Tour de Rand Hill

Sometimes, events go exactly as you hope, or better, and sometimes they don't. Tupper Lake was a positive event, Tour de Rand Hill, not so much. I've done this race every year since 2008. It's a small, local race, around 35 participants every year. A half-dozen women would be a lot. I've won the women's category twice before this year. I always tell myself that I'm beating everyone sitting on their couch, and, if I crack the top 10 overall, I feel like I'm proving that I deserve some kind of recognition. The race starts at the YMCA in Plattsburgh, NY. It's a controlled start until we leave the city proper, about a mile. The next six miles are along Route 374, with a 500 foot gain in elevation on a well-paved, wide-shouldered road. The real racing usually starts once riders make the right-hand turn on Rand Hill Road, where they will encounter over 900 feet of climbing over the next 7 miles. The first mile and a half is the steepest: about 460 feet of climbing, with an average grade of 6%. The general plan of attack is for a smaller group to break from the pack and ride hard and steady in a team time trial mode until they reach the hill, where it's every man for himself. Usually, a couple of young, strong riders will go off the front and duke it out for 1st place. This year was different.

Two days before the race, a young fellow rider and daughter of a friend messaged me asking me for tips on how to ride this race. She is racing an Ironman in Mont Tremblant next month, and has been riding with some of us on our longer rides to get her miles in. She rides a tri bike and handles the bike expertly in a pack, never in her aero bars unless she is on the front. She is also very strong, and a good overall athlete. She did the half ironman in Tupper Lake in just under five hours, and finished the bike leg of a rolling course in 2:40. She did the CVPH ride with my group last week, and beat me on every climb. My first thought was, "I'm not winning this year." My second thought was, "I shouldn't win. Erin is faster. That's the way it is." I love her mom, Sandy. She and I are in the same age group, and we're about even against each other in age-group wins. Sandy ALWAYS gives me advice and helps me out in races. So, I spelled out for Erin how the race usually goes, and what I try to do to put myself in the best position to win. Erin admitted that she was very nervous about the race, and I made things worse by telling her I had no doubt that she would win. That's a lot of pressure. I know, because people often do that to me, and I don't like it. I should've known better.

The morning of the race was cloudy, showery and windy. I was experiencing the, "Why do I do this to myself?," race-morning doubts. I gave myself the usual race-morning pep-talk: You can't control the weather, who shows up, or what happens during the race. Focus on what you can control. Wish I had stopped there, but I went on to think: The weather is lousy, that will keep people away, and a lot can happen during a race, it isn't over until its over. The third year I did this race, I dropped my chain right before the climb, and put a cog through my thumb trying to get it back on. I didn't realize it until I saw blood all over my leg about a mile later. I went on to finish the race. A younger, stronger girl won that year, I was second. My incident had no effect on the outcome, but could have for the third place woman had I not finished.

When I got to the Y, I did all my usual pre-race prep, then a friend asked me if I wanted to go for a warm-up. Erin was close by, so I called to her to join us. I spelled out the race strategy for her again, reiterating that I thought she would win. She was very nervous and asked me not to say that, so I amended it to, I thought she would do well. Back at the Y, we did a quick raffle, were given race instructions, and reminded to be safe. I added to those around me, "and have fun." We followed the police car down Oak Street, crossed Boynton Avenue to Route 374 and the race began. It was different from any other year. A good friend who is a Cat 2 racer and sometimes participant (and always winner when he is) of this event, was racing this year. His victory was a foregone conclusion, yet his presence had all the guys acting jumpy. We had a quick break, which nearly every faster cyclist made, then the pace was controlled, but very tense. We would go from two pacelines to three, then back to two, everyone fighting to stay on the wheel ahead of them, and not letting anyone in as the lines formed and reformed. There was a pretty stiff cross-wind, which was making the bikes feel twitchy. I initially went for the middle paceline, thinking I'd be protected from the wind there, but quickly decided to go for the outside line. Even though I was getting the brunt of the wind there, I was more comfortable away from all the nervous wheels, and I could cover jumps, which were happening every couple of minutes. Some young guy would take a flier, and my Cat 2 friend would immediately cover it. All of us would go with him, and as soon as our flier was caught, the pace would slow down again. At some point in the middle of all that tension, Erin got caught between two pacelines and overlapped wheels with the rider to her right. I was to her left and slightly behind. The rider reported after that her front wheel hit his foot. I saw the contact and her attempt to control her bike, but it was too late and she went down hard. She hit shoulder first, still clipped in. The impact caused her feet to unclip and her bike cartwheeled through the air towards me. The sound of a bike crash is awful. I registered several things at once: The absolute certainty that I was going to crash with my new frame, wondering who it was I saw go airborne over Erin, and Erin's bike coming towards me. Several seconds seemed to pass before I realized that I wasn't going to crash, and that I had blocked Erin's bike with my forearm. I know I didn't touch my brakes, partly because I had to lift my hand off my handlebars to protect myself. We slowed the pace down to allow those in the crash but unhurt, or behind the crash, to catch up before the climb. There are all kinds of thoughts that go through your head after: Should I stop, should I go back, how badly are people hurt? The first few riders to catch up stated that they didn't think anyone was seriously hurt, and that a few people were stopped to help out, so we continued on. In the end, it is a race, I guess, and these things are part of it. 

