child I had seen many motorcycle races on that same course and I couldn’t get over being able to ride that same course first thing in the morning.) I knew my body needed rest but my mind just would not turn off. It was late in the night before I finally drifted off.

The next morning I felt like crap. Shin splints from all of the walking, my legs were sore, my calves were cramping. Basically from the knee down I felt like a mess. We were checking out of the hotel room before the race so between packing, boy wrangling and taking care of making meals it was a whirlwind morning.  As the sun was staring to rise, we were headed out to the track.



Destroying my cleats



I was already in my gear (including cycling shoes) and I had to walk with my father and the boys through the two miles of dirt, rocks, gravel, sand and coarse pavement from where we parked to the race course. In hindsight I probably should have worn my tennis shoes and swapped out for my cycling shoes once I got to the race.

As soon as we get to the course I start warming up on the racetrack. Trouble showed up early on as the initial climb at the start of the course seemed to eat me alive from the get-go. Not a great sign. On the bright side, after the climb I went down the corkscrew and the thrill of that more than made up for the work to get to the top.  (Watch video of the climb and corkscrew here.)



Slow first step, but I got to the front quickly.



As race time approached I was still feeling very lethargic and I knew I was going to get off to a slow start.  To counter that, I wanted to line up at the very front and do the initial lead up to the top of the corkscrew.  I figured that if I take the early lead I can set the pace most of the way up, and therefore do it at a pace I could handle, and when they start passing me I won’t move too far back into the group.  (I call it the “Lemming Strategy”.) That strategy worked well as I worked my way to the front and everyone folded in behind me.  It surprised me everyone stayed back as long as they did.  I thought I might just make it to the top at this rate.  No such luck there, I had already milked the peloton as much as could be expected and they started to pass me about half way up.  As I started to get passed I just stayed in my seat and let them go, knowing that I would catch them in the corkscrew.





The second lap is where the trouble really started…  I wanted to start keeping up with the leaders on the climb so I got out of the saddle to start pedaling.  As I did, my left foot came out of the pedal.  As I tried to get my shoe clipped back in I realized that I wasn’t getting a solid clip.  This is when I realized that walking in my cleats from the parking lot had been a really bad idea. I am certain that I clogged up my cleat with dirt and bits of gravel. 

At this point I have some safety concerns.  I don’t feel like it would be good for me to ride up the hills with the pack or be going for a sprint finish.  I decided to alter my strategy a little so that on the climbs, I am way off to the right or left of the pack.  If I am still with the group going into the finish I wouldn’t sprint for it because I don’t want to take out half the peloton.  

Without being able to stand to match the pace of the group up the climb, I was forced into a catch-up mode while riding the rest of the course.  On one climb I fell far enough back that the motorcycle and pace car that was following the peloton passed me.  That didn’t last for long as I put my cornering skills (from Body Concepts Race Team skills clinic) to use on the next descent down the corkscrew. I was back towards the front of the group in no time.  

As I was approaching the hill again I realized that my left shoe finally had a solid clip.  I am back in the race!  I sprung out of my saddle and kept up with the pack on this climb.  Next time around, trouble sprung up again as I dropped my chain! (Note to self: Need to get that chain catcher before my next race.)  I was able to recover without stopping but I was in catch-up mode again.  

I am starting to get tired from burning matches on the catch-up efforts.  I am back with the group with one lap to go.  The pace on the last lap surged up the hill.  I tried to match it but I was totally spent and couldn’t keep up with the pace.  As I made the descent down the corkscrew I realized that there were a bunch of stragglers behind and in front of me.  The main pack was too far off to catch so this became a race between me and whoever was left.  

Maximizing momentum down the corkscrew I came into the sharp left turn after the corkscrew a little too hot and found myself on the warning track.  Thunk-Thunk-Thunk-Thunk-Thunk.  I pulled out of it easily enough and was grinning because it was a very fun experience to be pushing it that close to the edge in my speed.  (I think my wife’s need for speed may be rubbing off on me.) In hindsight I think I also didn’t take the best angle through that turn like I did most of the rest of the race.  I think I was getting anxious for the finish and wasn’t paying as close attention to the details of making a good turn.  

I used my momentum to pass a few people and got behind another guy to get a draft break as we headed towards the finish.  The stragglers were getting restless and started powering towards the line so I did the same.  I passed several people but one guy came by me just before the finish.  I heard him coming but was already maxed out and couldn’t do anything about it.

We crossed the finish and I made a direct line for the large dirt area off to the side of the track where other riders had stopped to talk after the race. I was greeted by Jason “Coach” McMillen who had just participated in a race himself (different category from mine).  We exchanged race stories but I couldn’t stay long as my father and the boys were waiting for me.  I waited long enough for them to post my race results and then hurried back to join my family, I had promised the boys a side-trip to the beach on our way home and I wanted to make sure to get that in before it got too late in the day.  I said good-bye to my dad and planned the route to the beach in my head.

Well, the best laid plans… can easily be waylaid once the DS gaming units open. When we got on the road, around 11:00 or so, the boys were already engrossed in their videos games. I asked them if they still wanted to go to the beach or if they wanted to head directly home. If I had an ounce more energy I may have talked them into reconsidering, I couldn’t imagine myself as a kid saying no to a trip to the beach, but at that point I just didn’t feel like I could take on the video games and win so I pointed our car for home feeling a bit defeated by the boys reaction to our “Men’s Trip” to Sea Otter.

Sea Otter is such a big event with so much that I wanted to see and do but between my own time constraints and the boys reluctance to go anywhere or do anything there I only got to experience a small part of it. I feel like I missed out on a lot of what Sea Otter had to offer. Next time I will be sure to do Sea Otter right, both as a “tourist” and as a racer and I want to share it with those who will be as excited about it as I am.

So more lessons learned: I got 8^th in a tough race and I feel great about that; I got 16^th in a race that was full of snags and mistakes; I now know better than to try to sell my idea of a fun weekend trip to someone who just isn’t interested; and I know that I should never, ever walk through two miles of crappy terrain to get to a race in my cycling shoes.