Battenkill 2013

What happens when an exercise in present-moment awareness becomes an exercise in pain acceptance?

This is my third time doing Battenkill.  All three times have been in the open Masters, although this year was the first in which there was a 45+ category (all previous years had only 30+, 40+, 50+ and so on.)  With 125 riders pre-registered, and included among them a fairly good number of well-known strong riders, it was looking to be tough as usual.

I've gotten away from the idea of pursuing goals and setting specific needs insofar as my results regarding this sport.  Instead, I have been looking at cycling (and racing in particular) as a way to find the kind of peace that only comes when the moment is all that there is.  Combine this with extreme physical exertion, and sometimes great things can happen.  Sometimes the body just finds a way to produce what is required of it without all of the stress and tension and thoughts of "I can't" or "it hurts too much."

Sometimes not.

It's amazing to me just how different things can become with a simple change of mental state.  On rolling out, and the five or so miles of flattish highway that open the race, our pace was far from fast.  In fact, it seemed more like a tea and cookies ride (this was surprising to me as I had gotten used to this thing being game-on from the start.)  Following instinct, I moved up to the front a few miles in and began to notice things starting to roil and swarm.  Shortly thereafter, the famous covered bridge (everyone wants to be at the front for this, and, of course, not everyone can!) is crossed and the tea and cookies are thrown out the window.

I was somewhere in the middle of the group after the bridge, and the pace increased dramatically.  Each of the little hillocks were climbed at what for me was probably anaerobic effort level.  One after another they would come.  Still in it, but noticing there was a strong push to break up the field early I did what I could to move forward.  This was tough when the climbs were long enough to slow people down though, and at times I would have to sit behind riders until a hole opened up.

This continued until Juniper Swamp, where, again imprisoned among riders around me, I saw a split in the field ahead.  There was nothing that could be done about it at this time, but we were going to have to give a pretty strong chase from this point on.  My legs were decent, and I was somewhat confident that it could be done, although I was wishing we had a few more committed individuals.  We kept them in sight for mile after mile, slowly clawing back the distance until we finally made contact just before Joe Bean Hill.

Now with the group all together, I did my best to move forward again.  The effort of the last 30 minutes took its toll however, and I wasn't really making the kind of power that I felt like I was making climbing this hill (which is the biggest climb in the race.)  Reaching the top, and having the (now slightly smaller) lead group tantalizingly dangling in front of me I gave a little push on the downhill, hoping we would have enough riders to catch back on again.

Not this time.

We ended up with about 5.  The race halfway over, and the wind becoming an issue with a small group of riders who still think they are in contention meant that there wasn't going to be much time to rest from here on out.  To add to that, the combination of riders was not a good one.  We had a few who seemed to attack out of the little group every minute or so, and some riders who simply felt they had to increase the pace whenever it was their time to pull, or surge forward on a downhill.

Now, I cannot blame them.  It's a bike race and there are no written or unwritten rules that say "Thou Shalt Be Smooth" but, frankly, I needed smooth.  It was closing on two hours and I hadn't had enough time to even drink half a bottle of water yet.  Each time we crested a hill I would think "Oh good!  Now I can reach into my pocket and eat something..Oops another attack...Oh well, keep going."  "Oh, now I can breathe a bit and drink ...Ooops another surge and another gap to close!"

Basically, that is how the race went until the end.  Eventually the cramps came.  I suppressed the pain and kept going.  Then the bonky feeling of empty stomach and additional pain came.  I suppressed it.  Each time I knew that I could have just stopped fighting and taken a break to drink and eat, but that would have meant losing the (admittedly uncomfortable) group I was with and finishing the race totally alone in the cold and wind.)

Not an easy choice, so I kept fighting.  The next groups of riders were something like 6 minutes behind us by now, and I just wanted the day to be over.

and the pain to end.

The last few miles were a haze of suffering, simply doing what I could to hold the wheel of the rider in front of me.  I had enough presence of mind to realize that this would be over in a few minutes, and if I could just ignore what I felt then we could finally stop.

And I did, 44th in the race.  Not so spectacular, but an incremental improvement over my previous best finish of 50th here.

I didn't really care though.  I was basically so physically and mentally drained from pushing beyond the cramp and bonk barrier that all I could do was just sit there for a while.

I had consumed one bottle.  There was another full bottle on my bike.  My pockets were full of food.  There was literally no time for me to drink or eat where I wasn't dealing with heavy breathing and hard attacking.

So, how do I feel about this experience now (as I am finally back to some sense of normality four days later?)  I have to admit that it wasn't quite successful in terms of truly accepting the present moment for what it was.  I, at times, was thinking "this sucks, this sucks, this sucks" and at other times would be screaming inside for others to just ride more smoothly and stop attacking.  In that way, there was a lot of inner conflict.  This added to the suffering.

However, acceptance of the situation could exist on a second level where I had accepted the fact that it hurt more than any race in recent memory and I would keep going anyway.

So I did.

Hornby Threepeat!

I've done this race since they started it (this year is the third edition and the course has been standardized.)  All of the various sections have been Strava-ed and many of the racers are coming back each year as their knowledge of the little quirks of the course improves.

