Smith Dairy Milk Race

Another course and race that I love to do. A little hilly, but after Toona, nothing I can't handle. I was just glad it was overcast, and even drizzling a little. Was riding well with the pack for lap one and 1/2 of lap two. I just couldn't go with the break up the hill. Tried to catch on for the next couple of miles. Had a small group of women with me. We ended up going around Shari, I think yesterday's heat got her. I get around the third lap, and get outsprinted at the end. Yesterday's heat finally started catching up with me too.

The masters 35+ field seemed to be evenly matched. No a single cat one. Wasn't sure if I had the legs to race today. With 200 meters go to I was sitting fifth spot when a window of opportunity opened up. So I jumped but the legs just didn't have it.

In three words: Painful and humiliating.

Let me set the scene. My quads, both legs, are sore from the race yesterday, ropy, close to being pulled. I tell Wendy during warmup, it'll just be a training ride for me today. But, as I warm up, the legs begin feeling darn good, ready to rumble. So when Wendy and I are still warming up, and we see Stark Velo super-duo of Mary Ellen Baily and Sam House (check out their results at Toona), I suggest the four of us attack on the hill on the second lap. They seem agreeable; and I think we can all work together pretty well. I've wanted to be in a break with them and see how things work.

Well, I'm positioned where I'm supposed to be on the second lap, on the hill, near the front, right on Sam's wheel, and I see Mary Ellen in her small chain ring. I know she's ready to go, but I decide to leave it in my big chain ring. I'm feeling strong. Twit. It takes all I have to be in the break, which turns out to be 5 of us. Wendy was too far back, and couldn't make it.

I'm in the break, but the breathing is labored, and I can't blame an asthma attack about to start--it's not. I sit in two rotations before I start pulling, and man, we're hammering. I realize on the long stretch back to the start line, my HR is soaring, I'm dying, and the legs have gone dead on me. No way, I've eaten, I've hydrated, I've done my powergel, what's the story?

I throw in the mental towel when Julie of October Lake Effect does a monster bridge. I'm cooked, I know it, and I fade off the back. I'm so bad that when Wendy comes up dragging women with her, and tells me to jump on, I mumble back I'm done. I am, the legs have nada. I do try to get on briefly, telling myself to quit being a baby, but I really am done.

So done, when we come to the start/finish line, I intend to quit the race. Why strain the quads further when I'm now the last woman in the field (2 others have dropped out), all by myself? Well, some spectator cheers me on, and I dig in, force myself not to quit. The last lap is a lesson in pain and humility. Even the powergel I suck down doesn't help. I time trial, often going pitifully slow, and never truly get a second wind. I limp home. Get off the bike, and realize I've pushed the left quad way too far. It takes my massage therapist to help me walk faster than the snail who beat me to my car the morning before the massage. Thanks, Jeremy, for the cheers from the corner; and Jim for cheering me while you were in your own race battle and passed me!

So you mean I'm not supposed to race myself to exhaustion in 2 crits in 98 degree temps with high humidity while being out in the sun all day the day before a 50mi road race?

I thought I was recovered, I was wrong. The idea was to sit in (all day) but near the end of the first lap I found myself having rolled off the front into no man's land between the 3 man break up the road and the field. Soon after Tris Hopkins joined me and now I had to work. We caught the lead group and started to work together but the field brought us back. After that I sat in and cramped most of the day. Apparently we had dropped a few other riders earlier in the race then I counted because I ended up 17th according to the official results posted on their web site. Note, I'm not complaining.

Now where is that masseuer?

I thought this was going to be my best result of a somewhat disappointing year.
I was riding at the front watching Orrville and Starkvelo chase down eachothers breakaway attempts. I was sitting about 5th position with 5 miles to go when I dropped my chain. I chased as hard as I could but never quite made it on to the back to the winning group.