I didn't really know what to think of this 3 hour race. I'd been pretty distracted in the lead up - riding at Pureora the weekend before and being part of the team organising and running the race, meant that my attention had been elsewhere. I was excited about the event, the race, the day, and getting to see the club members racing on their home track.On the morning of the race I was on site at 6:30am helping set up the race village and marshalling traffic until after the start of the 6 hour race. I got to cheer on my kids as they rode by for the Kids Race. Oliver's face was full of concentration and determination. Ella was grinning ear-to-ear and having fun yelling "wheeee" on the descents. I felt a bit left out, not following along behind them and being able to congratulate them on their awesome effort. They were pretty excited to tell me about their races when they left later in the morning I finished marshalling and returned to the race village at 11am where I could finally sit down.
I got to chat with Matt for a while, and hear his tales of woe about all his team mates bailing out on him... he was destined to be riding a very lonely race after the first hour and a half. He'd have been better off riding solo. We also discussed his bike choice - Matt was on his Soma Doublecross. It's fun to ride your cyclocross bike at Pukete, but you only do it for a fun time - not a long time. Six hours of chattering over the hardened ground is not for the faint-of-heart or the false-of-teeth. Granted, hard ground is in fact a rare thing at Pukete, as it is normally a soft sponge-like surface. However, we had a drought this summer and it is as hard as nails at the moment. I had reasoned that 3 hours on my cyclocross bike would be a disastrous move and I had opted to ride my 29er singlespeed mountain bike. Luckily Matt owns a bike shop and as such had a few back up bikes at his disposal. Still, not being one to be sensible, Matt rode his 'cross bike for a couple of hours before switching to a mountain bike and then rounding out his effort with a final lap on the cross bike which turned out to be his fastest! He reckoned he had his lines dialled by then.
I lined up at the Le Mans start for the 3 hour looking forward to what might lay ahead. I had spent enough time riding my bike recently to have a little bit of fitness and felt comfortable that I'd manage to last the time/distance required. What I wasn't sure about was my competition. Four local women had pre-entered, but I didn't know what sort of fitness they had. I decided I had two options:
Plan A: go hard at the start, get in front and hold them off, or
Plan B: go hard at the start and then concentrate on reeling in and passing anyone in front of me over the time remaining.
There was a common theme; go hard at the start. I wasn't looking forward to the brief run up the driveway. For the past 6 months I had avoided running in an effort to look after my niggly hip. When the "go!" was given, I took off and hoped for the best. I ran at about 90% and was pleasantly surprised to feel no pain and edge in front of a few people. I ran up to the bike, jumped on (ow! first twinge of pain in the hip) and was into it.
If you're familiar with the trails at Pukete, the track was anything but familiar. There were several shortcuts (including the most horrible pinch climb, ever) and a couple of sections we rode backwards (down the sand chute!). This really made it interesting and I often couldn't remember if I was on the first half or second half of the lap. I enjoyed the fresh layout and I think it makes the event more attractive for club members who ride here often.
After my first lap, I relaxed a little, knowing I couldn't keep that pace up for long. And then it happened A song popped into my head. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a problem But, as a musician - and not a lyricist - I often find myself stuck on a certain part of the melody, perhaps a verse and a chorus that just goes over and over again in my head. On a really lucky day I'll be able to slot the guitar solo or the bridge in too. So, I had part of Metallica's Hero of the Day on repeat. I was in the zone. I didn't pay much attention to anything but the track in front of me, drinking whenever possible, eating as I went through the race village, and keeping the pace on as best as I could. I had managed to instigate Plan A.
None of the other women were anywhere to be seen and I started to wonder how far I could force that gap out. Could I lap someone? How many men could I beat? Will I bonk and be passed? Just doing enough to stay in front wasn't what I was here for. I needed a good buffer to feel safe, but I also needed to empty the tank to feel satisfied that I had earned the position and done my best. And there was a niggling little thought in my head that someone could have snuck out in front of me. I kept up my effort, riding hard and trying to keep just under my limit so I didn't blow up.
When I glanced at my watch on my third lap I could hardly believe that I'd been riding for over an hour already. I felt really comfortable with my pace, and although I was starting to feel the pinch climbs, I felt like I could ride all day. Unfortunately, that feeling wasn't to last much longer.
At the end of my fourth lap I started to feel twinges of cramp. In an effort to stave off the cramp, I ate and drank more. It didn't work. When I stood up to climb the cramp would kick in, though seated climbing was completely out of the question. I noticed that sometimes my leg would cramp and other times it wouldn't. Further testing and diagnosis revealed that if I straightened my leg too much when standing up to climb, it would bite back. If I crouched over my bike while climbing, I could keep the cramp away. I wondered how bad it would get over the last hour and a bit and whether I'd end up crippled on the side of the track while watching my competitors ride by.
I thought about that big 2 litre Good George Growler sitting on the awards table and I wanted it bad. And then it happened, I thought, I Want it All. Queen's song was called up on my internal jukebox and I had some different wailing guitar riffs on repeat for the next short while. I had to ease up my pace a little to try to allow my leg(s) to recover. My hunchback climbing technique was less efficient, but it was effective in keeping me on the bike and riding. Just keep moving forward.
I snuck past one of my competitors on my 5th lap and wondered how far ahead or behind the rest of them were. It had been a hot afternoon of racing and I was surprised to find I'd finished my second bottle. Not wanting to ride dry for the last lap, I stopped at transition to pop a Nuun tablet in my last remaining drink bottle (thinking it would be needed to stop those cramps) and set off again.
At the top of the Most Horrible Pinch Climb Ever, I heard Jordan say, "only 40 minutes left". That confirmed this was my last lap of the day and I wouldn't have to ride any more horrible bits again. The positive feelings flowed for the rest of my lap.
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| Pukete Spaghetti 3 Hour Solo Women's Podium |
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| Grrrrreat! |
It finally sunk in. Woohoo! My first podium for 2013! It felt pretty good - the Good George Growler was mine. It looked like a good race for second place place - Wendy flew in with just a few minutes to spare, and Esta was just behind her. I went clear by 17 minutes, though full respect to Wendy who had done the 100k Flyer the previous day - machine or mad-woman?!
So summer is done and racing season is over. Or is it?
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