Big Chain Ring Hero

As a rabid pro cycling fan, I've always wanted to do a bike race. In fact, my road bike is built to ride crits. Alas, neither the dear bicycle or its rider have ever participated due to fear of eating pavement. Now on the other side of 40, I'm feeling an urgency to confront my fears and spend a bit more time out of my comfort zone before I become a curmudgeon. So I signed up for my first bike race: a time trial. I figured it would be a nice way to ease into the world of bike racing. Afterall, isn't the bike part of triathlon a time trial of sorts?

The course was an straight out and back 35km with rolling hills---really no bike handling or cornerning skills required. It hopefully wouldn't last much longer than an hour and would double nicely as a bike test. Once again, Kevin is confident and has a definitive plan about his pacing and wattage output. I am fretting and scolding myself for being a chickenshit ninny: Should I carry a spare tubular? Should I bring a water bottle? a gel? You know, the road just south of Middlesex near the Bait Barn is riddled with potholes? Arrrg, Boon--just deal with it! What if I finish LAST? So what if you do? Who gives a flying rat's ass?

We arrive and find a parking lot full of very fit people on very aero bikes with trainers to warm up. Trainers?! Shouldn't they save their energy so they can finish? (I used to think that 22 years ago when I ran my first 5K and saw people running/warming up before the race) I found comfort by ducking way under anyone's radar by donning my aero helmet decorated with Finding Nemo stickers and eating swedish fish for my pre-race energy boost.

Kevin was the 6th cyclist to go. He looked like fire was going to trail in the wake of his wheels, like he was going to average a freaking 1200 watts, like Fabian Cancellara couldn't touch him in a prologue. Trois, deux, un...Allez! Off he went! His disc wheel roaring under him like a dragon.

There was 30 seconds between each rider. Before I knew it I was on deck. I felt like a velo princess having someone hold up my bike for me while I clipped in and all eyes on me for the countdown. I got so caught up in the excitement of the start that I was churning out 400+ watts for the first few minutes... then 3 gals in full team/sponsored kits or skinsuits on disc wheels went flying by me. They were very impressive in their speed, form (the immovable butt), and power to weight ratios. I made it my personal mission right then and there to lose some weight and work on getting my FTP over 200 watts.

I settled into a rhythm and figured out quickly that that was NOT the thing to do in a time trial. That "rhythm" was a steady aerobic pace that would set me up nicely for a run--no, no, NO! I had to constantly remind myself to push push push the watts. I notice that I really push going up hills. When I get to the top, I coast. It's that long course triathlon habit of backing off and coasting down the hill to get a drink/eat/pee. A cyclist once told me that the execution of a time trial was going as hard as possible, hitting the bottom, and scraping the bottom. I had planned on doing that but I never felt like I went balls out for the whole the ride. It takes alot of focus to push that hard for that long; and I had not been riding like that for years. Being anaerobic for that long simply felt too uncomfortable. So I definitely have room for improvement in that department.

Overall, I did manage to surprise myself by averaging 21.2 mph and increasing my FTP by 9 watts. I was also the fastest non-team woman of the day. So I guess I'm doing okay in my sandbox, but not quite ready to play with the big girls just yet.

About halfway through the race, I told myself to stop trying to spin pretty circles, save my energy for a run (run? what run?!), being afraid of blowing up.

In surgeon voice I told myself, "You will not stop pedalling until you cross the finish line. You will generate more watts than your current FTP until the very end." And so I did it. I rode like there was nothing left to do after the race. I gasped, panted, and drooled. I rode until my eyes would only focus on the asphalt just beyond my front tire. I even threw the bike like the sprinters do at the finish line. I became my very own Big Chain Ring Hero.