As knowledge always improves with time, it may also be found to be true that Entropy increases with time.  This fact was well manifested in the presence of what became known as the "boulders".  Sometimes, on a dirt road, the town will just dump a pile of large gravel... well, ROCKS, into the areas which have become overly pitted, rutted and full of potholes.  Last year we simply raced over the pitted areas and kept the hammer down.  This year, however, you had to be very careful going over the boulders as there wasn't going to be much steering going on.  You basically plowed a field of boulders, then some mud, then more boulders, and finally, smooth dirt for a while.

Flats were going to happen.

This year was also going to be different for the Masters as we finally had a good sized combined field with a fair bit of pretty strong riders in it.  The previous two years had always been two-man breakaways and I had sprinted away with the overall last year.  I figured this year we'd have a pretty big breakaway group looking at the folks in the field.

I was right.  On lap one, I kept the pressure on all the way to turn two at the end of the dirt climb, planning to see who remained.  To my surprise one of the new riders (who I did not recognize) was not only still there, but was able to push the pace even more at the final little climb before the main descent.  I made a note to pay attention to him all day as he appeared to be the strongest guy in the field.  I also thought that sneaking away from the eventual breakaway was going to be far more difficult now.

After the first ascent of the Wall (which was totally covered in loose sand this year and forced me to climb a 20% grade in a seated position and robbed me of the ability to answer surges) we seemed to have formed up a group of about 7.  I figured that would be pared down slightly over the next lap and found that to be true again.  Chuck was riding strong and I only saw one other 40+ man in the mix, so I figured I could try to help Chuck get away from this field of mainly 50+ guys.

After lap two was completed, we were down to 5.  Looking over them (and knowing who was who) I decided that these five would survive to the end barring any bad luck.  This wasn't the luckiest day however, and both Armin and Chuck flatted on the third time through the boulders.  This left a three-man group consisting of myself (the only 40+ guy so I simply had to make it to the end to win) an two 50+ guys, both of whom were very strong.  I figured I could get away from Mark McCarthy if I really pushed hard, but I could already tell that Dennis Williams (the new strong guy) was going to be impossible to lose.  In fact, I sensed that he was waiting for the two of us after each time up the steepest section of the Wall, where a little gap would inevitably open.

Again, I was right.  On the final ascent of the Wall, Dennis again found himself gapping us.  This time, however, he didn't wait up but increased the pace near the top.  I gave everything I had to close the gap, but the legs simply would not do it.  I watched him ride away.  Mark was on my wheel and I had to make a decision...

(First of all, Dennis wasn't going to be caught.  I simply did not have the strength at the end of the race to get back the 200m gap he now had on us.)
(Mark was clearly not going to help.  He was racing for second.)
(I figured if I took it easy I could play cat and mouse with Mark and win the sprint but it made no difference to the outcome of my race, which I had already won.)
(So I decided to make it into a good training session and pulled hard the whole way.)

Knowing that Mark attacking me before the final corner was inevitable, I simply kept pushing hard and used my last match to answer his attack.  I thought at the last minute about slipping by him in the corner, but there was only one safe line through the sand, so I sat up and followed him through the corner.

Whoever hits that corner first wins the race.  It's always that way.  I gave what I had in the sprint, but it wasn't enough.  Third overall, but again, taking the win in my division.

The thoughts went through my head about how different the motivations are when you know you have already won, versus the concept of needing to keep fighting until the end in order to win.  It really does change things a lot.

Congratulations to Jon for 6th in the Cat 4 mens' race!
Next up, Battenkill. 

Hornby Hills Kermis was my first event of the year.  The race itself is great because between the hills, the cold, and the dirt roads, the only thing out of the norm for me are the other riders being around. 


The CAT 4 race started out more moderately than last year's CAT 5 field; though I later learned from strava that the race was actually quicker on the first lap than it was the year before.


I had a good race.  I sat in for several laps, reacted when I needed to, and tried to be smart and stay in the fastest, yet easiest, position I could.  I was very, very unsure of my fitness.  I was in tenth place coming into the penultimate climb of the wall.  At that point two guys got away.  I worked briefly with another rider to catch them, but that was initially to no avail.  On the Chambers road climb though, I made a move, dropping one guy and catching another.  At this point I was going to be no worse than 7th. 

Here is where I have evolved a bit: I normally would have attacked on the wall, assuming I couldn't outsprint someone.  Instead I let him attack and just kept my heart rate down and caught him on the false flat at the top.  I went for it.  But he covered my move.  Then, curiously, he tried to take off.  We weaved back and forth, him trying to take off, me trying to stay on.  Coming into the final turn, I passed him so I could take the fast line and just went at it, edging him at the line for 6th!  In a 19 man CAT 4 field, I was sort of hoping to maybe be close to top ten, so placing sixth was pretty exciting for me.  I got an upgrade point, I believe, and just missed the payout. 

Andrew won his race, so congrats to him.  Battenkill next weekend.  State assessment tests at work this week for my students.  Today, dealing with a little guy with the stomach bug.  The life of an amateur cyclist!