Racing with the Vets

Watching those trees bend in the wind as I’m driving to Look Out Hill for another Saturday Vets race makes me groan. I really hate windy races! So as the nerves mounted I just reminded myself that everyone else in the race has the same wind to contend with and I’ll have to be strategic about where I sit in the bunch……

I’ve been racing with the Vets now for about 18months. It’s a fantastic club that really makes all newcomers feel welcome and has a great summer and winter road racing program that provides variety and good competition. The other advantage is that it has lots of different grades so that you can find which level best suits you and work up from there. It has been my intention to work up from F grade, but I’ve not yet had the confidence to make the leap. Firstly because I still feel fairly new to racing in comparison to many of the other experienced Vets, and secondly because I’ve slowly learnt the strengths and weakness of some of the regular F graders and that gives me the confidence to go back week after week to keep on having a go at racing hoping that I will get better over time.

Well this weekend’s race was 42kms and was a good one for spectators as we passed the start/finish point several times as we made our way between Point Hut and Tharwa three times (A-D grades had a longer course). I was pleased to have both my sisters there to support me. Of course Pat would also have liked to be racing, but she is recovering from her fall last week and it’ll be a while before she can ride in a bunch again.

I rode a pretty conservative race as I was keen to be with the lead bunch at the finish and it was clear from the beginning that there was a strong bloke (whom I hadn’t raced with before) that was capable of making a break and I wanted to have the legs to go with it when it happened. He made a few attempts, the first one being on the steep down hill after the start/finish point at the beginning of the second lap. I spotted it early and got on his wheel. I had to make such an effort to keep up with him (as going down hill fast is not one of my strengths) that I couldn’t help out in the break, so eventually the majority of the group closed the gap. I think with the next couple of attempts for a breakaway there was seven out of the 13 of us left. The steady rise from Point Hut to Tidbinbilla Rd threatened to blow a few more off, but by this time the strong bloke’s legs gave out and another very experienced rider made a break for it. I closed it, but at the same time led the rest of the seven to his wheel. Just as I was recovering from my effort to close the gap, I could hear three or four from the back of the group ramp it up for the final 500 metres up to the finish. I took a deep breath, looked for a gap to jump out and caught a good wheel of a lady whom I knew would keep a good pace to the finish. I tried to come around her but she was too strong so I thought I was in for second place, but low and behold who should be on my side but ‘Liz’ – our fellow Valkyrie. She pipped me on the line for a well deserved second place.

All in all a very satisfying Saturday afternoon’s work!

My First Training Session

I've touched on this in a few other posts, but I thought I'd have another go. This one goes out to Megan, our newest recruit, who did an awesome two loops on her first session this morning.

...

My first training session, it was about 17 degrees, and I was really excited but had never ridden my bike at 6am before. I was sure I'd be freezing so I put on all my extra warm winter gear.

I felt like an idiot when I saw that everyone else was still in their summer riding gear, shorts and short sleeves. I had two pairs of gloves on. Fail.

Someone gave an explanation of what we were going to do - and he may as well have been speaking french for all I understood of it. There were some street names I recognised, something about two bunches and something about one bunch doing 'TTT's' whatever that meant. There was also talk of spewing?!? WTF?

Were people going to be throwing up along the way?

We rolled away and immediately it was hard, just riding near all these other people (all blokes except for two women, both of whom looked pretty professional to me and looked MUCH fitter than me).

I felt like a big ball of over-heated, over-dressed nerves compared to them.

We set off from the ANU and then got straight on the road to ride over the bridge. I was immediately terrified, I hadn't ridden on the road in a bunch more than four times in the Novice program and these guys were moving fast.

I was at my maximum heart rate just trying to keep up, and we hadn't even gotten to wherever it was we were supposed to be going.

We stopped at the New Zealand embassy and the coach gave another spiel about climbing and something to do with gears, which again made no sense to me. I felt like if I asked questions, people would realise exactly how much of a beginner I was and they would politely let me know I wasn't good enough to be riding in a squad. So I kept my mouth shut and hoped I'd be able to just copy them.

Half the group then disappeared to do whatever a TTT was, and I felt mildly relieved that I was obviously in the slow group, as we rolled away.

But shortly after we rolled away I realised we were starting to go up hill and It Was Hard.

Really Hard. Within what felt like seconds, I couldn't see anyone and my bike felt like it might tip over because I was having that much trouble just keeping the pedals turning.

I burst into tears at the realisation that not only was I slow, I was way too slow for even the slow group. Plus, I was probably going to get lost since I hadn't even understood the directions, let alone what the hell the drill was all about. Was this training? It seemed horrible.

Eventually I made it to the top of the hills after what seemed like an eternity, riding all by myself. To my horror, some of them had waited for me - I felt so embarrassed that they had seen how slow I was.

We rolled away and then, the only thing more scary than climbing hills was that now we were going down them. It was night time, and I felt totally terrified so I stayed on the brakes and again within seconds - couldn't see a soul.

