The Perfect Time Trial
There are few days each season when everything is perfect – sometimes, none at all. Whether it be crashes, mechanicals, a stomach bug, or weird race tactics, there are a lot of things that can go wrong in a bike race – I have now added ‘crashing the day before the race’ to that list.
Cycling is a sport in which true success is not often measured by ‘number of wins’. Even the best riders in the world only win a handful of races per year. And a rider who wins more than 10 races in a season is the exception, not the norm. Success is more often measured in terms of consistency, number of Top 10s, how well a rider fulfills their role within a team, etc.
This is in huge contrast to most American and team sports, where in every competition one team wins and the other loses. In a sport such as baseball, the worst team in the league will still win 20 games that year. And in football, a team that goes an entire season without winning is seen as one of the worst teams of all-time – contrast that with professional cycling, and there are hundreds of pros who go 5, 10, or even 15 years without a win. In 2016, Mat Hayman won a race for just the second time in his 18-year professional career: Paris-Roubaix, the Queen of the Classics, and to many, more meaningful than the World Championships.
I have been lucky, in that I have tasted victory a couple of times each year for the past few seasons. Although I have yet to take a “big” win – it’s up to you to define what a “big” win is; I count big wins as National-level events – I have graced the top step of the podium just a few times, usually after triumphing at a local time trial. But now it’s getting more serious – my goal is to move up to the professional ranks, and winning a local TT isn’t going to stand out on a resume. That’s why I drove 16 hours to Vermont, to take on the Killington Stage Race.
Killington Stage Race
Stage 1 – Circuit Race
The first stage was comprised of long loops that went up and over a gradual climb, before bombing back down a 40 mph descent towards the finish. It wasn’t a super challenging course, so it came down to a 50-rider field sprint – a weird two-man breakaway with no major teams stayed off the front by 20 seconds.
I stayed upright and was happy to save my legs for the next day.
Stage 2 – Road Race
Sunday’s stage consisted of a very hilly 3-hour loop, followed on an insanely steep 11-minute climb towards the finish… but wait, there’s more! After cresting the torturous goat path – I mean, climb – there was another 2 miles of steep rollers, plus a half-mile climb to the finish averaging over 8%. Here is my ride on Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/1600200481
I did my best to save my legs for the mountaintop finish, and I came in to the final climb sitting tenth wheel, ready to go deep.
As soon as we hit the bottom slopes, the group exploded. I averaged 400 W for the first 5 minutes (my best-ever 5-minute power is 410 W, by the way), and by then the group was down to six. I was suffering, really suffering, and just hanging on the back as the riders ahead of me continued to slug it out. They even attacked each other a few times, which meant that I would get gapped off the back, and have to slowly make my way back up to them as they slowed down to recover from their efforts.
Side note: For those who follow professional cycling, I would compare myself to a Tejay Van Garderen/Tom Dumoulin-type rider. I have a huge diesel engine, but sometimes it takes a while for it to get going. When the punchy climbers start attacking, I ride my own pace and (hopefully, usually) bring them back.
As we neared the top of the climb, I could see the KOM up ahead, and that’s when they really went for it. This was the biggest attack so far – the battle for the KOM points – and as I crested the climb, I was 10 seconds off the back, alone. This is not good.
Thankfully, the group sat up on the next big roller, and I caught back on, wheezing heavily, sweating into my eyes, and trying to regain my composure for the final 5k. I stayed in the group, and hung on the back, trying to bring my heart rate down so that I could do one last, big effort up the final pitch. Our whole group decided to sit up, however, so 4 more riders caught back on, making it a group of 10 that would contest the final “sprint” – not your typical mountaintop finish, eh?
Coming into the final 500m, our group was still all together, but I had lost my confidence. I was really suffering, I knew that I wasn’t the strongest rider in the group, and I would be happy just finishing 10th – I didn’t believe in myself, and that was my biggest mistake.
When the attacks came, I did everything I could to stay on with the group. I was digging deep, but I wasn’t suffering as much as I had thought I would. In fact, I had a little bit of extra energy left in my legs. I thought about try to push past the riders in front of me, but that was a mistake; I thought about it. The best moments in races are moments of pure instinct. Overthinking – sometimes think at all – gets you in trouble, it makes you nervous, and it saps away your confidence. I didn’t need to think in that moment; I needed to go.
But I didn’t, and I rolled across the line in 9th place, content with my performance, but also wondering what could have been.
Stage 3 – Time Trial
Everything was perfect. My bike was perfect, my pacing was perfect, and my legs were perfect – I still can’t believe 5 guys went faster than me.
Today was one of those days when everything goes right. I nailed my warm-up, my legs felt good, and I paced my 22-minute effort perfectly. The last part is much easier said than done.
A lot of people are good at logistics. Heck, you don’t even need to be a bike racer to know how to time your warm-up, preparation, and nutrition. The hard part is knowing how to pace your effort, and then actually doing it, too.
The Killington TT is a pretty straightforward course: 10 minutes along a winding river road that averages 1% uphill, two big rollers lasting less than a minute each, but enough to bring you speed down to 20 mph, a longgg pan-flat section of road that asks the question: How long can you hold 33 mph?, and finally a short but steep hill that turns onto a fast winding road for the last 2k to the finish. Here is the race on Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/1601985132
All-in-all, it is a very steady 22-minute effort (if you’re fast) suited to the bigger guys and TT specialists.
As a 140-pound climber, I was nervous.
But when it comes to race time, it doesn’t matter how you feel. All that you can do is put forth your best effort, and leave absolutely everything out there on the road. And that’s exactly what I did; 6th place.
The Top 10 guys were all within a minute of each other; 30 seconds faster and I would have won; 30 seconds slower and I would have been 11th.
All in all, it was a great weekend of racing, and another reminder that Vermont is one of my favorite states to visit, to see, to experience, and to race my bike. I gave it absolutely everything each day, and so I believe I earned the place that I deserved – that is something that I can be very proud of.
Up next: Johnson City Omnium Race Report – coming soon