Chico Stage Race 2018
I came to California over Spring Break expecting 65 degrees and sunny; instead, the forecast was 45 and raining – thankfully, they were wrong about one of those metrics. I raced in long sleeves and knee warmers the first day, arm warmers and leg warmers the next – it was cold, even my Midwest standards. The crit on Sunday was the first time that my white, pasty legs were fully exposed to the sun.
Stage 1: Thunderhill Circuit Race
The first race of the season is always a tough one for me, as I am never able to push myself quite as hard in training as I do in racing. I can do 400 Watt intervals until I puke in training, but holding onto Evan Huffman’s wheel at 35 mph is something completely different. The worst part is that in a race, no cares how tired you are – there is no prescribed rest period like there is in an interval set. No one cares if you were just pulling your brains out for the last 15 minutes in a breakaway, they will attack you, again, and again, and again, until you get dropped.
Needless to say, I suffered a lot during this first stage. I had just taken Mid-term exams 24 hours before in Wisconsin, and it should come as no surprise that travel legs are not great race legs.
I was really nervous before the start of the race, but seeing my teammates again and being surrounding by their confidence and positivity helped calm my nerves. As we sat on the start line receiving our final instructions from the race official, I noticed that my legs were shaking. Am I really that nervous, or is that just the caffeine kicking in?
40 minutes into the race I found myself off the front, solo, chasing a one-man break just 10 seconds up the road. I hesitated, questioned myself, and rethought my entire life plan while I was in no-man’s land between the field and the break. After just 3 minutes, it was over, and I was quickly drifting to the back of the field, continuing to question my own decisions while also trying to find my legs again.
Our team rode well all day, and we were represented in every serious move that went up the road, including the winning break that stuck it to the finish. Cooper sprinted to 5th on the stage, displaying the incredible form that has carried him to a number of amazing results already this season.
After a quick debrief and a round of recovery drinks, we headed out for another 45 minutes of riding, because 90 minutes of racing just isn’t enough for us crazy cyclists. It was a great time to catch up with the guys, as most of us had not seen each other since training camp in February. We rolled along nice and easy, and made it back to the team van just before the rain came in – perfect timing.
Stage 2: Paskenta Road Race
I had ridden on dirt, mud, ice, and snow before, but the famous Paskenta gravel roads were an entirely different beast. We raced two 45-mile laps, with a 3-mile section of gravel road coming just under 5k to go the finish line of each lap. That meant a lot of easy riding, and a lot of sitting in the bunch, staying out of the wind, and keeping up on eating and drinking.
Our plan was to deliver Cooper to the final gravel section at the front of the race, and let him take over from there. We knew he had the legs, and it was just a matter of timing and execution to get him to the front at the exact right time – the boys delivered.
I am disappointed to say that I wasn’t part of the execution of our team plan, but that’s the truth. I came into the final gravel section near the back, nervous and shaky, and in no place to help out anyone on my team. I started overthinking it, and I my eyes were fixated on the wheel in front of me, instead of looking up the road, where they should be.
I was in-part nervous about my bike – my handlebars had slipped down the previous lap, and I had ridden the entire gravel section in the drops, being careful as to not put too much pressure on the bars that they would slip again – and I was even more nervous about crashing. This is something that I have been dealing with since last year: the fear of crashing. I’ve been getting better with each and every race – my first race back, I nearly pulled out because I was so terrified – and by the end of Chico, I was having fun in the pack, instead of being scared.
As we entered the final gravel section with just a few miles to go, I looked up for just long enough to see my teammates, Team California, lined out with 5 guys on the front of the field. They had put the plan into the action, and executed it beautifully – I was so proud.
Not more than 5 minutes later, I see Cooper standing on the side of the road with a flat tire. F%$&. I came flying past him so fast that I didn’t know what to do. Should I stop? Should I wait? Should I just keep going? I had never been in this situation before, with a team leader getting a flat so close to the finish, and I choose Option #3 and kept on riding. (In hindsight, my team director said the best thing to do would have been to stop and give Cooper my bike – live and learn).
The field is starting to whittle down now. More and more riders are getting dropped with every climb, descent, and corner, almost as many to mechanicals as those with too much lactate in their legs. We’re almost to the end of the gravel section now, and I’m starting to get gapped. This is it, you’ve gotta go! Don’t let that gap open up, get on that wheel! My legs and lungs are screaming, and everything else in my body is telling me to stop – but not my heart.
I make it over the last crest, just on the back of the front group. I made it, but there’s still 3k to go and a sprint for the win. Should I go for it? Where are my teammates, who’s still here? How far out should I sprint, 500m to go, 200m to go? The people that ask themselves these questions are not the ones that win the sprint.
I coast in at the back of the group, focused more on not-crashing than on trying to win the sprint. Nevertheless, I am really happy with my effort, but equally disappointed for the team. The rest of the guys got to the front and drove the pace, executing the plan almost perfectly. And if it wasn’t for Cooper’s mechanical, who knows what would’ve happened. But that’s bike racing.
Stage 3: River Road Time Trial
I ended up in 18th place.
I’m happy with my ride, especially since it was my first TT of the year (first TT since September 2017, actually), and I nearly missed my start time – the adrenaline might have helped.
Stage 4: Downtown Crit
Dare I say it, I actually had fun! Until the last 10 laps, that is. Then I started overthinking it. I started watching other peoples’ lines instead of focusing on my own, and looking at how twitchy everyone was getting, instead of focusing on being relaxed myself. I got caught behind a crash with 5 laps to go and spent the remainder of the race chasing back on, or at least trying to. According the official time gaps, I didn’t quite make it, but at least I got to know what it feels like to be going as hard as a lead-out man for the last 5 laps of a crit.
Next up: San Dimas Stage Race