The Truth Hurts

Thursday night kicked off the Two Rivers Time Trial series, put on by the venerable Beland family.  I think this is the third year they've organized this series but only the first time I've raced in it. Peter Beland, whether he intended to or not, guilted me into racing last night.  I never raced last year or the year before and as soon as I saw him at a local group ride Tuesday night, I knew what I was in store for... "are you racing the time trial Thursday night?"... "uh, well, maybe, you see, uh, it all depends on my coach, you know, he's very particular about my workouts, and well, uh, he might not want me doing this, but I'll check and let you know."  Of course Shaun, my coach, was perfectly happy to have me go out and pummel my legs in a time trial.  Any chance he gets to dose out a little more pain, well, let's just say he is convinced it'll make me stronger.  Sometimes I beg to differ.  But I digress.

Time trials are commonly referred to as the Race of Truth, primarily because there's no drafting and feeding off others in a pack.  It's just you and your bike, riding as fast as you can.  Almost always the strongest person wins.  I've never been a big fan of time trials, namely because, a) I'm not good at them, and b) I'm not good at them. I don't have a time trial bike and so there is no way I can win, not that a TT bike would change that outcome, but still, I don't have a TT bike. I reluctantly committed to racing and doing it on my normal road bike without an aero helmet, skinsuit or fancy wheels. You know, Eddy Merckx style. Just me and my trusty Jolly Roger against the wind, all alone.

I was very careful about my warm-up given the crushing workouts I had the two nights before.  I took my time and slowly built up my HR and speed so I wouldn't start building up metabolic waste and creating a situation where when it was time to start, I was already hurting.  The time was quickly approaching for me to set off and I can see my heart rate climbing with pre-race anxiety.  I know this is going to hurt, and just knowing that sends my HR through the ceiling.  I should be used to that feeling by now, but its just one of those things that happens to me.  I don't think it really affects my race performance, but it's a little weird looking down and my heart is beating fast enough to propel me at 20 mph if I was actually pedaling.

I roll up to the line where Fred Beland expertly grabs my seatpost and holds me steady while I clip in and get ready to start.  The count starts... 10 seconds, 5,4,3,2, Go.  No fan fare, just me getting up to speed.  We had a moderate tail/crosswind heading out on this flat 6.4 mile course so I knew I needed to conserve a little in order to stay on top of my gear on the way back.  I managed my HR around 174 bpm with a few jumps up to 177 when I needed to get my speed back up.  I came to the end of the course where there is a small loop to navigate in order to make the return trip.  The right hand turn came up so quickly, I missed it and went backwards only to see my 30 second man coming straight at me.  He was a little confused, which would normally amuse me, but since the lactic acid was starting to build up, I was not in a humorous mood.  So I continued back into the wind and was fairly happy with how the legs were feeling considering the week I've had.

Shaun has been laying on the intensity lately and not letting up.  I've trained really hard this week and so was a little worried the legs would shut down on me completely with this kind of extended effort.  Fortunately they didn't, although they weren't feeling great, they were still working.  As I made my way back to the finish line, I started to build up a little speed knowing I had only a few minutes to go.  Finished fairly strong and rolled up to a gaggle of friends watching everyone else finish. We swapped a few stories before everyone began riding back to their cars and homes.

My time of 15:23 was not too bad considering I was on a normal road bike.  That made for an average speed of around 25 mph so I was fairly happy.  I started the ride home enjoying a nice conversation with Chrissy Fox and dodging gnats.  I said adieu to Chrissy and joined up with Jim Gilliam and Kenny Massa.  We start up Overlook hill when Kenny rides up to tell me my rear brake is rubbing.  Hmm, really?  Yep, it's definitely rubbing.  I reach back to adjust it and sure enough, it gets easier to pedal.  Once home, I take a look and the brake was rubbing again.  The main mounting bolt had come loose and the brake kept moving over and hitting my rim.  So it turns out I raced with my brakes on.  Great.  Oh well, not sure how much quicker I may have gone, maybe 20 seconds or a little more, but nothing to get my panties in a wad about.  At least it makes for a more interesting story.  Now it's time to start working on excuses for not racing next week... got some good ones forming now.

Happy Easter!!