I turned the corner at the bottom to head towards the lake, wondering if I was even going the right way. I sort of hoped I would get lost, so that later I could blame my lack of direction for my inability to ride as fast as the others. But there they were again blinking away up front.

As I got to the corner they were rolling away except this time there was a new horror. The Coach started yelling at me. "get on that wheel, get up there, get moving, keep it up".

It took every effort not to burst into tears again. I felt like he was just pointing out that I was really terrible. Some of the other riders said some encouraging type comments and I just thought they must really be thinking 'oh no, this girl is TOTALLY not ready for a squad'.

I decided that once we got around to the embassy again, I would go home. This obviously wasn't for me. I was getting yelled at, I was having a horrible time and I very clearly wasn't good enough.

Unfortunately, when I got to the roundabout, ready to sneak away and go home, they'd slowed down again. DAMMIT. I figured they'd probably laugh at me extra hard if I didn't even finish the session. So around we went and the same thing happened all over again, within two seconds everyone was gone, except the coach who this time had hung back to yell at me, and I was again battling to keep the crying and swearing under wraps.

Around we went again and this time I was shattered, and determined never to come back to training again.

I think what saved me though, is that right at the end, there was discussion of the next training session as being along a flat course rather than one with hills.

I went away, feeling totally defeated, but over the next two days wondered if perhaps I shouldn't try just one more time, at least on the flat session. We'd been told that on our second session for the week we would switch and the coach would do the hilly loop with the fast bunch, and the slow bunch would just ride out along a flat course - without the coach. I reasoned that at least it might be slightly better if I wasn't getting yelled at.

I turned up on the Wednesday, and again the explanation of the drill was all nonsense to me except for one thing - the drill included an instruction that the thing we were doing was in groups of four and there was a rule, we could drop one rider, but not two. THAT part I understood, if I could just hang on, they wouldn't be allowed to drop me. I was determined not to be the first rider to drop.

Somehow, the rider behind me dropped off first and I realised that meant the other two guys had to wait for me! I was partly thrilled and partly felt really embarrassed that they were having to ride so slowly. I spent the whole ride apologising.

Now here's my key points:

One of those riders was Chris K - a committed mentor to the Valkyrie Vikings, and less than a month or so later, I beat him to the finish of a 105km ride, the Amy Gillett Ride, which included two laps of the Cotter / Uriarra loop including real hills.

Regular training involving hills was hard, but I saw incredible improvement in two to three weeks. The reason I was able to see that improvement, was because I was in a squad and it was really clear. First I could still see them at the top as I was climbing, then I was getting to the top still able to see them, and finally I started actually climbing with them.

To be clear, this first training session was in late February, 2011.

It's now June. My average speed has increased from around 18km/h to 30 km/h. I can ride up Mt Stromlo in 12:15 and (somehow) I am the Captain of a 20-women strong Novice Racing Squad.

The sense of achievement I got the first time (and really every time) I notice an improvement like beating Verity up a hill, or making Chris bust a gut to beat me to the finish at Bathurst is really, truly incredible.

I've since learned that the Vikings Cycling Club is chock full of people who are all super encouraging. I realised since that they weren't laughing at me on my first session, they were just glad that another chick had shown up! I LOVE riding my bike with people from my bike club, and with other riders in the Valkyrie and V-Mobile squads.

I'm so glad I gave it one more go and didn't give up, and I only wish I'd joined sooner - I rode my road bike for two years by myself before joining up because I never thought I'd be good enough.

What surprised me then (and still does):

• Everyone gets dropped, all the time, on every ride someone falls off the back. Don't feel bad - we're all doing it.
• You always assume when you've been dropped, that you're the only one. The more you ride (and get to talk to other riders at a post ride coffee) - the more you realise that people are dropping off all over the place, you just can't see them.

People drop off and then the next time they try to just hang on a bit longer. If that didn't happen, we'd all be the exact same pace and there would be no racing and no way to improve.

• It's ok to say "This is more than I've got today". Tell someone, and go home. The key is to keep coming back and doing as much as you can and you'll improve. I find that once I've given myself permission to only do a little more, I can usually then do a lot more.
• You'll improve SO much faster than you think you will. I think you'll only really believe this one when it happens to you. But I swear, in three weeks of regular training you wont know yourself.
• Everybody feels like they are wearing the wrong gear/don't quite have a flashy enough bike/might not have the look. (That's how the industry makes so much money).

And the big one:

• Everyone has days, rides and races where they feel lousy. If you stop or drop off - no one is looking at you, no one is laughing at you.

They are all looking at themselves, guaranteed and may have no idea that you're struggling - because they're struggling too.

I've seen A Graders fall off the bunch in races and burst into tears, riders who I thought were a bit superhuman.

I've seen A Graders DNF (did not finish) out of a race because they just didn't have the stuff. Or didn't want to. Or whatever. I see that and just assume they are doing what's right for them. I never look at them and think 'oh they're so terrible'. And its the same, they're not looking at you either.

What I really respect, are the beginners who get out of bed at 5am, turn up to a training session in the cold of winter and give it a go.

Because that's pretty fricken hardcore.