After Cherry Blossom, I took a full week off. My motivation was at an all time low, and it was constantly threatening to rain and blah blah blah <insert excuse here>.
About half way through my nadir, I told myself that I would ride my sixty mile Hagg Lake loop on Saturday and then race the Estacada TT the next day. About Friday I started questioning whether it was wise to ride sixty miles the day before a race, but I said "f- it" and told my rational mind to shut the hell up.
Saturday comes, and after getting off work at the restaurant, I head back home and gear up for the ride. I've done the loop four or five times before, it is becoming one of my regular routes and is almost exactly 60 miles on the nose. I decide that I won't push myself; I'll just get out there, get some miles, and get the mojo back running again and gear up for the summer push of the road racing season. From past experience, it takes me about four hours at an endurance pace. I take off at 3:30 and figure that 45 minutes before sundown is sufficient margin.
Milestone #1 reached: I got on my bike instead of finding an excuse to get out of it. 100 pedal strokes out the door and I am coasting for five minutes to get down into the valley. One nice thing about living on top of a hill: after the initial 100 pedal strokes, no point in turning around and cutting the ride short.
I start the ride at a good clip. I set a power target of about 250W just to keep things moving. I'm experimenting with a new handlebar position. I've moved the bars out and down to get myself more stretched out. Turns out that I like it. Should've done this a long time ago.
I get out to Hagg Lake and I'm starting to feel good. I absolutely fly around Hagg Lake. A later look at my powertap data shows I spent a full hour at 300W, which in the middle of a long ride, means I've got some good form. At this point, all by my lonesome, I've averaged 22mph. I'm just having one of Those Days. If you've read Bob Roll's book (Bobke II); if I were as crazy as him, this would be the day I would've gotten myself lost in a snowstorm in the mountains. Mr. Roll described it as when you push and push on the pedals and your body just keeps giving and giving without a complaint. Perfect description.
I finish the ride in 3 hours and change, which considering that I have an 8 mile climb to finish the ride, is a pretty fast 60 miles. On the way back I had some tailwind help, but still. A Good Day. Just what I needed.
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Going into the TT the next day, I was a bit sore, but told myself that it should go away later in the morning. It did. I was sore when I woke up, but by the time I got to the race venue, all the stiffness was gone.
I rode in with Ron, so all the talk was about time trial warmups and racing strategies. The best advice being "go hard when it's hard"; of course, because you end up spending more time in the slower (thus harder) sections of the race and you minimize time by powering through these sections and recovering on the faster sections.
I hop on my bike to warm up about an hour before the race. 45 minutes of wiping sweat off my computer later, I'm at the start line. This will be the first time the bike's been out in anger and I have no idea how my body will handle the aero position I have set up. The warmup wasn't promising, but then again, warmups never are.
The countdown ends and I pull out of the holder's grasp and I'm off. I get tucked, and wow, I feel good. Soon enough I am flying downhill at 30 almost 40 mph. Flying. The bike's comfy, or as comfy as one can be at 350W and on the very tip of the saddle.
Interesting sidebar: the TT helmet I was borrowing from a teammate had a useful "feature". Probably wasn't planned in the design, but every time I looked to the side or down, it'd whistle. I kid you not. You think about the damnedest things when you are flying down the road all by yourself at 30mph. Good reminder to keep my head up and straight though.
I pass my minute man after five minutes. My power numbers are good and I am flying. I've never felt this good on a bike before.
After 20 minutes, I'm thinking that a 20 mile TT is a long time to be on the tip of a saddle. I pass a couple more people. I'm thinking the turnaround point must be around here somewhere.
I see an orange "bike race ahead" sign. Ah. That must be it.
After a turnaround that would make a monkey look smart, I'm off on the second leg. I'm still flying, and nobody's passing me, so that must be good.
I pass the pockmarked section of road a teammate warned me about. I experience the pleasant sensation of having both my wheels jump sideways half a foot. In opposite directions. In the aerobars. Curiously, it turns out the bike is actually pretty stable. Not bad for a $300 Performance Bike/Scattante/Made-In-China-Generic frame.
40 minutes in and my mouth is gaping like a fish out of water. Mucus runs indiscriminately down my face as I don't even turn my head anymore. Through my sweat stained glasses I can only barely make out the first two numbers on the powertap readout. It's all I can do to make the first number read "3" instead of "2". I'm falling apart.
An orange "bike race ahead" sign. Hallelujah.
The 200m sign, conveniently placed 400m from the finish. Almost there.
Pound up to the top of the hill; hit the top; back in the aerobars; click click click the gears.
Look confusedly at a row of orange cones near the finish line tent.
Decide I should probably pass between the cones and the tent even though it looks much too narrow and maybe I'll crash into someone but if I don't maybe I won't get scored and I can't see much of anything through these damned glasses so I'll push the pedals and pass by the orange cones and...
Finished.
It was a good day. A good weekend. I feel the season's back on track.
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