The rest of the race was uneventful. Another break went, I covered it, and we dropped a few people. Then another jump. This time I just couldn't stay on the wheel in front of me. My heart rate was above 170 and we hadn't even started the climb, yet. There were no women in front of me, and I felt that whoever was behind wouldn't be able to catch me on the climb. I rode the rest of it at a strong tempo pace. I passed a few guys on the climb, one guy on a tri bike passed me on a flat section after the big climb. I tried to grab his wheel, but couldn't, but passed him when the road went up again. I was down in my drops and hammering when I could see the finish line. One guy who was in the crash came out of nowhere and passed me on the left before the line, followed by tri guy on my right. I have a suspicion I gave him his lead out. I was the first woman, but it was a hollow victory. I finished 10th overall, probably would've been 12th or 13th without the crash--it was a strong field for this race. Erin got pretty banged up, but there was no serious damage to her or her bike, and she's on track to be ready for Mont Tremblant in a couple of weeks. The guy who came out of nowhere to pass on my left, unknowingly rode the rest of the race on a broken frame. A seat stay on his carbon bike was broken through, but still somehow attached. I had a couple of cuts on my hand, one through my glove and a deeper one around a knuckle, and my forearm is still sporting a bruise. A couple of other people who went down suffered some bruising and road rash. Not the way you want a race to go, but we are all thankful it wasn't much worse.

(Strava file)

Tupper Lake Tinman Sprint, June 29, 2013

I decided about a month ago to sign up for the sprint at the Tupper Lake Tinman. I've had some shin splint issues, but they seem to be improving, and I've been able to get more running done. Coming just a week after the big Spinervals Lake Placid training camp, I knew I'd have to make this past week an easier training week. Did two open water swims in Mirror Lake, one five mile run on the treadmill on a rainy morning, and one 18 mile ride on the tri bike during the week. I took a rest day on Friday, and really felt good all day, physically and mentally. For once, I felt confident about the swim, and didn't make myself practically psychotic worrying about it all day. Slept ok Friday night. I don't expect to get a good night's sleep the night before a race, but this night we were having sump pump issues because of all the rain we've had. My husband had to get up twice in the night to check the basement. On race morning, we were up at 4:30 and were on the road by 5:15 a.m. for Tupper Lake. It was cloudy and threatening rain, but pretty mild temperatures, around 60 degrees.
Tupper Lake is a little over an hour's drive away, through some really beautiful and remote country. We were there before 6:30, parked close, but then ended up having to walk a long way around the barriers to get through the race venue. Everywhere around the race venue was wet and muddy. I picked up my race packet, timing chip, and found my bike rack spot. (When I picked up my t-shirt, the woman asked me what size it said on my race bag. I told her, "small." She said, "Well, we have large and extra large. Which would you like?" Really? Why is it so hard to order enough of the size people choose when they register? Sorry for the rant, but I have many large-sized race shirts. It happens a lot.) Racked my bike, got my transition area set up, found my friend Sandy, did a quick warm-up run, and put my wetsuit on for a quick swim. We were told the water temperature was 72 degrees. It felt a bit cooler than that, but was perfect. Sandy and I went to stand in the sprint start carrel. There weren't many people there, which we should have noticed. Some guy came over and told us they decided to start us in the water, so we hustled down there. Someone was giving us instructions over the loudspeaker, when we suddenly heard someone near us say, "five seconds," and then the gun went off! I had one earplug out to hear the instructions--which were still going on!--so I quickly stuffed the plug in my ear and started swimming. Two minutes later, I realized that I never started my watch, damnit! I had a very good swim for me, just steady, sighted often. Had to adjust my course a couple of times, and I swim so slowly that I was with the breast- and sidestrokers. I kept thinking, "How can I be so slow that I can't lose these people?" I had to stay alert to not get kicked by the breaststroker, and a backstroker could not swim in a straight line, and kept swimming across my path. Both of those things slowed me down. In retrospect, I think I would risk a little sprint, and get out ahead of them early in the swim. I did the swim in 25:09, which is just about right for me for 6/10 mile. When I breathed and sighted, I could see the kayakers near me, so I was convinced I was last. When I got out of the water, I turned quickly and was shocked to see so many white caps of the sprinters still in the water! I ended up 73rd out of 96 on the swim. Lots of room for improvement, but I swam steadily and in control, so I was very happy.
When I got out of the water, I started my watch, then quickly hit the lap button to advance it to T1. It's kind of a long run to the bike racks. I did a quick, but not rushed, transition. It started raining on the swim, so I decided not to wear my sunglasses, thinking I wouldn't be able to see if the lenses were wet. We had to run our bikes over two timing mats, then run them across the road before we could mount. My T1 was 2:29, not too bad. I started to hammer immediately, just felt really good. Glad to be out of the water, glad to be on the bike, which is my strong leg, when I suddenly realized I never put air in my tires! I immediately reminded myself that I had pumped them up before my ride three days before (I know, I was grasping at straws), and since the roads were wet, it was better that I was running them a little low. Nothing I could do about it at that point, I just needed to not dwell on something I could not control at that moment. I felt a touch cool going out on the bike, but warmed up very quickly. The bike course was perfect for me; lots of long rollers at the beginning, then a nice climb partway up Mt. Arab before the turnaround. I passed everyone I came to, except two guys at about mile five. We played tag a little on the ups and downs, but then I passed them for good when the road went seriously up, and I never saw them again. It was an out and back course, so I could see that I would get a chance to recover on the mountain descent, and that there would be a good last descent back into town, so I really pushed the ride out. My HR dropped on the way back, just as I hoped. On the downhills on the way back, I was wishing I had worn my sunglasses, just to keep the rain from bouncing off my eyeballs (at least, that's the way it felt). The rain stopped right before I finished the bike. The course was 18.75 miles, and my time was 56:57. I averaged around 19.8 mph and had the 16th fastest bike time (link to data). That moved me up a bit in the standings! Did a quicker transition--1:28--and as I was headed out, the girl racked next to me was coming in on the bike. She said, "Hot damn, you're fast on the bike!" Gave me a nice mental boost to start the run. The first mile for the run was flat, but a lot of it was over wet, muddy grass. The second mile was uphill, mile three is a slight down, four and five were a more gradual climb, then the last 1.6 miles were down. I just tried to run as steady as I could. A couple of Team Placid Planet teammates, Billy Whitney and Darci LaFave, were at the race, and rode out along the bike course, cheering people on. I saw them three or four times, and it was just great to have that encouragement along the way. I did the run in 57:54, so I averaged 8:32 miles (data). That's a little slow for me for a 10K-ish run, but I don't have a lot of miles in and no speedwork, so I'm happy with it. I had the 31st fastest run, and finished 30th overall out of 96 (results). I was 2 out of 9 in my age group, and the 6th out of 43 women. I was just thrilled when I finished! I felt strong and in control the entire race. I drank almost a full bottle of Heed on the bike, had a gel and a small handheld bottle of Heed on the run. I also took water at every aid station, drinking about half and dumping the rest on my head. It just felt like everything had gone perfectly (other than the couple of things that didn't :)). If you've read this far, thank you for sticking with me. I wrote much of this to just record my thoughts for future races, and I'm just so excited this race went so well. My friend, Sandy, finished third in our age group, so we both got certificates at the awards. Sandy's daughter, Erin, did the half in preparation for Mont Tremblant next month. We stayed to see her finish. She broke five hours, 4:59:09, I believe, for 2nd place. Absolutely awesome race for her!